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One of the kitchen cupboards’ door hinges is loose. The door likes to stay open because of it, crooked, lopsided. She could have gotten it fixed long ago, or even climbed onto the counter with a screwdriver herself. But it stays ajar.
Sugar, powdered chocolate, and two small recipe books are all that reside there. The door is opened often. She tries to press it shut after each time, knowing full well it will inch back open when she turns away to hop off the counter, its creaking laugh teasing her for her height.
“It’s okay, Zelda. I got it.”
No longer will those long arms reach above her head. No longer will that voice snicker at her for climbing around.
Many times, she catches Link on the counter himself, his arms shorter, his hands smaller, straining to reach when he’s on his knees. She’ll laugh at him for a moment, loud and light enough to only rouse a pout, before tugging on his pants and ushering him down. She’ll get it—she’ll get it! They should get a stool.
Weren’t you going to tell me all about the people you met? Link asks sometimes, when the moonlight glides over the blankets, their pale faces. Cups emptied of hot chocolate next to the bed for tomorrow’s Link and Zelda to clean.
Not yet. I can’t. Not yet.
Okay. And he’ll pull her head under his chin and hum a lullaby.
Mineru used to sing. Oh, she loved to sing! Rauru would dance and Sonia would smile a secret smile while watching him, back in those golden days, history before history, dust before the wind.
There’s dirt in my eyes. Zelda will say.
Link will rub her back and hum a different song.
There’s so much dirt..!
They should get a mop instead of a broom.
How are you? Link will ask in the morning, cooking something, anything, one of the two cookbooks from the broken cupboard open on the counter, the sugar next to it.
I was fine, she’ll think. I was just fine. I’m okay. What are you making?
“It’s a prototype body for my spirit projection. Do you want to ride it?”
It’s incredibly designed, multifunctional, durable, flexible. Genius, with Mineru’s own chaotic flair. Of course she wants to ride it!
“Oh, would you let me?”
“Hop on, Zelda!”
Tomato mushroom stew. There’s some berry crepes already done. Sugar next to him, not yet put away.
Zelda gives him a side squeeze, a quick Thank you, and Are you using the sugar or the book anymore?
No.
So Zelda climbs onto the counter and puts them away in that broken cupboard, the hinges laughing at her back, Link humming at her side, the counter holding her from below. Her eyes water for a moment. They should really get a screwdriver and a stool and a mop.
Mineru used to sing. She says, still on the counter, looking at the floor and swinging her feet gently. And Rauru would dance. Sonia would just watch him with a smile.
That sounds fun. What would you do, Zelda?
I’d play the harp next to Mineru but sometimes– sometimes I’d just watch her too.
She seemed like a lot of fun. I really liked her when we met.
Yeah, I thought you would. You guys are a lot alike.
Link hands her a crepe and gets on his toes to pat her head.
I never noticed the hinge was loose. Link says. I should fix that. And we should really get a stool for the both of us. And maybe a mop while we’re at it..
Yeah. We should fix it.
Link shrugs and continues stirring. I like when you reach things for me.
I like it too.
No longer, no longer. Mineru is dead. They’re all dead. Twice immortal is she to her friends.
Studying with Mineru forever is a kind of paradise she would imagine in that history before history, dust before the wind. But now there’s life in this house in Hateno.
And here is Link, cooking her breakfast in their house, a stooless, dusty house with broken hinges where they can have stew and crepes and hot chocolate when they want, for as long as they want.