Effanbee
The Fly
Free Falling
Chapter 9
Finally back at Sweetwaters, arriving in the dark hour before dawn. In my warm sitting room, lit by mellow lamps, we all sat in silence thinking our own thoughts. Edge sat by the fireplace with Effy and Beep crowded onto his lap. Adam sank into the big armchair, stretching his legs out and savouring the simple comfort. Larry had a faraway look in his eyes, the bandage around his head making him look like an action hero from a movie. Bono and I sat on the sofa, shoulders touching.
Larry rubbed his forehead, grimacing.
‘Is it bad, Larry?’ I asked.
‘Hurts like a bastard,’ replied Larry. He looked at me with a heartbreaking smile. ‘Might have knocked some sense into me though.’ I smiled back uncertainly.
‘You said it,’ yawned Edge. ‘God, I really must get to bed. Come on, cats.’ He gathered the cats one under each arm. ‘’Night all. Don’t wake me up for anything tomorrow, OK?’
Larry shook Adam awake. ‘Wha?’ said Adam muzzily. ‘Is it time to go?’
‘Time to sleep,’ said Larry, hiding his amusement under gruffness.
Sleep did not come easily for us that night. My arm kept reminding me it was hurt, throbbing and flashing with pain every time I bumped it. Bono was unusually restless, waking up if I moved away from him which woke me up in turn and set off another message of pain from my arm.
Eventually we lay like spoons, exhaustion overtaking us and finally releasing us into sleep.
*****
I moved through a world coloured sepia, slowly, each step taking more effort. Sinking into ground turned semi-liquid, searching for something, something I had lost.
Unable to move, a swirl of dust coalesced into human form. Larry, sitting cross-legged in front of me. Through the strange slushing noise that pulsed up through the ground I could just make out what he was repeating over and over.
‘You’ll never find him now. He’s lost to you …’
My body jumped with the sudden wakening. ‘Uff’ from Bono as my elbow caught him in the ribs.
‘No, don’t go over there, Roo,’ he mumbled, half asleep, wrapping himself around me. I grasped his hand and held it to my chest, the terror I’d felt in the dream staying with me.
‘Your heart’s going at a thousand miles an hour,’ said Bono sleepily.
‘Dream,’ I said. ‘Not good.’
‘Hmm. I know what you mean. You’re shaking, too.’
‘I think I’ll always be shaking in my mind. I seem to have fallen apart somewhat, Bono.’
‘Noope, everything’s where it should be,’ said Bono, checking to make sure.
Suddenly I wanted him fiercely, in the worst way. But … ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake! I can’t move, my legs won’t work!’
‘Take it easy, Roo,’ said Bono. He began to sit up. ‘Owwww, bloody buggering hell!’ Bono collapsed onto his back. ‘’Struth, I am totally fucked.’
I inched round to face Bono. ‘Fat chance,’ I said grumpily.
Bono looked at me and began to laugh. It was contagious.
‘Don’t make me laugh, Bono, please, it hurts …’ but I couldn’t stop. The bad dreams melted away.
Bono lifted the covers and looked down at himself. ‘Dammit, I look like I’ve been painted by Jackson Pollock,’ he said.
‘Pretty colours,’ I observed.
‘They match yours.’
‘Mine were painted by Turner. Think I should put them on Ebay?’
‘Don’t even think about it. These works of art are for ours eyes only.’ Bono lissed my shoulder. Lightest touch of his hands over my battered body. I closed my eyes.
‘Do you want to go back to sleep? Bono murmured. ‘Or …?’
‘Or. Definitely or.’
******
Everyone emerged very late in the afternoon in various states of discomfort. Edge was limping quite badly, his ankle swollen. Bono hovered around us while I applied hot and cold compresses.
‘Maybe you should get it x-rayed,’ Bono suggested.
Edge waved this off. ‘The doctor said it wasn’t broken. It’s not a problem, Bono.’
‘Just to make sure.’
‘Stop fussing, man. And watch out for that bowl …’ Edge rolled his eyes as Bono stepped back, sending the bowl of water cascading everywhere.
‘Oh, fuck. Sorry, Roo.’ The water washed gently around me as I knelt on the floor holding Edge’s foot. Bono grabbed a towel and attempted to mop the water up, succeeding only in spreading it further.
