Rosebuds, Chapter 3

"What did you. . .do when you were. . . in Japan?"

Her own voice reverberated around inside her head and Kirika moaned, trying not to wake up. It was such a pleasant dream-she was back in France, and Mireille was there with her. She heard Mireille's voice, as if it were far away-"That's a story for another night. Go to sleep, Kirika."

Kirika thought she had never heard a sweeter voice.

"Wake up!" The curtains were thrown back abruptly and light flooded the room. Annoyed, Kirika was forced to wake up and sit up. "I made breakfast."

Kirika opened her eyes fully and gasped. It wasn't a dream-she was really here, in France. And there was Mireille standing by her bed, leaning over her, with a plate piled high with French toast.

"Mireiyu!" exclaimed Kirika.

Mireille laughed. "You must have been really tired; it's almost ten o'clock already. Good thing we don't have a contract on our hands."

They ate breakfast at the table, facing the open window. Mireille ate normally, but Kirika was hardly eating, staring constantly at the Corsican blonde. It had seemed so dreamlike; she could hardly believe that she was actually here with Mireille again. She had truly missed her partner in those years, but hadn't allowed herself to admit it.

Mireille crossed her legs and sat back, a piece of French toast neatly speared on her fork. "What would you like to do today?"

Kirika blinked. "I don't know. . . with no papers to grade and no students to see, I feel like I have so much free time on my hands."

Mireille laughed and suddenly sat upright. "I know. Let's go shopping and stop by a restaurant for lunch. How does that sound?"

Kirika replied with only an "un", but it was accompanied by a smile.

Pleased, Mireille continued. "You'll need clothes and all sorts of living necessities, since all your things are still in America. There's a wonderful store just a few streets down and several restaurants, as well as a grocery store so we can buy some more tea."

"That sounds nice." Kirika finished her tea and stood up. "Shall we go?"

= = = = = = =

Kirika and Mireille emerged from the store, carrying packages of all sizes. In Kirika's slender arms rested what seemed like enough clothes to last her a lifetime-and there were still more in Mireille's hands. She could hardly see in front of her as she crossed the street.

They chose a quiet, cozy little restaurant down the street in a not-so-busy part of Paris and sat at a circular table outside. Kirika expected Mireille to order first, but instead Mireille gestured for her to begin. Surprised, Kirika chose a salad and some tea. Mireille selected something along the same lines.

The bright umbrella overhead was painted in stripes of red and blue and white, casting shadows of different shades on the table. Their bags rested by their sides. Mireille sat with her elbows propping up her arms, her chin resting on her knuckles. Kirika sat straight up, her hands folded in her lap.

Mireille broke the silence that had been punctuated only by the sounds of traffic. "So, what made you decide to go to Spain?"

Kirika turned, surprised, then remembered that she had been talking about Spain in a half-asleep mode the night before. "It was the first vacation that I'd gone on since I started working. The Spanish teacher at school was really nice and we were good friends; she had taught me a lot of Spanish in our free time and I'd always been inspired by her stories of Spain."

"And being in school again?" Mireille asked gently. "How did that feel?"

"Very different from Japan," Kirika said, then sipped her tea. "There, I was a student. . . and I didn't know anyone, not even myself. When I became a teacher I was in control and-it seemed gave me a sense of power. I could teach how I pleased and become friends with whomever I wanted. There were no more worries about not fitting in and who I was and why I was there."

Mireille sipped her tea. Kirika watched her expressionlessly.

"How was it in Japan?"

Mireille made a strange sound that vaguely resembled choking and put her cup down. "I met a cat. She reminded me of you."

She cupped her teacup in both hands, staring down at the leaves as she spoke. "I'm sure my experiences in Japan were nothing like yours in America. Everything was filled with memories of you-of how I first found you at the school, how we spoke in your apartment, and how you agreed to leave Japan with me. And the cat. . ." Mireille's voice trailed off, thinking of Crystal. Those last moments of seeing her at the airport had been pure torture. "I don't know. There was just something about her that reminded me of you every time I saw her. Maybe it reminded me of the time you brought Nazarov's cat home."

"Did you go back to my apartment?" Kirika asked quietly, her face still expressionless, though Mireille caught just a hint of longing in those direct brown eyes.

"Yes," Mireille said, and slowly smiled. "It was very dusty. I had to clean everything out before it was suitable for living."

Kirika laughed at this, though her voice seemed just a bit hollow. She raised her teacup to her lips and suddenly mumbled something.

"What did you say?"

Kirika let the cup come back to the table with a soft clunk. "I said, I wouldn't mind seeing Tokyo again."

Mireille leaned over and patted Kirika's arm, seeing the wistfulness in her eyes. "Someday, we'll make a trip there together," she promised. Kirika turned to face her, smiling.

The waitress brought their orders and refilled their teacups. Kirika pulled the plastic cover off her salad and tore open the package of dressing. Without even looking up, she asked, "What happened to the cat?"

Mireille's fork sank into a piece of cucumber and stayed there. Slowly Kirika's gaze traveled up to meet Mireille's eyes. She didn't press the matter.

"We met the first night I arrived in Japan. I let her stay in your apartment and named her Crystal. Now I understand how you felt about Prince Myshkin," said Mireille, and Kirika smiled sadly. "I couldn't bring her out of Japan though, and just before takeoff I saw a cat outside, sitting not fifty feet from our plane. I'm sure it was her."

"You cared for a her a lot," Kirika said quietly.

Kirika can still read my mind like she did years ago, thought Mireille.

"You know, Kirika, after all these years that you've lived in Paris, you've never gone to see the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre. We'll arrange a special day to do that."

"Thank you, Mireiyu."

Author's note: grrrr. . .sequels are never near as good as the first story, are they? I've worked out the beginning and the end of this story but there's a still big hole in the middle.

Also, I think I've made it a bit confusing. . .the first chapter is set in the present and the rest of the chapters are flashbacks. Sorry about any confusion that caused : )