Bulma Brief had an event-filled week ahead of her, starting with a charity ball to raise money for training programs to help workers who had lost their jobs learn new, marketable skills. She was the doyenne of the technological world on Earth, and her leadership inspired her contemporaries, most of whom were quite wealthy, to contribute. As long as Earth had a monetary-based system, they had a responsibility to give to others, she felt. Bulma had been thinking, too, about how different the world would be without money. Whenever she pondered these thoughts, her husband Vegeta, the erstwhile alien prince and cynical pragmatist, called her "a limousine socialist." Then, having stoked her outrage, he would mischievously ask how his wife could be comfortable without buying at least twelve pairs of shoes weekly. After regaining her self-control, Bulma realized they were long overdue for an extended "discussion" of what socialism meant. It seemed to be Vegeta's catch-all phrase for other planetary societies he encountered during his youth that were - god forbid - harmonious. Horrors!
But that chat was for another day, and Vegeta had left Earth for a month to train on a remote planet with enough plant life to feed three ants - and maybe a sand flea. Bulma capsulized at least a year's worth of food for him; although strangely enough before he left, the Saiyan prince casually mentioned his desire to change his diet and caloric intake. At first Bulma stared as if tentacles sprouted from Vegeta's nose. That, too, would be another spousal chat on her to-do list.
Bulma was, dare she say it, happy that her husband was gone for a while. She suggested two months, actually, which Vegeta suspiciously and irritably rejected. She wanted to shake-up their routine of being around each other so much since their daughter's birth. Bulla was now four-years-old and wasn't much trouble to anyone at all, so it was time for a change. Secretly, Bulma also liked the idea of Vegeta returning from his jaunt ravenous and aching for sex. The anticipation of that joyful, raunchy reunion made her shiver.
Vegeta looked as handsome as ever the day he departed, and the vain little bastard knew it. Bulma had a new all-black training suit designed for him that looked as regal and elegant on him as it felt. She expected an appreciative grunt - or two - to acknowledge her good work, but this time Vegeta kissed her forehead and smiled just enough to make Bulma feel like she had saved the universe. After handing her his wedding ring, he returned to dressing with no words spoken between them. Then he slowly slipped on his white gloves, one tasty finger at a time. Oh the places where those fingers had been on her body!
He was such an unrepentant tease - and he was all hers.
Fatherhood had matured Vegeta over the years, especially after having their second child. His protectiveness of their family, already well-pronounced, had increased exponentially. He may not have verbalized it well, but they all knew that his care for their well-being was boundless. He still fumbled with smaller things, like making the occasional meal from scratch when Bulma and the kids really, really wanted him to, or barely gagging when the youngest threw up something unpleasant. But he and his wife managed to share most child-rearing duties relatively well in spite of their hard-charging ways.
Bulma lay in bed leisurely watching him dress. He glanced at his wedding ring on the nightstand again and turned to look at her. "Are you sure you'll be fine here alone with Echalotte without Trunks, your parents, or me?"
"Vegeta, you act like I can't call up an armada to help me with anything I need, whenever I need it. Bulla and I will be fine. What could possibly go wrong?"
After all their years together, Bulma should've known better than give her husband any reason to question her judgment about their family's welfare. Clearly, this wasn't the answer the Saiyan prince wanted or needed to hear.
"Why are you courting disaster by saying that?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Now I wonder if I should stay."
"Vegeta, this isn't the time for sentimental superstition," Bulma replied impatiently. "Sometimes you act like you're the only who's had adventures in life. Be glad that I skipped work this morning to watch you prepare for this trip - in all of your sexiness and hot-tempered glory."
He frowned disapprovingly, causing Bulma to feel a tad guilty. "Woman, I wouldn't necessarily describe the first quarter of my hellish existence before we met and married as an 'adventure' - in case you forgot."
"I haven't forgotten," Bulma grasped his ring finger to apologize. "I didn't mean to make light of that." Her hand traveled down his leg, stroking it seductively.
Vegeta closed his eyes, shaking his head at her blatantly shameless attempt to appease him. He crawled on top of her, slipping his hand underneath her back to kiss again. "You can stay deliciously naked and horny under those sheets all you want, but I'll be damned if I'm removing my clothes. I look way too good in them."
Bulma slammed a pillow into his face to punish him. "Leave this room now, prince big mouth."
"Now that's more like it." Vegeta took one final look at her and left without saying goodbye. He never did. Over time, Bulma realized that her husband departed this way to assure everyone he cared about that he expected to return.