The corners of Edge’s mouth twitched and his eyes crinkled. He let out a snort of laughter. I took Bono’s hand and gave it a squeeze, knowing he was just concerned about his best mate.
‘How about you leave this to me and you go get something for Edge to rest his leg on. He needs to keep it elevated,’ I suggested.
When Edge was settled comfortable I went to put the kettle on. Adam wandered into the kitchen, moving very slowly.
‘I feel so old,’ he groaned. ‘I’ve got muscles hurting I didn’t ever know existed.’
‘You’re welcome to use the spa, Adam. It’s very good for aching muscles.’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ said Adam. ‘But I think Larry’s got some plans for us today. Have you seen him?’
‘He’s hanging upside down in the barn, waiting for night to fall,’ I muttered.
‘Sorry?’
‘No, he’s not up yet. Surely you can have a day off, Adam. It’s nearly evening anyway.’
Adam shrugged. ‘Dunno. there’s a load of stuff we should be at least thinking about …’
Larry appeared in the doorway. He had taken off the bandage around his head, revealing a jagged wound.
‘Don’t say a word. I look like bleedin’ Harry Potter,’ Larry growled.
I turned to make the tea, hiding a smile.
‘Harry Potter and the Male Menopause,’ grinned Adam.
Larry gave him a black look. ‘You’re not looking too flash yourself today, mate. In fact, we all look fucking terrible.’ He sat down opposite Adam.
‘It was in a good cause, though,’ I said as I put the tea on the table.
Larry fixed me with his clear-eyed gaze. I readied myself for a blast of invective, expecting Larry to blame me for the woeful state we were in.
‘You’re right, Roo. We’re a damn sight better off than those poor buggers from Matangi. We shouldn’t be moaning about a few bumps and bruises.’ Larry smiled at me and I nearly dropped my tea in confusion, feeling bad about pre-judging him.
‘Do we have to do any work today?’ Adam said.
‘I don’t think we’re in a fit state. Make a few calls tonight, maybe, but best to rest up today. We’ll pick it up tomorrow,’ Larry decided.
Adam looked relieved. ‘In that case, I’m for the spa. How about you, Lars?’
‘Tempting.’ Larry leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head and displaying a couple of inches of flat, smooth stomach.
If that’s what the male menopause does, I’m all for it, I thought. Good job Janey isn’t here, she’d have passed out. I drifted off into an idle daydream, comparing Bono’s stomach to Larry’s and deciding I liked Bono’s best (no surprises there) even though it wasn’t as perfect, and wondering (not for the first time) what exactly it was about Bono that made him so attractive. Inner beauty, outer beauty? Mind, body, soul? A combination of all? And did it matter …
‘Are you still with us, Roo? You were away with the fairies there,’ said Larry, amused.
Adam looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, probably guessing the gist of what I’d been thinking.
‘Umm, yes, a bit of a mental holiday,’ I said. ‘I’ll, umm, just take some tea in to Bono and Edge.’
The sitting room was filled with the mellow tones of Van Morrison. Bono and Edge were in silent contemplation at the chessboard, Edge with his little frown of concentration and Bono for once very still and focused.
I didn’t interrupt, sat down in the armchair to watch. Bono moved his bishop, took Edge’s knight. ‘Check.’
‘Blast,’ muttered Edge.
I could see Edge was in a defensive position. Bono had set a very neat trap and in three moves Edge was in checkmate.
‘Gotcha,’ said Bono.
‘No, Bono. It’s “checkmate”, not “gotcha”,’ said Edge mildly.
‘Yeah, yeah. Either way, it’s game over for you, mate.’
Edge shrugged good-naturedly. Bono presented him with a cup of tea. ‘Here you go, hoppy.’
I looked at Bono wide-eyed. ‘Since when could you be beating Edge at chess?’ I teased him.
‘Since we were kids,’ Edge put in. ‘Bono was quite a prodigy.’
Bono shuffled his feet and looked embarassed. ‘No big deal,’ he muttered, sitting on the arm of my chair.
‘Hiding your light again,’ I glanced at him, thinking I’d glimpsed yet another layer of the complex strata that was Bono. In profile, his eyes fixed on something distant only he could see, I wished I had the talent to capture him on paper. I’d never get weary of drawing those lines.
