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Faraway once again stood before one of the most important holidays of the year. Children had long since left schools, students were traveling even from another state back to their relatives, friends were buying groceries in order to wake up with the worst hangover of their lives, and those few workaholics who worked late still took the single day off in the year. Snow-covered roofs of numerous residential houses of one of the numerous sleeping districts of the small town literally shone with Christmas spirit. Snowmen of different shapes and sizes stood by every house. Garlands, just waiting for the cloud-covered sun to leave so they could finally light up the dark streets for people. Mock-ups of fairytale characters, starting from simply dressed-in-red-and-white-costume fiction, and ending with already classic reindeer with sleighs and Santas. People around were happy about the approaching holiday, furry pets rolled around in the snow, and the holiday was literally right on the nose.
For everyone except the Suzuki family.
Because, well, how else could it be that everything would go normally for them, right?
It was the 24th of December, and Mari and Sunny were standing in a traffic jam on the overpass, waiting for movement ahead. They had already been waiting for thirty minutes, in awkward silence, after all topics for everyday conversations had ended, and the air was filled with the haze of their fear. This was the first problem. Not as difficult or anger-inducing as the second one, for example, but still far from pleasant.
The second problem was the very reason for their being here. Not in the center of a clogged pipe consisting of hundreds of personalities locked inside tin cans called cars, but in the middle of Faraway. The city which they had left years ago when the most terrible episode in the lives of brother and sister happened. A place forever becoming the epicenter of memories both happy and horrible.
Where their parents still live.
“…OK, but what if they—” Mari spoke up, for the first time in a long while. Before that, she, with a reinforced-concrete grip on the steering wheel, stared forward, not taking her eyes off even for a second. However, clarifications had long become another part of her personality, so the question was born by itself. But since years of cohabitation and connection built a sort of sixth sense in each other, the question immediately received an answer, undoubtedly disappointing her.
“No, my moon, three SWAT squads are not waiting for us just to catch us over a holiday dinner. Remember what we said?” — with a completely neutral face. At the moment, judging by his internal counter, this was the thirtieth theory since that call made by their mother a couple of days ago. Well then, as a good brother, his duties included blowing away the sometimes protruding bubble of anxiety. The best way? De-escalation of the situation.
“Yes yes yes — if they wanted to, they would have thrown us behind bars long ago. I remember, I know, I hear. I… argh.” — Mari hit her head against the steering wheel. The soft wrapping of the wheel softened the blow, but a light splash of unpleasant sensation still reminded her of the understanding that despite all the shit that happened over 22 years of life, she somehow: did not drink herself to death, did not kill herself, and did not end up in a mental ward. Well then, at least some plus.
“You’re переживаешь, worrying, I understand. Everything will be fine.” — assured her partner, lowering the console down, he, with the best possible face for such a neutrally-looking man, smiled, gently rubbing her knee. The very one that often worried her with sharp jumps of pain, reminding of the unpleasant incident during the softball championship. Just like back then, this little pimple was next to her through pain and tears, ready to provide a soft word simultaneously with a calming touch.
“Thank you, Sunshine. Really. I… I’m more worried about you.” — the girl pulled out the words by force, rubbing his knuckles cracked from training with her gentle, thin fingers. Immediately, the younger brother looked at her with an expression of misunderstanding, which she could not endure and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t make faces at me here, mister. You remember perfectly well. That idiot was ready to start swinging fists if I hadn’t interfered with my crocodile tears.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” — waved off the one who, in theory, in principle, should not have ended up being her life partner, but hey, what can you do. Life is one incredibly strange thing. A thing in which she always had something new to say.
“Sunny, he literally grabbed you by the throat and started choking you. Basil personally applied layers of makeup RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME in the bathroom so nobody would notice it at school, you little dumbo” — Mari grumbled, recalling that terrible moment and, despite those boiling emotions of loyalty to the father figure, pulled him down by the ear. If anyone is allowed to hurt him, it is only her. And at most in logical, completely harmless methods.