Bulma's charity gala later that evening went off without a hitch. Her name was emblazoned on the West City Tribune's society page the next day, of course, with its customary compliments from guests. Unfortunately, a so-called "news blogger" published a speculative, borderline-trashy story discussing "reasons" why her husband hadn't attended, although anyone worth knowing in the city knew that her somber-faced, rarely seen husband was nowhere near the sociable type. One day Bulma overheard one of her employees say Vegeta had a bad case of "resting bitch face." The worker nearly pissed in his pants when she casually tapped his shoulder and asked him to explain in painful detail what he meant. Indeed, the hapless worker was correct in his evaluation of Vegeta's normal facial expression. Bulma still fired the guy out of principle - after all, the imbecile mocked her husband - for being stupid enough discuss the subject at work.
Bulma had planned to arrive early at the office the next day, which she did. Her assistant Nick, however, had arrived earlier. That brought a satisfied smile to her face. The young man's loyalty and ambition would be rewarded in the hefty salary increase planned for him at the end of the year.
"Good morning, Dr. Brief," he said, following Bulma into her office. He handed her a cup of coffee and a plate of her favorite shortbread cookies. "Shall we begin? Actually, wait. Where is your little one? I thought she would be here today."
"Bulla is here, Nick!" Bulma said happily, taking a bite of her cookie. "She's in the office daycare over at the next building. I'll bring her over to see you this afternoon. And thank you for the cookies. I rarely eat sweets in the morning when my husband is around. He insists that I eat a 'balanced breakfast' with nuts and berries and, possibly, tree branches to maintain a healthy colon."
Nick laughed softly. "Wonderful. Your secret is safe with me, Dr. Brief, but perhaps Vegeta is right about taking good care of yourself, especially with him away."
Bulma reclined comfortably in her chair. "Trust me, sugar, once he gets far enough away in space, my colon will be the last thing on his mind."
She also told Vegeta not to contact her too much, even though it would be next to impossible for him to track her ki signature from his location. He needed to focus on his goals this month so she could focus on hers. However, he wasn't barred from speaking with their son Trunks, who under threat of merciless torture had been expected to divulge all details about Bulma's activities - even if his mother asked him not to.
It was summertime, and Bulma had stacked a plume of her thick lavender hair on top of her head. She gave Bulla the same hairstyle so they could avoid sweating all over themselves. They almost looked like twins, and both liked the attention they received when Bulma checked on her daughter, who sat under a tree on the playground. Bulla smiled but appeared more lethargic than from earlier that day. Her mother blamed the heat, deciding to carry the child back into the air-conditioned playroom for some water.
"Dr. Brief, is everything okay with Bulla?" the nursery director asked. "She didn't eat everything in sight today, like she normally does, but I suppose everyone around West City is a little off-balance because of the weather changes."
"Yeah, Leslie, I think you're right," Bulma said, eyeing her daughter's position in her arms. "Let's get you on a cot for nap-time with the other kids, sweetheart. I'll be back later."
"Okay, mommy," Bulla said sleepily. Bulma nuzzled her chin in the child's hair. The act was intentional. Vegeta usually did this with their daughter, and Bulma figured it might provide comfort in her daddy's absence.
She caressed Bulla's hair for few minutes before putting her down. "You miss him already, don't you? Is that why you're so quiet today?"
"I am fine, mommy," the girl said calmly. "You can go." Bulma smiled knowingly as she accepted her fate. Her second child with the Saiyan prince was destined to be just like him, perhaps even more so than their first born.
Unexpectedly, as her mother laid her down on the cot, Bulla lifted her head and sneezed. Then, after rubbing her eyes, she sneezed again, this time covering her nose with her hands.
"My goodness! Bless you twice, baby girl."
"Thank you, mommy," Bulla replied, nodding at her. "Bye."
Bulma put on her lab coat and washed her hands. "Leslie, I'll be back at six or earlier to get her, okay? It's fine to give her a couple snacks before I return."
"Sure, Dr. Brief."
Four o'clock came much faster than Bulma expected. She wanted to work longer, actually, but for some reason she thought that retrieving Bulla earlier would be better. Her eyes observed different parts of the office and its minimalist décor, which helped restore concentration. On both sides of the entrance hung multicolored electron-microscope images of the common cold and flu viruses. She and Nick thought they accentuated the white walls nicely. Vegeta hated them.
