dewelar wrote:Finally getting caught up on the past month's worth of postings, and once again I find a smile on my face while reading a USM piece. Shocked that the last one went without comment, too. Anyway, nice stuff, Hoitash .
Thanks, I do what I can
I like writing things grounded in reality every now and then, and sappy stuff like this in particular. Guess it's the romantic in me.
Hey look, it’s New Year’s! Bring on the desperate attempt to forget the trials and tribulations that pass for life on this miserable mudball… I mean something optimistic and hopeful about life.
I kid, I kid.
Anywho, this Special follows on last year’s Christmas Special. Enjoy, and Happy New Year (belatedly for those of you in different time zones, and early for likewise.)
Together for Wishes –A New Year’s Special
New Year’s Day was bright and cool, a coolness that felt far too much like autumn to be called winter.
That’s what Lynda thought, anyway. Standing like a doll on display while Misha’s mother made sure the kimono fit was letting the young woman’s mind wander aimlessly –something Lynda never looked forward to on the best of days.
When Mrs. Mikado said she had had to buy something generic and fit it for Lynda because the shops were busy, Lynda had accepted the reasoning until she had seen the gleam in the older woman’s eye.
Mrs. Mikado was a short woman, about the same height as her daughter, with the same brown hair. She kept her hair short, however, and her movements were sharp and precise, unlike her daughter’s more languid bursts. Years of fighting for her position in the culinary arts had given her a sharp, lyrical voice that carried and snapped like a whip when she chose it to. Lynda had learned very quickly to stand very still.
“Um, Mrs. Mikado?” Lynda tried in her increasingly passable Japanese, “May I ask how much longer?”
“Not much,” Mrs. Mikado replied as she flitted around Lynda, adjusting and folding and Lord knew what else as Lynda resisted the urge to follow her movements. Smiling lightly, the older woman added in English, “You’re doing very well, Lynda.”
“Thank you,” Lynda replied, still in Japanese, “I’m not used to being inactive like this for very long.”
Mrs. Mikado smiled and kept at her work.
As it was wont to do when she had nothing to occupy her mind, Lynda’s thoughts began to wander towards self-doubt. It wasn’t the healthiest of habits, but it kept her mind occupied, and if she didn’t think of something besides the weather she’d probably start fidgeting and accidently get a pin in her ass.
“…Do you think I’ll look good?” Lynda asked.
“You look lovely,” Mrs. Mikado replied, “Shii-chan is very lucky to have found you, you know. She was much more maudlin before she met you.”
“I heard,” Lynda stated. Grasping at the conversation lifeline, Lynda asked, “When did her peppy front become real?”
Mrs. Mikado adjusted some fabric and fiddled with the obi before replying, “When she graduated high school, I think. She was determined to remake herself into a new person not tied down by her past, and so she started focusing on the good things in life, rather than past pains.”
“I hear that,” Lynda muttered.
Mrs. Mikado chuckled lightly, and Lynda flushed; she had forgotten for a moment the woman knew English.
“It sounds like you were lucky to have found her, too,” the older woman remarked.
Lynda gave a careful nod, “I believe so, Mrs. Mikado. We seem to bring out the best in each other.”
Mrs. Mikado smirked, “That’s sort of the point, Lycchan.”
Lynda managed to resist the urge to facepalm, but only barely. Instead she decided to return to the source of the thread of conversation, “I won’t look weird, will I? In this, I mean.”
“…Does it matter?”
“…No.”
“Then don’t worry about it. And hold out your arms, please; I’m almost done.”
Lynda obeyed and held still otherwise. Besides, she was used to being obvious in Japan; no reason to worry about it now.
“…How does Mi… um, Shiina look?” Lynda asked.
Mrs. Mikado had helped Misha with the finishing touches on her kimono before helping Lynda, since Lynda was a more involved job and wanted help with her hair.
Mrs. Mikado smirked again, “You’ll find out.”
Lynda smirked herself; she knew a straight answer was a long shot, but she had to try.
Once the kimono properly fit, Mrs. Mikado helped Lynda with her hair, which didn’t take long, but Lynda never did much with it and wanted the help.
Once the ordeal was over, Lynda slipped into some sandals and wiggled her toes.
“Take a few practice steps,” Mrs. Mikado advised.
Lynda nodded and stumbled forward a few paces.
Mrs. Mikado tried not to chuckle, “You’ll get the hang of it.”
Lynda nodded, carefully turned to face Misha’s mother, bowed, and said, “Thank you very much for your help, Mrs. Mikado.”
Mrs. Mikado grinned and turned toward the door, “You practice walking while I get Shii-chan –she must be itching to go by now.”
Lynda grinned and nodded.
Mrs. Mikado left the room, which happened to be Misha’s old bedroom, Misha herself using the bathroom to get ready for the day. Lynda practiced walking, her steps wobbly but feet firm as she carefully paced the length of the room twice.
Content that she had a decent handle on walking in a kimono and sandals, Lynda started looking around, as Misha’s room was always an interesting sight.
Two words described the old bedroom: pink and fuzzy. The bedspread was pink, the walls were pink, the adorable pile of stuffed rabbits –crane prizes, it looked like- was pink. And fuzzy. A small bookshelf next to an old rickety desk was filled with light novels and manga. Looking at them, Lynda could actually see Misha’s budding sexuality as the genre’s slowly shifted. Lynda even recognized a few of the titles from hanging around her step-brother’s friend Henry.
Turning toward the small closet across from the door, Lynda grimaced as she examined herself in the tall mirror hanging inside.
“Some of Henry’s weaboo friends would give their left nut to see me like this,” she muttered to herself.
A moment later the door burst open, and Lynda turned and smiled at the sight of her girlfriend.
“Hi, hi~!” Misha called, taking a single step into the room before stopping dead in her tracks.
The two women spent a moment just ogling each other. Misha had donned a golden brown kimono, her obi and accents a brighter gold that caught the overhead lights like distant stars. Together it matched her wheat-like hair –currently tied up in a bun that left a single braid hanging flirtatiously over her left shoulder- and amber eyes, which shone as she admired her girlfriend.
Lynda’s black and purple kimono fit well and matched her hair, which was what truly garnered Misha’s attention. Rather than let it flow behind her as she usually did, Lynda had pulled her shimmering raven plait into a large bun behind her head, stuck in place with a pair of silver chopsticks that matched her glittering earrings.
Thrusting one hip to the side, Lynda smirked and spread her hands, “Ta-da. How do I look?”
Misha swallowed as her brain rebooted. When she had regained her senses, she blurted the first thing that came to mind, “You put your hair up!”
