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Chapter Twelve: Picture-Perfect

In the kitchen, Moreau adjusted the kitchen utensils and shut the little cupboard doors. He felt it was more productive to be extra tidy than constantly and pointlessly circling the room like one of those... giant, demented, undead ravens. He went to pick up the used matches on the table by the lit lantern, however, he realized that he'd already collected them and put them outside. Clicking claws together, the fish-man raked around himself to see what he could do to keep his focus in the kitchen.

And not the events occurring right in the next chamber.

With a sharp sigh, Moreau's scanning sights stopped at the wooden clothesline. Two dishtowels, now cleaned of pressed tomato, were still coated over one of the thin ropes. Moreau hobbled over and rubbed the rectangular cloths between his pointy thumb and index finger. They were still damp so he would have to wait to return them to the hallway closet. Moreau was relieved. Because right next to the other end of the adjoined corridor was the little makeshift bathroom...

"I'm all dressed, Mo!" called out the light and chipper tone, sounding even sprightlier.

"Oh!" gasped the fish-man, unguardedly. "Uh, all, all right..."

Warily, Moreau treaded through the left entry and looked across the living area to find his friend standing by the hearth. She was half-dressed but his worries were put at ease. She was cladded in a buttoned-up, navy sweater that was rather large; it reached atop the petite woman's knees. Underneath the substitute nightgown were unseen boxer shorts with the hem tied in a knot so they wouldn't slip down her short waist. Joy found that she didn't mind the underpants being big for she liked pulling them past the belly button anyway.

"I tried ta match," Joy mentioned before rotating small ankles that were hidden within a much scrunched and folded dark blue sock.

Moreau quietly observed his precious person. She was blotting the bath towel over deep red wavy strands, framing her cheeks and highlighted by the flickering embers which also seemed to make her fair moist skin, gleam.

Joy moved the towel away and coyly pushed back clingy bangs.

"I know da clothes are kinda big on me... Tee-hee, I hope I don't look too silly willy."

A spreading smile somehow softened the fish-man's withered features.

"I think Joy looks pretty- pretty clean... huh-ha."

Joy pushed slick hair behind reddened ears. "Thank you." She heaved out a relaxed respire. "And squeaky clean. Thanks, Mo, for da clean clothes."

Moreau gave a curt bow of the head and picked up the fireplace poker that was leaned against the hearth's stone mantel and started tending to the fire to keep his freshly bathed friend warm.

Joy walked to the open curtains to gather her dusty attire.

"I'm gonna wash my stuff and da big towel so dey can be hanged and be dried for tomorrow. Deese big clothes should be good for sleeping, but... ummm... not for moving."

Moreau sidestepped to see the young woman holding up a wiggling, sleeve-covered hand. He chuckled at the silly sight. She looked like she could swim in that sweater!

"He-hee-hee-! Uh'hem! Does, does Joy need help with the washing?"

She shook her head. "Dat's alright, Mo. You're busy with da fireplace. I had a lotta practice washing stuff when my mom and me lost power from da bad storms, remember?"

Moreau noted that Joy had shuddered.

"Yes, yes, I remember... But... is Joy still cold?"

The woman's lips flattened as she swayed her head again.

"Uh-uh... Just remembering one big thunderstorm back in L.A... It had so much lightning, too."

Moreau frowned with a coincidental nod. "Yes... stormy days can be too loud and sur-surprising."

"Yeah, too surprising, too..."

The pair made a harmonized shiver but soon were giggling from how incredibly in sync their reaction was.

Joy began to head toward the eatery's entrance for the washbasin.

"Dis shouldn't take long, Mo."

Moreau's lash-less lids flittered. "Oh, Joy, wait!"

The woman paused and fronted him. "Yes, Mo?"

"Don't, don't forget to wash your clothes with... with dee... dee-dur... uhhh... deturr..."

"Detergent?"

"Yes, detergent... Tricky word."

"Tee-hee! Thank you!" Joy's smile heightened. "And thank you for reminding me about using detergent."

Moreau held his broad head as elevated as his hunched back permitted.

"Hmm-hmm-hmm! Joy is most welcome!"

The woman swiftly swerved to her left for the wall-closet in the hallway to acquire a box of flaked cleanser and the fish-man resumed stoking the lighted kindling. He recalled doing this task from his shack's woodstove.

