Here we are, the last chapter. I loved doing this, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it. Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments, and I look forward to seeing you guys the next fic or fic chapter update. Much love to you and stay safe. Thank you for everything. You all are the best! ^^
Chapter Twenty-Six: Together
It's been ten years since that birthday party, and presently, I stand even with Kai. That's right, I finally obtained my growth spurt. Don't get me wrong, being well above the average height comes with its troubles, but I'm not complaining. I'm no longer modeling the awkward builds or boyish feminine features of a developing teenager.
In my late twenties, I've long since grown into my more masculine assets. I'm sporting a deeper, rich baritone type of voice, and my physique is more athletic thanks to exercising. My friends have stated that on any given day, I look like someone you wouldn't want to mess with, and I find that both outstanding and hilarious.
Compared to Kai, however, I'm not built like I'm ready to lead an army. I appear more ready for the finals of a mixed martial arts tournament. Speaking of appearances, I don't think Kai's mind is aware of aging. He doesn't look a day over forty.
Thanks to a bad blizzard, we're surrounded by endless downpours of compressed snow and crunchy ice. I drive carefully while outfitted in a dark purple turtleneck and jeans with steel-toed boots. I at last pull into our destination after several wide turns on the winding, rather hilly roads. We've been traveling for over four days, from one side of the globe to the other.
Going through an open fence, I park a good distance in onto the snow-covered, dirt driveway. I take a minute to decompress until my butt's muscles angrily proclaim with pulses, "ow, that's enough. Move!"
Agatha and I then step out of the rental car, a silver-colored Series 3 BMW and stretch.
Instantly, my ladylove and I are ruthlessly slapped in our faces by upper Scotland's Winter weather and the sharp smell of smoke, plumes coming from the towering chimney nearby. That settles it, I'm going to be freezing my moppet and his jewels off the entire time we're here.
Japan is much colder than the United Kingdom according to the internet, but there's something about the wind that drastically drops the temperature. The bitter breeze here is swift and sharp, which surely makes it feel worse than it is. It feels like knives and hurts like Hades on any exposed skin.
The Cairngorms is a vast mountain range full of farmlands and is part of Scotland's eastern Highlands. It is a grandeur to behold even when covered in endless sheets of nature's powder.
"Uncle Gouuuuuu!" shouts a spitting, lispy-voiced little girl as she charges down the steps of the porch.
I notice the bouncy toddler is wearing adult-sized socks, a mens' rainbow striped jumper, and a too big, floppy-eared panda hat with strings left to dangle. What a combination.
"Heeeeyyyy!" I finish in a heroic shout as I scoop up the three-year-old and spin her around in the air. This makes her giggle uncontrollably and for Agatha and me it's contagious.
Catching sight of an imposing mass at my right, I stop my spinning and carry the grinning doll on my hip while clomping up the handmade stairs. Setting the squirmy gremlin down, Agatha joins me in greeting the burly, tiger-eyed man standing rigid on the wet, weather-worn wood.
"She was supposed to stay inside," says the deep-voiced man, tired eyes alight with how happy he is to see us.
"Was she? I had no idea," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Lionel, now thirty, humors me with a loud laugh, vocals rivaling mine.
As he guides us inside the countrified farmhouse, I feel the heat hit me shortly after crossing the heavy doored threshold. Agatha seals the entrance, both of us surveying the draft excluder enclosing the underside. More no doubt cover the other doors.
Gazing around, I feel like I'm standing inside a picturesque magazine. Within these walls, you wouldn't think Jack Frost had flown in for holiday. Trailing my eyes over the wall-to-wall rug adorning the wine red hardwood, I glimpse the old-fashioned brick of the roaring fireplace. The soft glow of its embers seems to be enveloping this entire space in a cozy cloak.
Agatha, free of her bulky bundles and seeming more comfortable, takes a seat on the sofa in front of the strong blaze.
Sprawling up, out, and along the living room's walls- only split by the open kitchen at my far left- is a hand-painted family tree. Engraved frames full of photos illustrate the timelines of the family until four years ago, every solitary one nailed into an individual branch. I'm in awe of it and only come back to earth when my left shoulder is tapped by the resident's handyman.
I observe the buffalo plaid and old bluejeans dressed man sit down next to Agatha, fisting a fresh mug of hot chocolate in each hand. I can tell what it is because there's a mountain of fluffy marshmallows teeming above the lips.