“It was only two layers. And besides, nothing would have happened to me. Kel by that moment had already taught me how to defend myself,” — the younger brother excused himself, naturally for himself and for the role assigned to him, obediently bowing his head to the side, only slightly grimacing. Years changed him, giving the once thin little boy the body of an enviable young man, but scoldings from his sister still sometimes brought light discomfort. What can you do, such is the nature of blood ties.
“And don’t you start showing off here to me. The matter is not whether you could defend yourself or not. The matter is that this should not have happened in principle.” — commented the elder of the two, letting go of the beloved brother’s ear and heavily sighing. “Honestly, you’re smart, but sometimes such an idiot.”
“Ok ok ok, then let’s do it this way.” — concluded this emotional shake-up the partner of the worried lady, twisting and now looking straight into her eyes. As always, somehow going beyond the limits of ordinary perception of reality, this intense gaze made her blush. It would seem college is finished, a career is slowly being built, and yet sometimes she is still the same little lovestruck high school girl. Shameful. “If he starts behaving childishly, provoking either me or you, or simply making scenes, we stand up, turn around and leave. I consider this a completely fair solution. Deal?”
And then he held out her pinky finger. Undoubtedly, this made her snort a little with laughter.
“pfh. Sunny, are you five or what? The last time we agreed like this was when I asked you to ask before eating all the ice cream in the middle of the night.” — Mari spoke with a smile on her lips, pulling from the abyss of memories that night when she caught a ten-year-old rascal at the open refrigerator, single-handedly stealing an entire tub, squealing from the oncoming brain freeze. He looked so charming and quiet in those innocent years. And now what? A show-off. Well, but he eats a lot… And his hands are strong…
“You liked such moments. I know this perfectly well. Come on already, it seems to me the cars ahead will soon start moving further.” — hurried the native blood the little bastard, who had long ago outgrown her by a head. With a short shake of her head and a barely noticeable smirk, the girl nevertheless linked their fingers together, letting out a light chuckle.
Before the bastard stole a quick kiss from her!
“Hey! We’re in public!” — the girl squeaked immediately, glancing around. Nobody, in fact, noticed. Their tinted windows specially helped in such cases of her heightened paranoia, saving from stray looks. Just like in other moments about which it’s better not to talk in this family friendly fanfic. One way or another, the cute gesture of love slightly diluted the nasty snowstorm of worries, invigorating this viscous atmosphere inside the car with fun and pleasant emotions. “Little shit.”
“I love you too, sis.” — Sunny calmly declared, settling back into his seat and opening the old console. Sounds poured as a melody from the speakers on the upper screen, becoming a background between the crunch of snow under the wheels of the car and the roar of the engine. The feeling of casualness became absolute. Stable and worthy. Exactly as it should be. This was not the first time when these words were spoken aloud. There was no longer that frightening haze of possible disagreement or horrifying scenarios. Only the understanding that they would kiss many more times.
“Thank you, Sunshine.” — she whispered casually, driving towards Christmas fate.
To be here, standing opposite the house where some of the most important moments in their lives occurred, but in which there was no longer a place for them, felt rather strange. Like a paranormal feeling of déjà vu that pursues you day after day, or a terrible thought sitting in the corners of memory, waiting for a suitable weak moment for a worthy appearance.
Nevertheless, two children of the Suzuki family were right now standing on a recently cleared concrete path, making slow steps toward the door, with hands joined. Under their feet there were still visible traces of the shovel scraping a couple of hours ago, and piles of snow surrounded them on both sides with small walls. Light was on in the window, but at the same time not a single figure came into their view.
“If that idiot really first thing starts swinging his hands, I swear to god, his eyes will burn for another week from pepper spray.” — the girl muttered, squeezing the anxious palm of her beloved even tighter. Over the years of their communication and connection going beyond what is allowed, her sisterly desire to protect the once small brother went to the maximum. This of course was cute, by his standards, but thankfully not a single such case of protection occurred. And he hoped that soon this number would not change from zero to one.
“Really, my moon, everything will be fine. We’ll go in now, we’ll leave tomorrow morning. An adventure for a couple of hours, that’s all.” — shrugged the younger of them, but to the surprise of the lady, once again taking upon himself her hardships. You think, did she raise him to be so faithful, or does he himself spend strength and nerves on incredible acts. She, truth be told, preferred the second option.
