Chapter Five: Sightseeing
"Two please," Greg said, holding up two fingers to the man behind the cart. The guy nodded silently, reached into the heating box and removed two glorious, delicious looking slices of Empire City-Style pizza.
Greg paid the man, before grabbing a paper plate and laying one of the slices on it and handing it to Steven, who looked at it in wonderment.
"Wow…" he cooed as he carefully looked over the huge piece of dough, sauce, and cheese.
"Wow's right," Greg said, folding his slice and taking a bite out of it. The melty cheese and the thin layer of grease on the pizza was incredible. "A truth in life, son. All the best food comes from carts and trucks."
Steven nodded as picked up his slice and tried to fish the tip of the drooping pizza into his mouth.
Greg chuckled, "Easy, bud. Fold it, like I did." He nodded at the folded slice on his hand.
"Oooh. Right," Steven said, folding the pizza as shown and taking a bite. His face brightened as he chewed and took in the authentic flavor. "It's so good…"
"Yep. And don't let anyone tell you that Chicago-style is better."
"Better than this?" Steven asked taking another bite. "No way."
They idly strolled to a bench in the park and sat down, eating their pizza and taking in the sights of people going about their business.
Greg took another bite, savoring it before he swallowed it. He let his hand fall to the bench and felt his fingers brush against something. At first he pulled his hand back, afraid that he had touched old bubblegum someone had stuck to the bench. But when he looked down, what he saw nearly made him choke on his pizza.
"Oh, man!" he coughed, pounding on his chest in an effort to help the pizza go down easier.
"What is it, Dad?" Steven asked, looking concerned.
"Nothing," Greg reassured. "It's just- well, come over here."
Steven did so, putting what was left of his pizza on his plate and setting it on his seat. He walked over to Greg's other side and bent down, looking to the side of the bench.
Steven squinted at the worn, weathered wood. "Umm… I don't- Oh! Right here!" He pointed just a little to the side of where Greg had been pointing. "Is something… written here?"
Greg chuckled, "Not written, so much as carved. Can you see what it says?"
"Hmm… Yeah, it looks like three letters. 'S'... 'B'... 'G'?" Steven looked up at Greg. "What does that mean?"
"Well, I'll tell ya, sport," Greg said. "I put those letters there. Almost… oh boy, almost sixteen years ago now."
"Why'd you do that?" Steven asked. "Isn't that against the law?"
Greg grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Technically, yeah. But… I was a dumb kid. A dumb kid in love," Greg settled back, taking another bite of pizza.
"In love?" Steven asked, diamonds in his eyes. "Does that mean that…" his voice dropped to a squeaky whisper. "This has to do with Mom?"
"Heh, yeah it does," Greg conceded. He patted the bench next to Steven's pizza. "Why don't you sit here and I'll tell you the story?"
Steven quickly scampered back to his seat, scooping the pizza back into his lap as he looked at Greg expectedly.
"Okay," Greg began. "Well, this was… man, must of been only a year or two after I met your mom. Anyway, she spent most of her time with Pearl in the Palanquin. I went up to visit her whenever I could in between shows and stuff."
"She never came down from the mountain?" Steven asked.
"Not that I knew of. She'd have caused a bit of a stir, after all, and I think she was kinda shy, if ya can believe it. So that's why, one day, when I went up to the mountain and suggested she let me show her what else was out there."
"Ohhh~" Steven cooed. "You wanted to take her out on a date~!"
Greg felt himself blushing a little. "Yeah, I guess I did." He smiled at the warmth of the memory. "At first, I just wanted to take her down to the town at the foot of the mountain. But then I thought, 'No. Blue deserves to see the best. You gotta take her to Empire City '."
Steven gasped in wonderment, before his expression promptly dropped. "Wait… Mom was a giant. And you said she didn't want to cause a stir."
Greg laughed. "Yeah, I did. But Blue was clever, and she had a plan." He held his hand out flat and slowly began to lower it as he continued, "She just shapeshifted herself smaller."
"And she didn't hurt herself?"
"Nope. Blue knew what she was doing. Though…" Greg tapped his chin. "We did at one point have to duck into an alley so she could briefly grow big again. She said she just needed a quick break."
"Ohh… So what did you and Mom do when you got here?" Steven asked.