Lynda smirked and lowered her hands and hip, “Yeah, I figured I’d go the distance since it’d look weird otherwise. You look great, by the way.”
Misha grinned, bounded over to Lynda, and carefully pulled her into a kiss. It was a simple, gentle exchange, and the two parted quickly before it could evolve into anything more intense.
Still, the two took their time easing apart, and their faces remained mere inches from each other for some time. Their breath mingling between them, Lynda raised an eyebrow and breathed, “So I look good?”
Misha smiled and pecked Lynda’s nose with her lips, “Beautiful.”
“Ahem.”
The two stepped back from each other and Misha whirled around to see her mother standing in the threshold, eyebrow raised and a small smirk on her face.
Lynda blanched and suppressed a swallow, while Misha just giggled.
Mrs. Mikado gave a wistful sigh before she asked, “You two ready to go?”
Lynda recovered and managed a restrained nod, while Misha bobbed her head with her usual enthusiasm.
Mrs. Mikado grinned at the two and explained, “Your father and I will head out later when the crowd has thinned a bit, so you two enjoy yourselves,” smiling lightly, she winked at Lynda and said in English, “We won’t be waiting.”
Lynda felt certain parts of her warm briefly as thoughts wound their way through her mind. Before they could form into anything firmer Misha grabbed her hand and started leading them out of the room.
“Thanks, Mom!” Misha said as she trotted passed her mother with Lynda stumbling after her, “Happy New Year!”
“Thanks again, Mrs. Mikado!” Lynda called after her –Misha was frighteningly fast in sandals.
Mrs. Mikado chuckled and watched the two bolt for the front door. Once they were out of sight, she sighed wistfully and strolled off to prepare herself –the day was not for the young alone, after all.
On their way out the two passed Mr. Mikado, a tweedy man with a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. He was sitting at the heated table reading a paper, and when he heard the two stampeding along he lowered the paper and raised an eyebrow as they blew past him.
As they reached the door, giving Lynda precious moments to stabilize her shaky footing, Misha grinned back at her father and called, “We’re heading out!”
With that, Misha thrust the door open, dragged Lynda through, and shoved it closed again before her father could say anything.
Lowering his eyebrow, Mr. Mikado smirked lightly and went back to his paper.
Once the two were outside, Misha let go of Lynda, letting her steady herself so she could walk at her own pace while she got accustomed to the sandals. While she solidified her footing, Lynda remembered what Mrs. Mikado said.
Looking up at her girlfriend, Lynda raised an eyebrow and asked, “…Did your mother just… imply the opportunity for us to be…” she struggled to find a tactful way of asking the question –being in Japan made her hyper-sensitive to politeness sometimes, “… alone together?”
Misha grinned and nodded, “Sounds like~. You ready~?”
Lynda smiled and nodded, “Lead the way, please.”
Misha carefully took her girlfriend’s hand and started walking. She kept her pace slow so Lynda could keep up as she grew used to the sandals, and after a while her stumbling pace started to steady.
The sun was bright and the sky clear as the two walked beside the nearly empty street. The city had an eerie almost silence, as the weight of winter was no match for the low buzz that echoed off walls and through streets. Since both of them were city slickers through and through, they found comfort in the murmur of commotion; it helped ease the tension of winter’s stillness.
After a little while of walking, Lynda glanced at Misha and asked, “How far did you say the shrine was?”
Misha grinned, “Not far.”
Lynda rolled her eyes and kept walking.
The two walked in silence, hand in hand, joining a slowly swelling crowd of shrine goers, all eager to make their first visit of the New Year. Groups of friends, couples, families, loners- all formed together with a single purpose, toward a single point.
Although it was rather difficult for the two to really blend in amongst the gathering crowd. The two paid no mind to that, though, ignoring the curious glances and raised eyebrows directed at them as they walked.
Still, Lynda couldn’t help but sigh and mutter, “Sometimes I feel like a zoo animal when I’m here.”
Misha gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and said, “You stand out wherever you are, so it’s okay~!”
Lynda smiled and returned the squeeze, “Cute. Thanks.”
Misha grinned, and the two kept walking.
The shrine itself was crowded, filled with hustle and bustle as people prayed, purchased charms and fortunes, and ran into people they knew along the way. The echoes of conversation flowed through the air, and the temperature warmed a bit from the mass of people. The sheer liveliness of the scene made Misha grin and nearly rush in to join the throng, but she kept her pace steady and her enthusiasm in check, for Lynda’s sake.
The two joined the crowd, it’s somewhat orderly trail into and out of the shrine easy enough to sidle into, and orderly enough that the crowd wasn’t oppressive in its size. The two continued hand in hand for a time, Lynda ignoring the side glances directed her way while Misha patiently waited for her turn to pray. The crowd moved slowly despite its orderliness, and it didn’t take long for Lynda to start fidgeting.
Misha frowned as Lynda picked and poked at her kimono, “You okay?”
Lynda ceased her fidgeting and grimaced at her girlfriend, “I don’t like lines much.”
Misha smiled and squeezed her hand. Hoping to distract her from the slowly trudging line, she asked, “You’re not cold are you?”
Lynda smirked, “Nah, this is nothing. It’s actually unnerving me a bit how warm it is.”
Misha nodded, “Yeah, it was colder than this at Thanksgiving.”
Lynda nodded and sighed as she looked around at the lack of white, “And there’s no snow.”
Misha grinned and declared, “I’m sure there’ll be plenty~ of snow waiting for us back home.”
Lynda smiled at Misha and squeezed her hand, “You called New York home.”
Misha blinked, “…Huh. I did.”
Lynda leaned forward slightly as if to kiss Misha, but decided against it –they were in public, after all, in Japan no less- so she settled for another affectionate hand squeeze. Misha grinned and returned the gesture.
With her free hand, Misha signed, Love you.
Lynda grinned and returned, Love you, too.
When the couple neared the shrine Lynda finally let go of her girlfriend’s hand. Misha took her place and said her prayers, while Lynda patiently waited by the side. Misha had two prayers that day, both related to her girlfriend. The first was simple:
May the two of us continue to love and grow together.
The second prayer was a little more pragmatic:
May Lynda continue to fight the difficulties of her disorder and family divisions.
It was a combination that Misha worried about, perhaps more than was strictly proper, but she had girlfriend’s prerogative on her side.
While Misha prayed, Lynda quietly clasped her hands and lowered her head. Ignoring the thrum of passersby and the chatter of the crowd, she said her own prayer.
O God, grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference; living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time; accepting hardship as a pathway to peace; taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it. Amen.