When their boots were completely cleaned of the remains of brown-white soot, all this filthy mixture of nature, they stood before the last obstacle. A door with a small wreath, and mistletoe cheerfully twitching, like some kind of joke. Sunny smiled. That very smile which seemed to be passed in their genes.
“Traditions must be followed, am I right? Besides, I doubt that we will still have an opportunity to somehow spend time alone and—”
“Oh, just come here already,dork” — the black-haired woman shook her head, before roughly, but with love and passion pulling him down into a deep kiss. The sun slowly went down to the horizon, not a single person or car visible for a mile. Today promised to become difficult and demanding serious efforts from them. Many aunts and uncles would arrive, wishing to see distant relatives for the first time in many years. And they would have to put on the masks of obedient young adults, walking in step with the needs of people who had long ago stopped being called their family. However, this prolonged contact of lips, a pact signed by desires and need, secured important information. They would definitely be able to survive all the coming horror. Together.
SCRIIIIIPPP
Ah. Right. They are kissing on their mat.
“You have to be kidding me" — came the exhausted voice of a man over 50. Immediately, as if by order or instinct, two people carrying the same blood jumped back in unison. One with a more red face, and the second wearing a neutral expression, refusing to show even an ounce of guilt for the committed act.
Hitoshi Suzuki. Fifty-three years old, married already for thirty years to Martha Holliday, his colleague in the firm, and possesses a rather impressive house on the outskirts of a sleeping district of the quiet town of Faraway. Silent, closed, distant, and with difficulty capable of standard communication. Views old, straight from the most conservative corners of the country, and about the very concept of emotional health or psychological disorders he had heard at best in old, pretentious programs. Participated in the upbringing of both children only financially, and for the most part only with his beloved daughter.
That is all that can be said about this old, greying bespectacled man, dressed like the most classic example of a father from a comedy show, or a milk advertisement of 3.5%. Nothing else came out of the mouth of the one who looked at them with contempt on the last day of their full family connection.
“F-father! We just—” — Mari immediately rushed into anxious words. Her fears were understandable. Especially how she practically stepped forward of her brother, trying to protect him again. Nevertheless, his hands dropped onto her shoulders, instantly stopping the sentences that should not have appeared. There was no need for them to justify themselves. Especially when it concerns their feelings.
“Hello. Glad to see you again.” — the younger of his children moderately pronounced these phrases, standing face to face. Or to be more precise, with a small difference in height. Just a couple of inches, but one could immediately guess that the young years of the son showed themselves in full beauty. Broad shoulders, sinewy but prepared body. The day of their confrontation, at the same time that sadly spent birthday of the sister, became the last nail in the lid of the coffin of that weak little boy. He simply needed to become someone who would be able to stand up for himself. Not because of fear of repeating that dangerous feeling of panic with a high chance of coming pain, but only for Mari. So that her fears would calm. Which he, in fact, managed.
“…I see, you added a bit in height. That’s good. It’s never bad to begin.” — the old man hummed, taking a sip from what at first seemed like beer, but after the shine of the label, revealed itself as ordinary tea in a can. Strange. For a high-functioning alcoholic with his experience, suddenly drinking teas? Curious.
Better then to go straight to the matter.
“Do you want us to be here?” — Sunny asked straightforwardly, remaining on the very same piece of concrete as seconds ago. His speech did not sound even close to threatening, or God forbid provocative. A simple question, directed toward the owner of the house. It only remains to hope that this will not cause another opinion about doubting his authority. As it always was.
The father himself spent some time on full consideration of his words. A rare phenomenon for a corporate man who spent most of his life wrapped in sheets with reports, and changed diapers fewer times than fingers on the feet of an ordinary woodcarver. But in the end, the man spoke.
“You yourselves both know about my opinion regarding your… Decision.” — he waved his hand, first toward her and then toward him. They continued to stand as if nothing had happened. Except that their faces slightly wrinkled in a distressed expression. This was to be expected. But still the hurt was felt brightly. Trying once more to say something, the old man simply waved his hand, taking another sip and sighing a cloud of steam to the side. Anyone would understand. Even simply being near them was difficult for him. “Martha persuaded me to accept you into the house for Christmas. To call the others, to spend time together, like a normal family. To go against her will is the same as signing a divorce. So… Yes, I want you to be here. For her.”