I caught Edge looking at us thoughtfully. ‘Is it OK if I borrow the Mac for a while, Roo?’ he asked.
‘Sure, go ahead,’ I answered. ‘I’m going down to the mailbox, I need to move around or I’ll sieze up I think.’ I got the feeling Bono wanted some time on his own. He didn’t seem to notice me leaving the room and I wondered what was on his mind.
I collected the mail and took it to the front deck. A thin envelope was on top, postmarked from the UK. It seemed to be empty, but tucked into a corner was a small newspaper clipping. I frowned, not liking the feeling of fireboding I was getting from this. I unfolded the clipping.
It was an obituary: ‘J.A. Kingsley, much loved husband of Anne and father of Jenny and David … quietly at his home on …’
The world went very clear and quiet. So, the man I had described to Bono as the love of my life was truly gone. In the strange clarity that shock sometimes brings I examined my feelings.
It was no real surprise that Jay had gone before me. He’d always been several steps ahead of me in life. Time had softened the sharp corners of hurt and betrayal that had goade me for so many years. Jay had become less of a person than an ideal in my mind, in love with the memory rather than the real thing.
But our last words had been harsh and I’d never said goodbye. How could you leave without saying goodbye? Was I really that unimportant to you?
I cried quietly, alone on the front deck, mourning the man and all those lost years. All the what-might-have-beens. The children we might have made together, the roads we might have travelled, the life we might have lived.
‘Are you there, Roo?’ Bono’s soft Irish accent brought me into the present. I hastily wiped my eyes and tried to sound normal.
‘Over here, Bono.’
He came over and sat beside me. ‘What’s up?’ Bono saw the envelope in my hand. ‘Bad news?’
‘Yes. No … I really don’t know. A bit of a shock.’ I handed the clipping to Bono.
‘This is him? Your man from long ago?’
I nodded, concentrating on keeping under control. Bono didn’t need to be involved in this, I thought. He’ll be kind to me and then I’ll unravel again.
Bono looked at me, his eyes thoughtful and sad. He opened his arms to me and I went to him, the loss and regret replaced with love and strength flowing from him to me.
‘He’s really gone, Bono,’ I said. ‘He’s been the shadow in the corner for most of my life and now he’s gone. You know what? Part of me is glad. Isn’t that awful? I’m free of him, I can finally leave him behind …’
Bono quietly let me express my feelings, stroking my back in the calming way he had. ‘I don’t think it’s awful to feel that way,’ he said. ‘It’s a natural part of the process, and honest too. There are always things we leave unsaid, it’s rare to have the chance to say our goodbyes properly - we never know when our time is coming round.’
‘If I die tomorrow I don’t want to leave things unsaid between us,’ I said, sitting up. ‘We’ll always be honest with each other, won’t we?’
‘We will,’ said Bono, his warm hand tracing the bones of my face. ‘Always.’
‘Then I must be honest with you now, Bono, for I have lied to you. I told you he was the love of my life … and I thought he was. I was wrong, I had no basis for comparison. It’s you, Bono. It’ll always be you.’
The shadow of my past had been blown away by Jay’s passing. In its place a new light shone, a bright flame burning within. Almost blinded by its fierce glow, I sought to recognise its purpose.
Eventually I was able to identify this long-hidden fire. It was hope.
*****
The next day I was on my own again. The band had gone into the city and I was rather enjoying the peace that filled my house. I pottered round restoring a bit of order to the chaos. Bono was a one-man disaster area when it came to leaving stuff around, good thing I’m not houseproud, I thought.
I spent some time with the horses, transferring dust and horse-hair from them to me. Shadow gave me a slobbery horse-kiss and chewed my hair when I had my back to him. In dire need of a shower, I walked across the yard humming contentedly to myself.
I stopped abruptly when I saw a figure standing at my front door. Shading my eyes against the sun, I saw it was a woman.
‘Hello, can I help you?’ I called, approaching her with a smile.
‘Yes, you probably can,’ she said with a touch of irony. ‘I’m Alison Hewson.’
Chapter 9
Finally back at Sweetwaters, arriving in the dark hour before dawn. In my warm sitting room, lit by mellow lamps, we all sat in silence thinking our own thoughts. Edge sat by the fireplace with Effy and Beep crowded onto his lap. Adam sank into the big armchair, stretching his legs out and savouring the simple comfort. Larry had a faraway look in his eyes, the bandage around his head making him look like an action hero from a movie. Bono and I sat on the sofa, shoulders touching.
