Twenty-Five Years
"Oh my gawd! This is so good!" I say through a mouthful of greasy, delicious hotdog. My eyes roll into the back of my head and my eyes flutter in ecstasy. How long has it been since I had something so unhealthy and so good?
"How can you even eat that?" Madison asks besides me, skepticism drips from each word.
Swallowing the goodness that I have been deprived of for probably years, I glance at her with a cocky grin on my glossy lips. "Easy," I say, lifting the hotdog to my lips, "like this! Omnononom." I bite off another large chuck of the hotdog, moaning.
"That's not what I meant, smartass. I meant how can you eat a hotdog that has mustard-"
I cut her off. "They're supposed to!"
"Not what I'm getting at, Tessa. It has mustard and ketchup and freakin' relish! Plus,"
I lick my lips, catching a bit of the odd mixture she stated, and look at her once she pauses. Her hazel eyes scan over the crowded sidewalk.
"You got it from a New York sidewalk vendor." Her concerned whisper is nearly lost with the chaos surrounding us.
"So?" I take another bite, being less animated about it.
"So, who knows where it's been! Flies could've crawled over it, he could've sneezed or coughed on it, or-or others could've touched it. And God knows where those people have been."
I roll my eyes at her. "You and I both know that my immune system is kickass. I'm absolutely positive that I won't get sick."
"Okay, but what about your diet?"
There's a brief pause as I eat my hotdog. "Not on it anymore," I say once I can talk through the food. I swallow. "'Sides, I won't be working for awhile with this," I raise my bandaged arm, "thing. Not many directors and movie producers want that. You know, we have to extremely and oddly beautiful. Ugly scars really take away from that. Gawd, I need a Dr. Pepper." I walk on my toes to gaze over the heads of people; hoping to see another vendor.
"Couldn't you wear long sleeves? And that's from the thing you're eating."
"I know. And no, I can't; my boobs are too big." I finish the last bite of my hotdog, crumbling the wax paper.
She lets out an exasperated sigh and shakes her head. "I've known you all our lives and that is your excuse for not wearing them. Yet, you wear them when you're a "different person" and your signature red trench coat."
"'Cause they customize them for me! Normal mall clothes make me look like… like… horrible! As for my coat, I look good in that." I dramatically flip my hair over my shoulder.
Madison smirks at my reasoning, rolling her eyes at me. "Whatever. You want that soda of yours?" she asks once we near another vendor.
"Yeah. You want anything?" I ask, taking out my blue clip-wallet. The large red Superman 'S' stands out against Superman's shade of blue.
"Sure, but I'm buying it." She fishes out her own wallet. It's a long, clip hot pink and black Hello Kitty wallet.
"Fine." I groan, knowing it's not possible to argue with her. Even though I make more than enough for the both of us to be living on our own in New York City she always refuses to accept my money. Including the times where our rent is due. I guess I should consider myself lucky for having a (non-famous) friend like her. How much does a part-time baker and part-time janitor make anyway?
"I'll take a Diet Coke, please." Madison hands over her money as the dark skinned man gives her, her soda.
"And I'll take a regular Dr. Pepper." I chirp, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I'm always eager to drink my favorite soft drink.
"Hey," he shouts, pointing at me and eyes beaming, "you're Tessa Maberry!"
My instinctive fake smile stretches across my lips and my eyes shine. "That would be me."
"Oh my God, can I get your picture?" he's nearly trembling.
"How 'bout this," I step closer, fake smile still in place, "we trade. Your Dr. Pepper for our picture together and the amount I owe you?"
"Deal!" he hands me my soda and he takes out his cell; I hand him the amount I owe.
"Madison," I turn to her, deeply apologetic. This wasn't what I thought of when we agreed to walk around and talk. Maybe we should've stayed home and watched chic-flicks. "Do you mind?" I smile sheepishly. By now people of various ages and races are circling around us; taking their own pictures of me.