“Clear.” — Mari quietly confirmed their fears, leading her eyes to the other side. It was foolish even to hope that he would change a little over all the years spent without calls or messages. That small phone conversation with their mother, a week ago, immediately put the main dots in the doubts of the two lovers. Knowing what strange relationships had formed between them over the stage of long-term cohabitation, both children of one blood immediately counted the worst options. This one turned out average.
“I just want you two to leave all your nonsense and this surreal behind the door. For one day. You can then go wherever you want, to a hotel, or in that car to engage in filth, the main thing is not in my house.” — he finished with exhausted eyes, looking somewhere past them. Turning around, the duo saw only a passing car, leaving traces on the road. He is getting nervous. Afraid that if someone sees him with them, they will immediately take him exactly as such a freak. This opinion is already known to them very clearly. “And now come in faster, there’s no reason to waste heat. Go help mother with dinner, she’s running around there like cut. I need to meet the others.”
And that was all. No “thank you for coming.” Or at least a couple of words of sincere joy at the presence of children whom he stopped accepting as his long ago.
Only repetition of the cycle of manipulation and irresponsible usage.
A strong hand squeezed the trembling palm of the boy. Warm skin met cold red, and quick lips left a barely noticeable mark on the thin cheek of the youth. The girl softly smiled to her most important stronghold in this harsh world, silently giving a vow of support, preparing to survive another day straight from their childhood.
They will manage.
For as practice shows, they always turned out to be excellent actors.
The hands of the clock did what they were told to do from the moment of their creation into reality. They ticked along the pre-laid direction, a couple of hours after that fateful meeting, reaching the final number. Glasses with champagne and juice clinked against each other in the middle of a festive table covered with dishes. Conversations between young and old had been sounding for some time already, raising various topics, and then allowing them to dissolve in small streams of alcohol.
In the middle of all this noise, hubbub, endless flow of sounds with shouts of differing opinions, two children of the Suzuki family stood out the most. It was to them that as much attention as possible was attached, and fortunately, years of practice of the craft of pretending paid off in full measure. Uncles, aunts, grandfathers and grandmothers. All of them, without exception, formed the opinion that they were just as they had been — those perfect, obedient kids, ready to listen and say what was wanted from them — and that they remained so.
To tell the truth, for both of them this turned out to be a revelation, how easily such a seemingly difficult deed was given with ease. It was even a little fun to play such caricature roles. For God sees, if they knew what was going on in this house years ago after that birthday, or on all those days when both teenagers stayed at home alone without parents? Oh-ho-ho, shit would be flying into the fan at the speed of a sports bolide.
The whole evening passed more or less pleasantly. Although the set conditions about how much intimacy between them was allowed complicated survival within walls that had become alien to them, they managed to have fun. Especially with their mother. Months of messages, plus a couple of meetings, strengthened their bond, finally giving them a parent who genuinely took interest in their personal life. This turned out to be especially noticeable in how brightly she behaved in moments of their presence. The woman remembered by the children for her tired housewife manner literally shone with happiness, practically pushing the other relatives aside for the sake of a couple of extra minutes of conversation. A pleasant change.
Among all the noise, fun, joy and Christmas chaos, the father of the family, the eldest son among all his brothers, the breadwinner of the house, stood out with silence. Of course, he did at times release a couple of words from those dry lips, but for the most part preferred to silently spend minute after minute with a bottle at his mouth, and eyes glued tightly to his children. Well, nothing essentially new. Such a feeling of discomfort ceased to be for them super serious or worthy of attention back then, at the moments of the beginning of their relationship. The art of not giving a fuck is truly a valuable skill.
Plus, they were anyway fulfilling their part of the agreement without objections. So all his boring attempts at worsening relations, or imaginary establishments of authority were stopped in seconds by pinches from his wife. They were really lucky with their mother.
At some point, the whole crowd of distant relatives wanted to listen to live music from their extremely talented acquaintance. Mari Suzuki in person. Straight from the fingers of the first girl in the whole family who received professional musical education. Such an opportunity appeared rarely, and to do something unusual on Christmas was almost a tradition! So of course, she agreed. For her, this was practically routine. If she didn’t like music, she could choose any other direction, the choice was only hers.
