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Anya burst through the front door as usual, announcing, “Anya’s home!”
Loid put down his newspaper and looked up.
“Aren’t you back a bit later than usual today?”
“Anya was getting special tools for her top-secret art project! Our art teacher said that Mama’s Day is tomorrow, and we should make cards.”
Loid thought it over.
Yor will love this, and it is necessary to maintain a normal, happy family for the sake of Operation Strix.
“That’s a great idea, Anya. Yor said she’ll be working late today, so we have a few hours.”
“We’ll make it a surprise for Mama tomorrow!”
Anya reached into her bag, producing cardstock, scissors, and stamps. Excitedly, she ran to her room to grab crayons.
“Papa, what should I put on my card?” asked Anya, considering the wide selection of craft supplies in front of her.
“Well, you should probably say something like ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ and tell her why you are glad she is your mother.”
Anya set to work, writing her message with her big, messy swipes of the crayon.
Loid watched Anya fill her card with colorful patterns and words.
— — —
I don’t even remember my mother’s face anymore. I know I am lucky I even had a mother, but still…
Sometimes, I think of this line from a book I read a while back, where a young man laments: “I find that everyone else has had something that I missed. I am entirely selfish, always hoping that someone will tell me to behave, someone will make herself responsible for me and make me be a grown-up.”
Nonsense, Twilight. You’re not allowed to be some whiny, pathetic teenager; you’re Loid Forger, a married man with a child. There’s no time for such foolishness.
— — —
“Papa, can people without moms still do these cards?”
I hope Papa can do one too. He seems lonely without a mama today.
“Yes, of course they can. Mother’s Day is about celebrating maternal figures, not just moms.”
“What’s a matern-y person?”
“A maternal figure is a woman,” Loid paused to think, “who loves you, takes care of you, and helps you grow. Why are you asking about this, Anya?”
“Papa needs to make a card too, then! For your fake mama!”
Loid cursed silently. Why was Anya so insistent about some things?
“I don’t have a fake mother.”
Papa is a big liar. Papa has boss lady from his work.
“Papa! Don’t you have some power lady who cares about you and tells you to behave?”
How is she so perceptive? I mean yes, Handler is in charge, but she’s not…
“I can’t think of anyone.”
Anya balled up her fists and put on her best tantrum face.
“You need to make a card too! Anya won’t make a card unless Papa does one also!”
Oh no, if Yor doesn’t get a card for Mother’s Day but hears about it from Melinda or Sharon, the peace of the house will be in danger!
“Fine, I’ll make a card for one of the women I work with. Just stop crying.”
Anya grinned. Papa is so easy.
She gave him a piece of paper and returned to her own card with renewed focus.
Loid just stared at his blank card.
Glancing over at Anya, who was deep in thought, he sighed and picked up a crayon. He wished that he at least had something more professional to write with. Even his exact handwriting looked sloppy in the bright wax. With annoyance, Loid found that he didn’t have all the color he needed either. The crayon set had many shades of orange but lacked in purples and browns. Loid made a mental note to buy more crayons the next time he was at the store.
— — —
When Loid finally closed his card, he noticed Anya watching him.
Wow, I really am losing my edge. I was so focused on my work, I lost track of my surroundings.
“You’re a good draw-er, Papa! I like watching you work!”
“Thank you, Anya. Your finished card looks quite nice.”
Anya picked up her card to examine it. Frowning, she looked around.
“I think something’s missing?”
Her eyes scanned the table before widening in recognition.
“Aha! Anya and Papa need shiny stars, like Stella!”
Anya opened the box of stamp markers, blotting glittery stars onto a test paper. There were lots of colors and sizes of stars to choose from, and in no time, Anya began gleefully adding sparkles to her creation.
“Papa, you have to do it too, or Anya will be very sad,” she said, holding out the box to Loid.
Loid accepted a marker with a reluctant sigh.
— — —
A few hours later, when Yor returned from work, the living room table was cleared of art supplies, and the cards were tucked away in Anya and Loid’s respective rooms.
Loid waved from the kitchen while stirring a steaming pot of curry with his other hand.
Anya ran to the door with Bond, shouting, “Mama’s home!”
“Hello, Miss Anya! Hi, Bond!”
Yor smiled and bent down to pat Anya on the head.
“You have glitter on your face, Miss Anya. Were you doing art in school today?”
“Anya was making a special art project, but I can’t tell you about it!”
Yor laughed and handed Anya her handkerchief.
“I hope you had lots of fun! Make sure you wipe up before dinner.”
