Chapter Text
We watched Tangled, first. Of course we did. And as much as I cherish and love the movie and its message, I regretted watching it the moment it began.
All the memories. Every time I watched the movie with my parents. Every moment I thought I might have forgotten…it all came rushing back.
I could almost feel my mom, sitting beside me, softly singing along to the songs. I remembered how my dad would also sing along, loud and dramatic and off-key. My mother and I would groan when he did and laugh when he sang out even louder in spite.
When “I see the light,” plays, tears cling to my lashes. My throat closes up. My parents really, truly loved this song. They'd memorised the lyrics and randomly sang it throughout the day, my Mom would sing Rapunzel's part and my Dad would sing Flynn's.
It hurts; recalling all this. Remembering how playful and lively my parents were. How they lit up the room in a way I'll never get to experience again. Sometimes I wonder how they'd react to my makeshift family. I like to imagine that. They'd love these people so much. They'd love them and thank them for being my friends. I hate that I'll never get to see that.
The emotion begins to pull me under, so I mumble an excuse to go to the bathroom and make a beeline towards it. The door shuts with a soft click.
I try breathing. I try biting my lip to hold it in. I take another shuddery breath, grappling for control. I choke on the next inhale and curse as my vision begins to blur with tears.
I am not going to cry. I shouldn’t be wanting to cry.
I turn and splash my face with water, pushing the heat back behind my eyes. Another splash. Then I wipe my face and stare in the mirror. The eyes that stare back seem hollow, mouth drooping. I try to make my face look less soppy. Stick my tongue out at myself in an attempt to snap back into the plasticity of happiness, and lean in to make sure my eyes aren’t bloodshot. They look okay. I look alright.
I step out of the bathroom, slowly closing the door.
Warner’s in the kitchen in front of me, eyes narrowed and making direct contact with mine.
“Hey-”
“You’re silently grieving. Again.” He says, and has the nerve to say it so dismissively as if noticing a crooked painting.
“Jeez, man.” I roll my eyes, annoyed, “I told you to stop reading our auras or whatever creepy shit you do.”
Warner’s brows furrow. “You make me sound like a fortune teller.”
“I’m surprised you know what those are.”
Warner’s eyes dart across my face, assessing.
“I told you to stop, dude,” I say, “It’s creepy.”
“You should speak with Juliette.”
“Mind your business, Warner.”
“You’re on my property, so you are under my discretion.”
“Is this your way of caring?” I cross my arms, “Because I'm almost touched. Almost.”
“I am concerned.”
“It’s unnecessary.”
“Is it?” His tone shifts, ever so slightly softens, you wouldn’t notice it if you didn’t know him.
“You can’t be the one saying this to me, bro. Look me in the eye and tell me you talk about your feelings.”
Warner looks down. And then toward the livingroom, “I don’t have to.” He shuffles his feet. I realize he’s looking at Juliette when he says, “Really, I can’t. She always notices."
“Oh.” My heart clenches. I can’t help but smile at that, “She does, doesn’t she?”
He just nods, clearing his throat. And in fear of the awkward weight of emotion in the air, I return back to the couch.
“Kenji?” Juliette whispers, round eyes looking at me. “You okay?”
Warner glances toward us.
“Yeah. I'm okay. Just remembering,” I rub my palms across my eyes. “I miss my parents.”
I see the ache of concern in her eyes as she pats my arm, “They'd be so proud of you.”
“They would love you guys so much, you know?”
“I hoped as much.” Juliette smiled, turning back to watching the movie.
“I wish I could show Nazeera this,” the words come out so softly, I wasn't even sure if I'd thought them or said them outloud.
Juliette sighs, grabbing my hand with both of hers, “I'm sorry.”
“Yeah,” I squeezed her hands and let go. “Me too.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I probably should. Doesn't mean I want to, though,” I keep watching the movie, watching as Rapunzel cries over Flynn's injury.
Juliette makes an amused sound. Flynn chops off Rapunzel's hair. “Talk.”
