27th birthday

This is from Chapter 3 of the memoir I've been working on about Stacy. She would have been 40 years old on Thursday. 


Stacy’s birthday party started at little Leila’s house. Leila or ‘The Little One’ was an informal protégé of Stacy’s, tonight though she was the girl hosting the pre-party with the jungle juice. The house vibrated with Leila and other friends gathering and giggling about life on a Saturday night. Stacy loved these girls, who she felt a level of responsibility for ever since hiring and managing them at a clothing store called Elle Would, two years earlier. Motivated by a strong urge to see the best for her charges, she would probe and provide advice. Across the music I heard Stacy say, ‘You just need to get rid of that guy’. When returning to the jungle juice I noted, ‘How long are you going to keep doing that for, Sweetie?’ As the rise and fall of party voices filled and retracted from the space, words drifted across the room to my ears, ‘You know what you need to do.’ … ‘I love you honey, but that isn’t good enough.’… ‘Skooch a cheek, what’s going on with you, babe?’ Stacy was in her element and was only interrupted by a timely move to somewhere that Stacy was also in her element, a dance floor. Like a herd of brightly coloured sheep, and partly flushed with jungle juice, we wandered up the street towards the light and sound of Stacy’s 27th birthday party.


“Captain Courageous!” yelled the small group gathered in the cocktail garden. Stacy surged forward into the crowd from the Starlight Children's Foundation. “The party’s here!” responded Stacy, immediately matching the new volume of the night. Captains Sparkles, Giggles, Sunshine and Silly were in the pub and living it up like only a group of professional attention seekers can. There was dancing on the tables, joke telling on the dance floor and impromptu skits in most bathrooms in the building. With enough Captains in one place the night quickly ascended into a real life performance piece, in which volume and action compete for precedence. ‘Elle’ girls mixed with Captains, family mixed with friends and Stacy stitched us all together with a big smile and more kisses on the cheek than there were cheeks to kiss. It all escalated until Stacy found a long, rolled up umbrella in a corner and brought it to the dance floor. “Hey, I’m going to do a routine for you,” she blasted to the room and anyone who was listening. “Watch this!” With the red umbrella intermittently swinging around her head and then forming the centre of Stacy’s broad, swinging dance arc, she ruled the dance floor. To Stacy there was no difference between people making a little space to watch her dance, and people making a little space to avoid being hit by an umbrella. The point was people were making a little space, and into that space she poured her joy, enthusiasm and pretty fun dance moves. She pulled her friends into the act and the umbrella had the most populated dance card in the room. When security staff became involved in the interest of public safety, Stacy met them with charm and cheek. “Hi guys, it’s my birthday,” she smiled. With the umbrella offered handle first, she had the last word “Wanna dance?” They didn’t, but Stacy didn’t mind. She partied her finest, calling all to her with love and energy. Stacy knew that her friends were a part of her life force and a great source of energy.