Larry rubbed his forehead, grimacing.
‘Is it bad, Larry?’ I asked.
‘Hurts like a bastard,’ replied Larry. He looked at me with a heartbreaking smile. ‘Might have knocked some sense into me though.’ I smiled back uncertainly.
‘You said it,’ yawned Edge. ‘God, I really must get to bed. Come on, cats.’ He gathered the cats one under each arm. ‘’Night all. Don’t wake me up for anything tomorrow, OK?’
Larry shook Adam awake. ‘Wha?’ said Adam muzzily. ‘Is it time to go?’
‘Time to sleep,’ said Larry, hiding his amusement under gruffness.
Sleep did not come easily for us that night. My arm kept reminding me it was hurt, throbbing and flashing with pain every time I bumped it. Bono was unusually restless, waking up if I moved away from him which woke me up in turn and set off another message of pain from my arm.
Eventually we lay like spoons, exhaustion overtaking us and finally releasing us into sleep.
*****
I moved through a world coloured sepia, slowly, each step taking more effort. Sinking into ground turned semi-liquid, searching for something, something I had lost.
Unable to move, a swirl of dust coalesced into human form. Larry, sitting cross-legged in front of me. Through the strange slushing noise that pulsed up through the ground I could just make out what he was repeating over and over.
‘You’ll never find him now. He’s lost to you …’
My body jumped with the sudden wakening. ‘Uff’ from Bono as my elbow caught him in the ribs.
‘No, don’t go over there, Roo,’ he mumbled, half asleep, wrapping himself around me. I grasped his hand and held it to my chest, the terror I’d felt in the dream staying with me.
‘Your heart’s going at a thousand miles an hour,’ said Bono sleepily.
‘Dream,’ I said. ‘Not good.’
‘Hmm. I know what you mean. You’re shaking, too.’
‘I think I’ll always be shaking in my mind. I seem to have fallen apart somewhat, Bono.’
‘Noope, everything’s where it should be,’ said Bono, checking to make sure.
Suddenly I wanted him fiercely, in the worst way. But … ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake! I can’t move, my legs won’t work!’
‘Take it easy, Roo,’ said Bono. He began to sit up. ‘Owwww, bloody buggering hell!’ Bono collapsed onto his back. ‘’Struth, I am totally fucked.’
I inched round to face Bono. ‘Fat chance,’ I said grumpily.
Bono looked at me and began to laugh. It was contagious.
‘Don’t make me laugh, Bono, please, it hurts …’ but I couldn’t stop. The bad dreams melted away.
Bono lifted the covers and looked down at himself. ‘Dammit, I look like I’ve been painted by Jackson Pollock,’ he said.
‘Pretty colours,’ I observed.
‘They match yours.’
‘Mine were painted by Turner. Think I should put them on Ebay?’
‘Don’t even think about it. These works of art are for ours eyes only.’ Bono lissed my shoulder. Lightest touch of his hands over my battered body. I closed my eyes.
‘Do you want to go back to sleep? Bono murmured. ‘Or …?’
‘Or. Definitely or.’
******
Everyone emerged very late in the afternoon in various states of discomfort. Edge was limping quite badly, his ankle swollen. Bono hovered around us while I applied hot and cold compresses.
‘Maybe you should get it x-rayed,’ Bono suggested.
Edge waved this off. ‘The doctor said it wasn’t broken. It’s not a problem, Bono.’
‘Just to make sure.’
‘Stop fussing, man. And watch out for that bowl …’ Edge rolled his eyes as Bono stepped back, sending the bowl of water cascading everywhere.
‘Oh, fuck. Sorry, Roo.’ The water washed gently around me as I knelt on the floor holding Edge’s foot. Bono grabbed a towel and attempted to mop the water up, succeeding only in spreading it further.
The corners of Edge’s mouth twitched and his eyes crinkled. He let out a snort of laughter. I took Bono’s hand and gave it a squeeze, knowing he was just concerned about his best mate.
‘How about you leave this to me and you go get something for Edge to rest his leg on. He needs to keep it elevated,’ I suggested.