Well, when it was still functional.

After a short spell of adjusting several new sprags that he had found while outside, Moreau felt the emanating warmth from the dancing flames and another small glow slowly flickered to life within his mutated mind.

Slanting the wrought-iron rod against the fireplace once more, Moreau hobbled into the kitchen to see Joy kneeling and rinsing her soapy clothes and towel in clear water within the little tin tub.

"Uhh... Joy?"

"Yes, Mo?" responded the young woman, pressing the soppy laundry onto the basin's washboard.

"I... have an idea..." Moreau cupped a concealed callus elbow while scratching his big chin. "Maybe... maybe we could put the clothesline next to the fireplace. The uhh, heat would dry your nice clothes much, much quicker."

Bright green orbs grew along with a petite, pearly white grin.

"Oh my goodness, Mo! I was just thinking da same thing!"

Her friend quickly blinked twice. "Really?"

Joy merrily bobbed her head. "Really, really!"

The fish-man's jagged molars appeared from his beam. Truly, he was becoming super-duper smart like his precious person!

Joy laid her wet items over the tall scrubber to discern the crisscrossed wooden poles. She lifted its side partway. It wasn't very heavy; however, it was still very wide.

Um, Mo? Can ya help me carry it ta da living room? But if ya think ya might hurt your back-"

"Yes, yes, yes! I, I can help Joy carry the clothesline!" Moreau happily replied to his considerate friend. "I, I had moveded it to catch the dirty little dust bunnies with the broom. It's, it's light as a feather!"

"Great, Mo! I can hold da right side, and ya can hold da left. And don't worry, I'll be da one who walks backwards."

"All left- I mean all right!" Moreau walked up and clamped his hands onto his given side of the woody poles. "We should go through the opening next to the front door. It'd be very tricky carrying the big clothesline in the skinny hall."

"Wow!" Joy emitted with a squeaky gasp. "Dat's what I was gonna say!"

Moreau's creases along his eyes and mouth crinkled greatly from his stretching grin. Great minds did think alike!

The woman got a grip on her side of the thin wooden apparatus and looked at her friend.

"We both pick it up on da count'a three, okay?"

"Okay!" The fish-man paused. "Uhhh... On three... or 'okay'?"

"Tee-hee! After three, okay?"

"After three or..?"

"Yes, 'three', okay?"

"So... after three, and okay?"

Tee-hee-hee, sorry! Right after da number three."

"Okay!"

"No, after three."

"He-hee-hee! I know!"

"Oh, ok-!" Joy's nose emitted a tiny, amused snort. "A'hem! I mean on three!"

The tittering friends counted down in unison and gradually hauled the tall structure until they reached the living section's oval rug. With careful symmetry, the pair placed the clothesline onto the small and simple woven art. It was still out of harm's way from the hearth but close enough for the rising heat to do its part.

Moreau made sure the lanky rack was centered properly as Joy went back into the kitchen and returned with the now waterless washbasin, containing the bath towel and her clothes. At first, Moreau was confused that she'd brought the basin as her pretty blue garb was already washed. However, once Joy began hanging the large towel and her belongings into the highest line that she could reach, he saw the droplets from the materials fall into the tin bowl.

The fish-man grinned. No wet and warped floorboards. He would always be impressed by his precious person's politeness and smartness.

Joy halted, peering down at two particular clothing in her hands.

"Ummm... I can put deese under my other clothes," she meekly suggested. "So ya don't have ta see dem..."

Moreau shyly observed that the final held items appeared to be some kind of undergarments. He took a moment and moved his broad head to and fro.

"It's all right, Joy... all... all your clothes need lots and lots of warm air to dry."

The young woman smiled demurely. "Alright... Thanks, Mo..."

Moreau quietly watched as she placed the little mismatched, private wear over the rack's connected twine, next to the two dishtowels and between her blue jeans, sweater, and socks. Afterward, the ruddy-faced duo made a short nod to each other.

Joy idly scratched her tinted cheek. "Welp... I'm all done. Thanks for making dis room super warm. I should be able ta put my stuff on tomorrow..." She stepped in front of her friend. "I mean, behind da curtains, a'course."