“Now?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rapunzel discover the healing properties of her tears
“Or later. But, you're going to talk.” Juliette whispers a little loudly as the music from the movie crescendos, Flynn slowly stirs awake, “It's been almost a year and I've let you have your space. But, now I'm afraid you're never going to process what happened. You're my best friend. I want you to be okay.”
I keep staring at the screen as Rapunzel hugs Flynn. They kiss. Happy ending and all that.
“I don't know how to talk about it,” I confess, eyes still glued to the screen.
“Over a glass of wine?”
I raise my brow, “You wanna get me drunk?”
“I want to get you comfortable enough to spill your feelings.”
“So, yes?”
Juliette shrugs, smiling.
“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Only because I haven't had any in a long while.”
She bumps her shoulder into mine, “Yay!”
On the screen, Rapunzel reunites with her parents. I turn to glance at James, he looks teary and my heart explodes. I don’t say anything, letting him have his space.
***
After Adam and Alia leave and James has retired to his room for the night, Juliette brings out the wine. A sleek, dark green bottle with a label I don't care to read.
Warner’s also in his room. He doesn’t drink and I would prefer him not see me talk about my feelings.
She pours the plum liquid in a glass and passes it to me. I take a small sip and frown at the taste. It’s good wine, I think. I had never had any before. It kind of tastes like a fruity smell. But, also sour, “Ugh.”
Juliette coughs out a laugh, “Yeah, it’s weird.”
“Hmm.”
“So.” Juliette takes a sip.
I groan, “J, I’m not even drunk yet.”
“You’ll get there when you get there.”
I mimic her, pitching my voice higher and repeat what she said. I get smacked for it, but okay.
Maybe it’s the dwindling giggles after, or the dim, shadowy orange light cast across the room, I scrounge up some words.
“Did you know…” I start, still contemplating whether I want to talk about it. But, it has been years since it happened, so, “I was put in solitary confinement once?”
I keep staring at the wine, slightly swirling in my shaky grip.
“What?” Juliette sounds out of breath.
“Yeah,” I laugh a little. I bet she was just expecting sad break up talk, which is a subject I might breach on. Soon. Later. Whenever.
I hear her slowly exhale, her silence encourages me to speak. “Yeah. It was one of my first rounds as a soldier. And, this fuckass guy shot a lady- a mother for breaking curfew to get medicine. For her daughter. And when the daughter ran, he shot her, too.”
I can’t tell if it’s the memory or the wine that tastes like bile down my throat.
“And then. I don’t know. I kind of…lost it?” I set my wine glass down and pick with the dry flakes of skin around my thumbnail, “Cried. Threw up. Cried some more.”
“Kenji…”
“It was only two weeks though. So I was fine, I-” I shrug, “I don't know why I'm talking about this either now. It was a long, long time ago. I just remembered it today, suddenly.”
Then Juliette pulled me into a hug, “Oh my God, Kenji. I am so, so, so sorry. I can’t even- oh, I'm so sorry,”
I rest a hand on her arm, “It’s okay, J. It was- it’s been a while since then. And I’m okay.”
She breaks away to meet my eyes, “Thanks for telling me. That must have been an awful experience.”
I nod, “What really got me was the way- the way Soledad-”
“Soledad?”
“Yup. He's always been a bastard.”
“Unsurprising.”
“Yeah, he just shot them. Fully indifferent. Like-” I run a hand through my hair, "He had not one ounce of humanity. And I knew there were fucked up people, but seeing it from this perspective really hit me. He was fully gone and he didn't give a shit about anyone, let alone a little girl or her mother.”
"I-" My words slide between my vocal chords, strumming up things I've never said outloud. "I dream of them sometimes. My parents. Sometimes I'm still six years old. Sometimes I'm the same as now."
Juliette watches, her sincerity waterboarding me.
"There's been times I dreamt of that day. When they got shot. I don't think I could ever forget the face of the- the- creature that did it. And then laugh. Like we deserved it. Like-" The words melt into phlegm and the sentence dies wherr it began. "I'm so glad it's over. That these people aren't mulling over our freedom anymore."