"A good fireplace keeps a room warmer than any modern-day heating. You'd think it was the opposite given the world's technological advances," Lionel states, offering her a kind smile as well as the cup before placing the other on the glass top, metal-legged coffee table in front of them.
Agatha utters a soft thank you before curling her slender fingers around the festively red ceramic. The pointed tips of her manicured nails clink on the three-dimensional, tactile face of the cheery Father Christmas.
"Really?" Agatha inquires excitedly, sincerely intrigued at that.
"Yeah. Sinead and I volunteered at a couple's conservation retreat when we first moved here. She wanted to make some friends. Me? Not so much. Our basic bitch of a cabin had this stove-like fireplace, and before that day I didn't know what real warmth was. It was amazing,"
Agatha laughs loudly, causing the tot from earlier to poke her curious head out of the kitchen. Lionel peeks over the back of the beige furniture and calls her over in Mandarin.
"Méi-Méi…"
Her name is of course the only part I understand, so I can't inform you of exactly what he says, but I'm guessing it's the English equivalent to either, "Come here," or "What are you doing?"
The Wong family moved to Scotland seven years ago, and when I got the news Sinead was pregnant, I received a noise complaint from the neighbors in my apartment complex.
She swiftly toddles over with a lollipop in her mouth. I quickly spot the purple, sugary drool running off of her face and over the zipped-up, pony-patterned onesie.
I don't dare to move a single muscle. Why? I have to endure kids using me as a towel and trash bin enough as it is. A cool uncle or not, I refuse to deal with that away from home.
Méi-Méi (pronounced, may-may) is a well-fed, warm-complected kiddo with energy levels that could rival a three-month-old puppy. She has Sinead's mocha tresses and vivacious personality but possesses Lionel's intense eyes.
Lionel reaches to his right and plucks some wet wipes from a package left on the handmade end table.
"Did mommy allow you to have that?" he nicely asks as he wipes down Méi-Méi's face and over her fresh footies, the sucker aloft in her fisted left hand.
In the middle of wriggling and whining, she shakes her head no. The ordeal is soon finished, and Lionel just stares at her in disapproval.
"Mommy is working hard to cook everyone here a big, big dinner, yeah?"
She nods at his question, visibly feeling ashamed. She's sad she got caught.
"If you knew, then why'd you take it out of the jar?"
At her daddy's stern but gentle query, her lips quiver and she mumbles out a rather rude comment through the teary-eyed pout. If looks could kill he'd be dead because that defiant glare was sharp.
Lionel loudly clears his throat before graciously excusing himself and Méi-Méi, she in his papa-bear-type arms. The pair promptly disappear into the shady hallway at Agatha's far left.
"Wow, both the F-bomb and the H-E-L-L word. Where did she learn to talk like that?" Agatha asks me as I stoically take the warm seat next to her.
"They're words, letters. She's three, babe. Tot could've learned it from the grocery store intercom for all we know," I lash, letting out a loud yawn seconds after.
I then sway back onto the khaki-colored fabric, the effects of the journey kicking my butt harder than any school day. I'm so tired I'm sleepy drunk and cranky.
I place my hands behind my head and ease into my connected palms, a long, pleased breath leaving my nose. My body then becomes heavier than the heftiest lead.
Blinking my pained eyes, I glimpse Agatha looking pretty in her lavender-colored sweeter and perfect white pants.
I deflate at her sympathetic gaze, basking in the stillness and low light. She was only remarking on something that concerned her. I lean to one side and lay my head on her shoulders.
With closed eyes, I sleepily say, "I'm sorry I'm being a sourpuss,"
"I understand. Hate it for you though. Long drives aren't easy when it's just you doing them. At least you got to relax on the airliner and that was slightly longer than the drive,"
"Yeah... Can you forgive me?" I grumble out, on the verge of passing out.
"Always, just watch your mouth while we're here. Choice words like those don't sound right coming out of a littleling,"
I don't see it, but I can tell by her tone that she's smiling, happy that I'm dozing off at her side.
"Yes, ma'am," I mutter with a light smirk, knowing she has a point.
In the dark haze behind my eyelids, my mind meanders to some vicious visions. Next time we come here, I'm renting us a private cabin in the woods which sits a decent distance from the property.
Sinead doesn't make an appearance until it's time to for supper come five o'clock, she being the one to shake me awake. Sitting up, I feel like I'm covered in cobwebs. Agatha informs me that Lionel made me lay down.
