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The arm of the minute hand on Diavolo’s wristwatch seemed to move at a glacial pace when they had once before sped by as if time was at his beck and call. Well, it was. Just not now. Not in the way he wanted it to be. He had a date in fifteen minutes, and he could already feel the sweat freezing on the armpits of his freshly-pressed suit.
A high-pitched plea for attention, one he could not ignore even if he wanted to, forced him to stop staring at his wrist. From her pop-up crib between the two hotel beds, his daughter jumped up and down, gazing at him expectantly.
Weekends were stressful because they were the days he got Trish.
Diavolo was not prepared for this “fatherhood” thing; never in his life had he expected to sire any children nor did he want to. Perhaps that was the price he paid for only giving the condoms on the pharmacy shelf a passing glance that day. Diavolo strode up to the crib and looked down at Trish, trying to parse the emotions on her chubby, pink little face. Her green eyes were wide, her mouth flat but pouting. He couldn’t believe he was admitting it, but he felt a pang of adoration for her, something he’d never felt in the short amount of time he’d shared this world with her. At the same time, a chill crawled up his spine, an emotion that had no name, but was something ancient and deep-seated.
She looks just like me.
A shivering sigh escaped his lips. He reached down and picked her up; she smelled like milk and powder, and for a moment he felt his heart still. The weight in his arms was grounding, warm, innocent. He knew this is what Trish had wanted. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and he instinctively knew she was drowsing.
I cannot leave you here, though…
Even if the date was short, Donatella would have Diavolo's hide tanned if she knew that he left Trish unattended. But, oh God, he hadn’t told his date that he would be bringing a child! A baby, at that! What would he think? Would the relationship be dead on arrival? He’d never said anything about his feelings towards children before; Diavolo was always hesitant to speak up about such personal things. Now, he knew it would have to be personal no longer. He would have to bring Trish to the restaurant with him.
He pulled away so that they could look at each other. Trish smiled and grabbed at the ponytail draped over his shoulder, moving his mottled magenta locks towards her mouth until Diavolo grimaced and held her at arm’s length. “Hey,” he said, practicing his best gentle papa bear voice despite his stinging scalp, “Stop that. Would you like a nice dinner? It won’t be canned baby food this time.” I’m talking to a baby that can barely even speak herself.
“Eh-ba-ba-ba-buh.” It was as good a response as any. At least she was listening. It was hard for Diavolo to be gentle; his whole life he had been guarded and anxious, and babies drew attention. In the sliver of his heart where he still kept God, he sent a silent prayer up to ensure that he would not regret this endeavor. Tucking his wallet into the back pocket of his slacks, he placed Trish in her stroller, smoothed his chewed hair, and exhaled the breath he had been holding as he made his way downstairs.
The restaurant they had agreed to meet at was a fine Italian restaurant, cuisine Diavolo was intimately familiar with. Given their brief interaction last week, he hoped it would be enough to impress someone of his date’s standing. He’d long since known what he wanted to order, but he wasn’t sure how to order for someone who could barely talk, or eat.
A smiling, pretty waitress brought out a highchair for Trish, Diavolo plunking her down a little harder than he’d meant to. The weight distribution of toddlers was a fickle thing. He breathed a sigh of relief as the waitress told him that they usually prepared carrot and pea mash for the littlest guests, which she already usually ate. “Aren’t you lucky, getting five-star mush instead of eating it from a can…” He tried to find humor in his nervousness, but was quickly reminded of why he seldom did so. Diavolo found himself studying his watch again, the minute hand once again moving tortuously slow. Trish was all too happy to make a mess of her mush; mid-wiping her cheek a calm, deep voice called him to attention.
“I didn’t know you brought a plus one, Diavolo.”
His head snapped up. He could feel the walls rising again as King Crimson began to bristle like a dog at the end of its leash, as Diavolo’s eyes met those of the man pulling out the chair across from him. He swallowed, trying to take the anxiety with it.
“Yoshikage…you’re here early.”
It was a lie, a stupid filler sentence to ease his pounding heart. Kira smiled wryly as he sat down and placed the napkin on his lap.
“Really? How strange, I’d say I’m…right on time. 6:30, you said it was? The sun hasn’t even gone down yet.” Kira’s eyes were immobilizing. Diavolo hadn’t gotten to gaze deeply into them since the first time they’d met last week; in this dim amber lighting he took on a frightfully cat-like countenance.
