Chapter 4: Breathmints for All!
Since Gino’s night of fishing was a tremendous success, he’s taking some time off; called up a neighbor, one Mila Munch. She was with the welcome wagon when he moved in, and I guess he liked knowing there was someone closer to his own age in the neighborhood. Can’t blame him.
“No, I’ve never been a family man. The sea’s a lonely place… Sometimes, feels like a bit of a waste,” he’s explaining, still in his PJs of all things. Not that I’ve never done that; a good pair of PJs can get you through a whole day, right?
“It’s hardly a waste to do what you love!” She proclaims, fervently. “I try and tell my boys the value of a dedication passion, of going out into the wilderness (especially Gunther, who needs a little wilderness), of the value of hard work.”
“I don’t regret it, not exactly; kept me having the time of my life for years! But I’ll say you’ve got the gumption of any sailor, raising those boys on your own! There’s a lot of value of filling your life with people you love, giving them a guide in the world. It’s real swell you can do that.”
“Oh, you shameless flatterer,” she chuckles. “But now you’re closer to the city.”
“I’m doin’ more river-fishin’ these days. Better on the joints. Still got to get up early -- and the fish have to get up early to get past me!”
They both laugh about that for a while.
“I am to understand that Miss Avyan keeps a well-stocked bar,” she says, rising. “Let me pour you a drink; I have a taste for such things.”
“That would be nice.”
No, you can’t fault the old guy for wanting a friend.
Or more than a friend.
“...Mila. I’ll admit, I’m not the best talker in town. But I want you to know. If you could find the time… I’d really love it, if every so often, a beautiful, charming woman like you could stop by and spend some time with me.”
“I think you’re selling yourself short! There’s a lot to recommend, enjoying your time with someone with so many stories, who’s so… energizing, to be around. It’s important to spend time with...someone you care for.”
Well, I’m not going to eavesdrop after that. I think that, you know, unlike some men… He might just want someone in his life.
I’ve got my own accomplishments; some people were busy today; not that I’ll fault Gino his getting busy.
I was scoring a promotion, for starters. Been a long day, and I came out on top.
And since I am the champion, with a bit more cash to throw around…
Bam, house upgrade!
...It’ll look much better when we can slap a second floor up there. One simoleon at a time.
I worry about the new roomie there; it’s not normal for a guy to cry in his sleep. Well, he seems kind of the lonely type.
Oh, well. I mention it to Zest, just after he’d gotten a phonecall from Candy. He grins and clicks his phone off, casually tossing it to his opposite hand, and he says,
“I’ll take care of it! I know just the thing to cheer a guy up.”
“A double-date! Breathmints for all.”
“I could use some,” says Candy, staring pointedly at him. “I was really sick. This morning.”
“Aw. Hope you feel better.” He orders breakfast.
...Zest is...sure something. And by ‘something,’ I mean ‘a person who is missing an unsubtle clue.’ I wasn’t there, but I can promise you:
He was missing her point.
Speaking of things getting missed...
“It’s so frustrating, seeing everyone with someone but you, isn’t it, Ulrike? It’s so annoying, when people are so public, right?” Akira asks, shooting a glance at the other couples enjoying breakfast. I’d heard he was a jealous type.
“...I think a little romance is nice. There’s no need to get all worked up.” As Ulrike answered, there was the subtle noise of a chair scootching back.
Swing and a miss there, Akira. Swing and a miss.
Well, while they’re off muddling about their time, I’m up and about and working my way through my skills.
Behold! With this tumbler, I’ve cleared another barrier, and onto my third stage of my mixology aspiration. I’ll need to have a social occasion soon.
“Sooo, when do we want for a wedding?” Miko asks, sidling up close to me on the couch while a culinary training video plays in the background. Ah, yes, another social event I need to think about.
“Well, we’re going to go for fancy dresses here, right? Guests are a must. I’ll bake a cake.”
“I want our toppers to be something cool! Maybe elves? Ah, no, a lady and a knight!” she said, waving a finger at her own change in suggestion. I chuckle.
“I’ll see if there’s a suitably cool and lady-like knight option.” Armor could make up the difference. “OK, so we’re going to need a lot of time, but… It’ll be hard for us to find time, for a while.”
“That’s true; we basically work opposite schedules. Every night, the moon comes and steals you away, just when I get home; and when you awake, I must depart! It’s all so very
Ladyhawke... maybe you transform into a wolf.” The drama of her sigh is patently manufactured… But we both giggle anyway.
“I’m a kestral, aren’t I? So I’m the hawk here! We can’t afford to miss…”
“So we’re going to have to be patient, alright, babe? Until our next mutual day off.” It rankles a little to not be in control of my schedule. Oh, well.