Looking her over, I notice that she has a different set of clothes on. What happened?
"What made you change clothes?" I ask, voice gravelly from the heavy slumber.
Agatha is donning a faded, forest green turtleneck and neutral dress pants with white house slippers that look like fuzzy socks.
Going bashful, she explains that she spilled her hot chocolate all over herself and the couch when trying to help Méi-Méi put her full sippy cup on the coffee table. Her hand absentmindedly tilted to one side, and the half-gone contents waterfalled everywhere. Because I was moved, I was spared the chaos.
I glance at the wad of used hand towels on the floor before looking at her and smiling softly.
"Knowing you, I bet you apologized profusely while frantically running around to clean it up,"
She nods, feeling bad, so I peck her cheek sweetly and smile before getting up to stretch to the rafters. I take her hand after and we walk to the table in an open room next to the kitchen but some distance from the couch. All these connected rooms and the openness, I love it.
The handmade table is tall, the edge up to my chest. I notice the pillow cushioned chairs are hand-carved too. If Lionel didn't, whoever made all this furniture has some serious talent.
Sinead smiles a silent hello to us, placing the massive bowl of mashed potatoes on the table with the rest of the meal.
Because of the dim lighting, I point to each dish, explaining what they are.
"Sweet potatoes casserole with pecans and a brown sugar topping. Um, that looks like a green bean casserole with toasted onions. Then there's normal mash directly in front of us, I know you can see this one and the smoked, rotisserie goose, but may as well repeat it. Behind those casseroles are two platters of deviled eggs. Next to that is a dish of flavored dry bread, also known as, Stuffing. Then a bowl of boiled peas and carrots. Beside that, we have a bowl of buttered corn on the cob. After that is a pan of broccoli cheddar soup with what looks to be bacon mixed in. Then a few hotdogs and hamburgers beside that. Followed by the buns, the soon-to-be toppling tower of dinner rolls, some plates, utensils, and bowls,"
Agatha laughs about the stuffing comment to let me catch my breath.
"And lastly, all the way at the other end of the sturdy mass they're deciding to call a table and not a wall, are pies and a six-layer yellow cake with chocolate-orange flavored frosting and toffee bits on top. Next to that is a bowl of tossed salad and beside that are the various bottles of dressings,"
"What are the pies, do you know?" Agatha asks, feeling foolish for doing so even though she shouldn't.
The power is on the frits, has been the past few days, and everything has to be cooked by gas or charcoal. I heard a generator running when we arrived, but I think it's only running the fridge and icebox. They have run-of-the-mill electricity but no air conditioning or heat.
Lionel sits down across from us, a booster seat in the chair next to him. Looking at her, he casually says, "Sweet raspberry, maple apple, blueberry, cherry, pecan, pumpkin, and my personal favorite, Boston banana cream with vanilla wafers on top. We also have homemade vanilla bean ice cream in the freezer. Canned cranberry sauce is on the dessert menu too,"
"Holy sh-hit. The amount here is insane. You guys did not have to do all this," I say with a laugh, taking my seat.
Agatha follows suit, overwhelmed yet impressed by it all too.
"For drinks, we have a lot of sodas including root beer, sweet and unsweet teas, fresh milk, and orange juice. And if you think for a second, I'm going to let my best friend and his lady make this big a trip and not have them leave here with bricks of good-eatin' in their bodies you are dead wrong. We have a box of red and a box of white wine also,"
Sinead walks in with their baby on her hip soon after, and Lionel straps her into the seat. A neon green, plastic plate of portioned food is put in front of her, and now cool enough for her to eat.
The grand feast is all but fully consumed once Sinead dishes it out, flat-out refusing to let us serve ourselves. I secretly study a low bump forming in her midsection, and thus suspect another young one is on the way, but I'll keep that to myself for the time being. It's mid-December, and we're here until after the new year, so I'm sure I'll get a confirmation. I wonder if Lionel is aware.
A few days later, after getting an on-foot tour of the property the Wongs dubbed, Tiger Eyes Ranch, Lionel drives us to a Christmas tree farm stood some several miles out. It's set on another man's ranch called, High View Acres. The place is much smaller than Lionel's but that doesn't take away from its beauty. A majority of the owned land in the Eastern Highlands, from what I understand anyway, is self-sustaining with a vast array of products produced throughout the year.