Of course, there was a little problem, in the form of a strange, bitter feeling long rooted in the girl’s head, familiar since childhood. A tightening canvas of use and dehumanization. From those distant times before the move, when the protégé child was shoved into every possible club or performance just to show off the results of all the invested finances. Back then, such a request could drive the young person into a difficult situation, a thousand and one doubts…
But not today. Because this time, she had someone to turn to for help.
She agreed. Except for one condition. Her brother would also play, together with her, as a pair. The guests at first stopped their strange conversations, looking at her as if she were mad, simultaneously throwing sideways glances in the direction of lazily pressing buttons on the old DS Sunny. The younger child of Hitoshi became famous for how much he differed from his sister. Especially in approach to life. Boring, silent, closed, low-emotional. A quiet tulip next to the cheerfully ringing bells of Lily. Of course, this drove her crazy before. After all, he had so many abilities and special traits which they refused to recognize! But with age, she learned to close her eyes to it. If he didn’t care, then she should all the more.
As expected, they shrugged their shoulders, allowing the girl to do as she pleased. After all, in their eyes this was nothing more than some kind of joke, or an attempt of the sister to teach her brother something new. Oh, how blind they are. If they told them about the years spent in quiet nights, alone, studying sleepless hours every key and every note, then they, God forbid, might completely change their opinion. Possibly. Or most likely simply decide to continue praising his precious sister. Not that it bothered him too much. In the end, she deserved every word of approval, and a couple hundred more.
Here, their slippers, and the feet of all present guests from old to young, crossed the threshold of the practically abandoned music room. The inner world of the girl literally screamed at her with loud bravado, stubbornly insisting on the stupidity of passing through the doorway. Not a speck of dust was visible for a kilometer. Everything remained exactly as it was, if not better, than on that ill-fated birthday date. The same seat, the same shelves filled with toys, and exactly the same memories. The best. The worst.
As well as one new one, which only they could color in positive colors. Together.
Sitting down on one cushion, both natives of the family opened the lid of the grand piano. White, exactly like the bones of a magnificent creature that long ago left this sinful world, the keys shone with their color, already causing under Mari’s skull the characteristic impulses of musical skill. They had already many times played their favorite melody with happiness on their lips, humming the music with their cords and freely letting go of control from their hands. The magnificence of such moments is written by instants of emotions. For the two of them, these emotions turned out to be unforgettable.
One sing-through.
Two transition.
Three jump from key to key.
And it immediately became clear to everyone present what exactly was so unique that illuminated their ears today. Light laughter, chuckles and confused looks of the young became immediately noticeable, as soon as a story a little more grand, romantic, without words sounded throughout the whole room. A small fairy tale soaked with the deepest love, where magic ruled, the search for oneself, conflicts between different parts of nations and mind-blowing landscapes. Closing their eyes, almost everyone could be transported to those green fields, running past a moving colossus, fed by a heart that waited for only one single soul. A feeling-burning piano performance, which alluringly told about such different, but close to each other people. Such a melody was literally written for weddings…
Wink Wink
Just a couple of minutes later, which felt to the crowd like hours, the echo of the music hit the wall and died out, before claps of palms thanked the young musical talents to their full deservedness. Many of course hurried to overly praise predominantly the main performer, the early owner of the piano worn by the sands of time, but the boy also got a couple of good blows to the back of the head, as a sign of well-done work. Oh, these strange traditions.
Truthfully, one person was still left behind. Among this colorful, unique group of personalities, the persona non grata and the one by whose fault this meeting took place, disappeared. In his place? A worried mother, standing with an upset face.
Closed from all sides, the elder sister let the younger go forward, not forgetting to smile before the difficult meeting. Although fears burned fiercely, inner instinct suggested trusting his new character. Sunny had never been an aggressive or provoking young man. Only toward those who tried to dig up the truth, in all its nasty beauty. Therefore, with a heavy heart but determination, he passed by his beloved mother, necessarily listening to the whole explanation, and putting on a coat from the hanger, went out into the cold, snowy night.