When Edge was settled comfortable I went to put the kettle on. Adam wandered into the kitchen, moving very slowly.
‘I feel so old,’ he groaned. ‘I’ve got muscles hurting I didn’t ever know existed.’
‘You’re welcome to use the spa, Adam. It’s very good for aching muscles.’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ said Adam. ‘But I think Larry’s got some plans for us today. Have you seen him?’
‘He’s hanging upside down in the barn, waiting for night to fall,’ I muttered.
‘Sorry?’
‘No, he’s not up yet. Surely you can have a day off, Adam. It’s nearly evening anyway.’
Adam shrugged. ‘Dunno. there’s a load of stuff we should be at least thinking about …’
Larry appeared in the doorway. He had taken off the bandage around his head, revealing a jagged wound.
‘Don’t say a word. I look like bleedin’ Harry Potter,’ Larry growled.
I turned to make the tea, hiding a smile.
‘Harry Potter and the Male Menopause,’ grinned Adam.
Larry gave him a black look. ‘You’re not looking too flash yourself today, mate. In fact, we all look fucking terrible.’ He sat down opposite Adam.
‘It was in a good cause, though,’ I said as I put the tea on the table.
Larry fixed me with his clear-eyed gaze. I readied myself for a blast of invective, expecting Larry to blame me for the woeful state we were in.
‘You’re right, Roo. We’re a damn sight better off than those poor buggers from Matangi. We shouldn’t be moaning about a few bumps and bruises.’ Larry smiled at me and I nearly dropped my tea in confusion, feeling bad about pre-judging him.
‘Do we have to do any work today?’ Adam said.
‘I don’t think we’re in a fit state. Make a few calls tonight, maybe, but best to rest up today. We’ll pick it up tomorrow,’ Larry decided.
Adam looked relieved. ‘In that case, I’m for the spa. How about you, Lars?’
‘Tempting.’ Larry leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head and displaying a couple of inches of flat, smooth stomach.
If that’s what the male menopause does, I’m all for it, I thought. Good job Janey isn’t here, she’d have passed out. I drifted off into an idle daydream, comparing Bono’s stomach to Larry’s and deciding I liked Bono’s best (no surprises there) even though it wasn’t as perfect, and wondering (not for the first time) what exactly it was about Bono that made him so attractive. Inner beauty, outer beauty? Mind, body, soul? A combination of all? And did it matter …
‘Are you still with us, Roo? You were away with the fairies there,’ said Larry, amused.
Adam looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, probably guessing the gist of what I’d been thinking.
‘Umm, yes, a bit of a mental holiday,’ I said. ‘I’ll, umm, just take some tea in to Bono and Edge.’
The sitting room was filled with the mellow tones of Van Morrison. Bono and Edge were in silent contemplation at the chessboard, Edge with his little frown of concentration and Bono for once very still and focused.
I didn’t interrupt, sat down in the armchair to watch. Bono moved his bishop, took Edge’s knight. ‘Check.’
‘Blast,’ muttered Edge.
I could see Edge was in a defensive position. Bono had set a very neat trap and in three moves Edge was in checkmate.
‘Gotcha,’ said Bono.
‘No, Bono. It’s “checkmate”, not “gotcha”,’ said Edge mildly.
‘Yeah, yeah. Either way, it’s game over for you, mate.’
Edge shrugged good-naturedly. Bono presented him with a cup of tea. ‘Here you go, hoppy.’
I looked at Bono wide-eyed. ‘Since when could you be beating Edge at chess?’ I teased him.
‘Since we were kids,’ Edge put in. ‘Bono was quite a prodigy.’
Bono shuffled his feet and looked embarassed. ‘No big deal,’ he muttered, sitting on the arm of my chair.
‘Hiding your light again,’ I glanced at him, thinking I’d glimpsed yet another layer of the complex strata that was Bono. In profile, his eyes fixed on something distant only he could see, I wished I had the talent to capture him on paper. I’d never get weary of drawing those lines.
I caught Edge looking at us thoughtfully. ‘Is it OK if I borrow the Mac for a while, Roo?’ he asked.
‘Sure, go ahead,’ I answered. ‘I’m going down to the mailbox, I need to move around or I’ll sieze up I think.’ I got the feeling Bono wanted some time on his own. He didn’t seem to notice me leaving the room and I wondered what was on his mind.