It's nearing eight o'clock in the morning, and after sprinting to keep up with Méi-Méi, who Agatha failed to keep distracted, we come across two beauties. A back and forth then ensues so Sinead decides to keep things civil by flipping a pence. This bickering is over the Blue spruce and Nordmann fir. The one I wanted wins out. The Nordmann fir is gorgeous.
The moment we return to our ranch away from home, Lionel feeds their railroad-side rescue dogs. Two huge German Shepard puppies named, Dollie and Lollie. They're boy dogs and were named by Méi-Méi within five minutes of arrival. At least, that's what I was told over video chat two months ago. They don't bark when people arrive, not yet anyway. Lionel's nickname for them is, the Derpy Duo, and I laugh every time I hear it.
Lionel comes back out and pulls me aside to help with chores while the women, and Méi-Méi, attempt to decorate the house.
Going 'round to the horses, he asks me to clean this stable. I learn there are two of them on opposite ends of their land, and I agree to do both of them despite being told I only have to do one. Lionel thanks me before leaving to tend to the chickens and baby chicks as well as the herds of cows and bulls, plus their calves. He looks as content doing all this as papa is running his shop.
After that, I gather the goats for milking and then pamper the pigs with table scraps from breakfast, their homes already cleaned and necessities refreshed. Once done, I stumble upon Lionel breaking apart the ice on and around the pond for the ducks and ducklings.
Huffing and puffing, Lionel finishes that job and steps to me while wiping his brow.
"Mind leavin' some food and water in the barn for the stray cats and dogs? I'll get the owls and donkeys,"
I nod and say yes to his request, already feeling pains all over my everything. We end in the evening by steering the sheep into their pen and feeding the rabbits. Lionel, seeing I'm knackered, has me plop down on the porch steps while he takes care of the llamas and alpacas.
Heading into the well-lit, forthwith electrified house, we trudge into the kitchen for something to drink. Lionel stays by the sink to decompress while I make my way out of the kitchen.
Chugging an ice-cold bottle of water, I walk into the living room to find Agatha on her knees in front of the roped tree detangling the last row of string lights. The empty, open box housing them is next to her. Beside that one is a box that hasn't been opened yet.
"How's it comin'?" I ask while sitting on the floor next to her, still breathless but getting better.
"Pretty much done. Gotta string'em on the tree and plug," she answers, looking at me once finished.
"Are they multicolored or white?" I ask, taking a few more gulps after.
"Multicolored. The white ones, which I haven't checked yet, will go outside,"
We eat dinner, leftovers of course, and I help Lionel cut the tree free of its binds. Whoever made this rope has met Kai or something because it was agony to slice through.
In the middle of the night, we are all bolted awake by raps on the front door. Agatha and I are in the living room on one of my two air mattresses. I made sure to buy a couple for the trip in case one had a hole in it, but it works for this possibility too.
Lionel, clearing his throat as he shuffles his slippers along, answers the door. Opening it reveals Kai and papa. Guess they could make it after all? Kai was finding it hard to get time off like I was at first, and papa said he had the shop to look after. Guess Makoto said he'd look after the place. Is he getting paid? Probably.
Lionel embraces the visibly tired duo, stepping aside a second later to welcome them inside.
I remove myself from my angel's side and slide on my coat and brown loafers before heading out to my car to grab my other air mattress. Once it's pumped up, the new arrivals are asleep in record time.
The next day, while Kai and my uncle are taking it easy at the house, a lagging Lionel and a skipping Méi-Méi walk me to a fir tree planted somewhere on the west end of their property. I know who's urn is buried beneath it, and I've been dreading this since I got the news.
Maeryn passed away last year. She wasn't sick, just old. From what they say, she went peacefully in her sleep. She loved this place and was glad she got to spend her final years with those she loved most.
I cried like a baby the moment I learned of her death, and today gives rise to all those emotions again. I do my best to stay strong for Méi-Méi and Lionel but eventually, I can't keep it in.
We return home to find Sinead at the table nursing a cup of tea and Kai sitting across from her with a cup of black coffee.
"Where are papa and Agatha?" I ask, my eyes gliding between them.
Kai looks at me and says in a tired tone, "Your crazy kooks are out in the snow playin' with the pups,"
I smile and chuckle. "How's that crazy?"
Kai licks his lips before saying with a half-smile, "Your love has a brain, your uncle, however, doesn't. He's in nothin' but his housecoat and boxers. Stole your loafers by the door too,"
Lionel cackles heartily, holding his bouncing belly as he heads toward the squeaky screen door in the kitchen.