She screws her soda bottle's cap back, while shaking her head. "Not at all." Taking the cell phone from the jittery man's fingers, she tells us to smile as I lean close to the vendor man. He smells odd.
People often said my smile is worth a million dollars and is sometimes blinding. For a random pose, I hold up my beverage. There's a flash of light, followed by a soft click. Madison shows us the picture. "Like it?"
The man's smile is wide and beaming, teeth slightly crooked and he has noticeable dimples. Black hair held back in dreads with colorful beads at the end. His shirt is loose, short-sleeved, and bright orange with a smiley face wearing sunglasses. His thumbs are up, showing his white sweat wrist bands. His chocolate brown eyes are just as bright as his smile.
My smile is as it always has been; white and beautiful. My thick blonde hair is over my shoulders, one side is tucked behind my studded ear; showing my silver angel wing and diamond earring. My silver short-sleeved shirt hugs my torso with a modest scoop. Without me being behind a high counter, people can see my navy blue skinny jeans. No one would even tell how I feel in that frozen moment; my bright blue eyes are glimmering with joy.
"Yeah," he says, "it's perfect! Thank you." He smiles down at me.
I shake my head. "No problem. Thanks, for the soda." I smile, gently waving my drink.
"Welcome!"
Madison and I give one last smile before quickly leaving the scene. Handing my drink to Madison, I fish out my oversized sunglasses. Like a Hollywood movie star, I flip open the temples (sides of the glasses) and slide them on my face. "I can't believe this," I mutter.
My lifelong friend hands me back my drink. It creates a soft hiss once I open it. After a delicious sip of the overly carbonated drink, I look at her. "I am so sorry, Madi." She can't tell now through the dark lenses, but my eyes can show how sorry I am.
"I know." She gently hits my bicep, chuckling. "You can't help how famous you are, nor can you blame your fans for wanting a picture of you."
I sling my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "I love you, you know that?"
"Yeah, I do."
She doesn't shrug off my arm. I do step a little bit away, so we can walk without tripping over each other. The people around us can no longer see my face in its entirety; therefore, they don't stop us and ask for my picture. They just go about their normal business – laughing, smiling, joking, holding hands, and looking at the sights. No even pays mind to the fact that it's gray out and someone's wearing sunglasses.
"Do you think it's gonna rain?" Madison looks up at the sky, there's a small inkling of fear across her face. Her fear of thunder and lightning getting the best of her, she steps closer to me.
We pause in our walk, both looking up, letting the other pedestrians walk by us in a blur. Past the high buildings and haze of smoke, there's a gray sky with a passing of white clouds. I raise a brow and my lips remain in a line.
"I don't know." I say. "The weather's been like this since that alien attack. What was it? Three months ago?" Looking at her I see her nod. "There hasn't been a bad thunderstorm yet, I think. Just light rain and gray skies. Hm, I wonder if it's like this everywhere."
"Then can we go back home and watch those movies? I don't wanna be caught in the rain." We continue our walk, shoulders bumping with other shoulders. I keep a tight grip on my bag and eye the people that walk past.
"Sure."
I elbow our way through the mass of people, ignoring the grunts and angered shouts. Madison raises her arm shouting for a taxi, while I take a gulp of my soda and washing the taste of the hotdog out of my mouth. I watch as each yellow and black car drives by and my friend become more and more irritated. She starts to wave her hand around frantically, shouting more and more. She yells in frustration once another one goes by. She takes a swig of her soda. How is it that no one would pick her up?
Looking her up and down, I see nothing wrong. Pixie cut brown hair with a hot pink streak on the left side of her hair, which surrounds an oval shaped face with minimum amount of make-up (courtesy of yours truly) to show her natural beauty. She's dressed in a rosy brown floral shirt, a dark brown skirt that falls to her knees, and wedges. There's nothing particularly wrong with her, or her outfit.
"That's it!" she shouts, flailing her arms up, and stomps back to me. "I give up!"
