Lessons in Housekeeping – Prologue
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia
(A/N) This is an AU human Hetalia fic, with romance between Fem!Lithuania and just plain old man America. I do happen to like regular LietAm, but Fem!Liet felt better and easier to write about in this instance (plus I like it just a microscopic iota more!). There are a couple OC's in here, but they won't dominate the story; they're necessary for the plot :). So, all my rambling aside, enjoy! Also, there may be some smexy smex smex later…just warning ya' (totally not sure yet, though).
June 23rd, 1916
The day was warm, but Alfred F. Kirkland was inside. He sat in the parlor, picking at loose threads in the couch that his mother had purchased. Dad'll be really pissed, that's for sure…But his father wasn't there to see the atrocity he'd committed on the furniture.
But I don't care about how mad he'll get…not anymore.
He clenched his little fists and covered his eyes. At ten years old, Alfred knew the difference between right and wrong. Running and hiding from your dying wife was wrong, especially if the only family member left to keep her company was your son. It's not fair!
There was a platter of fruits and cheeses in front of him, left by some of his mother's friends a few days before. But even if the cheese wasn't stale and the fruit not rotting, Alfred wouldn't have eaten any. His appetite had been absent for the past week, dwindling with his mother's health.
The sun filtering in the windows dappled the room, casting dim shadows of the leaves and trees that grew outside. It was too cheerful – it should've been raining, with lots of booming thunder and bright lightning, with howling wind that blew through the house like a hurricane as the finishing touch. The weather should've matched his mood.
"Alfred?" A nurse had materialized in the open doorway, sympathy present in her eyes and in her voice. "She wants to see you." He nodded, keeping his eyes glued to the floor – Alfred didn't think he could handle any more pity-filled looks.
She's probably thinking, "Poor kid", he thought, sliding off the couch and solemnly following the nurse – he hadn't taken the time to learn her name, or those of any other nurse or doctor currently lodged in the house as they documented and observed his mother's final days.
"His father doesn't even care enough to show up at his wife's death bed. The kid might as well not have any parents." – that's what she's thinking…
He trailed the nurse down the hall to the three-season porch, located towards the rear of his family's luxurious mansion. They stopped in front of the French-doors, and the nurse placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Try not to upset her," she said quietly. Then she knelt down so that they were staring eye to eye. "It's okay, Alfred. Just go in there, and let your mom know that you love her. That's all she wants." Alfred nodded, reluctant to open the doors. I don't want to see her. He felt horrible, but the little boy would rather remember his mother for the strong, eccentric person she used to be than what was left of her now.
But he didn't have a choice it seemed, because the nurse opened the doors instead and gently pushed him inside. It was sunny here, too. The room was made up of mostly windows which could be easily removed in warm weather, and replaced just as easily when the winter months came around.
It was his mother's favorite room.
Despite the fact that it was June, the windows hadn't been taken down. His mother was plagued with chills constantly, even in the suffocating heat of a Virginia summer. Her body was failing – that's what the doctors had told him. Speaking of his mother, he could see her.
There were various doctors and nurses, all buzzing around her like bees inside a hive - except their queen was gravely ill. She was lying in her bed, which had been taken from upstairs and put down on the porch – the already present furniture had been pushed to the side to make room for the dying woman.
There's nothing they can do for her anymore – why won't they just leave? Alfred wanted his house back. He wanted the doctors to take their medicine and their needles, their bad news and their serious faces, and just leave.
"Alfred…" his mother smiled. "Come here." She beckoned weakly with one emaciated, frail arm. She looked at her doctors and nurses. "Could you leave? I'd like a moment with my son." They all complied, filing out the doors that Alfred had just entered through, closing them quietly.
Alfred ran to his mother's bedside the moment he was sure the doctors and nurses were gone. "Mom!" he collapsed beside her, body racked with silent sobs, fingers tangled in the sheets. This isn't happening…I won't let it!
"Alfred…" he felt her hand, gently stroking his hair. "Don't cry, Alfred." She patted the bed beside her. "Come on up."
He crawled onto the sheets and lay beside his mother, crying into her shoulder. She used to be so different! How did this happen?
Alfred's mother had been such a strong willed individual, eccentric and passionate about everything. She filled every day with new surprises, and managed to distract him from the fact that his father was never around. But there could be no distracting, not this time.
His father's absence was like a gaping hole in the Mona Lisa, a car that was missing the steering wheel. Again, Alfred was filled with anger and disbelief. How could he? He can come back anytime he wants, but he's NOT HERE!
"D-dad…" he managed to hiccup, desperate for some way to relieve his feelings of rage and betrayal that were boiling inside of him. His mother knew immediately what her son was trying to say, how he felt, and all of his thoughts. She planted a light kiss on his forehead.