Sinead, long-having the images in her head, spits and sprays her drink across the table because she's laughing so hard. This stains Kai's white teeshirt and thermal pants in splotchy splatters.
"Sorry," Sinead says through laughter.
Kai's eyes soften and he says that it's fine before grabbing some paper towels stood by the kitchen sink to dab the beige stains away.
Following him, I take a peek outside, only to see Kai put on his zippered, Dry Fit pullover and leisurely step out the door.
"Is he still kicking?" I hear my old man ask, chortling afterward.
I'm currently wearing the same pullover so I can vouch for how insulating this material is. Kai's is black while mine is some shade of dark purple.
Agatha said months back that I needed some new athletic gear and bought an outfit for me plus shoes. It was really sweet.
The screen door bursts open, startling me and Sinead who pokes her head around the bend.
"We need your help," Kai says loudly, Agatha running up to join him.
I raise a brow at the snowflakes and piles they seem to be spattered and peppered in. Are we going to war?
"If you are going to have a snowball fight you nutters better do it today. I'd like to decorate the rest of this place and the tree before next years' holiday,"
I grin wildly in excitement and hurriedly wrap up warm before jogging out the door. Méi-Méi heads in as I head out, dashing up the back steps and into her mama's arms for heat and most likely a much-needed nap.
While Kai and I build our fort, Agatha picks a side and adds to our arsenal of ammunition before going inside the house. Papa and Lionel won't know what hit them.
By evening, we clammer in and through the kitchen caked in mud, dirty from head to toe, feeling tired and sore. Lionel, who wrapped rocks in the snow before throwing them at me, is going to endure a cold shower.
Once I'm out of the shower, I'm told by a gingerbread-apron adorned Sinead to keep it down if moving. Méi-Méi is feeling under the weather it seems. Poor thing, I hated being sick as a kid.
Hearing that, Lionel says he has to check on her and read his baby girl her favorite story whether she's awake for it or not. Ok, never mind my prank… While the fatherly sweetness warms my heart, all I can think now is… Crap! We're all gonna get it.
I think the same thing when teaching my students too. Yep, I substitute other age classes some days, but ultimately I teach at the same high school I attended. It's a great place nowadays, not as cheap with their functions and certainly not as corrupt. On any given day, stress aside, I cherish my livelihood. As well as my next-door neighbor. It's both hilarious and frustrating when students confuse us for each other. This year, to try and combat the sequence of confusion, I decided to have my students call me Mr. G. or Mr. H. while Kai is still called by his last name. It's informal yes and not the norm, but we haven't had any issues. No one seems to mind it.
For the disabled students and staff, I have the usual sign as well as tactile (seasonal) decorations on my door. Kai has nothing but the standard year-round label on his entrance. The sighted can easily see it, and the blind can feel/read it as they go through the hall. I'm hoping more schools will adopt the textured signs and/or decor concept. It's not super innovative, but it does appear to help a lot of people in more ways than one.
The week before Christmas Eve, we deck out the house in cheer from shelter to soil plus the inside. We bake every sweet imaginable, attend parties, host a party of our own, travel by train to stand for hours for two separately dated parades in Glasgow, and wait hours in a lengthy line to see Father Christmas at a crowded, dingy, fast food-smelling mall. Seriously, how long has this place been open, one hundred years?
After the cuteness that is Méi-Méi asking the white-bearded gent for a new doll and a baby brother or sister, we decide to trek downstairs for rest and to refuel at the underground food court. This mall is massive and has four floors. Now, that wouldn't be so bad, except… The elevators are out of order, the escalators have become stairs, half the shops are going out of business, and… UGH! My feet are killing me!
Done eating, I quietly beg Kai to follow me into the restroom, Aggy and papa sitting with Lionel and his family at another table. Also, thank you Méi-Méi for (accidentally) spilling your drink all over the table. I've been wishing for a distraction like this all week.
Closing the vestibule of the men's room, Kai folds his muscular arms and leans his right shoulder against the wall while waiting for me to speak. He needs to know why I've pulled him away from a proper fish and chips with brown sauce.
After steadying my brain, I momentarily eye the bit of Dranzer strung around his neck. I then explain that I've been planning to propose to Agatha, and I need his help in setting it up.
He asks me why I haven't popped the question before now, nearly thirteen years down the line, and I assert that life keeps me busy. It's the truth. I've had the ring since Christmas Day two years ago but never found the right moment. Even after half a year of living together, I hadn't asked. Sorry everyone, guess I'm just too finicky.
