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Bari Lynn Hein
Queen Mother

While standing before a crowded mirror in a stadium restroom, applying a mauve shade of lipstick from a ‘retro’ collection, Renee Novak became her mother. She blinked and realized she not only resembled Candice—a fact that family members had pointed out to Renee her entire adult life—she was Candice. She had a sudden, intimate understanding of everything her mom was thinking and feeling.
       Of the many women who stood at the mirror now, washing their hands or primping, wearing fashions and hairstyles from the 1980s, she was the only one gaping at her reflection. The shock of seeing her mother for the first time in over two decades propelled a squiggle of mascara down her cheek.
       She dropped the lipstick into her purse, dabbed her cheek with a tissue, and adjusted the shoulder pads of the velour blouse that she now wore. Her fingernails, which had been bare when she’d arrived at the stadium, were covered in the pearlescent polish that her mother always used to wear. Though she had many questions for the woman who stared at her from the mirror, forefront on her mind was how Marc would react when she returned to her seat. Would he recognize her as his wife, or as the mother-in-law whom he’d never met but whose smiling face filled many pages of their family photo albums?
       Renee and Marc had come here to see a Queen tribute band. Queen figured prominently in her mother’s CD collection, and from time to time, Renee liked to pop one into the player in her car. The energetic songs made driving more enjoyable, but she couldn’t exactly call herself a Queen superfan. Candice, on the other hand, had loved their music. One of Renee’s earliest memories was of riding high in her mother’s arms as Candice danced across the living room to ‘We Will Rock’ You all the way through its segue into ‘We Are the Champions’. Renee used to wish the band would segue into a third song so the revelry wouldn’t have to come to an end.
       Now, as she reflected on this memory, she felt the weight of a giggling child in her arms. She watched in the mirror as her mother’s mauve lips formed a smile, then hurried out of the ladies room and made her way up the concrete steps to the mid-tier seats she and Marc had snagged for this event. At least tonight they were not in the nosebleed section, as they had been for the last two concerts they’d come here to see.
       Climbing the steps, she remembered her mother had once laughingly said, ‘It was inevitable I’d be a mother and that I would love Queen. My name literally means Queen Mother.’
       You always knew you wanted to be a mother, Renee told Candice now, silently. I’m not so sure that’s something I want. Or even if that’s something that I can want. Marc, on the other hand, was certain that he wanted to be a parent. He had implored Renee, just recently, that they try to conceive—‘before it’s too late,’ he had said.
       It’s not too late, her mother said, hearing her thoughts. I was in my thirties when you were born.
       Your early thirties.
       Renee had reached her row in the mid-tier section. Someone was sitting in Marc’s seat—a young woman she didn’t recognize at first.
        ‘It took you long enough,’ the young woman said. ‘They’re almost ready to begin.’ She pointed toward the stage.
        ‘Aunt Helen?’
       The much-younger version of Renee’s aunt laughed. ‘Aunt Helen? Wait, are you trying to tell me something?’ She grabbed her arm. ‘Candy, are you expecting?’
       ‘I don’t know.’ Maybe the Candice who now took a seat beside Helen was pregnant—with Renee. She put a hand on her belly but felt no movement. ‘I don’t know,’ she said again, in a whisper.
Through a cacophony of applause, Renee heard her mother’s voice, clear as if the two of them were alone in a quiet room. I’m not. You are.
       With a sharp intake of breath, Renee searched the stands for her husband. She didn’t really expect to find him here. If he existed in this world at all, he would be a baby, a toddler at most. What if she were never to see him again? The cheering crowd blurred through her tears.
       Band members straggled onto the stage. Brian May, John Deacon, and Roger Taylor picked up their instruments, and then Freddie Mercury strutted out to the microphone and launched more thunderous applause with, ‘Keep Yourself Alive.’
       This was not a Queen cover band. This was Queen.
       Helen grabbed Renee’s hand and pulled her to her feet. They danced and swayed and kept looking at each other—one celebrating a shared appreciation of the music, the other getting a glimpse of Helen, younger than Renee had ever known her. While Renee embraced the experience, a sense of dread climbed through her windpipe. What if, in fifteen years or so, she faced the same prolonged, painful death that Candice had endured? What if she left this world before her daughter had a chance to tell her how much she meant to her?
       I miss you so much, Renee told her mother, while the entire audience brought their hands together to the opening rhythm of ‘We Will Rock You’.
       I miss you too, her mother said.
        ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’
       She realized, when her aunt smiled over and asked her to repeat herself, that she had said this out loud.
       Helen was wearing a wide, V-shaped gold belt that Renee recognized as one that she’d worn on Halloween, when she was eleven or twelve. Her mother had given it to her, describing it as ‘vintage,’ telling her it was just what she needed to complete her costume.
        ‘Is that my belt?’ she said now.