Not that Lynda was particularly religious, but it seemed to fit the setting, and Lynda knew her own weaknesses as well as anyone.
When Misha had finished her prayers, she rejoined Lynda at the edge of the crowd, smiling brightly.
Lynda returned the smile, “Ready to head back?”
Misha nodded, “Why don’t we take the long way home?” Taking Lynda’s hand in hers, she explained in an exaggerated sing-song tone, “That’ll give Mommy~ and Daddy~ a chance~ to leave~ on~ their~ own~.”
Lynda returned Misha’s smile and sing-song tone with her reply, “If~ you~ say~ so~.”
Misha giggled and led the way back to her home, skirting the shrine traffic by taking several wandering side streets. The foot traffic around them quickly thinned, and soon dispersed completely, leaving the two alone amongst the city buildings and shining winter sky.
Misha turned to Lynda, looking concerned as she asked, “Do your feet hurt?”
Lynda shook her head, “I’m good. I was worried about that, but your Mom gave me some padded socks, so I’m fine. What about you- you’re not cold, are you?”
Misha shook her head, “Guess I’m used to New England weather~!”
Lynda chuckled, and the two kept walking. After a few moments, Misha paused, making Lynda stop and raise an eyebrow.
“Something up?” she asked.
Misha turned to her girlfriend, glanced around them, then leaned forward and kissed Lynda on her nose, “Happy New Year, Lynda.”
Lynda beamed and kissed Misha’s forehead in return, “Happy New Year, Shiina.”
+++
I am a bitter, cynical shell of a man who enjoys writing lesbian romance.
I regret nothing.
Anywho, Happy New Year’s, folks! I’m gonna go pre-game for St. Patrick’s Day.
Updates to one of my favorite stories I haven't even looked at in forever? What a christmas present. Even if I didn't spot them till like a week into january.
YOTC wrote:Updates to one of my favorite stories I haven't even looked at in forever? What a christmas present. Even if I didn't spot them till like a week into january.
It’s been a while since I did a USM story, but after careful consultation with a bottle of Jameson, a magic 8-ball, and the vivisection experiments in the basement (who really need to keep it down before I lose my deposit), I have decided the time has come for another one!
(Also the fact that I’m not doing a full H&K Halloween Series. Sorry about that.)
Now Ilya, throw the yuri switch!
Halloanniversary
“So,” Misha exited the bathroom attached to her dormitory to enter the dorm proper, “How do I look?”
Lynda raised an appraising eyebrow at her girlfriend from her seat at the end of Misha’s bed. The two were heading to a costume optional party at the apartment Lynda shared with Will and Henry. Lynda wore her favorite Little Black Dress, a black coat over one arm to fight the cold. Misha, however, decided to dress up as a typical witch; black skirt, black tights with orange stripes, and a black blouse. A hat seemed too much trouble, and Misha forewent dyeing her hair, letting it naturally flow down her back.
Her appraisal complete, Lynda grinned, “Beautiful. You ready to go?”
Misha nodded, “Uh-huh~! We’re taking the subway, right?”
Lynda shook her head, “Nah, I called a cab. I don’t wanna risk getting thrown up on until we’re there.”
“Cool. When’s it get here?”
Lynda’s phone started ringing in her purse.
Lynda smirked and reached for her phone, “Now, apparently. Unless that’s Will or Henry wondering where we are.”
It turned out the call was indeed the cab, and after a trip that left Misha weak in the knees, the two found themselves in front of the apartment door.
“You okay?” Lynda asked.
Misha nodded, locking her legs and tapping her ear to get over the cab’s horribly damaged muffler, “Bit rougher than I expected~.”
“Must be in a hurry to rake it in from party-goers,” Lynda mused, “Hopefully the cabi’s’ll be back to their normal level of crazy tomorrow.”
Misha frowned and grumbled, “He better get that muffler fixed~.”
Lynda gave Misha’s hand a sympathetic squeeze, “Ear ringing?”
Misha nodded, “It’s clearing up~.”
Lynda frowned, “You need a moment?”
Misha shook her head, “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
Lynda hesitated, but after a reassuring smile from Misha, the two continued, making their way to the apartment without further incident. Once there Lynda glanced at Misha once more to make sure she was okay. Convinced of her recovery, she knocked on the door.
“Avon calling,” she stated.
A few moments later the door swung open, revealing a Union Civil War General.
“Hi Will~!” Misha greeted, “Happy Halloween~!”
“Greetings,” Will returned. He glanced at Lynda’s dress, then back to Misha, “you make a lovely witch.”
Misha beamed and did a brief curtsey, “Thanks!”
Will turned to look at his step-sister and reached to adjust his glasses, a task made difficult because he wasn’t wearing them, “Hey, guess who I am.”
Lynda raised an eyebrow at the young man, clad in Union blue with a fake beard, his uniform shirt and pants somewhat rumpled.
“…Five-times Great Uncle Billy?”
“Ulysses S. Grant, but close,” Will replied, “although I’m pretty sure Billy died at Chickamauga… or maybe Fredericksburg… eh, one of my relatives died at both.”
Misha’s face scrunched up in thought, “Grant was the… eighteenth President, right?”
Will smiled and nodded, “Very good. Although you need to learn all that to get a green card, don’t you?”
Misha nodded, “Yep, yep~!”
Will stepped to the side of the door, “Come on in, I’ll take your coat, welcome, please don’t set anything on fire, Henry’s in the kitchen playing bartender, and thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for having us over!” Misha stated.
That done, the two stepped into the apartment, and Will closed the door behind them as the party’s din washed over the two. Misha and Lynda spent a moment examining the crowd while Will took Lynda’s coat and hung it in a nearby closet.
The apartment’s layout was pretty straightforward –the front door led to the kitchen, several halls led to other rooms, and the living room was visible from across the kitchen. The other guests had already broken into their own little groups, some wearing costumes, some not. Several gathered around the TV in the living room playing some sort of drinking game involving Mario Kart. Misha shook her head briefly to clear her ears before focusing on the screen.
Will smirked at the woman, “You ever play drunk Mario Kart?”
Misha shook her head.
Lynda grinned and exchanged a glance with her brother.
“We’ll teach you the rules later,” Lynda promised.
Misha nodded and headed into the kitchen, Lynda and Will close behind. A group of girls were chatting by the fridge, and only spared the three a brief glance before returning to their own conversation. Coolers, bottles, and bowls of candy lined the kitchen, and several pizza boxes in various states of emptiness sat on the kitchen table itself. Henry, dressed like a bartender from the 1950s, grinned at the three as they entered.