Kai rolls his eyes hard at my "excuses." He does, however, let me know how much of an idiot I am for making her wait so long before merging our lives, be it in marriage or moving in. He, knowing it'll make me angry, decides not to argue with me over my supposed "commitment issues" again.
Exhaling a puff through his nose, Kai proclaims, "How can I help? Also, why me?"
I deflate in relief, laughing a bit, and explain in detail what I've got up my sleeve. My strategy ends with Kai's eyes gleaming and a smile stretching his face.
Remembering his second question, I say, "I asked you because I wanted to,"
We leave the restroom after washing up, and soon, we're back at the ranch stuffing to-go containers into the fridge.
Christmas reaches us in a blink. While I'm still trying to dust off the cobwebs, the time being five o'clock in the morning, the seven of us are piled into what I've dubbed the Wong Wagon. In half an hour we arrive at a homeless shelter.
After a big yawn, I ask what we're doing here and am told by Lionel that the Wong household is on the list to distribute breakfast. According to the large sign in the window, breakfast goes until eleven o'clock.
As much as I admire Lionel for it, this day can't end fast enough.
Sinead unbuckles the girl dressed in red panda PJs once the adults are out of the car. After the tot is nestled in her cozy, bamboo blanket, we head inside to prepare ourselves and sterilize.
Upon returning home, we share in constructing and consuming personal breakfasts for ourselves. Even though we have the skills, none of us feel like cooking so we all, coincidently, decide to partake in shots of espresso as well as the gifted boxes of onset diabetes. Two-dozen donuts. I'm aware sugar doesn't cause diabetes, but it doesn't aid in keeping it at bay either.
I don't see what Lionel and Sinead munch, but I do spot papa and Agatha grabbing two brownie batters apiece. Méi-Méi meanwhile is licking the pink icing off her jimmies-covered strawberry one and repeatedly asking for another. She whined because no one is giving in.
While Sinead and I set up around the tree, lighting it up and bringing out our presents, Father Christmas had already visited, I overhear a firm-handed Lionel taking on the tantrumming tator.
"No, not until you eat that one. You can't lick the icing and say you ate it. Eat the whole thing. We're not opening presents until you do,"
Méi-Méi screams, gripping the table's edge while bouncing up and down in her seat.
Once done, Sinead and I join the others in watching the show, waiting to see what the outcome will be. Méi-Méi is pushing it more than usual today, and I think I know why. I whisper to Agatha that they got her out of bed too early and she nods in agreement. Seconds later, the house rattles and so do we.
Lionel's scream is what does it, and not only does it shake his princess into silent submission but us too.
Kai, his nerves touched, briskly steps to Lionel and sits him in the open seat I forgot to push in.
I regret to inform you that Lionel, as levelheaded and sweet as he can be, does have a short fuse which his daughter likes to light. While not every day, he's been heard raising his voice in situations that don't warrant it. I get how stress can make you react in ways you normally wouldn't.
Kai scoops up the sniffling toddler before walking outside, rubbing small circles on her back as he mutters soothing words. Sinead follows him, the trauma of her past making her body go into fight mode. She knows Kai wouldn't lay a hand on anyone's kid, but her instincts don't care to see otherwise.
Like me, she's gone to therapy over the years and it's helped tremendously, but that still doesn't lay some behaviors to rest.
I hear snippets of the talk they have, Kai giving his grandniece over the moment he sees the mother hen. While she soothes her, Kai apologizes for stepping in where he shouldn't but he couldn't take anymore. Sinead says that she understands. Kai tells Sinead to make him chop wood when he gets wound up too tight and Sinead agrees.
In the stillness that is inside, I hear sobbing, and look to see Lionel's face in his hands, slumped over with shoulders jerking upwards in hard jolts. I feel for him because I know his heart is breaking. He feels horrible for what he did.
After much-needed naps and a friendly video chat from uncle Ray, aunt Mariah, and Lin, the Christmas train is back on track.
We let the enthusiastic tyke tear into a few of hers before ripping into our gifts. Switching between her and us. Like most kids when it comes to presents, she's impatient, but none of us mind. If we have trouble opening one we let her help and that seems to smooth things out. It takes close to an hour before all is said and done. With that, we clean up the scraps of colorful paper, tossing the wads in the rubbish bin like wanna-be basketball stars. I missed all but two of my throws while Kai and papa didn't miss any. I tell them it's their fault I suck, and they only laugh.