"Basically what you and me are doing, shtoo-ball. We walked around, took in the sights. I even thought ahead and got us tickets to a show."
"Just like you did with me, you, and Pearl this time!" Steven said.
"Yep. What can I say? I like a good musical." Greg looked at the park proper and at all the people going about, but his mind was still in the past. He let his hand drift back towards the carved initials and felt the weathered inscription under his fingers. He sighed heavily. "Your mother, Steven… Like, before our trip, she was starting to really get into poetry."
"Really?" Steven asked.
Greg nodded. "She'd always been interested in it, but had never been able to practice it because of all the stress and responsibilities she had. But when I met her…" He chuckled again. "She was such a natural talent. Her singing, then her poetry, then she started taking up painting… Your mother was… amazing. "
"Mom sounds really talented," Steven said.
"She had the gift, to be sure. The poetry especially became a… thing between us."
"What do you mean?"
"Well…" Greg said, stroking his beard and wondering how he could put this for Steven. He began slowly, "What your mom went through, losing Pink Diamond and the lack of support she got… it weighed on her a lot. So… seeing her smile was a bit of a rarity at times."
Steven nodded silently, enraptured by Greg's story.
"But when she was working on her latest bit of poetry, she was always smiling. Even when we came to Empire City, she'd stop in front of a trash can, or a squirrel, or tree and just start composing a short poem right there. And she'd be smiling the whole time," Greg said. "So whenever she was… not feeling great, I'd point to something, anything, and ask 'What do you think, Blue? You think you got a poem for that?' And she'd just laugh and say, 'Perhaps. Would you like to help me?'"
"Aww… you and Mom writing poetry together," Steven said.
"Yep. She gave me a lot of inspiration for song lyrics. The time I spent with your mother was some of the best," Greg said. "Our trip to Empire City just crystallized that for me. That's why, near the end of our trip, I carved those initials into this bench."
"Ooh, then what does SBG mean?" Steven asked.
Greg laughed embarrassingly, "It was uh, my pet name for her. Sky Blue Goddess."
"Like your song? Wait!" Steven stood up from his seat. " 'Sky Blue Goddess' is about Mom?"
"It is," Greg grinned. "I wrote it a few months after I met Blue."
"Wow…" Steven said. "You really loved Mom, huh?"
"I did."
"So you must miss her a lot too…"
Greg hesitated a moment, before smiling at Steven. "I do," he admitted. "But we enjoyed our time together and I have you now, Steven. And that's exactly what we both wanted."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely!" Greg responded. "I want nothing more in the world now than you to grow up happy and healthy, Steven."
"Yeah. I know, Dad," Steven said, getting back into his seat. He looked down sadly down at his pizza crust.
Still smiling, Greg reached over and put his arm around Steven, pulling him close. "Hey, why don't we go check out the Statue of Freedom next? We can take the ferry to Wellis Island."
Steven smiled, rubbing the corners of his eyes. "Alright, Dad. Let's go."
Pearl— much like any Pearl— valued her free time.
It was a rare commodity, and even now, Pearl found it in short supply. Raising Steven was a full time position, between teaching him, preparing his lessons, cooking, washing his clothes, tidying after him, and providing entertainment. They were enjoyable duties, to be sure, but duties nonetheless. And even in those hours that Steven slept, Pearl was always hard at work on the drill…
But this was a 'vacation'. A time which meant cessation of work, even for Pearl.
And she was thoroughly enjoying it. She started with a shower, having rather forgotten how nice the sensation was. The baths she ran for Steven using heated water from mountain streams was nothing compared to the steaming jets that coursed over Pearl's form then, washing away the grime and dirt, soaking into her hair and clothing. She relished the chance to use all the little bottles of cleaning supplies the hotel provided— shampoo and conditioner and body wash, all interesting scents like 'jasmine' and 'citrus' and 'ocean breeze'. The sensation of producing the lather, and truly working it into her hair was like nothing else. And afterwards, she delighted in drying off with a soft, warm towel. Then she could sit on the edge of the bath, blow drying her hair and working some lotion into her skin.
When she was done, she practically felt like a different Gem.