"They're hideous, Bulma,"he said after seeing them."It's like you're welcoming these vile illnesses into your life. We are fortunate not to have been plagued by these particular ones since our children were born - especially you, as a human. Why can't you continue to enjoy being the freak of nature that you are? This is bad luck."
She laughed to herself and gathered her belongings. She was a scientist. She saw artistic accents in many ways that others wouldn't. With that she decided to continue reviewing new Capsule Corporation product designs at home, after dining with her little girl.
Hearing Bulma's rustling, Nick re-entered to review the next day's schedule with her. "I see you're leaving on time."
"Very funny," Bulma replied, taking the list from him. "You should go home now too, and save any leftover work you have for tomorrow. I won't give you any trouble about it."
"Somehow I don't believe you," Nick said skeptically. "Have a good evening, and please try eating more than cookies for dinner tonight while you're working late."
"Look, I already have one bossy husband, fella," Bulma said. Feeling playful, she paced around Nick as if she were inspecting a tasty piece of cake. "You are too young to be my side-piece."
Nick lightly smacked her hands with the stack of papers under his shoulder. "I'm sure my new husband would be happy to know that you have enough self-restraint to resist your carnal impulses, Bulma. He is rather protective of me - and trust me, his temper would likely match Vegeta's."
"I can't agree with you there, buddy!" Bulma said with utmost confidence. "Now leave before I create extra work for you tonight, and tell Charles hello for me. I'm still waiting for you two to sit for that wedding portrait I commissioned. The artist is ready when you are."
"Let me escort you to the nursery at least," Nick said. "I want to see little Echalotte. You were too busy to bring her earlier."
"Lord." Bulma stopped in front of him. "Only Vegeta calls Bulla by her middle name exclusively. What's possessed you?"
"I loved the name when you first told me," Nick said. "It's so unique and beautiful."
"Well, be sure not to call her that around my husband," Bulma replied as she entered the nursery. "I'm not explaining why."
Nick lowered his wire-framed glasses and winked. "You don't have to explain."
Bulma got pulled into a conversation by the door as soon as they entered the nursery, so Nick walked over quickly to greet her little girl.
"Hello, lady!"
Bulla, who sat on the side of her cot, smiled weakly. "Hi, Nick." Her reserved response surprised him since they both adored each other. Bulma stayed busy talking with other parents, so he decided to examine the child closer. She had been rubbing her nose, and her normally vibrant skin tone appeared flushed. Her eyes were rheumy and red, too.
"Bulla, darling, what is -" Before he could get another word out, the child sneezed multiple times, which she tried to stifle as quietly as possible.
Uh oh. He pulled a wad of tissues from his pocket, handing them to her. "Are you not feeling well?"
"I am fine, Nick," Bulla said resolutely. "Is mommy taking me home now? I thought we would leave later. When she was down here after lunch, I heard her tell you on the phone about working a lot today. I don't want to get in the way."
This child is trying to protect her mother, Nick deduced. She likely felt unwell before leaving home that morning. Worse, he knew Bulma would be upset for missing signs. But he wasn't completely shocked she was unaware. If the kid was anything like Vegeta, stubborn stoicism was genetically hired-wired into her.
He handed Bulla an apple juice box and smiled. "Your mother would never say or believe you're in the way. Not ever. Now drink this, and we'll be right back." He made eye contact with Bulma, who immediately stopped talking to approach them.
Nick locked arms with her, pulling her aside. Worried, Bulma's eyes darted over his shoulders. "What's wrong?"
"It seems Bulla is coming down with a cold or something close enough to it," he whispered. "She refuses to say she doesn't feel well, and I think she's trying not to worry you. She mentioned work and that she didn't want to get in your way."
"Oh, no." Bulma suddenly felt hurt and confused. "How could my baby possibly think that? She's been ill before, although not like this, and she's always my first priority when that happens."
"It's probably because Vegeta is gone, honey," Nick said, trying to reassure her. "She's older now. Kids see stuff happening in their parents' relationships that they may not fully understand. One minute you believe they aren't paying attention, and the next they're telling your nosy neighbors about an argument you had with your spouse over who burned the toast."
"I guess so." Bulma sighed. "Maybe she thinks my insistence that Vegeta leave for a while somehow means he's in my way too. Her brother and grandparents being away doesn't help either."
"Right now let's just get her home," Nick said, turning to watch Bulla. She was lying on her cot, now wiping her nose and sniffling pitifully. "I'll go with you, Bulma. The last thing your intense mind needs tonight is a boatload of misplaced maternal guilt. Shit happens. That's all this is."
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