The expression on that stubble-covered face turned out somewhat different. Definitely not the one the young guy expected. Somewhere in the middle of months of training, far from those cruel practices that once came down on the back of little Mari, the boy thought that as soon as he finished the song, someone’s fist would knock out a couple of his teeth. But it seemed the owner of the house completely refused to move in a violent direction.
Hitoshi sat on the porch, with a cigarette emitting a tower of smoke between his fingers. Eyes turned toward the softly snow-laid street, and from clothes there was only a thrown-on down jacket and home outfit. Self-preservation instinct of a dachshund level.
That little stick, nevertheless, caused a peculiar reaction in the young coder. Uncomfortable memories, somewhere a year after moving into the house of his best friend. A cigarette butt burning at night. A hit to the cheek as soon as the female silhouette appeared from nowhere. A long conversation and such a desired embrace. A trip to the 24-hour store for a couple of cans of soda and one pack of nicotine gum.
One such plate quickly found itself between the home boy’s teeth, chewed into an ugly heap of changing shapes.
“Maybe you’ll stop dramatizing here? People are waiting for you there, by the way.” — commented the whole cheap scene the son of the father sitting practically with his bare ass on cold concrete, finally seeing at least some changes. A silent, tired face turned in his direction, and then immediately darkened upon seeing native blood. ‘So what face are we making? You’re already half a century old, it’s time to stop behaving like a teenager.’
“Don’t you dare act willfully here, freak. I asked from both of you only one thing, but you managed to screw up even that.” — the elder snarled, spitting into the snow and rising from his place. The cigarette, not even half-finished, flew like a pike to the future trash collection, as soon as the father of the brave son straightened his back, releasing air through his nose.
“Breathe out already, panic-maker. We did exactly what you asked from us. Even more. The guests are happy, Mom is delighted, and your favorite daughter talked to you again just like before. For the first time in years the family is together and you sulk like an offended one. What else do we need to do for you to stop behaving like the last asshole?” — the son snapped, taking a step forward. Of course, raising the voice was already unavoidable. Although his efforts to help his sister turned out successful, specifically during small talks with father to preserve the appearance of healthy relations, somewhere in the back pocket of his consciousness, he perfectly understood that conflict would be unavoidable. The problem needed to be, no, it was necessary to drag it into the light and put an end to it. And if anyone should do this, then it was the main instigator of the whole catastrophe, lengthened in years. Then a schoolboy who confessed his love to her.
“I want to get my daughter back!” — roared the head of the family, grabbing the boy by the edge of his shirt and pulling him toward himself. Here it is, again, history repeating itself. Only today, he would not tremble from fear. “I will never forgive you for what you did. If not for you and your pretending, she could have found herself a normal husband, a job, and not live in some backwater. With you of all people.”
“Of course it’s me who is guilty of every one of your problems. You’re a saint after all. A wonderful father who definitely paid attention to each child and took care of them.” — the son put a caustic point, removing his hands from himself. The man staggered, but his burning eyes continued to drill into the young one’s face, looking slightly upward because of the difference in height. And moral firmness.
“I did more for you than you ever deserved, bastard. Food, water, clothes, a roof over your head, education, money for buying all sorts of useless crap. You should say thank you that you’re even alive. If you had been born in my time then—”
“What? I would what? Be eaten by bears? Die on the streets? God in heaven, can you sound a little bit more insane? Listen to yourself. You mutter nonsense under your breath as if the world will collapse now only because she and I are together. We are happy. That’s all that should worry you, as a parent, old bastard.” — he did not fear to answer, immediately pressing on all those points that he had thought through for years. Months of endless reproaches, nights stretched by miserable, rotten words. He remembered everything. And now, voicing them aloud, the boy was almost ready to laugh from this wonderful feeling of lightness in his soul. Especially seeing the enraged faces on the features of the old fart.