She even looked like a different Gem, Pearl realized, as she considered her reflection in the bathroom mirror. With that white, fluffy bathrobe wrapped around her, and her bangs pulled to either side, showing her eyes… it almost felt like a stranger was staring back at her.
Mirrors are quite useful, Pearl thought, gaze flickering to the hand-held one which was lying face down next to the sink. Not strictly necessary, but nice to have around. She'd given the device a thorough lookover before indulging herself, and it really had seemed quite safe. It would be a shame to hide it away for no reason.
"I suppose I'll give it to Steven after all," Pearl said aloud, and it felt a little strange, speaking even though no one could hear.
Next, she put on a cup of coffee. It was a flavor she had absolutely relished ever since Greg had first introduced her, but she rarely indulged in it, since it wasn't something which Steven's child physiology could process safely. Then she turned on the TV and sat down on one of the room's beds to watch. She began in quite a neat and proper sitting position, but as she scrolled through the channels she began to experiment a little, eventually even allowing herself to sprawl out on her belly, the way Steven did sometimes when he was drawing. It was quite nice, but a little awkward, so after a while she sat back up, if only to make drinking easier.
Human television was strange. There were nature documentaries, ridiculous movies about people fighting, a very strange 'animated' show about emotional foods, a good twenty channels dedicated to various sports, as well as three entirely about cooking, and one about which claimed to be about history that wasn't accurate at all. (The presenter seemed to believe that a race of fish people had built the Communications Hub, which was just ludicrous). Pearl was about to settle on some news networks— she figured it was wise to keep up to date on the planet's politics— but then she got sidetracked by the 'Fashion Channel'.
Beautiful humans, many of whom looked rather like Pearls, moving gracefully and powerfully down aisles, dressed in all manner of skirts and capes and hats and suits —
Just for a few minutes, Pearl thought.
Next thing she knew, the door burst open, Steven crying, "WE'RE BACK!"
Pearl jumped. Nearly three hours had passed.
She was mortified, having been caught lounging, but neither Greg nor Steven seemed to notice. Greg fell into a chair with a groan, while Steven excitedly reported everything they'd done."—and then we got these cheesecakes, and we visited a dog park, and we took pictures in front of this cool statue, and we went to the very top of this building and got to see the whole city, and ooh, there was a gift shop there, and we got this for you—"
"We figured you deserved a present too," Greg said with a chuckle.
Steven dug into a bag he was carrying, and held something out to Pearl in his palm. She stared at it for a moment, then took it. It was a bracelet. Made out of some sort of plastic, with little blue and purple beads. Most of them were plain, but four of them together spelled ' I 3 EC '.
"Do you like it?" Steven asked, eyes huge.
Pearl took the gift— the gift, an actual gift, intended for her — and slipped it onto her wrist. "I love it."
Yes, she knew it was just a trinket— a little thing, probably very cheap, and if she was being honest, not the most attractive of jewelry... 'tacky', she believed the term was— but that didn't matter. The two of them had gone out, thought of her, and bought something just so she could have it.
She would never, ever get used to that.
"Yay!" Steven said, and he was already buzzing off to go to the toilet. But Greg was still sitting in the chair, watching. He looked between Pearl, sitting on the bed, still wrapped in the bathrobe, to the television, now muted, but still showing all those lovely outfits...
"Hey, Pearl," he said. "Do you want to get some clothes?"
She blinked at him.
"Pearl?" he prompted, when she didn't answer.
"That is hardly necessary," she said. "You already purchased me that lovely dress. That's more than enough."
"One dress is not 'more than enough'," said Greg. "It's nice to have some choices. Like jeans, or a sweater, or something." He gave the television a meaningful look, waggling his eyebrows. "Or maybe a suit…?"
Pearl's eyes were drawn back to the television screen. Some human was there, their mouth moving soundlessly, as they described the outfit hanging next to them: beautiful red fabric, cut in the sharp, angular shapes of a warrior's uniform, but with all the delicacy of Court attire—
She managed to shake her head. "Hardly necessary," she repeated. "If I want some choices, I can simply shapeshift myself a new outfit."
"But shapeshifting is really tiring," Steven said, emerging from the bathroom, shaking some of the water off his still-moist hands.