“Welcome! What can I get you?”
“Toss me the bottle of Jack,” Will said, “I intend to get fully in character.”
“You gonna go beat up some Klan members later?” Lynda asked.
Will shrugged, “We’ll see how the night goes.”
Henry pulled out a half-pint and tossed it to Will, who managed to grab it. With a quick salute he withdrew from the field of battle to drink another day.
That done, Henry focused on the two women, smiling brightly, “Hey, glad you made it.”
“I do live here,” Lynda remarked.
“Hi, Hi~!” Misha greeted.
Henry grinned at the energetic foreigner, “Hey, Misha. You are the second cutest witch I’ve ever seen.”
“…Huh,” Misha muttered, “I… I don’t know what to do with that.”
“Just ignore it,” Lynda advised, “and get her a tequila sunrise or something.”
“Could I have a Woodchuck, actually~?” Misha asked.
Henry nodded and looked to Lynda, “You want anything?”
She shook her head, “Later, maybe. Someone,” she glanced at Misha, “gave me a very stern lecture about being responsible today.”
Misha smirked as Henry popped open a bottle of cider for her, “You said~ you’d be more responsible with your meds.”
Lynda rolled her eyes, “Knew it was a mistake to let you read my prescriptions.”
Misha grinned and nudged Lynda’s elbow with her own, earning a small smirk from the other woman. Henry offered her the bottle, which Misha took with a thanks.
“Do they have hard cider in Japan?” Lynda asked.
Misha shrugged, “No idea~. I only drank sake before coming to the states, and that was only for holidays and birthdays.”
“How traditional,” Henry remarked.
“My Dad comes from a pretty old fashioned family,” Misha remarked, “he may or may not owe his current job to some… falling outs with certain individuals~.”
Henry raised an eyebrow but said nothing, while Lynda pondered.
“I’d say that would explain him driving into a phone pole when you came out,” Lynda mused, “but honestly I’m just glad he didn’t disown you.”
Misha nodded, “Me, too. I think Mom talked him out of it.”
“Well that’s a cheery thought,” Henry interjected, “Lynda, you want some regular cider for now?”
Lynda nodded, “Sure, thanks.”
Henry pulled out a jug of cider and a cup, filled it, then handed it to Lynda.
“So,” she turned to Misha, “wanna mingle? I know… most of the people here.”
“They’re mostly friends from work,” Henry explained, “and the gaming club. I think a few wandered in because they thought this was a different party, but whatever.”
Lynda gave an absent nod, her attention still on Misha, “I know a few of ‘em, like I said, or if you just wanna wander about, or there’s candy….”
Misha grinned, “Candy sounds fun. I wanna look at the costumes, too~.”
Lynda nodded, “Alright, we’ll do that.”
The two meandered about, mingling and chatting with the other party goers. Lynda introduced Misha to the people she knew, and talked amiably with the ones they didn’t. After a few drinks and some candy Misha found herself in a very involved discussion about Kit-Kat flavors, which somehow evolved into drunk Mario Kart. Then several pizzas arrived, and the next thing Misha knew it was almost Midnight.
After a trip to the bathroom, Misha found Lynda waiting for her.
“Hey,” Lynda smiled and leaned forward until her lips were mere inches from Misha’s ear, “Come to my room –I have a surprise for you.”
Misha shivered and let Lynda take her hand. Raising a curious eyebrow, Misha let her partner lead her to an isolated portion of the apartment. No party goers visited that corner of the apartment, and a white board on the door before them said “Lynda’s Room” in black marker. Under that someone had added “We need Rice Krispies.”
Lynda frowned at the note, but led Misha to a few paces in front of the door. The brunette blinked at the door, waiting patiently as Lynda moved into place between her and the door.
“Okay,” Lynda said, “I want you to close your eyes, take… ten steps straight ahead, and then open your eyes.”
“Okay….,” Misha closed her eyes and started walking.
Lynda shoved the door open and stepped aside as Misha walked past her and into the room. When she was fully inside Lynda walked in after her and closed the door.
Misha stepped into place and opened her eyes to see a small, cramped bedroom bedecked with artificial golden candles, their small light bulbs the room’s sole illumination. Above the bed hung a pink and white sign that read “Happy Birthday!”
“Ta-da!” Lynda declared, “Happy Birthday, Misha!”
Misha gave a girlish squeal, spun around, and tackle hugged Lynda, nearly forcing them into the door as Misha babbled her thanks.
“I can’t believe I forgot!” Misha chirped, “And you remembered and did you plan this whole thing out God what if I had played that last round of Mario-”
Lynda cut off Misha’s excited babbling by kissing her, a quick kiss that slowly deepened into something more. When Lynda finally pulled back, both women were breathing shallowly, and Lynda licked her lips to savor the lingering taste of her partner.
“Of course I remembered,” Lynda declared, “I also remember what we did the night before your birthday last year. So, Happy Anniversary, too.”
Misha blushed and licked her lips, “Were you… thinking of… reliving that night, perhaps~?”
Lynda smiled, “That was part of the plan, yes.”
Misha looked into her partner’s bright brown eyes, already darkened with desire, and imagined her own amber gaze looked similar. Outside came a muted shout, and the outer world briefly entered their secluded corner of intimacy.
“But…the party….” Misha muttered.
Lynda smirked, “People hook up at these sorts of things all the time.”
Misha smirked, “Sure~ they do.”
Lynda sighed and pulled Misha closer, “No one will hear us. I’ll make sure of that.”
Misha blinked, grinned, and leaned in for another kiss.
+++
I did a thing!
I suppose this also counts as a Birthday Special for Misha, too.
Happy Birthday, Misha! Happy Halloween, everyone! See you next time, whenever that is!
Hooray, more Hoitash! Even better, more Misha and Lynda! I have read and enjoyed all of the stories you've written, even with as silly as some of them can get (maybe because of how silly they can get) but I really really enjoy all of your USM stories. It's nice to see Misha get her own happy ending, and all the characters you've created for it are delightful. I am not a proofreader or a critic so you won't get much of that from me, I just like what I like. And I really like these stories. Can't wait to see what you have in store for us next.
Edible_Funk wrote:Hooray, more Hoitash! Even better, more Misha and Lynda! I have read and enjoyed all of the stories you've written, even with as silly as some of them can get (maybe because of how silly they can get) but I really really enjoy all of your USM stories. It's nice to see Misha get her own happy ending, and all the characters you've created for it are delightful. I am not a proofreader or a critic so you won't get much of that from me, I just like what I like. And I really like these stories. Can't wait to see what you have in store for us next.
