She didn't know what could possibly have dragged her tired body out of bed that Saturday, but somehow, Kimi got up. Her eyes were dark, rimmed with sleep, and mascara streaked her cheeks. Nothing was going to be simple this morning.
After washing her face, she felt marginally better. There was something about a clean face that justbrightened everything a little. Being as it was a saturday, she had no need to take a shower just yet, so Kimi threw on a blue dressing gown and walked downstairs.
Maleta wasn't up yet, of course. She was just like her father in that sense--if anyone hated to wake up in the morning, it was him. This was going to be a complicated morning, she realized. All Maleta wanted to know about was her father, and one would think that it wouldn't be hard to tell her. Sacrifice for the child and all that, after all.
Her daughter would never understand the pain her mother felt when she was asked a single question. There was no way she could ever realize the horrible memories that Kimi felt flooding back to her in waves of despair. This was not the time to linger on that, though. I must do what's best for Maleta, she thought, and if the best involves sadness on my part, then that cannot be helped.
Toast would be a good way to start the morning. Kimi put four pieces of bread in the toaster and got the plates. Behind her, Maleta crashed down the stairs. Kimi turned around. Maleta was still in pajamas, with her hair in that mussed up braid of hers.
Handing her a plate of toast, Kimi walked up the stairs, chewing on a bit of crust. She hoped Maleta would follow--and luckily, she did. Kimi couldn't open her mouth to speak for some reason--what would she say?
Luckily, it didn't take long to get upstairs and into the bedroom, by the trunk. The Trunk, even. It deserved a name, or at least a capital letter, seeing as it would be the focus of her thoughts for quite a while now.
Setting down her toast, Kimi unlocked it and started pulling things out. Clearing her throat, she tried her voice. "Do you have your notebook, Maleta?" She sounded different today. Her throat seemed tighter than usual, trying to swallow the words back down inside.
Maleta nodded. "So...can we talk about Dad today?" she asked.
Kimi bristled. "Yes. I didn't tell you much of anything last night, did I?"
"Not too much. But there's still today, right?" Maleta's face contorted into an attempt at a smile.
Smiling, Kimi nodded. "Of course." Perhaps this would be easier than she thought. "What do you know about your father already, Maleta?"
She ticked the facts off on her fingers. "His name was Thomas Vivian Pickles. He was an independent filmmaker. He had a brother. He died in a sailing accident when he was twenty-two."
Had she really told her daughter so little? Kimi cringed inside. After having gone so long completely ignorant of her French roots, she should have been much more open with her own daughter. Luckily, though, it was easier to explain long-past family members to a willing ten year old than an angry eighteen year old.
"Well, that's good to start with," Kimi said, "but you definitely need some more information. Should we start with his family's history or his?"
Maleta frowned, and inwardly, Kimi smacked herself. "I mean, would you like to tell me about where his family came from, or would you like to hear more about him?"
"Hmm...I think his family. If I know all about them, then I can understand Dad bettter, can't I?"
"Yes, I suppose so." Kimi pulled out a thick, black binder filled with papers. "I can only tell you what Tommy already told me, but considering what a nut he was for geneology, that's quite a lot."
"Really?"
"Yep." Kimi grinned. "Your dad was a geek in that sense. When he was about sixteen, he became fascinated with the idea of knowing who his ancestors were, and that was all he could talk about. It really was interesting, though.
"He was Scots-British mix on his father's side, and insisted that he was descended from Fleance himself, but I think he was making that up--"
"Who's Fleance?"
"Fleance was a Scottish king," Kimi answered, "who was the first in a long line of Scottish kings. You'll read more about him when you do Shakespeare."
Maleta nodded, satisfied, making a note in her book.
"Anyway, I don't know if that was really true, but he certainly believed it. On his mother's side, he was Russian. His grandparents were first-generation immigrants to America in the aftermath of World War I. They were Jewish, as was your grandmother and your father."
"But I'm not specifically Jewish or Christian or anything else, because you two had different religions and didn't want to compromise one or the other," Maleta interrupted, reciting her mother's explanation of their religion.
"Right. His father's ancestors came over earlier than his mother's, though--sometime in the 1800s. He's got a lot of information in his binder here. We'll go through it sometime."