I collected the mail and took it to the front deck. A thin envelope was on top, postmarked from the UK. It seemed to be empty, but tucked into a corner was a small newspaper clipping. I frowned, not liking the feeling of fireboding I was getting from this. I unfolded the clipping.
It was an obituary: ‘J.A. Kingsley, much loved husband of Anne and father of Jenny and David … quietly at his home on …’
The world went very clear and quiet. So, the man I had described to Bono as the love of my life was truly gone. In the strange clarity that shock sometimes brings I examined my feelings.
It was no real surprise that Jay had gone before me. He’d always been several steps ahead of me in life. Time had softened the sharp corners of hurt and betrayal that had goade me for so many years. Jay had become less of a person than an ideal in my mind, in love with the memory rather than the real thing.
But our last words had been harsh and I’d never said goodbye. How could you leave without saying goodbye? Was I really that unimportant to you?
I cried quietly, alone on the front deck, mourning the man and all those lost years. All the what-might-have-beens. The children we might have made together, the roads we might have travelled, the life we might have lived.
‘Are you there, Roo?’ Bono’s soft Irish accent brought me into the present. I hastily wiped my eyes and tried to sound normal.
‘Over here, Bono.’
He came over and sat beside me. ‘What’s up?’ Bono saw the envelope in my hand. ‘Bad news?’
‘Yes. No … I really don’t know. A bit of a shock.’ I handed the clipping to Bono.
‘This is him? Your man from long ago?’
I nodded, concentrating on keeping under control. Bono didn’t need to be involved in this, I thought. He’ll be kind to me and then I’ll unravel again.
Bono looked at me, his eyes thoughtful and sad. He opened his arms to me and I went to him, the loss and regret replaced with love and strength flowing from him to me.
‘He’s really gone, Bono,’ I said. ‘He’s been the shadow in the corner for most of my life and now he’s gone. You know what? Part of me is glad. Isn’t that awful? I’m free of him, I can finally leave him behind …’
Bono quietly let me express my feelings, stroking my back in the calming way he had. ‘I don’t think it’s awful to feel that way,’ he said. ‘It’s a natural part of the process, and honest too. There are always things we leave unsaid, it’s rare to have the chance to say our goodbyes properly - we never know when our time is coming round.’
‘If I die tomorrow I don’t want to leave things unsaid between us,’ I said, sitting up. ‘We’ll always be honest with each other, won’t we?’
‘We will,’ said Bono, his warm hand tracing the bones of my face. ‘Always.’
‘Then I must be honest with you now, Bono, for I have lied to you. I told you he was the love of my life … and I thought he was. I was wrong, I had no basis for comparison. It’s you, Bono. It’ll always be you.’
The shadow of my past had been blown away by Jay’s passing. In its place a new light shone, a bright flame burning within. Almost blinded by its fierce glow, I sought to recognise its purpose.
Eventually I was able to identify this long-hidden fire. It was hope.
*****
The next day I was on my own again. The band had gone into the city and I was rather enjoying the peace that filled my house. I pottered round restoring a bit of order to the chaos. Bono was a one-man disaster area when it came to leaving stuff around, good thing I’m not houseproud, I thought.
I spent some time with the horses, transferring dust and horse-hair from them to me. Shadow gave me a slobbery horse-kiss and chewed my hair when I had my back to him. In dire need of a shower, I walked across the yard humming contentedly to myself.
I stopped abruptly when I saw a figure standing at my front door. Shading my eyes against the sun, I saw it was a woman.
‘Hello, can I help you?’ I called, approaching her with a smile.
‘Yes, you probably can,’ she said with a touch of irony. ‘I’m Alison Hewson.’
the tensionnnnnnn!
Bono being a one man disaster area, I have a feeling that is so true!
oh wow, Ali arrives! I never saw that coming (you are goood at throwing in the unexpected plot twists, Effanbee!!). This is going to be very interesting...does Ali know about Roo? Who invited Ali, and why? And how will B react to her being there! 
can I second everything that you've said Molly...Effanbee feel the 
Now where have I heard that one?? Oh,yes, Los Angeles 1987....
I think you are! It never even crossed my mind. I think we all have a pretty good guess who invited Ali coughLarrycough but I guess we'll have to wait and see. Patience is NOT one of my virtues, lol!