“Who cares about time, though? I see that you have some strikingly similar company.” Trish solemnly stared at Kira with the eyes of a toddler who did not understand it was impolite to do so. It almost tickled Diavolo that a baby could have such a serious expression, spoon in her mouth and all. “Hello there,” Kira said, placing a hand on the table near her. “Seems you’re enjoying your food so much, you’re wearing it.”
Diavolo sighed. “Well, despite my best efforts…” He moved to continue wiping Trish’s orange-smeared mouth, but to his surprise, Kira beat him to it. His hands moved with an equal measure of delicacy and quickness, a startlingly practiced motion, as the napkin removed all traces of the carrot mash from Trish’s face. Diavolo opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable to. How is this childless man so meticulous…?
Without missing a beat, Kira picked up the menu. “I don’t usually drink wine, but I’ll make the occasion special tonight.” He looked over at Trish with admiring eyes. “And for the young lady, an apple juice?” It took Diavolo all his strength not to smile; Kira had immediately endeared himself to him and put his heart at ease. He hoped it wasn’t just a first-date facade and that he could actually maintain the patience to deal with a child so young. Having someone else to ease the burden of fatherhood off his shoulders was a tantalizing prospect, but he couldn’t get too excited yet.
Having someone to share fatherhood with…
Tender thoughts seemed to come more naturally to Diavolo these days. He shook his head as if they were flies buzzing around him, and Kira glanced up from the menu with those rich, handsome eyes. “Now, Diavolo, what kept you from telling me that you had a daughter? I never took you for the fatherly type.” He smiled again, this one just a small quirk of the corner of his mouth. “Children are somewhat important to mention if you’re planning on getting to know someone.”
The look on his face told Diavolo that he knew exactly what he was talking about. “I…” He paused, glancing around the restaurant. “It would be unlike me to share such impractical details about my life with just anyone. I’ve made some mistakes I am not proud of…”
Kira’s smile disappeared. “And am I just anyone?”
“No–!”
Instinctively Diavolo felt King Crimson rise from its dormancy again, despite his best efforts to hold it in. The air electrified as he felt a similar sensation coming from Kira as a pinkish feline entity emerged from behind him, ogling Diavolo with eyes too large for its metaphorical skull.
Kira’s face remained unchanged, but his eyes were dark now, boring through him in a way Diavolo could not stand. He was being read like a book, wide open, large print, on the verge of something he only knew could end badly. They stared at each other, holding an unspoken exchange until they both heard Trish whimpering and pushing herself deeper into her seat.
Kira’s stand snapped to attention immediately while Diavolo’s gaze lingered on its owner. The ghostly creature bent down to look at her, leaning in close as Trish gazed up at it with a broad smile. Any semblance of distress vanished as quickly as it manifested. Her response was immediate and delighted: “Ohh, dat kitty! Meeoowww! Meeooowwww!”
Its ears swiveled back in surprise as it pulled away, its stony face remaining unchanged but its eyes twinkling in a way that Kira’s did not. It leaned in again as Trish grabbed at its face, pulling it in; at the same time tiny concave dents appeared in Kira’s cheeks.
Kira’s lips curled into a smile as the cat gently removed Trish’s pudgy hands from its face, stood back, and clasped its hands together over its head. King Crimson growled deep in its throat behind Diavolo, shaking his chest. It was sickening not knowing everything that would happen, but something deep in his soul told him to be patient, and perhaps he would be rewarded.
Killer Queen opened its hands as if presenting something above it, and a trail of colorful fireworks burst forth in an arc over its head, whistling and popping in shades of pink, green, and white. Trish squealed with delight and clapped her hands, a cherubic smile splitting her face in a way Diavolo had never seen. He had braced himself, but it was surprisingly quiet, and barely registered over the ambient conversations going on around them. He watched as Trish reached out her hands and Killer Queen took them gingerly, its face nearly as childlike and inquisitive as hers. At that moment, the waitress set down their plates, and the air suddenly became breathable again.
Kira carefully took a piece of rotini from his plate, waving his fork at Diavolo, a soft smile directed at Trish. Diavolo released the breath he had been holding, drawing Kira’s attention. King Crimson stirred impatiently in his breast.
“You worry so much for someone who should have nothing to worry about. All that tension wound tight in you…I saw all of it. And now, I’m sure this will be a night you’ll miss, once it’s over.”
Diavolo found himself unable to stop the smirk that crossed his lips as he raised his glass of sparkling cider.
“Then so be it. We can make more nights worth missing together.”