Kimi reached in the Trunk again and sat searching for the blue folder that held Tommy's more important information. She found it in the side of the trunk and pulled it out.
"In here, I have a copy of his birth certificate, a copy of our marriage certificate, and--some other things." Among them being the closest a Missing, Presumed Dead person got to a death certificate. Kimi didn't want to mention that thing.
"Umm...cool."
"All right. Well, his parents were named Didi and Stu, of course. He was born on January 12th. He was...well, here, let me get the baby book."
Pulling it out, and hiding a snicker at the cover--Dr. Lipschitz's Baby Memory Guide--Kimi turned to the second page, right after the family tree. "Thomas Vivian Pickles, born January 12th. Length, 20 inches, weight, 7 pounds. It's weird to think that anyone could be so small, isn't it? I don't know exactly what you need for your project, and I'm not sure information of him as a baby will be useful, but..." She was being waffly, Kimi knew, but she didn't care.
"That's okay," Maleta answered. "This is fun."
Kimi felt her shoulders suddenly lose much of their tension. "Well, let's keep looking--Tommy's mother wrote in quite a lot of his firsts."
And for the rest of the morning, that's what they did.
AN: Thanks for pointing that out, Lil Kimi. Didn't actually know that. Oh well. ^_^ I'm just a big dork for interesting names, and I had to devote a little time to some Bree-passion.
Also, if you take a look at Della's and my author page, Rugrats isn't our first canon. (Actually, it's like our fourth.) I strive to get as many facts accurate as possible, seeing as we come from the stick-up-the-bottom stickler canon, Harry Potter. If I make mistakes from now on, please tell me, because I'm generally clueless. If I think it's worth changing, I probably will. Otherwise, I won't, and if that makes you uncomfortable, just think of the story as an AU, okay?
As for a better hint, you're thinking of living singers. This guy's dead. And the song's used in Mr. Holland's Opus. (Alicia Witt is the girl with the red hair, who "plays the sunset".)
Thank you very much for reviewing, Tropic of Scorpio, Lil Kimi, and underestimated-gurl! I hope you find this chapter to your liking. See you next time!
After washing her face, she felt marginally better. There was something about a clean face that justbrightened everything a little. Being as it was a saturday, she had no need to take a shower just yet, so Kimi threw on a blue dressing gown and walked downstairs.
Maleta wasn't up yet, of course. She was just like her father in that sense--if anyone hated to wake up in the morning, it was him. This was going to be a complicated morning, she realized. All Maleta wanted to know about was her father, and one would think that it wouldn't be hard to tell her. Sacrifice for the child and all that, after all.
Her daughter would never understand the pain her mother felt when she was asked a single question. There was no way she could ever realize the horrible memories that Kimi felt flooding back to her in waves of despair. This was not the time to linger on that, though. I must do what's best for Maleta, she thought, and if the best involves sadness on my part, then that cannot be helped.
Toast would be a good way to start the morning. Kimi put four pieces of bread in the toaster and got the plates. Behind her, Maleta crashed down the stairs. Kimi turned around. Maleta was still in pajamas, with her hair in that mussed up braid of hers.
Handing her a plate of toast, Kimi walked up the stairs, chewing on a bit of crust. She hoped Maleta would follow--and luckily, she did. Kimi couldn't open her mouth to speak for some reason--what would she say?
Luckily, it didn't take long to get upstairs and into the bedroom, by the trunk. The Trunk, even. It deserved a name, or at least a capital letter, seeing as it would be the focus of her thoughts for quite a while now.
Setting down her toast, Kimi unlocked it and started pulling things out. Clearing her throat, she tried her voice. "Do you have your notebook, Maleta?" She sounded different today. Her throat seemed tighter than usual, trying to swallow the words back down inside.
Maleta nodded. "So...can we talk about Dad today?" she asked.
Kimi bristled. "Yes. I didn't tell you much of anything last night, did I?"
"Not too much. But there's still today, right?" Maleta's face contorted into an attempt at a smile.
Smiling, Kimi nodded. "Of course." Perhaps this would be easier than she thought. "What do you know about your father already, Maleta?"