Thanks . With USM I try to make it as immersive as possible, which is kinda weird when you think about this kooky Japanese girl going to school in one of the better university's on the east coast.
I wish I could write more USM, actually, but ideas for stories are a lot harder for it. Maybe I should suck it up and just move the timeline forward.
Mirage_GSM wrote:You never had any scruples about jumping up and down timelines before...
True, but with this one it means I have to declare the results of my first birthday special in the series (ie, did Lynda and Misha move to Japan for Misha's career or stay in the States?)
I am conflicted on the answer and may resort to my magic 8-ball for the solution.
We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight!
We’re going to continue to write lesbian fan-fiction! We’re going to survive! Today, we celebrate what happens when I write 24 pages of yuri goodness!
Rocket’s Red Glare
The battered two-door Saturn rattled its way along a country road deep within rural New York, the afternoon sun glaring across the early July sky. His shoulder length dark brown hair rustling along with the breeze of his open window, Will glared ahead through his glasses as he drove the car onward.
Next to him, his auburn hair rustling in the breeze, Henry glanced at a map and printed set of directions as the trees and fields flew past, the front end parts rattling almost as bad as the poor remnants of the vehicle’s suspension.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” he asked.
Will nodded, “Google maps hasn’t failed me yet, and besides, you have the directions.”
Henry looked out the window, “It looks too different now –too many houses and whatnot.”
“It has been a while,” Will mused. Raising his voice slightly, he glanced behind him and said, “Lynda, tell Misha we should be there in half an hour-ish.”
In the back of the tiny two-door sat Lynda, her long black hair safe from the breeze as she sat behind Henry, and Misha, her long brown hair fluttering at the edges. To protect her inner ear from the car’s clattering, Misha had donned earplugs, so the best way to communicate with her was signing.
Will says we’ll be there soon, Lynda signed.
Misha leaned over so she was between the two front seats, “Okay~! Thanks for driving us!”
Will nodded to acknowledge the remark, and Misha returned to her seat. Lynda, smiling lightly, took Misha’s hand to get her attention. Misha quirked her head at Lynda as she signed with her free hand.
You sure you’re up for this? she asked, We’ll be up pretty late.
Misha smiled and signed back with her free hand, I’m sure! I’ve been wanting to celebrate a 4th of July with you since my sophomore year.
Lynda smirked and signed back, Still, this is a bit extreme, don’t you think?
Misha grinned, It makes up for all the Fourths we didn’t get to spend together.
Lynda smiled, though the point still eluded her; it was the Fourth of July, not Valentine’s Day. Still, it was the first Fourth of July she and Lynda got to spend together, and in Misha’s mind that meant a need for something big.
To that end, and due in part to a series of events that included an oddly eventful Canada Day, the two women, together with Will –the only one with a driver’s license in the US- and Henry decided to plan something with one of their rural contacts –a distant cousin of Henry’s that Will and Lynda had known for years.
Well we’ll make sure it’s a fun one, then,Lynda promised, Lord knows we’ll have enough mortars, rockets, and Yuengling to start a forest fire if we aren’t careful.
Misha grinned, Can’t wait. Thanks for helping make it happen.
Lynda squeezed Misha’s hand, You’re welcome.
Not quite half an hour later, during which Misha spent most of the time looking out the window, the Saturn slowly plowed its way along a dirt road, the car bouncing and clanking with each minor deviation in the road’s grading. While a large two story farmhouse came into view immediately, it was several moments of continued driving before Will eased onto a patch of grass, placing the Saturn near an open spaced garage loaded with old engines and pickup trucks.
“We’re here,” Will declared, killing the engine as he added, “everyone outta the pool.”
Will and Henry slowly unraveled themselves from the cramped car. After taking a moment to stretch their legs, they shoved the front seats forward so Misha and Lynda could do the same. Lynda elbowed her way free before hopping out and skidding to a halt on the moist grass. Misha, the shortest of the four, merely hopped out and looked out at the field of corn rustling in the distance, well behind the house but still in view thanks to its sheer size.
“Wow~,” she murmured, “That is a lot~ of corn.”
“No more than we saw the entire way here,” Will remarked.
Henry, scanning the area as if looking for something, muttered under his breath, “He said he’d be here… ah. Hey!”
Henry waved to a young man walking toward them, dressed in blue jeans and a worn T-shirt, his complexion tanned and hair a dark brown. The young man grinned and waved back. Henry took a few steps forward and when the two met they grabbed each other in a quick man-hug.
“You made it!” the man declared.
“Wasn’t sure we’d have the gas,” Henry returned, “but if nothing else the Saturn has kickass mileage. Now c’mon and say hi to everyone else.”
The two broke apart and the man strode toward Will, who smiled and stuck out his hand.
Grabbing the hand with both of his own, the man proceeded to nearly shake Will’s arm off as he greeted, “Heya dork, howya been?”
Will shrugged as best he could with one arm being turned into rubber, “I’m alright.”
The man grinned and let go of Will’s arm, “Good to hear.”
The greeting concluded, the young man turned to Lynda, who walked over and gave him a quick hug while Will flexed feeling back into his hand and forearm.
“Hey,” Lynda greeted, “Been a while.”
The man frowned even as he held the hug, “’Hey’? I haven’t seen you in forever and you just say hello? What the Hell, woman! You don’t show up in ages and now you’re engaged to a foreigner?” at this the man stuck out one hand for Misha to shake, “Nice to meet you, by the way –name’s Dave.”
Misha grinned, bounded over, and took the offered hand, “Hi, I’m Misha! Thanks for having us over!”
“Oh, that’s how you pronounce it,” Dave waited for Misha to let go of his hand before stepping back to eye Lynda, “Why does that sound Russian to me?”
“It’s the diminutive of Mikhail,” Lynda explained, “the Russian form of Michael, ‘who is like God?’”
Dave spent a few moments processing that before grinning again, “Ah that’s why. Forgot how much I missed that. Also I’m still mad at you, fyi.”
Lynda rolled her eyes, “Sure you are.”
“Misha is actually~ my nickname,” Misha interjected, “my actual name is Shiina, with the kanji for ‘fame’, not ‘death’.”
Henry grinned and pumped the air, “Cost me ten bucks but I finally got her to say it.”
Will sighed and adjusted his glasses, “And I’m the dork.”
Dave glanced at the two before returning his focus to Misha, “Which do you prefer?”
“Definitely Fame.”
Lynda gave an amused snort, as did Henry. Will just rolled his eyes, while Dave once again took a moment to recover.
