This might sound strange, but a lot of stories I write have titles before they begin. Sometimes I'll hear a phrase and think, "What a nice title that would make!", and then write the story that fits the title.
Just out of curiosity, does anyone else do that?
Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy this story!
Midnight Tuesdays
The door to my room clicks shut behind me. I can't stay in there one more moment tonight, and luckily, I don't have to. It's the window, really. The enormous picture window that takes up two of the four walls of my bedchamber. I know what I'll see if I look out that window. I have the best view in the city. They call it the fairy-tale princess room. It's the highest room in the tallest tower. It looks out over all of Crystal Tokyo. And at night, the city glistens like diamond under the pale moonlight. Everyone tells me how beautiful this utopia I've created is, how fortunate they are to have such a wise, caring ruler.
It seems that only I know the truth. They want a graceful, brilliant, charming queen, and all I can give them is me. Just Usagi. Just clumsy, not-too-bright, goofy little Usa-chan. How can I tell these people that I'm not who they think I am, that this perfect queen they think they know is nothing more than a passing attempt at camouflage? How can I be responsible for an entire world, when just a few years ago I couldn't even turn my homework in on time? What will they do when they realize that I'm not the woman they want me to be?
This is why I can't bear to look out my window to the perfect view the people - my people, or so they tell me - have given me as a symbol of my rank and authority. It's just a reminder that I have made for myself my own prison. I was instrumental in my own defeat. And now I'm trapped in perfection. Stranded in bliss. Stuck in a world that never has been and never could be what I wanted for myself.
My dreams are dead now. A queen serves her people first and herself last. My simple dreams of becoming a housewife, a mother who could stay at home and help her children with homework and do dishes and laundry all day - those are dead and buried.
Oh, I'm married. Mamoru and I were married just hours before our coronation. We're expecting our daughter in three short months. Our daughter, who I will never again call Chibi-Usa. Our daughter, who must carry on the name I was required to take. I cannot bear the thought of calling our daughter 'Serenity', though I know she must carry on the name...and carry on my burden. Now I understand why she said I only ever called her 'Small Lady'. Chibi-Usa is in the past, and now Serenity, princess of Crystal Tokyo, must take her place.
I turn around a corner and nearly stumble into a royal guard.
"Your Highness!" The young man bows, and cautiously reaches out to steady me. It seems I lose my balance even easier than I used to, now that I have a near-basketball sized stomach sticking out in front of me.
"Thank you," I say, resting the palm of one hand over my middle. The child in me turns, her foot thumping my hand, and I smile. It's a miracle, being able to feel my daughter from the inside and the outside. Granted, I don't get very much sleep anymore, and my back aches constantly...but I wouldn't trade my baby for anything. Only a mother could understand the love I feel for my unborn daughter.
"Shall I have someone escort you, your Highness?" The guard asks. He appears concerned.
"No, that will not be necessary. I'm only going to the kitchens for a snack. Cravings, you know." I smile, hoping that he'll leave it at that and not try to find someone to escort me anyway. These people do go a little overboard on the security, considering that I'm already well aware of every danger that is going to befall me in the next millennia.
"Of course, your Highness." The guard bows again. I take my leave, continuing down the hall, towards my husband's office. I peek in, not surprised to see him slouching in the big leather chair, reading glasses perched at the end of his nose, scanning some legal document, no doubt. He does, of course, have just as much authority as I do in this new world we've created. Of course, he keeps much longer hours than I do, and he has, on occasion, dragged me back to our room for rest after a long day's work. Now that I'm pregnant, he won't allow me to so much as glance at any paperwork, which I'm quite glad for. I move to tiptoe past the room, but it's rather hard to sneak about in the formal wear that is required of my station. I have an image to uphold, after all.
"Serenity."
I cringe. He knows I hate it when he calls me that. I turn and peek in, watching him watching me.
"Yes, Mamo-chan?" I inquire.
"Usako, what in the world are you doing up? You should be dead asleep by now," Mamoru scolds gently. I step fully into the room, walking towards him, doing my best to achieve the 'I'm-your-beloved-wife-and-I'm-carrying-your-daughter-so-please-don't-kill-me' look. He melts, just like he always does. He pushes his chair back and pats his leg. I go to him at once, crawling onto his lap as quickly as my belly will allow. I'm nineteen years old, and it's still comforting to lay my head against his chest and let him hold me like he did years ago, when life was so much simpler.
He strokes my cheek and kisses me gently, brushing my silvery bangs back from my face.
"I love you, Usako," he breathes, holding me closely. I breathe in, the scent of cinnamon making me dizzy with pleasure. I love the way Mamoru smells.
"I love you, too, Mamo-chan." I bury my face in the hollow of his throat for a moment, and pull away slowly. "Come on," I tell him, snatching the paper from his hand. "Work can wait until tomorrow. It's almost midnight."
"Sooner or later, you're going to be too tired to get up at midnight anymore, Usako," Mamoru laughs. But he allows himself to be pulled out of his chair. He sets down his reading glasses, links our fingers, and leads me down the hall, to a room that only Mamoru and I are allowed in. It looks to be just a simple sitting room, and that is mainly what we use it for. But behind one of the bookshelves is a secret room, and it's my favorite one in the whole palace.
We shut the door behind us, secure in the knowledge that we quite alone. Mamoru slides the panel of books back, and yanks a hanging cord overhead. The room flares into light, and I immerse myself in the shelves and shelves of contraband clothes. Jeans, skirts, sundresses, tank tops, all the things I can't be seen publicly in...they're all here. Granted, my selection is now severely limited by my pregnancy...but Minako managed to smuggle in a cute pair of maternity jeans and a peasant blouse recently, so I think that's what I'll wear this evening. I glance to my right to observe Mamoru struggling into a pair of jeans, hopping like a madman on one foot, with the other halfway through the pant leg. Suppressing giggles, I untie the laces of my dress and pull it over my head. Letting it slide down my hips is, sadly, a thing of the past.
