Life Still Goes On

Chapter 1: Moving In

March 1992

"Do you like the new place, love?" my husband asked.

Just a month ago, I'd gotten married to my college friend Nathan Miller. Now, we were sitting together on a sofa in our new house. I looked up into Nathan's eyes and squeezed his hand.

"It's beautiful," I replied.

Indeed it was. A small, one-story brick home in a Kensington neighborhood, the house seemed like something from a fairytale. Of course, there was work to be done. Nathan and I needed to unpack our belongings. Now, all we had out was the leather sofa, an armchair, a bookshelf, a telly, a kitchen table with four chairs, and the four-poster bed that my husband had chosen just days before the wedding. The rest of the house was filled with cardboard boxes.

"So..." Nathan smirked. "Are you gonna help me unpack?"

"Roger said he'd come over and help us."

Roger Meddows Taylor was one of my best friends, despite being 15 years older than me, and ever since I'd met him in 1986, he'd been like a big brother to me. On top of that, he was the drummer for my favorite rock group- Queen.

"Didja call him?" I listened to my husband's voice. His accent was distinctly American, although he'd lived in London for almost a year.

"Yes, he's coming at 4."

"Well damn, Ella, that's 7 minutes from now!"

"Better get ready. The house is a mess, and so am I." I walked over to the bathroom mirror to apply mascara and lipstick, which I had found by digging through boxes.

About a minute after I finished applying my makeup, the doorbell rang.

A smiling man with shiny blue eyes and silvery blond hair stood in the doorway, dressed in a green sweater and blue jeans.

"Good afternoon, darlings," he said, eying thie messy living room.

"A pleasure to see you, Roger." I shook his hand.

"Yup," responded Nathan, who was still getting to know Rog. "Feel free to sit down. We don't have much stuff unpacked yet."

"I can tell," Roger laughed, staring at the boxes.

"We better start somewhere," Nathan said.

So Roger, Nathan, and I began to use scissors to cut open cardboard boxes in the living room, marveling over our discoveries. We were particularly intrigued by one box that Nathan uncovered. In it was a stereo and dozens of CDs.

"Look, Roger, it's A Kind of Magic," my husband said, pulling out an album.

"I remember recording that, back in '85," Roger replied. "Good times."

"We should listen to it while we unpack."

"Great idea, Nathan."

I plugged the radio into an outlet and popped the CD in, then pressed the play button. Strange noises resounded from the stereo, and about a minute into the song, I heard singing.

"One man, one goal... One mission! One heart, one soul... Just one solution!"

It was amazing to hear that song, which had always been one of Nathan's favorites. I loved the sound of Freddie Mercury's voice, but on the inside I felt heartbroken. Freddie had been one of my best friends, up until his death due to bronchiopneumonia brought on by AIDS, just months before. Listening to him singing brought a tear to my eye, which I wiped away.

"Don't tell me you're crying," remarked Roger, in his soft, slightly raspy voice.

"I'm alright, Rog," I said.

He kissed my cheek. "One vision!" he sang, parading around the room, carrying a lamp. Nathan and I laughed while hanging photographs on a wall and putting books on a shelf.

In no time at all, while the music was still playing in the background, the living room was completely furnished. We did the same for the bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom until all of the boxes were empty. After these two hours of work, we sat at the kitchen table, drinking Chardonnay wine.

"So- Ella, do you and Nathan plan on having a housewarming party?" Roger asked.

"Actually, no," I said. "Our schedules are far too busy. We're doctors, remember? We don't have the time for parties."

Roger frowned. "That's a shame. Parties are fun."

"I agree- but we just spent a month on our honeymoon in France, Roggie."

"Ah, I remember. Paris, the city of amour..."

" But of course," Nathan replied.

Roger stirred the wine in his glass. "Do you want to have any children?"

I smiled. "Sure. We have a spare room next to our bedroom, so if we have kids, we're ready."

"One or two children would be good. We're a busy couple," Nathan added. "And if Ella gets pregnant, I'll have to work long hours."

"Aha, sucks for you," Roger teased.

"I'm fine with it. Children are worth the work."

"I agree." As a father himself, Rog knew how hard it could be. "Do you want a daughter or a son?"

I'd never thought of it before then. "Either," I stated. "I don't mind."

"We don't know if we're gonna have kids yet. We haven't planned anything," my husband stated, and Roger nodded. Silence followed.

I changed the subject. "Do you want to play Scrabble?"

"Of course, El!" Roger exclaimed.

Nathan pulled the box off the bookshelf. "This is one of my favorite games," he said, setting up the board.

"Same here," my friend stated. "I'm going to win!"

"We'll see about that!"

So the game began, my husband, my friend, and I giggling like children while playing. Nathan and I put up a good fight, but in the end, Roger beat us.

"Damn you, Roggie!" I shook my fist in mock anger.

He stuck his hands in the air. "I am the Scrabble Master! Bow down, peasants!" We laughed.

"You only won by 7 points," Nathan retorted. "There's no need to boast!"

"You, Mr. Miller, are simply jealous of my skills."

For the next 15 minutes, Roger continued to talk with Nathan and I. When he left to drive back home, the house seemed quiet. I rolled up my sleeves and began to boil some pasta for dinner.

The night was peaceful and cozy, now that our furniture was unpacked. Exhausted from all the housework, I decided to go to bed at 9:30 that night, so I could return to my career tomorrow.