Chuckling, I hand her my drink. "Let me try."
She grumbles something I can't exactly understand, but takes my soda nonetheless.
I stand near the curb and watch the cars pass. Quickly, I stick my middle finger and thumb into my mouth and let out a sharp whistle. After which I shout, raising my arm in the air, "HEY, YO, TAXI!"
Three taxi cabs stop in front of me. They all shout at one another, yelling profanities, honking their horns.
I try my best not to laugh or blush at the sight I created.
"Ooh," Madison sticks her finger on my shoulder and quickly recoils it, letting out a mock "heat hiss." "The girl is hot!"
Laughing to ease the awkward, we enter the taxi closest to us. Madison tells him the address and we're soon off. Throughout the entire ride we're silent, only to answer the few questions the taxi driver asks, and I keep my sunglasses on. I look out at all the people and buildings.
I wonder how many of them are without homes and how many of them lost someone during the attack. What was that oddly human-looking alien's motive anyway? What was the point of even attempting to taking over New York and, without a doubt, the world? My arm and hips just hurt thinking about the incident.
At least the Avengers were there. It's hard to believe that there are superheroes out there (the ones that actually wear capes and have secret identities) and are willing to risk their lives for people they don't even know. A part of me can't even believe Tony Stark is one of them; him being an egotistical, playboy jerk and all.
I really should do something nice for him and the rest of the Avengers. Maybe I could bake something? I'll give them to Stark to share with the rest. That sounds like a good plan. I could help rebuild Manhattan, too. I've been putting my money to some charities, why not something similar? Yeah, I'll do that too.
"Tessa," something cold and wet is pressed against my arm.
"Yipe!" I jerk my arm away and rub the area, glaring at my friend.
She smiles cheekily and tells me we're home, and that she already paid. Sighing I hand the cab driver a ridiculous tip once she's out. Honestly, whatever happened to us splitting stuff?
"So," I begin, tugging off my boots with my feet at the doorway, "what movies do you wanna watch?" I kick them away and go back into my room to put on more comfortable pants.
"I dunno, what haven't we seen in a while?"
My bare feet don't make much sound on the wooden hall floor as I make my way back, changed into short black yoga pants. My sunglasses back inside my purse and my earrings are back in my jewelry box, which are in my room. I slide my finger across my iPhone, looking through my contacts to order pizza. I've been strangely hungry lately. "Something funny, that's for sure. Lately we've been watching movies like The Notebook or Titanic. I can't take that much crying anymore." I flop down on our overstuffed, yet very comfortable sofa and place my Dr. Pepper on a coaster in front of me.
"Okay…," she looks through our movie library, "how about…. Oh! Underworld!" she holds up our Underworld Trilogy DVD set. "It's full of real, non-sparkling vampires and real, kickass werewolves." She sings, waving the movie.
I smile, already liking the idea. "Yeah. Let's order some pizza and then pop in some popcorn. Do you want the usual?"
"Yep!"
I finally find the number to our favorite pizza place. "Yes, hi. I'd like to place an order for," I tell him our address, noting how disappointed his tone changed once he realized it's outside the city.
"Alright, what would you like?"
"I'd like one large plain pizza and another large cheese-steak pizza, each with a side of crispy fries. Cheese on the side for them. Nothing to drink."
He replays my order, checking to make sure he's gotten everything.
I nod, even though he can't see it. "Yes, that's right."
"Okay, that'll be twenty-five seventy and it'll be there in an hour and a half."
"Thanks." I cancel the call and look up at Madison. "I'm paying and we got an hour and a half." Since she paid for the drive here, I'm paying for our dinner.
"Cool," she flops down next to me, taking a big gulp of her Diet Coke. After a small burp she asks, "What are your plans now that you're on hiatus?"