“Um, I meant…” sighing and rubbing his temple, he asked, “you’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
Misha grinned, “Sorry~! I don’t get to use that joke very often. Anyway, you can call me Misha!”
“Pleased to meet you, Misha,” Dave declared. Turning to the group at large, he explained, “So the folks are out and everyone else has the day off, the deck’s ready, and the bathroom’s the second door on the left from the back door. Will, you still good to cook?”
Will nodded, “You got the potato salad, right?”
Dave returned the nod with one of his own, “Two kinds. Before you guys start unpacking…” reaching into his pocket, Dave pulled out a pack of American Spirits and stuck one between his teeth, “Who’d like to be the responsible one and not drink enough to impair their ability to use explosives? I don’t mind mixing fireworks and alcohol but someone needs to be at least reasonably sober just in case.”
Lynda raised her hand, “I’ll hold back for you guys.”
Dave raised an eyebrow at the woman as he pulled a lighter from his pocket, “Uh… I know you Canucks have a slightly different vernacular, but I’m pretty sure ‘reasonably sober’ means the same thing in American English as it does in Canadian English.”
Lynda rolled her eyes, “Very funny. Alcohol messes with my meds, remember?”
“That never stopped you…” Pausing with his finger on the lighter, Dave’s gaze turned toward Misha, “Right, forgot. Thanks, by the way, for getting her to be responsible.”
Misha beamed, “She did most of the work herself.”
Lynda smiled and wrapped an arm around her partner, “You helped a lot and you know it. Save the humility for when we’re in Japan, alright?”
Misha chuckled, giving a sheepish nod as Lynda let go of her.
“I…” Dave seemed to have difficulty processing the moment, “wow… um…”
“Cigarette,” Will suggested.
Dave shook himself like a wet dog, flicked the lighter to life, and lit the cigarette, “Thanks. I feel like I just saw a unicorn. Anyway, safety first. So, Will, you ready to grill?
Will nodded, “Take me to your grill, that I may bathe it in the glorious meat medley of our dinner.”
Dave smirked and pointed to a worn stone walkway leading around the side of the house, “You know the way. Need a hand with anything?”
Henry turned to the trunk, then glared at Will because he had the key. While Will opened the trunk, Henry replied, “You can grab the second beer cooler while I grab the first.”
“We’ll get the lawn chairs,” Lynda stated, “the ones we didn’t set on fire during Canada Day.”
Misha beamed, “That was fun! Well, until the fire part, I guess.”
Stepping over to the now opened trunk, Dave raised an eyebrow at the two women, “What did you crazy foreigners get up to?”
“Hey I have dual citizenship,” Lynda retorted, “and she has a green card.”
“Noted,” Dave declared, “and welcome to America.”
“I’ve lived here four years.”
“Oh…” Dave deflated, “sorry, Lynda only told me so much and…” sighing, his cigarette twitched lightly as eyed the short brunette, “you’re teasing me again, aren’t you?”
Misha beamed, “Sorry~.”
Dave sighed again as Henry handed him a large blue cooler, “You’re being a bad influence, Lynda,” he said.
Lynda shrugged, “It’s a balance thing –she gets me to take my meds and talk to my Mom, I get her to have sex in kinky places.”
Will groaned, “And on that note, I’m going to meet the grill and say hi to the dogs and chickens.”
Henry nodded and heaved his own cooler, “Right behind you.”
Dave and Henry turned to follow Will, but first Dave glanced back to Lynda.
“Just to be clear here: no lesbian sex in my house. My parents would summon the ghost of Reagan to kick my ass and then kick my ass.”
Lynda rolled her eyes, “You’re house is safe from our sinful ways. We’ll get the trunk, too.”
“Thank you,” Will called before disappearing behind the house.
As the two women hauled a bagged up folding camp chair onto each arm, Misha quirked her head in thought, “Huh… do I need to convert now?”
Lynda shrugged as she elbowed the trunk shut, “Mom would say yes, Dad probably won’t care, and honestly I don’t either. I converted when Mom and Dad married but ultimately it’d be up to you.”
Misha blinked, “You converted?”
“From Anglican to Lutheran,” Lynda replied, then frowned and added, “Have we not discussed this before?”
Misha smiled, “We have now.”
Lynda blinked a few times, shrugged, and headed for the walkway, Misha a pace behind.
When they reached the walkway proper Misha asked, “Have you been here a lot?”
Lynda shifted one of the chairs on her shoulder as the large front porch disappeared from view, “Just a few times, and not since entering college. Oh, you’ll be able to see the barn soon and get a really good view of the corn, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
Misha smiled, appreciating how Lynda indulged her continued awe of the sheer size of America. As it was she couldn’t get over how long they’d driven; if they had done that in Japan they would have hit the ocean.
Eventually the walkway rounded the house, ending at the border of a large yard. A good-sized wooden deck stuck out from the back door of the house, upon which sat a round metal table with an opened green umbrella, several metal chairs painted white like the table, and a large grill tucked to one side. A fire pit a ways away lacked any chairs, although it did have several hefty logs turned sideways. An old red barn rose at the edge of the yard, where the corn field rustled and bristled in the breeze. Just to the side of the deck’s steps lay a weary looking German Shepherd, the black portions of its fur turned mostly grey. The dog’s ears lazily twitched as Henry and Dave hefted their coolers next to the grill.
Lynda smiled and called, “Hey Jenny! Who’s a good girl?”
The dog ignored her.
Lynda sighed, “She never did like me. Oh, let’s get the chairs over to the pit.”
Misha nodded and continued to follow her partner, “She looks kind of old.”
Lynda nodded, “Very. Hey Dave, there’s what, three generations of Jenny’s pups around here?”
“Four,” Dave called back, “the fucking coyotes take their share, though.”
“Awwww~,” Misha gave the old dog a sympathetic smile, “you’ve worked really hard, haven’t you?”
Jenny slowly lifted her head and tilted it at Misha. Slowly, the old dog hefted herself up and started walking toward them.
Misha, unused to dogs, glanced to Lynda, “Um, what do I do? She’s coming over.”
“First we set up these chairs,” Lynda stated, “then we go bug Will.”
“I have a spatula!” Will warned them, “and a chicken familiar!”
Lynda sighed and continued walking. Misha, one eye on the slowly approaching dog, followed. Once they reached the pit Lynda unloaded the chairs and looked around. Several empty bottles and poles lined a spot a fair distance from the pit. Mosquito lanterns, candles, and coils –all unlit- formed a perimeter around the line and the fire pit. Reaching down, Lynda loosened the cord on one of the chair’s bags and started setting up.