"Don't be angry with your father…he's got work you know. It's a hard job; being an ambassador…he'd be here if he could, love. Shhhh…"
Stop defending him – he doesn't deserve it…
"Alfred, look at me." Alfred took his face out the folds of his mother's robe, and looked at her. Her once stunning, beautiful visage was gaunt – the cancer had eaten and destroyed everything. Her hair, once like corn silk, was faded and brittle. Her wide blue eyes were tired, the light in them dulled by drugs and crushing fatigue. Her body was thin, too thin – it had once been very shapely.
I don't want to look…not that long ago, she had been the woman that all the men wanted, and basked happily in the attention she'd received (his mother was not known for being modest). Now, she would die…the loneliness of death held at bay only by the presence of her young son. None of the men she had entertained in his father's absence, whether it was for a week or half a year, had shown up. He didn't want them too – Alfred had never liked them much.
"Alfred, I love you. There are no words to describe how much – someday, you'll have children of your own…then you'll know, darling."
He took a shaky breath. "I love you too, mom." She smiled, and tried to flatten his ever present cow-lick. It sprung back to its vigilant and perky stance, saluting the ceiling – just like always.
"Look at you," she began wiping tears from her son's cheeks with her thumb. "…almost eleven – where did the time go?"
"Mom, don't leave me…" he felt like he was choking on his own misery. His mother, who'd always been there, always, was dying. It just doesn't feel real. He couldn't think of anything to tell her other than that he wanted her to stay. He wanted his mom to get better, despite what the doctors had told her. He wanted her to take him shopping the way she used too, even though he hated it.
He wanted her to take him to the beach, to the park – he wouldn't even care if she flirted with the driver, or the cashier, or the waiter; like she always did. Alfred wanted everything - more time, an answer, a reason…his father's presence.
"I'm not leaving you, love. Just think of it as a life-long vacation…we'll be together again. Of that, I am sure."
"Mom…"
She was getting quieter, her voice dying right along with her body. The end was drawing near. His mother drew him into a hug, as tightly as she could manage in her weakened state. Alfred just lay beside her, breathing in and out, whiling away the hours in her arms.
Then she spoke, softly and for the last time.
"Arthur…" and she was gone.
Francine Bonnefoy-Kirkland's last words had been her husband's name.
Four years later - half way around the world…
Tiesa Laurinaitė was being crushed in her mother's arms. She was hugging her back just as fiercely – she could feel her father's strong hand on her shoulder, and the arms of her younger brothers wrapped her waist. A cool breeze blew off the Baltic Sea, which splashed and crashed against the dock they all stood on.
A weathered and beaten suitcase was on the ground at her feet, waiting like a patient dog – a dog she wished would run away.
"I don't want to go…" she said into her mother's hair, eyes shut tightly.
"I know, Tiesa. But it's all for the best, I promise."
This was the final goodbye, involving just the members of her immediate family. Tiesa had already bid farewell to her friends, her aunts, her uncles, her cousins, and her grandparents. They were all still back at the house they all shared – this was a sad, tender moment in the young teen's life.
"I'm scared, mama." How many other thirteen-year-olds had to leave everything they'd ever known? How many had to leave their family and friends, to start all over in an entirely different and strange new country? Probably not that many…except for me…
Her father's hand felt heavy on her shoulder, not wanting to let his daughter go. "Be safe," he said. He wasn't really a man of words, especially at a time like this.
"Yes," her mother continued, elaborating on her father's advice. "Keep to yourself – don't go anywhere with any strangers." She held Tiesa at an arm's length, looking at her straight in the eye. Her mother was trying not to let her concern and fear show on her face – she was putting on a brave front, just as Tiesa and her other family members were.
"When you get to New York, your cousin Linas will be waiting for you - after you get off Ellis Island."
Tiesa nodded. She already knew this; they'd gone over it a million times, at least. But the young teen knew it made her mother feel better to recite the month's old arrangement, so she humored her.
He's not even my cousin…
Linas was a very, very distant relative – nobody was quite sure how he was connected to their family. But Tiesa would be staying with him, his wife, and his children – she would be staying with them in the small mining town they called home.
I don't want to go! Why did she have to leave her family? Lithuania was her home, where her roots and history were. Her fear was welling up inside of her, blocking out every other emotion and thought. It was only her family's welfare that kept her going – in fact, her family's welfare was the entire reason she was going to America.
They'd fallen on hard times. Everyone seemed to be getting sick or owing debts, growing old or having children – in short, things that cost a lot of money, more than they could spare. The entire family was in a desperate situation, and work had been difficult to find for years. Their terrible financial issues, and the war with Poland, had taken a toll on everybody.
Tiesa was the oldest grandchild in the entire family, even at thirteen. The adults – her parents, grandparents, everyone - had decided that sending her overseas was the best way to preserve both her future, and their own. And so, arrangements had been made for her to go live with a distant cousin and his family in a mining town near Pittsburgh.
Tiesa would work, and send part of her paychecks back to support the family. In exchange, she would have a better life. "America is the land of opportunity," her parents had told her. Tiesa had volunteered herself.