I frown, looking down at my arm. "I was thinking about helping Manhattan in its rebuilding and maybe do something nice for the Avengers. It sucks that I can't really work with this lovely forming scar on my arm. Hopefully, it'll heal fast and I can go back to acting. It feels like I just started my career, too." I pout at her and try to ease the pain with a gulp of my drink.
"That's 'cause you did – five years ago."
We spill into a long conversation much like we always do. This time, instead of each of us ranting about a co-workers or our boss, we talk about how much our lives have changed in the short of five years. We moved to New York four and a half years ago, each with our own set of goals. With a motivation that broke my heart, I was able to land a role that jumpstarted my acting career and was soon the most sought out for fantasy, assassin, and mage-like roles. Madison is still fighting to achieve hers.
~ Asgard ~
Another day passes in Asgard. The sun slowly sinks behind the tall, pale buildings and mountain line. The sky is painted in reds, oranges, and shapes of pink and purple. Only it holds no glory for the King and Queen of this realm. It was lost years ago.
Frigga stands in the Forbidden Room gently holding her lost daughter's favorite princess doll. The one Odin got for her many centuries ago when he came back home. Its hair is long and golden, braided over her shoulder, with pale colored flowers braided into it. The dress it wears is a beautiful wedding gown fit for royalty; dressed in ivory and gold. A tiara sits on its head, fake stones shine dully in the sunset, and a sheer white veil cascades down behind it. Its eyes are a deep blue and its make-up is notable but pretty.
The Queen drops to her knees beside the bed and holds the soft doll to her breast. Tears drop from her eyes and onto her dress. Frigga misses her only daughter so much! Her heart cracks and breaks each day she isn't found. Those monsters were slaughtered long ago; however, it could not bring the Princess back. They never speak her name; fearing it will bring back those sweet (and bitter) memories to everyone that was given the potion. Just as they have no one enter this room. There are too many memories.
Frigga remembers those precious times when she found her daughter and Loki playing chess in this room or reading peacefully together with the weather was not in their favor. She found Thor consoling the young Princess after an incident they would not share – a twin's secret they said. She remembers how her daughter would cry at night when she was a baby and would come in to give her peace. Odin often rocked their daughter to sleep in this room. She can still see him sitting by the fireplace, rocking back and forth, and hear him gently humming a song.
How different would our lives be if she were still here? Frigga always found a way to think that thought, ever since…. Ever since with what happened with Loki. Would her daughter have been able to calm him like she always had and avoid such devastations? Would she have been able to talk Thor out of going to Jotunheim? Surely, she would have.
"Frigga," Odin silently shuts the door behind him and walks up to his crying wife. Crouching down, he cradles her tear-stained face with his rough hands. "What ails you?"
Such a silly question, for they both know what is wrong and what always will be wrong.
"How long must we wait, Odin? How long must we bare the ache that is inside our hearts and souls? It has been too long and I fear my heart cannot take much more of this pain." Her throat is clenched, tight with tears.
The King gingerly wipes his thumbs across her soft cheeks. "You know as well as I do that our daughter still lives. Remember, when you came to me the day our soldiers were about to give up the search? You said you could feel it in your soul that she is alive and that we mustn't give up, for our beloved daughter and Princess is out there. Somewhere." He kisses her forehead, before continuing. "I feel it, too. I have felt that connection for twenty-five years now. Our daughter, and Princess, is alive and she will return to us and be with us once again."
The tears are now slowly trekking down her face. "How much longer must we wait, though? I grow restless with each passing day, fearing the worst of what has come to pass."
Odin shakes his head. "I do not know, dear wife of mine. The realms are a large place to search and require much attention. Our men do their best to search for our daughter and their lost Princess of Asgard. We can only hope and pray that she is well – wherever she is."
Together they stand, holding the other's hand. Frigga gently places the doll down exactly as she had found it – on the bed, resting against the plush pillows. They are carefully as the walk across the rugs; carefully not to bring anything out of place. For this room is frozen in a memory for them, and if that memory is carelessly ruined then… what else would they have of their daughter?