“Yeah, sure. Happy. You fuck and engage in indecencies at every free step like some baboons. That’s what you call happiness? To indulge in sin at any time? Time will pass, hormones in your blood will calm down, interest will disappear and what the fuck then? You will break her heart, that’s what will happen, little degenerate. Mark my word, cursed idiot, she will run away from you idiot and I will break my back but I will put you on the chair.” — threatened the bespectacled man to the young lover, practically poking his swollen phalanx into his chest. Of course, nowadays he treated physical contact neutrally. But such vile accusations were lower than everything he had prepared himself for.
“What is wrong with you and the constant mention of sex?? We had nothing until the moment you threw us out of the house. Everything that happened after that was at her initiative, and only after I reached age. We fell in love with each other because of emotions and the bond that appeared between us, nothing more. Open your eyes already, stop carrying nonsense!” — Sunny already began to wave his hands, driving the old man out of himself. By the twitching cheekbones and eyes, it was easy to understand how far they had gone. Both on the edge, both with a hungry thirst to quench all those repressed emotions. And right in front of them — the one who, in their thoughts, was guilty of all those tragedies.
The best decision came to both of them.
As if by signal, father and son moved apart to different supports of the porch, heavily exhaling. Boiled brains were lowering in temperature from the snow falling from the sky, and from the clear reminder of joyful persons on the other side of the door, who at any moment could suspect something wrong in the prolonged dialogue between relatives.
“What—what exactly did I do wrong? Come on, explain it to me, tell me where I could have acted differently. Go on, be a man already and behave accordingly.” — blurted out the man, practically intentionally using exactly such a cheap set of words. Naturally, the answer followed fair.
“Everything.” — Sunny shrugged, not giving him even the smallest particle of information.
“Damn it, details, give me details!” — barked the man again, long since having extinguished that piece of fake tobacco against his boot, and practically losing patience in all this mess.
“What details are we talking about? You literally could have done EVERYTHING differently. Not disappear on trips for months. Not throw money at your children but spend time with them. Mother at least tried to show us with her at least some form of guardianship. You—you just weren’t in our lives. At all! Mari fulfilled all your and mom’s work threefold, and then you’re surprised that I fell in love with her? Seriously?” — the young man raised his brows.
“Ahhh, shut up already. My old man went upstairs when I was still an infant, and nothing, I grew up normal. And not a thick-headed pervert.” — threw a comment the owner of the collapsed family, searching in his pocket for a pack. Fortunately, he found nothing else.
“Oh fuck off, you grew up completely normal. I readily believe it. To leave a three-year-old girl practically alone to raise an infant, occasionally calling a nanny or asking aunts from the neighboring house to sit and make sure that we both don’t die. Definitely the act of a normal person.” — he waved off all these delusional ideas, already gradually getting tired of simply talking. The dialogue wasn’t really going anywhere, and when the other side of the confrontation straightforwardly refused to perceive you as a person with an opinion, then what was even the point of trying?
“You had so much potential. Opportunities, connections, such a bright future. But you fucked everything up. Mari could easily have wrapped that fool around her finger. I heard he has already opened his own restaurant now! And that girl had a crush on you, what was her name—” — the father pulled out the last pieces of arguments, scratching the back of his head.
“Holy shit, we were nine! We were children, hello, she is in a couple of days planning to propose to her girlfriend. And her name is Aubergine, by the way.” — the boy could not believe his ears, honestly thinking whether it might be worth even forgetting about the attempt to reach an agreement and just return to the house? Erase from memory every passed minute from the moment the door opened, like all those traumas still waiting for reckoning?
“Tsk, well of course. Nothing fucking normal can work in this world, everything is through the ass.” — muttered the old man of the past generation, lowering his head in silent breathing. All topics between them ended. The desire to erect something worthwhile, something possible, simply disappeared before their eyes, and there was no talk of a reasonable conclusion at all. Accordingly, only one thing remained. Straightforward as nowhere. “Listen. No matter how much this irritates you, I am your father. And this is my task, to take care of my children, by any possible means. All I want is for you to be safe and for you to have a roof over your head. Need money? Please. Help with some problems? Right now, even. But have pity on her. She’s a girl. You both know that all this strange shit between you won’t last long. Take responsibility for what you did, put an end to it already and come back—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” a female voice rang out from the side.
