Hey, I know it has been a hot minute since I've updated this story. My family has been through a lot the last couple of weeks. We had an unexpected move among other things. I'm so sorry. I promise I haven't abandoned this. Please feel free to share your thoughts. Enjoy! :)
Tarble and I just look at each other. He seems eager to consider my thoughts. He doesn't have to say a word. He wears his longing on his face.
"We need to hurry and manifest someone," Baba reminds us," I grow weary. Pick one."
"Did you know mom that well?," Tarble questions me.
"No more than you."
"And Nappa?," Tarble says.
"He didn't have a tendency for dishonesty, but he can hold a grudge like no one's business."
"Oh for goodness sake!," Baba barks, "Talk to your mother. She's chomping at the bit to see you nimrods!"
Baba's mouth goes slack. She slumps over her crystal ball as smoke pours from its base. A wispy charcoal outline appears before us. This figure bears a hood- seen and unseen at the same time. Twilight shimmers on the dark ocean water behind the silhouette like a distorted heat wave. It's clearly a she. Their shape has the subtle ebbs and flows of a woman. I count the wrinkles and crevasses of the invisible garment- the veil that serves as her face in my recollection. Her long gown treads the floor as she drifts to Tarble. He stands over her; the crown of her head barely tops five feet. He appear sizeable for once in front of her squat frame.
"Tarble?," her echoing, voice grates our ears.
"Yes," he sheepishly answers.
She wraps her arms around his ribs and squeezes him. The blood flushes from Tarble's face. Sweat glistens on his upper lip.
"My son," she gasps, lifting her head from his shoulder, "Were they good to you where your father sent you?"
"Um yeah, I was adopted by a kind family. They were so good to me."
"You're kind, my son," she says as if to remind him, "Yemma saw fit to give you over to something better because he saw that you are good."
Linger with Tarble for a bit more mother. I can't see your face, but I know your eyes have found me. Her silent footsteps make my heart bang in my chest. An icy draft follows her heels, embracing me before she even says a word.
"Is that you, Vegeta?," she whispers.
Her tongue pauses over my name as if it's thorny and cursed. A sad hush numbs her enthusiasm. Her thin, wispy fingers brushed my cheeks.
"The heir prince… you look just like his majesty."
Your tone is sad and doting simultaneously, mother. Does the resemblance really spark such formality in you? Why do you still harbor the old king's authority over your head?
She quickly left me, snatching the quill from the unrolled cape on the ground. She held the dainty tag in the palm of her hand.
"This has your name on it Tarble," she says as she hands him the quill, "So you may write the story of your own life. Your heart is robust. Hospitality is your crown, my son. To love those not of you is incomprehensibly powerful. Give my granddaughter my fairest wishes."
She leaves him there to gather the signet ring from the cape and approaches me.
"Vegeta IV," she reads before slipping the ring over my clammy finger, "So you may rule over your circumstances. You are diligent and have worked hard for every ounce of strength in your body and mind. You never give up- how admirable my son. Your family is beautiful. May they ever be an inspiration for you rather jewels in your crown."
She holds my hand and stoops her head to my knuckles to this blasted ring.
"No mother," I tell her as I gently pull my hand back, "No need for that."
"Oh Vegeta," she says before pressing her frigid lips onto my cheek instead, "Stoic as ever, I see."
With a nod, she returns to father's cape and gathers her pendant. She holds it close to her chest as if it can be coddled and loved.
"May I ask favor of you two?," she asks.
"Of course," Tarble answers for the both of us.
She casts her eyes to the floor and polishes the side of the pendant with her thumbs.
"I want you to give this to someone," she says, "He deserves it. Open it and-"
Are you weepy mother- tearful?
"Who?," Tarble asks her with unintended tenderness.
"Yarrow… your brother," she answers as she studies his name on the little yellow slip of paper.
Another brother?," Tarble sputters.
"Don't be surprised," I say, "Father probably has more halfling spawn than we'll ever know."
"Vegeta!," she says.
Did she just scold me? Her voice still sends an uncomfortable zip down my spine to this day. I can't help but shut my mouth. My tongue freezes behind my lips. Father is dead, yet he still shames your head, mother, with a fucking tarp. Aren't you free from his thumb, woman? What is this that you would defend him?
"Where is this son?," I finally bring myself to speak.
"He's-"
She's thrown into silence. Her silhouette disintegrated before us. Smoke creeps along the gazebo floor, slipping out to sea. Her pendant falls to the floor with a loud hollow clink.
"Um mother?," Tarble asks fruitlessly, "Where'd she go?"
"Why would I know?!," I lash out.
Like a sneeze in reverse, the smoke bubbled back into Baba's crystal ball. Baba sat up as if someone had graciously re-inflated her like a worn-out party balloon. She hacks like a smoker and clutches her throat. Puffs of white vapor escape her mouth.
"Good grief," she barks, "How much perfume does she need in the after-life?" she struggles to clear her throat, "What are you two staring at?"
Tarble and I both snap out of it. His hanging jaw smacks shut. His eyes are still wide with bewilderment. Still no poker face after all this time, brother?
"I trust you got what you needed. Time to square up," Bab says flatly.
"Can you call her back?," Tarble says, "She was trying to tell us-"
"No," Baba interrupts Tarble with a red-faced cough, "I can't manifest her again, not enough energy. I'm dry."
I'll lend you my ki. Let's get this over with," I try to say.
"I need ectoplasm, not ki," she explains.
"Oh," Tarble sighs.
"Oh is right," I say as I gather the necklace from the ground, "So we're stuck here waiting for you to recharge?"
"In so many words, yes," she responds.
"And how long will that take?," I ask.
"She was difficult- several days, maybe weeks depending on when and if Yemma lets her return to this realm."
Oh, we're fucked.
"Oh, I see," I tell her, "You failed to tell us about time limits and now we're screwed!"
"I'm not paying you a dime, sooth-sayer. Now, I have a job I never signed up for, and we have no idea where to find this Yarrow!"
"Yarrow…," Baba hums out his name, "The eldest child."
"I'm the eldest," I correct her.
"Are you deaf? Didn't you hear the lady," she cackles, "First, your mother says to pay me. Second, I'll show you where he is."
"Yeah, sure," I roll my eyes, "How are you going to accomplish that?"
"I can't give her a vessel to speak from again, but she knows where Yarrow is. I'll show you her mind," Baba says.
"Thank you, Baba," Tarble says.
"Yes, yes," Baba brushed him off, "Now both of you look into the ball. Watch closely- don't blink. There's much she wants you to know."
Prisms of color refract in the ball, creating a mesmerizing swirl of warm amber light. Reflections of dazzling silver splash the rails and ceiling of the gazebo. Tarble inches closer to me and squints into Baba's glorified disco ball.
"Do you see them too?," he asks me.
"Yes."