But I would've had to go in the end, anyway. She loved her family to much to watch them suffer, as she had done the past few years.
A boat's foghorn sounded – it was time to board. Her mother gave her another quick hug before releasing her, trying to hide tears.
"We love you, Tiesa," she said, voice trembling. "Never forget that."
"I love you too, mama." Tiesa had never been so frightened or anguished in her entire life. Who knows when I'll see them again?
Her father gave her a hug in turn – Tiesa always felt safe enveloped in his strong arms. "Take care."
"I will, papa - love you."
Lastly, there was Eduard and Raivis. Tiesa smiled at her younger brothers, aged eleven and nine respectively. They stood with their hands in their pockets, trying hard to be tough little men.
"Send us something from America?" Eduard asked, eyes and voice hopeful. Their mother shot him a warning look.
Raivis's expression of gloom brightened. "Yeah!" he exclaimed. "Can you, Tiesa? Pllleeeaasssee?"
Tiesa giggled. "Sure, Raivis. First chance I get, okay?" The little boy grinned happily. She drew him into a hug.
"Don't try to bug Eduard too much, okay? Be good for mama and papa," she whispered in his ear. Raivis nodded and hugged her back, standing on his tip-toes so he could wrap his arms around her shoulders.
Next was Eduard – he stiffened a bit a first, but then relaxed into his sister's embrace. "I'm gonna miss you," he muttered, pushing his glasses up before hugging her in return.
"I'm gonna miss you too – watch after Raivis. He worships you." She ruffled his hair lovingly – she figured she'd take the opportunity while she was still taller than him.
Her father handed Tiesa her suitcase. She was just about to turn and board the ship when her mother called out.
"Wait!"
"Mama, I need to go…"
"Just wait," her mother was holding something, something she'd taken from the folds of her skirt. She pressed it into Tiesa's palm. "Take this – look at it and remember your family…sell it, if you ever need money…"
Tiesa looked at what her mother had given her and gasped. It was a small amber pendant, inlaid in sterling silver with a chain to match - one that was very treasured. It had belonged to Tiesa's long – deceased grandmother. Tiesa's mother had kept it always, even if selling it meant they'd be able to feed them and the entire extended family for a week.
"Mama, I can't take this! It was Grandmother's."
Her mother shook her head. "No, she'd want you to have it." She closed Tiesa's fingers around the beautiful drop of amber.
"I won't sell it, mama," she promised. It's too special! Her mother smiled.
The boat's foghorn sounded again, impatient to be underway. Tiesa gave each of them another hug, then hurried up the boarding plank. She waved as the boat chugged away from the dock – her parents were waving back, utterly distraught at the departure of their eldest child. Eduard and Raivis had run down to the end of the wooden dock, the former waving furiously and the latter jumping up and down happily.
I'm going to miss them…
Once the coastline of Lithuania was just a faint gray line in the distance, Tiesa turned her attention to the expanse of water before her that was the Baltic Sea. They would be in England eventually, after stopping to pick up other passengers. From there, she would catch an even larger ship that would take her to America.
What's America like? She wondered. Is it really the land of opportunity?
If only Tiesa knew what fate had in store for her over the coming years…
(A/N) Yes! France is America's mother… :D and she's dead :( . Cancer is a scary thing – my own mom had a brush with it. I kind of drew on the feelings I had then to formulate Al's response (luckily it was benign). Sorry if France is your favorite (because he/she is dead), but he/she will be making appearances in some flashbacks later on.
Liet's parents were hard – I didn't want to make them countries, so I kind of had to come up with them. Also, I did some research on Toris/Tiesa's name (Tiesa was the only thing I could find that was a "T" Lithuanian girl name) – and it's Laurinaitė instead of Laurinaitis because in Lithuania, whether your married, unmarried, or a man dictates the ending of your last name.
So, the next chapter will be up soon. Tell me what you thought by reviewing! All comments (good and critical) are appreciated.
SOME HISTORIC STUFF:
Ellis Island was the receiving center for most of the immigrants that came to America. It was used until 1924 (or '23, I forget!), when a law, or bill, or amendment or something was passed to restrict the flow of immigrants coming into the United States. One in three U.S. citizens can trace their ancestry back to Ellis Island :D (Interesting fact).
Baltic amber is pretty…look up some pictures XP
There was a war between Poland and Lithuania in 1919 – 1920…both sides say different things about the conflict, but basically the Poles said the Lithuanians were collaborating with Russia to try to take over Poland, and took Vilnius (Lithuania's capital). Lithuania took it back. Read it up on Wikipedia if you want to learn more in depth (and more accurately!) about the issue.
Also – a good number of Lithuanian immigrants settled in Pennsylvania. Some of them became miners, and there were a bunch of mines everywhere (and still are) in Pennsylvania. Some of 'em are around Pittsburgh (love that city)!
Thanks – V.o.t.s.