The final week of our stay files by in a flurry of building silly snowmen, taking turns to cook homemade soups, many Disney movies, and playing pretend at all hours. Lionel cries all the joy he can muster when Sinead reveals she's been expecting, three months into the pregnancy already. She's got a history of miscarriages so I can see why she waited. Misfortunes can come at any stage but our fingers are crossed in the hope that nothing rears its ugly head.
On New Years' eve, I set my plan in motion. Kai takes Agatha into town for a nice lunch while I inform everyone of what's been in the works. Well, in the works in my head.
At the moment, I've held myself up in the bathroom, trying to steady my frazzled nerves. I'm pretty sure what her answer will be, but a part of me still fears it'll be a no.
There's a soft set of knocks at the door. I pull it open to see Lionel standing there with his tiny tiger behind him. Méi-Méi rushes past us and lifts the toilet's lid, yelling at us to get out because she has to make yellow soup. Lionel and I laugh, closing it as she wishes.
Before I know it, the rental car is driving up the road, and it's showtime… Time for Agatha to get a decades-long wish granted.
With Méi-Méi cleaned and bundled up in her mama's arms, I sneak out the back while everyone else heads out front in anticipation. They stay put on the porch, and I take my spot in the shadows around the front of the home.
I hear Kai come to a stop and tell her to stand in the yard as they exit the vehicle. Agatha does so, but not before looking at him royally confused, her eyes following him as he joins the others. Her face prompts everyone to laugh and her anxiety spike.
From the spot against the house, I turn on the car's stereo, the Compact Disc player set to automatic. A soft breeze, cold as it may be, sways the nature around us. The introduction to Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat's song, Lucky plays at a half-decent volume, and before the words begin, I make my entrance, smiling the moment her breathtaking gaze meets mine.
"Agatha…"
I get down on one knee and open the tiny, red box in my hands, ignoring the icy wetness soaking into my pants.
She's stunned, beaming eyes going from me to the sparkling, rose gold band in the box and back again.
Finding my voice, I say, "I always want to be with you... Will you marry me?"
She nods shakily, and through tearful eyes, mutters something akin to the word yes.
She grins wider and confidently repeats herself louder as I hold my breath, slowly rising to stand tall as the reality hits me. She said yes. Yes! We're engaged!
The rest of the song falls mute to me. Although I do hear cheering and clapping as I slide the pink morganite bejeweled ring on her left hand.
I passionately kiss my fiancée, prompting even more commotion from our onlookers. No matter how life goes, I want Agatha to be there to share in every bit. Beautiful moments, or the events you desire, aren't dropped into your lap. You have to make them happen yourself.
"It's about damn time!" I hear papa holler from the porch, Kai loudly stating that he agrees with him.
The two of us laugh as we part, my hands still cupping her cheeks. We step toward the others after I shut off the car, its headlights glowing brightly before dimming.
In life, I never imagined I'd be this happy, and I hope this feeling never fades.
On the drive back to our small apartment in downtown Okinawa, I catch sight of Agatha once more gazing at her ring as if it's one of the wonders of the world.
"I'm glad you like it," I happily say, eyes still on the road.
Redfaced, Agatha says, "I do. I couldn't have dreamed up a better one. It's so beautiful,"
"You're beautiful," I say, unable to keep myself from making the cheesy compliment.
"No, you," she says, unabashedly grinning.
I blush lightly, laughing some. She knows how to get to me.
Turning into a drive-thru, I ask, "Coffee?"
"It's one o'clock on a Thursday morning," she contends, brow raised and smirking as if I should be aware of the time considering the clock on my car is huge.
I had it stored at the airport. Not my favorite thing to do but it turned out fine.
With that same smile, I say, "And? Girl, I'm approaching the menu, yes or no? Now or never. Five, four, three, two-"
"Yes," Agatha firmly says, laughing loudly after.
Our hot drinks are given to us within minutes and, while taking a long way home, a love song comes on the radio… According to Agatha, it's my ringtone and is one of her favorite songs by an artist called, Ruelle.
One look at you,
My whole life falls in line.
I prayed for you,
Before I called you mine.
Oh, I, can't believe it's true sometimes,
Oh, I can't believe it's true…
I get to love you,
It's the best thing that I'll ever do,
I get to love you,
It's a promise I'm making to you,
Whatever may come, your heart I will choose,
Forever I'm yours, forever I do…
I get to love you…
I get to love you…
The way you love,
It changes who I am.