I slide on a pair of sandals - the only thing I can fit my swollen feet in these days - and help my husband pull his T-shirt down.
We check to make sure the hall is empty before proceeding out, stifling laughter. It wouldn't do to get caught dressed in street clothes. The halls are dark and mostly empty, and it's not hard for us to navigate them undetected.
Mamoru still smiles at me like he did before we were king and queen. I know I have the best husband anyone could ever ask for, and I know I'm living a life that most people would kill to have...but part of me still wants something else. Part of me wants the life I should have had, the only life I wanted. I never wanted fame or fortune or superpowers. I didn't want to be queen of anything or princess of anything or senshi of anything. All I ever wanted was a little house with a white picket fence, a husband who loves me, and children of my own.
I'm just nineteen years old. I'm about to be a mother. I'm already queen of Crystal Tokyo. And my little house with the white picket fence is just a fantasy, something I can never have. I must lock it away in my heart forever. It's something that will live inside me forever, knowing I didn't ask for this life, that it wasn't my wish to save the world and rule it with my husband. All my life, I'll know I'm living a lie and dream of the life I could have had. I'm not strong. I'm not mature. If I could wish away Crystal Tokyo and wish back my simple life before Sailor Moon, I would.
A door creaks as it opens, and I blink back to reality. Mamoru is lifting a tapestry from the wall, revealing the open door beneath it. He holds the heavy tapestry back, allowing me to enter the room ahead of him, and quickly follows behind me. The corridor is narrow but well-lit, and we follow it to the end, open another door, and descend the winding staircase into a large common room. The others are already here, it seems. Their conversations stop immediately when the notice us.
"You're late, as always, Odango," Rei-chan grins.
"Queens are never late, Rei-chan," I respond, sticking out my tongue.
"You're a little old for that behavior, Odango. As I recall, you taught Chibi-Usa some terrible manners. She was a brat when we met her. No doubt she learned it from you," Rei laughs.
"Or her Auntie Rei-chan," I retort. Mamoru takes a seat on the nearest sofa, picking up a bag of potato chips. He tugs me down beside him, slinging one arm over my shoulders.
Minako plops down ungracefully beside me, poking my stomach.
"Did you swallow a Volkswagon, Usa-chan? I can practically see you getting bigger before my very eyes." Her eyes widen as Chibi-Usa kicks against her palm. It never ceases to amaze them.
"Chibi-Usa's moving, you guys!" Minako squeals. Ami, Rei, and Makoto are instantly beside me, all vying for space on my stomach. When Chibi-Usa finally settles down from her brief sommersaulting stint, they all back off enough to give Mamoru and I some breathing room.
"I brought you some new comics, Odango," Rei says graciously, "It never ceases to amaze me how tight the security is around here. It's getting harder to sneak stuff in to you two."
"Oh, that reminds me!" Minako cries, darting across the room to a brown-paper wrapped package on the table. "After some extensive searching, we found something for you, Mamoru-san."
Mamoru takes the package, neatly tearing open the paper. I swear, there is nothing that man doesn't do neatly and efficiently. He pulls back the paper, and gasps. I groan.
"Thank you! How did you ever manage to find this? This is fantastic!" Mamoru lifts the hideous green jacket into the air for all to see.
"Put it away, Mamo-chan, before I gag," I moan. Mamoru ruffles my hair.
"I happen to LIKE this jacket, Usako," he says.
"Mina-chan, why?" I wail. Ami takes pity on me and pats my hand reassuringly.
"It's all right, Usa-chan. At least he can only wear it once a week," she says. I slouch down, cross my arms, and glare at her over my huge stomach. Makoto is slightly kinder. She passes a plate to me.
"I baked you some cookies, Usa-chan. Two dozen, since you devoured a dozen in less than an hour last Tuesday." She and Rei titter over that. I console myself with the cookies on the plate. Makoto really DOES bake the best cookies. Maybe I'll get the chef to beat the recipe out of her...
"What'll it be tonight, ladies?" Rei asks. After Mamoru's pointed glare, she graciously adds "And gentleman".
We're all sitting in various places around the room. All of us have forgone the typical formal wear or sailor suits. This is our escape. This is our paradise.
"I brought some anime," Makoto suggests, picking up the remote control and switching on the TV on the wall. Minako spreads herself out on the floor in front of the TV, kicking her jean-clad legs up in the air. Rei perches at the edge of the coffee table, pushing aside magazines and comics to make room for Ami to join her. I curl up against Mamoru, trying to ignore the hideous jacket he's clutching under his other arm, as we enjoy a few hours of no responsibilities, indulging in our previous pastimes. We pass around popcorn and potato chips. Mamoru complains that I'm hoarding Makoto's cookies, so we end up passing those around, too. It's a quiet, simple affair. We can just relax and pretend that the past few years never happened. We can live in the past for a few hours a week.
Sometime after four or five in the morning, long after I've fallen asleep beside him on the couch, Mamoru carries me back up to our bedroom. It's a long walk, and Mamoru carries me back every week. I always wake up briefly just as he's setting me on the bed. He hides our clothes in a drawer in our closet, where Minako will retrieve them tomorrow. Then he settles in next to me, pulls me against him, and we go to sleep.
Tonight, he'll go to sleep dreaming of wearing that hideous jacket Minako found for him.
And tonight, just like every other Tuesday night, I'll go to sleep and pray I don't dream. And I tuck the dream of my little house with the white picket fence into the very back of my heart and mind, where it must stay. At least until next Tuesday.