Right there, knee-deep in the snow, next to the two idiots, stood a daughter who was practically burning with impatience. She had appeared out of nowhere—completely suddenly. A jacket thrown over a special outfit, a deliberately decorated sweater chosen just for Christmas, for the occasion. No hint of a hat. But she didn’t need one anyway. Pure irritation easily fueled her internal temperature, keeping her tuned to very specific emotions.
Stepping closer, she briskly brushed the snow off her boots, cursing under her breath, while both fools stood there in confusion. How she had appeared, what exactly she had heard, and what she was about to do next—those were all things they could only guess. Nevertheless, the woman immediately got down to business, adorning the boy’s cheek with a lipstick mark.
“You did well. I’ll take it from here.”
“Marianna, what the hell are you doing here?! It’s minus ten outside, get back in—”
SMACK!!!
And just like that—without warning or further explanation—a gentle palm, one that could easily play the most complex pieces on a keyboard, caress a loved one for a job well done, or show the right path on a dark night, struck the old man square in the face. He staggered back, more from the sheer chaos of the motion, nearly stepping into frozen water, eyes wide open.
What happened next?
Mari began to hiss.
“If you ever threaten him again, belittle him, or try to talk him into your idiotic ideas, I’ll make sure you go blind for the rest of your days. This boy—” she spoke in a whisper so that only the three of them could hear, pointing behind herself, which for some strange reason instantly sent a flutter of butterflies into his stomach, “—changed my life. He was there where you were supposed to be. Every performance, every softball game, every important moment in my life is captured through his eyes. I fell in love with him not because of some hormonal surge, not because he was the only adequate male figure around, not because—oh my God—I’m a girl. But because it was my conscious choice. So don’t you dare even think of him as some kind of degenerate.”
“W-what you’re doing is a sin!” snarled the pitiful imitation of a father figure, but he quickly shut up as soon as she snorted with laughter.
“Oh, suuuure. We’ll burn in hell just because we love each other. Thanks, Einstein.” With the widest, unserious, and easily readable grin, she mocked him. An achievement she would proudly wear for many long months to come. “When are you finally going to grow up? You’re over fifty, one foot in the grave already, and your only accomplishments are a house and a tree. But you didn’t raise your children! You left them without even a hint of proper upbringing. Bravo. Gold star. Does it really not bother you that he’s more of a man than you are? Or are you going to keep acting like a conservative teenager who just found out that gay people exist?”
“Do you even realize what I’ll do to you for behavior like this?” he glared at the girl—but it was obvious the threat was nothing but empty words. And she, the greatest figure in his life at that moment—at least according to the boy’s heart—understood that perfectly.
“Yes. You’ll go back into the house, kiss your wife, apologize for all the inconvenience, continue celebrating Christmas, and at least try to act your age. Or there’s another option: Sunny and I leave. Right now. Forever. And you’ll never see us again. Do you think Mom would really be happy about that? The last time I spoke to her—just a few minutes ago, by the way—she mentioned something about the paperwork being ready.”
The daughter of that man declared this with absolute confidence. Then the final nail dropped into the victorious coffin, and silence fell.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence aaaaand…
The old man turned toward the door and went inside, leaving behind nothing but silent acceptance of defeat.
And immediately after that, Mari dropped her battle-ready facade, grabbing at her hair in a fit of nervous laughter. As if on cue, they ended up in each other’s arms—her face completely red, his hands on both sides of her head, gently holding her as close as possible.
“Oh God, God, God, God. Oh God—did I overdo it? Are you okay? He didn’t touch you anywhere, did he—?”
“Mari…”
“Do you think he bought all that nonsense? I mean, Mom really did prepared the documents, and she’s already packed everything necessary if things actually go to hell… Wait—what if someone heard the two of you?!”
“Mari.”
“I knew it! We shouldn’t have come here at all. That’s it, it’s over, they’ll throw us in jail, then the chair, and then—”
“MARI!”
“WHAT?! WHAT IS IT?! CAN’T YOU SEE I’M PANICKING HERE?!”
*smooch*
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“I think we’re going to be okay.”
“I really, really hope so. I froze my legs off for this stunt.”
“Let’s go back inside. We still need to open the presents.”
“That’s true… Sunny?”
“Hm?”
“Merry Christmas, little brother.” 🎄