— — —
The next morning, when Anya woke up, she cracked her door open to look into the rest of the house. Sure enough, her mama and papa were already awake, drinking coffee.
“Good morning, Mama! It’s a special Mama’s Day today, and I made you a card!”
Anya plopped down on the couch next to Yor and presented her creation.
On the front of the card, in Anya’s trademark scribbles, it read, “Thank you for being Anya’s mama!” A big multi-colored heart took up the remainder of the page, surrounded by smaller hearts and stars. On the inside, there was a drawing of what appeared to be the Forger family, surrounded by glittery stars. The little girl in the picture had a giant speech bubble, saying, “You take care of Anya! I love you, 100%.”
Yor felt her eyes tearing up as she read the card. At the last line, she set it down and pulled Anya into a fierce hug, mindful so as not to damage her internal organs.
“I love you,” Yor choked out between sobs.
“Papa helped me with spelling, but Anya came up with all the words.”
Anya was crying too now, but it wasn’t a kind of sad crying. She liked it. Anya decided that this was the best cry she ever had.
“It’s lovely, Miss Anya. Thank you.”
After drying their tears and eating breakfast, Yor and Anya decided to go on an “ooting” together. On her way out the door, Anya turned around and said, “Bye, Bond! Bye, Papa! Don’t forget about the card!”
— — —
Twilight was an accomplished agent. He had stopped missiles seconds before launch, defused bombs midair, infiltrated deadly gangs, and participated in high-stakes hostage trades. Few things genuinely made him afraid anymore. If his heart rate rose during a mission, it was from physical exertion, not fear. And yet, arriving at WISE Safe House G that afternoon, Twilight, the legendary spy, felt scared.
He carried his briefcase in his one hand and a brightly colored card in the other. Every part of his mind was screaming at him to turn away, to throw the card in the trash, to do anything to avoid a conversation.
Anya would never know. Handler wouldn’t expect a card, anyway. Just crumple up the card, Twilight. It was just for the sake of the mission, anyway.
Even as those thoughts raced through his head, some illogical force took Twilight by surprise, his pace speeding up towards Handler’s desk.
“Twilight?”
Twilight registered that he was standing before Handler, panting slightly. He looked around—at least no one else was here. He might as well get this over with.
Wait. Shit. Handler is leaning against the front of her desk. I didn’t account for this in any of my practice scenarios. She’s so… close.
Oh, she’s looking at me. Right, I need to speak.
Twilight cleared his throat awkwardly, a faint flush creeping up his face.
“Good afternoon, Handler.”
He reached out and handed her the card, painfully aware of her eyes searching his.
“A-Anya and I made cards for Mother’s Day last night.”
Handler hadn’t heard Twilight stutter in years. Not since she first began training him.
“Anya wanted me to make one for a maternal figure, since I-I don’t have my mom anymore.” He trailed off uncertainly, gesturing vaguely towards the piece of paper in his boss’s hand.
Handler looked down at the card for the first time. And despite herself, she let out a small, barely audible gasp. In neat crayon print, the front page read, “Thank you for loving me.” The inside contained a precise yet childish drawing of her, captioned “a true fullmetal lady.” The card said, “Handler, you made me the man I am today. I can only hope I’ve made you proud.”
Handler stared at the card for a full minute, taking it in. When she finally looked up, she saw her best agent standing before her, his eyes fixed on the floor.
“You have glitter on your face.”
She reached up and wiped it off, her fingers brushing against his cheek and gently tilting his gaze to meet hers.
“Lo-Twi…”
Handler paused, realizing she needed a better name.
“Honey, I am so proud of you.”
A sting pulled against Twilight’s eyes, begging to flood them with tears. He tried to fight it, but when he saw Handler tearing up, he let his walls come down.
Instinctively, her years as a mother still ingrained in her bones, Handler reached forward and pulled him into a hug. It had been years since either of them had hugged another human outside of their spy work.
The redhead and the blonde held each other for a long time, not saying a word.
At last, Handler pulled away, her hands still resting on his shoulder. In Morse code, she tapped.
I love you.
Of all the coded messages he had received, this one left Twilight more speechless than he had even been.
After a pause, he tapped back.
I’m sorry, I don’t—
He looked at the ceiling, cursing the limits of the English language.
I can’t seem to—
Twilight choked out a sob. His hands were shaking. He took a deep breath and tapped again.
I love you.
— — —
When Anya and Yor returned home that evening, they found Loid asleep, holding a worn purple teddy bear in his hand.
“I think Papa has a mama too,” Anya whispered.
“Yes, I think so, Miss Anya,” Yor replied softly, closing Loid’s bedroom door with a gentle click.