Misha, after taking a brief moment to admire Lynda’s brief bent over position, caught up with her and did the same. By the time all four chairs were on their legs, Jenny had caught up with the two. Getting on one knee, Misha tentatively stuck out her hand for the dog. Jenny gave the hand a brief sniff and started nuzzling Misha’s palm.
“Awww~,” Misha cooed, “You are a good girl, aren’t you?”
Jenny’s ear twitched in reply.
Misha carefully petted the old dog’s head, stopping only so she could get up and join the deck fun. Jenny slowly turned to Lynda, plopping herself on her legs and giving the woman an expectant look.
Lynda rolled her eyes, “Oh sure, now you pay attention to me.”
Misha waited while Lynda petted the old dog. Once Lynda finished, the two went to join the rest on the deck. Jenny followed them to the steps, where she stopped and laid down in the shaded grass.
“They’re not allowed on the deck,” Lynda explained.
Once the two stepped onto the deck proper Dave held out two Yuengling’s for them, the caps already twisted free.
“You guys brought enough beer for the whole farm,” he remarked.
Henry, having taken up the time honored position of grill commentator, shrugged and said, “Figured we may as well stock up if we had the chance.”
Lynda took the proffered beer and raised an eyebrow at Will, only now noticing the chicken on the railing staring at him.
“The coal’s ready yet?” she asked.
Will, wearing an apron and backwards baseball cap to keep his hair out of the food, his eyes on the chicken, didn’t answer. Henry leaned around Will’s other side so as not to disturb the staring contest.
“Not yet,” he replied.
Misha sipped her own beer and watched Will and the chicken’s contest. Dave, meanwhile, handed Henry and Will glasses of Jack and soda.
Lynda eased into a chair under the umbrella, watching the guys cook. Dave, his own Jack and Coke in hand, took the seat next to her. His cigarette twitching lightly, he pointed a finger at her.
“You got some ‘splainin’ to do.”
Lynda rolled her eyes, “Look, I’m sorry I lost touch. I promise I’ll keep my Facebook better updated like some high school dork.”
Dave sighed and sipped his drink, “It’s cool –you’ve been busy, I get that. But now you’re here, I wanna catch up. So let’s start with her,” he pointed a finger at Misha, who was now talking to Will about grilling, “how’d you meet? Why her? How the Hell did you make up with your mother?”
Lynda smirked and took a long sip of her beer.
Meanwhile, Misha and Henry were discussing the various ways to grill corn. Will continued to stare down the chicken, a difficult proposition as chickens blink very quickly. Suddenly, the chicken ruffled its feathers and hopped off the railing, flapping madly to ease its descent.
Will harrumphed in triumph, “Thank you for your honorable admission of defeat, Lula.”
Henry glanced at Will, “You named the chicken?”
“No,” Dave interjected, “her name is Lula. Well, Lula XX, but nuance.”
Henry sighed and glanced at the chimney, “Coal’s are ready.”
Will proceeded to ready the grill with one hand while drinking with the other, Misha and Henry watching and providing commentary as needed. Lynda, meanwhile, caught up with Dave, finishing her beer and a quickly proffered glass of water in the process. Her only real pause was a quick bathroom break and to point out to Dave that the dogs were eyeing the grill.
Dave raised an eyebrow and turned toward the grill, where several dogs’ heads poked out between the railings.
“Hey!” Dave spat the remains of his cigarette across the deck, “Scoot!”
The dogs retreated while Henry stepped on the stub, picked it up, and tossed it in a nearby can.
“Thanks,” Dave said a she pulled out his pack and lighter, “Anyway, you were saying?”
“As you can see,” Will was explaining to Misha and Henry –mostly Misha, “timing is vital when grilling this much food. Hey! How does everyone want their steaks?”
“Medium rare,” Dave replied.
“Medium,” Lynda and Henry replied.
Misha grinned and said, “Well done, please!”
Will glared at her over his glasses, pointed to the corn field, and snarled, “Get. Out.”
Will sighed in relief and focused on the grill, his commentary slowed by three shots of Jack and the need to time the steaks to his anal retentive standards.
By the time Lynda had finished retelling the last several years of her life to Dave, the food was almost ready, and the dogs’ eyes so insistent Dave had to withdraw for a moment to feed them. Once he’d done so he resumed his seat, eyeing Lynda thoughtfully.
“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” he declared.
Lynda nodded, “Yeah, but it’s worth it. Hey Will, should Dave go get the tater salads?”
Will turned toward Lynda, “Ron White’s here?”
Dave rolled his eyes and hefted himself up, “I’m going, I’m going. Henry, you mind setting the table?”
Henry shook his head, “Not at all. I’ll start the coffee for after dinner, too.”
“Thanks.”
While the two headed inside Misha plopped herself down in Dave’s former seat, partially consumed beer in one hand.
Lynda smiled and grabbed Misha’s other hand, “Having fun?”
Misha grinned and nodded, “Uh-huh~! It’s so different from anything we’ve done before!”
“Glad you’re enjoying it,” Lynda remarked, “probably almost as much as I enjoy seeing you in those jeans.”
Misha smiled, then glanced at the grill and sighed, “Will cooked so~ much meat… I’m going to get fat again.”
Lynda squeezed Misha’s head, “You were never fat.”
Misha smiled, “Thanks. Love you.”
“Same.”
Dave reappeared onto the deck as the two let go of each other’s hands, his own holding two large bowls of mixed potato goodness, “Henry right behind me, how’s the meat and corn?”
“Everything’s done or resting,” Will replied. Taking off the cap, he ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and added, “and my hair is severely frizzed.”
“Its sacrifice will not be forgotten,” Lynda deadpanned.
A few moments later Henry appeared with the plates and flatware, and once he set the table Will and Dave started setting down the food.
“Alright,” Will started explaining, “I’ve labeled the steaks with multi-colored toothpicks, we have redskin potato salad, mustard potato salad, bratwurst, lightly grilled buns, mustard, and grilled corn.”
“Mom made a cherry pie for dessert,” Dave added, “and we have ice cream. Oh, and Jim Bob gave us some of his moonshine.”
Lynda shuddered, “Ugh, I’m out –that stuff fucked me up even when I didn’t care about my meds.”
“Misha can have it,” Will suggested, “so everyone grab a seat. Wait, where’s the butter?”
“I got it,” Henry said, placing a stick of butter on the table, “I’ll grab the waters and beers, too.”
“Thanks,” Dave said before turning toward Misha, “So Misha, what d’you think of the country so far?”
“Big,” Misha replied, “and tall.”
Dave raised an eyebrow, then shrugged, “Fair enough… wait,” he turned to Lynda as she took a seat at the table, “you mentioned going to Japan a few times, right?”