Pearl bowed her head, conceding the point. Steven knew first hand, after the incident where he'd attempted to shapeshift to a Diamond's full size, and ended up bedridden for nearly a full five days as a result. Pearl was far more practiced, of course, but she wouldn't pretend it didn't take a fair bit of energy to sustain.
"If I want to make it permanent, I could simply reform," Pearl suggested instead.
Steven frowned at that, and Greg practically jumped out of his chair. "Now that's extreme," he said. "You shouldn't have to— to destroy your body every time you want to try on a new look. You deserve to be comfortable, Pearl."
Comfortable. A Pearl's job wasn't to be comfortable. It was to be beautiful.
New clothes would help her with that, though.
She couldn't help the small smile that stole onto her face. She said, "Very well, then."
"Great," said Greg. "Let us just get cleaned up a bit, then we'll go down to the concierge and ask them if there's any good tailors nearby."
It was their last night in Empire City, and the Universe family intended to go out with a bang.
After a long day of touring on Steven and Dad's part, all of them went out for dinner at a really swanky restaurant, even Pearl. They got real dressed up for it. Honestly, the formal jacket and pants felt uncomfortably stiff, and the bowtie around his neck was an awkward pressure. At first, Steven couldn't help but complain about it. Dad had pulled on his own suit, and told Steven to think of it like a costume.
"Like you're going on stage," he'd said. "Like you're giving them a show."
So Steven had imagined that— rocking out in front of a crowd with Dad, or going down the red carpet, or strutting through a Homeworld Court— and suddenly the formal clothes had been a lot more fun.
It was nothing compared to Pearl, though. For all her quiet protestations, her excitement had been clear the moment she'd stepped into the clothes store. She'd spent a long time looking at all the fabrics, stroking them, holding them up against her body. When she'd been fitted, the tailor had said she was the best customer he'd ever had, holding herself so perfectly still.
Steven had thought she'd get something in blue, or maybe purple or green. So had Dad. It had surprised them all when she'd chosen a different fabric entirely. The orange suit and red tie stood out vibrantly against her hair and skin. It was kinda weird, but kinda nice, Steven thought.
"Well, it sure is different," Dad had said.
"Yes," Pearl had answered, voice very soft. "It certainly is."
(Steven thought he kept catching her looking at her reflection in the spoon.)
As they ate— delicious soups and salads and pastas— they shared with Pearl everything they'd seen that day, and she'd nodded along and added her quiet opinion. After they ordered dessert, Dad asked what Steven's favourite part of the trip had been.
"Dunno. It was all cool," he answered honestly. All the people wearing costumes in Times Circle had been really awesome, but he'd loved the art museum. Or, one of them, anyway. Some of the exhibits in the Modern Art Museum had been interesting, but a lot of them had just been weird, and he thought he preferred traditional painting and statues.
"Speaking of statues," Dad had asked, "how about Femme Freedom?"
The Statue of Freedom had been really great, too— but honestly, it had been kind of busy, and maybe not worth all of the fuss, in Steven's opinion. Dad said Mom had called it 'quaint' when she'd visited, and he could get why. They probably had statues four times as big in space. He admitted, "I liked Wellis Island more."
It had been really interesting, learning about immigration and the thousands of thousands of people who'd come to Empire City for a new life. Some of the Visions Steven had gotten had been kind of overwhelming— so many people, the smell of sweat and dust, shoe polish and medicine, worried, anxious faces, children crying. But it had been more than worth it to get Dad's story about his trip there with Mom. Blue Diamond had loved all the tales about people coming to seek a new life, a new home. Just like her.
They finished eating and paid for the meal. For dessert they'd grabbed ice cream from a street vendor. Then there'd been a musical: Papes! About street kids selling newspapers in the 1920s, and the romance between a streetwise young gal and a budding reporter facing sexism and the disapproval of her father… It had been amazing! Dance numbers, kissing, fight scenes, everything! By the end everyone had been screaming and clapping and whistling, even Pearl!
By the time they'd stumbled out of the theatre, it had been dark and late. Steven had found himself walking slower and slower. Eventually, Pearl had picked him up, fitting him snuggly in her arms. The cloth of the suit had been so, so soft. Her steady gait was soothing, and Dad had been singing one of the show's songs under his breath, like a lullaby…
Steven's last thought before he drifted to sleep was he wished it could be like this— the three of them— always.