"Oh, of course," Moreau calmly concurred. "And Joy is most welcome."

With a low flat hum, he idly scanned the surrounding quarters, then gazed hopefully at his friend.

"Well... uhhhhh... Good...night, Joy..."

Moreau readied to outspread his lean limbs...

"Oh!"

After the sudden squeak, Joy stepped backward and headed toward the twin bed, leaving Moreau standing solo with a quivering, jutted bottom lip.

"Oh..," he bemoaned with a weak whimper.

So much for another bedtime hug. Did he startle her? Or perhaps she was finally realizing how disgusting he truly was...

However, the solemn fish-man's disheartened thoughts and frown dispersed once Joy came skipping back with a large, flat book in her hands.

That's right! They were going to read... together!

"I hope it's alright dat I picked out one'a your books?" respectfully asked the woman.

"Oh, yes, yes, it's very all right!" Giddily, Moreau fidgeted his skinny fingers and small feet. "He-hee-hee! Which, which book is it?!"

With a jovial smirk, Joy clutched the front cover up to her small chin.

"Uh-uh-uh!" She mocked friskily with a curt shake of her head. "It's a surprise!"

Moreau took a big, excited breath. Because his precious person did say that she... loved surprises.

"Oh! Well... all, all right! That sounds... fun!"

"Yeah, surprises are super-duper fun! My mom and me like ta pick, so one'a us can wonder what story it'll be. And den, we take turns reading da pages. Mom says we're never too old for bedtime stories."

Although Moreau nodded happily, his somber retrospective had crept in like a looming spider. Despite having all his fairytale literature for an unknown period, just like him, she never noticed them.

Mother Miranda never read to me...

But hastily, the Lord of the Lodge began to head for the kitchen; he was far too excited to let the past belittle him.

Mother was just busy, that's all! But now, I'm going to read with a friend! He giggled loudly. A friend!

Joy made two baffled blinks. "Umm, where ya going, Mo?"

The fish-man stopped and clumsily turned. He motioned to the right entry of the eatery.

"I'm going... in the kitchen?"

"But..." The young woman sadly glanced at the clamped book. "I thought Mo wanted ta read with me?"

"Oh, yes, yes, YES!" Rapidly, Moreau hobbled to his questioning, pouting friend. "Mo wants to read with Joy very much!"

Joy's smile reemerged. "Oh, great! But... why'ya going in da kitchen?"

"Uhhh... Because there are two chairs in there... And there are two of us."

Moreau felt the curling corners of his mouth-line deepen. Before his precious person, never had he thought he'd ever say 'two of us' out loud to someone... to anyone... Ever.

"Welp, dat is true, Mo," Joy remarked. "But since dis's a bedtime story, we should get cozy!"

Moreau's sights grew large. "...c-c-cozy?"

"Uh-huh!" The woman turned her view as did the fish-man in the direction of the small brown sofa.

"And what better spot ta be cozy den your comfy couch." She faced her friend with a tilt of the head and a small smile. "I mean, long as it's alright?"

Moreau ogled at the two-cushion furniture. He'd been so enamored with just having company, but for that company wanting to sit right next to him. Side by side? This revelation was beyond overwhelming but in a good way!

"Is it alright, Mo?" peeped Joy, regaining his attention. "Are ya worried we won't fit?"

"No, no, no!" The keen fish-man flapped his hands. "I mean yes, yes, yes! We, we can sit! We can sit on my-! Our comfy couch!"

"Yay!" the woman squeaked with a happy hop. "Den let's get comfy-cozy!"

Joy settled onto the couch's left for she didn't want to take her friend's favorite spot, while he moved crabwise to the coffee table, and raised the wick of the oil lantern for them to have more reading light.

Gradually, Moreau moved in front of the couch and blinked wide-eyed. Joy was patting the right, empty cushion. He still couldn't believe this was happening! He was tempted to pinch himself, but he dared not to.

Dream or not, he couldn't risk losing this picture-perfect moment... nor her.

Smiling with a deep respire, the fish-man's big humps fronted the back padding, and with a few grunts, he took his place in the grooved cushion.

"Ya see!" said Joy, craning her head his way. "Comfy-cozy!"