I am undone,
I thank you once again…
Oh, I, can't believe it's true sometimes,
Oh, I can't believe it's true…
I get to love you,
It's the best thing that I'll ever do,
I get to love you,
It's a promise I'm making to you,
Whatever may come, your heart I will choose,
Forever I'm yours, forever I do…
I get to love you…
I get to love you…
I get to love you…
I get to love you…
And they say love is a journey.
I promise that I'll never leave.
When it's too heavy to carry.
Remember this moment with me…
I get to love you…
I get to love you…
I get to love you…
I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding, parking the car and shutting it off.
Agatha, sensing something on my mind, simply watches me for a cue on how to handle what may or may not come.
Looking at her, tired eyes glinting with unparalleled joy, I say, "Send me that song,"
She smiles before asking, "Ok, why?"
She sends me the song before mirroring my motions of getting out of the old but recently updated, car. She walks next to me as we head in and up to our unit on the second floor of this three-level complex.
Putting the key in the door, I step in after her, the motion-activated lights turning on.
Securing the door, I chuckle to myself as I watch the woman attempt to get changed into some more comfortable clothes in the kitchenette just around the corner. She hates the thought of me seeing her naked, but I hope that will change in the coming months as we plan our wedding. Everyone deserves to have confidence and feel beautiful in their skin.
"So, why did you want me to send you that song?" Agatha asks as she steps out from behind the half-wall, her dirty clothes in her arms.
She places the garments in the basket by our tiny half-bath, now dressed in a longsleeved, baby blue pajama set. After, she looks at me expectantly.
"Since we're having a western-style ceremony, let's use this for the aisle song. You still wanna have it at the manor, right?"
My beloved smiles brightly at that and nods, looking as though she wants to rush in and kiss me senseless. I wouldn't mind it, though I think our neighbors might. I wouldn't care if we woke them up, because those gits have done it to us countless times, but I can't put Agatha through that drama… Once we're married, however, I'm not going to be so considerate.
"Did you hear about Emmitt?" Agatha asks, interrupting my train of lude thoughts.
Emmitt? Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while.
Answering her, I say, "No. What happened?"
Stepping up to me and sitting at my right, she looks at me with shock in her eyes. "He's in prison for the stalking and attempted murder of a store clerk. It happened at the Bi-Bi's we often go to,"
My jaw loosens but doesn't fall. I'm not too surprised given him, but the news is still baffling. "Holy moose juice. Is the clerk okay?"
"Yeah. Our favorite first-responder, Rachel, says she's fine,"
Rachel is Makoto's wife. Coming up two years now. The riverside view, cabin-in-the-woods wedding was brilliant. I speculated her mothering by now, but… Given her career choice, the prospect of children may have fallen out of favor.
If that's true, I wonder if Makoto's alright with it? Granted, with how much he loves her, I'd think so but I won't be sure until I ask. I've taken the rest of the week off to recoup, so I'll ask him on Monday. He teaches Physical Education as well as Health at the same academy. That's irony in real life if I ever saw it.
The phone in Agatha's front pocket beeps a couple of times, the volume of it hurting my ears. She needs to pick another notification noise pronto!
"The folks say hey and congrats," she tells me after reading to herself, the screen an inch away from her right eye. While she uses both eyes, it's her dominant one.
I tell her to send them the same hello with thanks attached, which she's quick to do.
Agatha's parents, who moved to Spain eight years ago, reached out to her through her aunt two years ago. It's been a slow process, but Agatha is trying to let them back in. They haven't flown to see her yet, and that's only because Julia won't let them until Agatha feels positive about it.
She told me on the plane ride back here that if I was fine with it, she'd invite them to the wedding. I told her she could invite whoever she wanted so long as she was happy. We're going to send out invitations once we've decided on a date.
After relaxing with a movie, and no it wasn't Disney-related, we drift off to sleep, the soft sunrise peeking through the split curtains.
Around five o'clock, the alarm on my phone buzzes, signaling that I have to get up. Nuzzling into the warmth at my side, I extend a long arm over the heap and swipe the alarm off, rewrapping my arm around Agatha after.
I've called in a substitute and have everything laid in order on my desk. Did it all before we left. Day in and day out with my soon-to-be wife… I don't know of a better way to spend my life.
The End