“I still can’t believe we did it. Ended the Reestablishment. At least most of it.”
I grab the wine once more, settling into the couch, “Couldn’t have done it without you,” I raise my glass to toast hers.
“Without all of us,” Juliette smiles. “I’m glad I met you, too.”
“You pointed a gun at me the second time we met.”
“Out of self precaution!”
“What is it with girls wanting to kill me? Nazeera almost did, once, too.”
“Well,” Juliette tilts her head, “she didn't mean to. She was just scared. But, yeah I was really mad at her for that.”
“Really?” I bark out a loud laugh.
“I ended up ranting about how good of a teamplayer you were. And about your being a skilled soldier. If anything, I was being a great wingwoman.”
“That, you were. Too bad I chased her away.” The words dampen the air with self deprecation.
“Kenji.” Juliette’s voice hardens, “You know that’s not why she left.”
“She didn't even want to try long-distance. J, I would have done anything to keep in touch with her. To still be hers even when miles away- I-” Sighing, I rub my neck, “I just don't think she saw me as worth that effort and that's okay. I've accepted it.”
I really, probably have not accepted it. I’m more resigned to it. There's nothing I can do. It's useless to even try at comforting myself about it. She wouldn't want to be with someone like me. Rowdy and blunt and uneduated. But, I would have earned the honor of being with her. I would carry a spotlight around for her and watch her sparkle.
It’s funny to think I believed I stood a chance with someone like her. But, I always did feel like I killed the image near her.
Juliette grabs my free hand with hers, “She loved you, Kenji. I know she did.”
“You can’t know something like that.”
I know you love her, why can’t I know she does, too”
“Well, because I walk around announcing it? I just talked about it, too. You’re disqualified from making assumptions without proper evidence.”
Juliette gulps down the last dregs of wine in her glass, sets it down and crosses her arms.
“What?” I say.
“She loved you. She a hundred percent did. I never saw Nazeera smile wider than she did around you.”
“I’m funny.” The excuse wilts the second it leaves my mouth. “Fine. Fine, okay. But, then why didn't she try. I just don't understand why. If- If you love someone you do anything for them."
Juliette loosens at that, “I don’t know either. But, her country really was in a terrible situation. You know this. We had to have meetings about it.”
“I know,” I finish up my wine, too. “I just- I really miss her.”
Juliette deflates, "I'm sorry. I wish it turned out better, too.”
“Me too.”
“More wine?”
“Nah. I think I’m done for the night. I’m going to head home.”
“You’re not staying over?”
“No,” I shake my head, “Sorry, but I want to be in my own bed tonight.”
She narrows her eyes, “Okay. Sure.”
“Stop doing that,” I furrow my brows.
“Doing what?”
“Trying to- to read me. That’s such a Warner thing, you guys are like, merging into one,” I gesture by drawing my index fingers together.
Juliette laughs, “Fine. Get out of my house.”
I gasp, “I see how it is.”
“Shut up. See you in the morning.” She gets up to hug me, “And feel free to come over for breakfast. James has been missing you alot.”
“Alright, I will.” I pull away, walking towards the door, “Goodnight.”
The door closes behind me with a click.
***
The late spring air smells like the peach tree field a street behind mine. When we got a few packs of seeds from Nouria, it was a different kind of happiness. The memory wraps softly around me and I feel lighter than the morning.
When I reached home, a little bit winedrunk, I immediately pulled out this little unused note pad I got. And a blunt pencil. I turned on a lamp near my bed and drew.
A soft, oval face. Sharp eyes. Lips as soft as peach fuzz, stretched into a grin. The twinkle of diamond. Hair spilling over her shoulders in waves I’d choose to drown in over and over.
When the portrait is done. I place it in the back of my bedside table’s drawer and turn off the lamp. A shard of moonlight falls over the table. Pointing. Exposing.
So, I lie back and close my eyes. I go to sleep hoping I dream of her again.