In the meanwhile, we take what moments we can; little kisses as we wind down like this -- a brush of our fingers over a morning cup of coffee -- every time she turns, the urge to just reach out and grab her is irresistable. Maybe I really am a bird of prey.
“Hey, Kest?” Zest brings his breakfast out to the porch the next morning.
“Zest.” I wait for him to explain the uneasy look on his face.
“...So. I’ve got, I mean, haha, I guess it’s good news, but -- well, you know how no news is good news? This is news. Ha.” He pushes my perfectly good leftovers around on his plate. “... Maaike had a baby.”
“No kidding.” And the last horse crosses the finish line. I pour him a celebratory drink that we can take inside. “Congrats, poppa! What’s the scamp’s name?”
“Hobart... Haas.”
“...Hobart.” I ignore the worry in his voice over the kid’s last name not being his, born to another household and all, in favor of this series of wedgies laid out across this poor boy’s lifetime, which just so happened to take the form of a name. A name like
Hobart. For entirely separate reasons, we stare off into a great middle distance.
“What should I do? I’m not ready to settle down! I don’t want to take care of a kid!” He bursts out, when I have adequately adjusted to the intense wave of nomenclature-based disappointment that washed over me.
Hobart. I ponder my approach here.
“Jonathan Zest --”
“When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound like Jonathan should even be a name,” Zest interjects. “Sounds like you made it up, even though it’s my name. Weird, right?”
“You have a choice,” I ignore this
other name vortex into which I am being pulled. “You either be sweet to that girl, do right by her… Or. You don’t. You let her worry about her business -- you have fun having yours. You let it go. Let it
all go.”
He doesn’t tell me his answers in words, so much. But he’s not ready for one girl. He won’t worry, and the choice is immediate.
Best of luck, I guess.
I’d like to call your attention to something.
That is a man eating a raw lemons. He just eats two raw lemons and goes back to fishing. What a nightmare.
He needs a break. He really does. I worry about how many more angelfish we can get out; he’s only got the one, and all, but if having Mila over to chat about fishing, and cooking, and what looks like a nice little baby bump she’s got going there. I think I heard them talking about names -- hopefully, they go with some of they better ideas, like ‘Julian,’ so we don’t have to contemplate another Hobart.
He’s not the only person with a guest, though. Akira invited Ulrike over to apologize for the other day.
“I am sorry,” he explains. “I just meant… Well, I want something wonderful, and special, and perfect. I can get a little rough sometimes about it. But also like gestures like this to be
intimate. Personal, and private, and without anything in the way.”
“Just like this. Isn’t this nice?”
“It is,” and Ulrike relaxes, melts into him.
So he’s finally making some progress. Ah, what could have been -- sorry, Ulrike.
There’s something funny about it, though. I go to work. I come back from work. I am immediately dragged by Catarina out to karaoke, all the household’s young people. I grumble, because I am tired enough to pass out right there on the sidewalk, but…
I may just know a girl who loves karaoke like I love the satisfaction of being right, and so, there we go.
And Akira, for a guy who just got a girlfriend, looks like he’s fit to tear out his hair. Weird. We more or less scatter after that.
Zest talks to Catarina, but I’m going to save you a lot of time and tell you to just put a pin in it, it goes nowhere right now.
Akira gets closer to somewhere, entering in a private room with just one occupant: this married lady, Anaya Jang.
“Don’t you want something more? Something that leaves you completely satisfied, someone that feels really, truly yours? I… I want that. I just can’t believe --” He breaks off, his body tensing “I can’t believe your husband can give you that. But I think I can. I want that. Do you?”
“I want it like I want a grilled cheese sandwich.”
This gives him a moment of pause, the romantic tension of the moment broken.
“...Is that a lot?” He just had sort of been picturing a metaphorical hunger up until this point, if I had to guess.
“It is.”
“...We’ll see about the sandwich later, then,” he says, managing what I would call an A+ attempt to sound seductive about grilled cheese.
And as for me…
I tell Miko to pick the songs; frankly, I will be happy if I can stand upright through the whole thing. The music started, and a microphone lands in my lap.
“It’s a duet. You’ve got the first part, OK?” She asks. I sigh with mock reluctance, nod, and get into the rhythm. Her face lights up.
“Don’t go breaking my heart.”
“I couldn’t if I tried.”
“Oh honey, if I get restless --”
“Baby, you’re not that kind.” We share a little smirk over the role reversal there, as if I were the one to worry about getting restless. But we can chuckle about it, and let the song wash around us. I try my best to keep up, and I’d say I do a pretty good job -- one day, I’ll beat her. You’ll see. For now, though, I’m content to just watch the smile of her face until I’m about dead on my feet.