She ticked the facts off on her fingers. "His name was Thomas Vivian Pickles. He was an independent filmmaker. He had a brother. He died in a sailing accident when he was twenty-two."
Had she really told her daughter so little? Kimi cringed inside. After having gone so long completely ignorant of her French roots, she should have been much more open with her own daughter. Luckily, though, it was easier to explain long-past family members to a willing ten year old than an angry eighteen year old.
"Well, that's good to start with," Kimi said, "but you definitely need some more information. Should we start with his family's history or his?"
Maleta frowned, and inwardly, Kimi smacked herself. "I mean, would you like to tell me about where his family came from, or would you like to hear more about him?"
"Hmm...I think his family. If I know all about them, then I can understand Dad bettter, can't I?"
"Yes, I suppose so." Kimi pulled out a thick, black binder filled with papers. "I can only tell you what Tommy already told me, but considering what a nut he was for geneology, that's quite a lot."
"Really?"
"Yep." Kimi grinned. "Your dad was a geek in that sense. When he was about sixteen, he became fascinated with the idea of knowing who his ancestors were, and that was all he could talk about. It really was interesting, though.
"He was Scots-British mix on his father's side, and insisted that he was descended from Fleance himself, but I think he was making that up--"
"Who's Fleance?"
"Fleance was a Scottish king," Kimi answered, "who was the first in a long line of Scottish kings. You'll read more about him when you do Shakespeare."
Maleta nodded, satisfied, making a note in her book.
"Anyway, I don't know if that was really true, but he certainly believed it. On his mother's side, he was Russian. His grandparents were first-generation immigrants to America in the aftermath of World War I. They were Jewish, as was your grandmother and your father."
"But I'm not specifically Jewish or Christian or anything else, because you two had different religions and didn't want to compromise one or the other," Maleta interrupted, reciting her mother's explanation of their religion.
"Right. His father's ancestors came over earlier than his mother's, though--sometime in the 1800s. He's got a lot of information in his binder here. We'll go through it sometime."
Kimi reached in the Trunk again and sat searching for the blue folder that held Tommy's more important information. She found it in the side of the trunk and pulled it out.
"In here, I have a copy of his birth certificate, a copy of our marriage certificate, and--some other things." Among them being the closest a Missing, Presumed Dead person got to a death certificate. Kimi didn't want to mention that thing.
"Umm...cool."
"All right. Well, his parents were named Didi and Stu, of course. He was born on January 12th. He was...well, here, let me get the baby book."
Pulling it out, and hiding a snicker at the cover--Dr. Lipschitz's Baby Memory Guide--Kimi turned to the second page, right after the family tree. "Thomas Vivian Pickles, born January 12th. Length, 20 inches, weight, 7 pounds. It's weird to think that anyone could be so small, isn't it? I don't know exactly what you need for your project, and I'm not sure information of him as a baby will be useful, but..." She was being waffly, Kimi knew, but she didn't care.
"That's okay," Maleta answered. "This is fun."
Kimi felt her shoulders suddenly lose much of their tension. "Well, let's keep looking--Tommy's mother wrote in quite a lot of his firsts."
And for the rest of the morning, that's what they did.
AN: Thanks for pointing that out, Lil Kimi. Didn't actually know that. Oh well. ^_^ I'm just a big dork for interesting names, and I had to devote a little time to some Bree-passion.
Also, if you take a look at Della's and my author page, Rugrats isn't our first canon. (Actually, it's like our fourth.) I strive to get as many facts accurate as possible, seeing as we come from the stick-up-the-bottom stickler canon, Harry Potter. If I make mistakes from now on, please tell me, because I'm generally clueless. If I think it's worth changing, I probably will. Otherwise, I won't, and if that makes you uncomfortable, just think of the story as an AU, okay?
As for a better hint, you're thinking of living singers. This guy's dead. And the song's used in Mr. Holland's Opus. (Alicia Witt is the girl with the red hair, who "plays the sunset".)
Thank you very much for reviewing, Tropic of Scorpio, Lil Kimi, and underestimated-gurl! I hope you find this chapter to your liking. See you next time!