       Helen laughed. ‘You told me I could borrow it.’
       To her mother, she said, I don’t know if I have the same maternal instinct that you had. I don’t know if I can do this.Again, she felt the weight of a child in her arms. Again, she saw the walls and furnishings of her childhood living room sail past her.
       I know you can.
       Everyone in the audience was singing along to ‘We Are the Champions’ so Renee joined them. Candice joined them. They sang as one.
       I’m married now, Renee told her mother, when the song had ended and ‘Killer Queen’ had gotten the audience fired up all over again.
       I know.
       How much of the future did Candice know? She’d died at the turn of the twenty-first century, before so many life-altering events had been added to the history books, before Renee had reached adulthood, started a career, fallen in love, married her best friend.
       I’m afraid I’ll never see him again. Renee felt dizzy at the prospect of being unable to return to a life that she’d come to cherish, a life that she’d probably taken for granted.
       Helen leaned over and shouted, ‘Are you OK?’ Everyone was dancing to ‘Killer Queen’ except Renee.
        ‘Fine. Why?’
        ‘You look pale.’
        ‘Just feeling a bit—lightheaded.’
        ‘Maybe you really are pregnant,’ Helen said. ‘Let’s pick up a test on the way home.’
       My test will come up negative, Candice told Renee. But yours won’t.
       Renee felt as if she was going to tumble over the back of the seat in front of her. She grabbed onto it for support. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Maybe I should just go and splash some cold water on my face.’
        ‘I’m coming with you then.’
       Renee hated to take her aunt away from this once-in-a-lifetime concert that had preceded her own lifetime, but Helen was already pulling her toward the concrete steps, as nurturing now as she would be later in life.
        ‘If you’re going to splash cold water on your face, make sure you moisturize right away,’ her mother said, as they descended the steps. ‘Hope you brought some.’
       I did. I remember you told me that, a long time ago. I remember everything you taught me. I remember— Even in silence, it was hard to get the words out. You’re with me, at some random moment, every day.
       Whereas the ladies’ room had been crowded just before the concert, now Candice and Helen had the entire mirror to themselves. Renee studied their side-by-side reflections for a moment, two women with blown-out hair who looked to be no older than their mid-twenties. ‘Cold water,’ Helen reminded her. ‘Start splashing.’
       Renee held her hands beneath the faucet for a moment before bringing cool water to her face. When she looked up, Helen was still standing beside her, but now her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, exposing white, wiry hairs at her temples. When Helen smiled, fine lines fanned out from the corners of her eyes. ‘Well, fancy meeting you here,’ she said.
        ‘Aunt Helen,’ Renee said.
        ‘I didn’t know you’d be here. We could’ve bought seats together.’
       Renee tried to rein in her relief at seeing her own reflection in the mirror. ‘Yeah, it’s—a great—concert, so far.’
        ‘It is, isn’t it? Almost as good as the real deal. I try to see this group whenever they’re in town.’ Aunt Helen gave Renee’s arm a squeeze. ‘I know I say this all the time, but you remind me so much of your mother.’
        ‘You guys came here together to see Queen, back in the Eighties. Didn’t you?’
        ‘How’d you know?’
        ‘My mom told me.’ She reached into her purse for a tube of moisturizer, squeezed some onto her palm and applied it to her cheeks. She did look pale. Maybe it was the lighting in here. She picked up the ‘retro’ shade of lipstick, then changed her mind and dropped it back in alongside the moisturizer. She noticed her nails were bare.
        ‘That was a blast, seeing Queen with your mother,’ Helen said. Her eyes were rimmed in red.
        ‘She told me—that—that night meant a lot to her too. She talked about you a lot, about the fun times you had together.’
        ‘That’s sweet.’ Aunt Helen smiled. ‘It’s been too long, kiddo. You should bring that handsome husband of yours by. I’ll cook dinner for you and we can reminisce. Maybe next weekend?’
        ‘We’d love to. I’ll call you.’
       Helen squeezed Renee’s hands. ‘I guess I’ll get back to my friends,’ she said. “It was so nice running into you.”
        ‘So nice running into you too.’ She held onto her aunt’s hands for a moment longer, studied the soft fingers that were shaped like Candice’s, like her own.
       When she stepped out to the concession area a moment later, she found Marc waiting for her, his brows furrowed, holding a can of ginger ale. ‘Feeling better?’ he said.
       She nodded, unable to open her mouth for a moment.
        ‘Your aunt is here,’ he said.
        ‘I know. She and my mom were big fans of Queen.’
       He held out the can. ‘I bought this for you. Thought it might make you feel a little better.’
        ‘I’m fine now,’ she said.
        ‘Maybe, it’s, you know.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t want to jinx us or anything.’
        ‘Maybe,’ she said. She held the cool can against her cheek and snuggled against her husband, while a pretty decent cover of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ floated over to them from the stage.    AQ