Lynda nodded.
“Huh,” Dave smirked at Henry as he placed a beer in front of Lynda, “How much did that grind your gears that she got to Japan first?”
“She buys me souvenirs so it’s fine,” Henry replied, “Now grab a seat so Will can set your steak.”
Once everyone had taken a seat and Will placed the steaks, Dave bowed his head, Lynda and Will following suit. When they finished Misha carefully clapped her hands together, said thanks for the food –in Japanese to amuse Henry and Dave- and everyone started passing around platters and bowls.
“Getting back to the Japan thing,” Dave said as he spooned some mustard potato salad onto his plate, “Misha, you learned English before you came here, right?”
Misha placed a bratwurst into a bun and nodded, “Uh-huh~.”
Dave turned to Lynda, “Did you learn Japanese?”
Lynda nodded as she cut her steak, “And Japanese and a bit of American Sign Language, which Misha knows, too.”
Dave’s eyes widened, “And that’s on top of all that Russian stuff you studied?”
Lynda nodded.
“Wow,” Dave breathed, “I am the dumbest person here.”
Will passed the corn to Henry and shrugged, “I’m only bilingual, so if it’s any consolation I’m the second dumbest.”
“That… does not encourage me,” Dave declared, “So Misha, Lynda’s told me a bit, but not much about you. What brought you here? And don’t say Will’s car.”
Misha grinned, “I wanted to get away from the lie I’d become and learn my true self.”
“Okay…” Dave wasn’t sure if she meant that or not, so tried a different tack, “What do your parents do, if I may ask?”
“Mom’s a chef,” she replied, “and Dad’s a used car salesman.”
Dave blinked at the response, “I… I don’t know what to do with that. Oh, I guess I should do my part of catching up, now.”
Lynda swallowed a piece of steak and rolled her eyes, “You work on a farm, what could possibly have changed since we last saw each other?”
Dave glowered at her, “I’ll have you know we’ve been testing a new corn seed that-”
Lynda raised a hand, “Please, no corn talk. We’re not in Iowa.”
“Not that you could tell by looking around,” Will remarked.
“Like where we’re from is any better,” Henry mused, “and aren’t you from farmer stock anyway?”
“My family stopped farming a century ago,” Will replied, “more money in dying for the country.”
“Dark,” Dave remarked, “although… Misha, may I ask a possibly sensitive question?”
“No I haven’t had sex with a man.”
Will groaned and grabbed his head with his hands. Henry, sitting next to him, gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.
Lynda grinned, “I love you so much.”
Misha grinned, “Thanks!”
Dave sighed, chugged his beer, and continued, “Anyway, Misha, your grandfathers served in the war, right?”
Misha nodded, “My granddad on my Dad’s side was a kamikaze pilot, but the war ended before he flew, so I guess that would just make him a pilot. On my Mom’s side he served in the Army and died at Guam.”
“Huh,” Lynda grunted, “Shizune’s Dad said that’s where his grandfather died.”
“One of my Great Uncles died there, too,” Will added, “knee mortar right between the legs.”
“My grandparents were miners with bad shoulders,” Henry added, “so they weren’t really draft-able. Although I did have an Uncle serve in Korea.”
The conversation continued, veering to and from various places until eventually everyone had had their fill of food for the time being.
Misha sighed in contentment, “Thanks for cooking, Will. It was really~ good.”
Will smiled, “Good to here. I’ll go clean the grill.”
“I’ll clear the table,” Henry stated.
“I’ll sit here and pester Misha for more information,” Dave added, turning to the previously mentioned woman.
Misha tilted her head at him, “Whaddya wanna know?”
Dave opened his mouth, closed it, and frowned thoughtfully, “Good question… oh, you know sign language –are you planning to be an interpreter?”
Misha nodded, “That’s the plan. I’m not sure if I’m going to do it here or back in Japan, so that’s why I know both ASL and JSL.”
Dave nodded to himself, “Makes sense, although I can’t imagine going back to Japan would be easy for you two.”
“It’s not something we’ve discussed very much,” Lynda interjected, looking briefly over Henrys arm as he cleared her setting, “Especially since we’re both working on our Master’s –further complicated since I’m a year older- and I’m looking at Doctoral programs.”
Dave snorted, “The idea of you being a doctor… you don’t come ‘round for a few years and everything gets turned on its head.”
Lynda smirked, “you’d think you’d be used to it.”
“That’s another thing I like about this country,” Misha chimed in, “how things are always changing. Japan changes too, but it’s still rooted in the past. I hate my past, so I want to live somewhere where I can look forward without regret.”
“It’s not all bad, though,” Lynda reminded her, “Shizune and Hisao are in the past, too.”
Misha nodded, “True….”
“Well on that oddly deep note,” Dave said, “I’m going to get coffee and then the pie.”
“Can I have mine in a big cup?” Misha asked, “I get tired at night easily sometimes.”
Dave nodded, “Sure thing. Be back in a bit.”
Lynda sighed and leaned back in her chair, watching the sun slowly set, “It is nice to come out here every now and then.”
Misha nodded, watching the first fireflies attempt to make their presence known amongst the twilight, “I like it here, but I like the city, too.”
“I prefer the city,” Will interjected from the grill, “but I don’t mind it out here, I guess.”
“I’m fine anywhere,” Henry added, his arms loaded with dirty dishes, “I’ll go put these away and help Dave bring out dessert.”
“Ugh,” Lynda groaned, “I dunno if I can eat anymore. As it is I need to pee but I don’t wanna get up.”
Eventually she did get up, entering the house as Dave left with the coffee. She managed to return just ahead of Henry, carrying small plates and spoons, and Dave, who had gone back inside to get the pie.
Misha’s eyes widened at the sight of the dessert, “Wow~…. Can I get your Mom’s recipe for that?”
“Sure,” Dave replied, “when you pry it from her cold dead hands –and I’ll warn you now she’s the second best shot in the county, and she will defend her recipe book to the death.”
Misha swallowed; American’s cavalier attitude to guns still left her occasionally flat-footed.
Dave placed the pie down, then went back inside to get the ice cream.
Misha leaned forward to thoroughly examine the pie. Then she took out her phone and snapped a picture.
Lynda grinned at Misha’s admiration of the dessert, “It’s just a pie.”
Misha shook her head, her long brown hair swaying with the movement, “It’s more than that –its love and dedication and cherries.”
“I get it,” Will declared, once again removing his apron and cap. Snapping to attention he saluted the grill, “Thank you for your service, Weber.”
.