"Y-y-yes," stammered Moreau as he shifted so closely by his precious person. "C-Comfy... co-cozy!"

With an excited beam across rosy lips, Joy drummed her fingers on the back of the book that was still steadfast to her bosom.

"So, do ya wanna guess which book it is orrrrr... do ya just wanna see which one?"

"I, I want to see! He-he! I want to see!" answered Moreau, his nervousness had instantly vanished; he was simply eager for them to begin the story.

Joy giggled while watching her friend's zealous nodding cause the rope's rings and trim of his trench-coat's hood to rapidly flap.

"Tee-hee-hee! Alright! Your hoodie helped me pick dis one."

She lowered the held maroon hardback, revealing the front cover's illustration of a crimson-cloaked girl, holding a basket and nosegay with a towering, silver-furred wolf, lurking behind an oak tree.

"Little Red Riding Hood," stated Moreau with a pleased grin.

The woman returned his happy countenance. She was glad that there were other red colored books on the shelf to keep her surprise a surprise.

"Sure is! It's one'a my favorites. How about you?"

"Oh, yes, it's, it's my favorite, too!"

True, he enjoyed this particular story immensely. But in actuality, he liked every one of his fairytales. They always contained perfect pictures with picture-perfect people... And most importantly, they had something that the fish-man always craved: A happy ending.

After Moreau wiggled to be in a better position, he noticed Joy intently regarding his face. The fish-man felt his altered Adam's apple twinge from a tense swallow. Being so closely seated, was she finally realizing how disgustingly horrible his ugly face was?

"Is-Is, is everything all... r-right... Joy?"

"Uh-huh..." The young woman lifted a left arm. "Could'ja stay still for one sec, please?"

"Huh-?!"

Moreau's voice had hitched when Joy softly brushed his thin, upper lip with the rim of her sweater sleeve. Not once, but three times.

"Dare, all clean!" She placed her hand down with an approved nod. "I saw some dried tomato sauce from all da pasta we had."

It had taken half a minute for the fish-man to blink his shimmering sights at the beauty who was immune to his grotesqueness. His quivering mouth-line curved largely.

"Yes... squeaky clean... Th-Thank you, Joy."

"Tee-hee! ...Mo is most welcome!"

With shared smiles, Joy laid the large hardback onto both of their laps and with small fingers, flipped the warped front cover, followed by the elegant title page.

"I can read da first two pages'a da story so ya can enjoy da pictures first, okay?"

In awe, Moreau responded with a slow bob of the head.

"Hmm-hmm."

Joy declared the well-known title and with a gentle cleansing of her throat, she turned another lightly water-stained page and started to orate the classic tale of the little girl, readying to visit her ill grandmother, whilst being told by her mother to not speak with strangers.

Stealing a glimpse of the reciting woman, Moreau detained a chuckle. Perhaps this was why his precious person refused to speak with him when he had first discovered her in their lodge.

Moreau quietly listened with delight. Her reading was steady and soothing, and he soon found himself inclining sideways. When he realized his position, the apprehensive fish-man was about to pull away but gasped... For Joy had begun to lean into him, as well! Moreau felt a fluster of elation within his chest. Thanks to bath time, Joy smelled as fresh as spring water. And her slightly damp hair flicking in his view of the pictures didn't bother him in the slightest.

The more wondrous contact with his precious person, the better.

With limp limbs, the eyelids of the blissful fish-man slid down. He was listening to Joy's words as if this was the very first time that he had ever learned of this story. And after finishing her part of articulating the simple print, Joy peered up. For she'd seen how invested her friend had become.

"Ya really like being read ta, huh?" the seated young woman inquired, waggling levitated little feet.

Moreau reopened his eyes. "Yes... Joy's the best reader that I've ever heard."

His answer was truthful yet not. Because most likely, Joy was the first person to openly narrate to him.

"Awh... thanks, Mo," whispered Joy, her complexion tinging rosier. "Get ready. It's your turn next. And I know you'll be da best at reading, too."

A tad nervous, Moreau watched while she turned the crinkled paper and pressed over it a few times.

"...All right, Joy."

For a moment, Moreau beheld the pictured, red-hooded girl taking her woven basket along a woodsy path. Then, prepped his throaty voice box, and attentively began to enunciate his turn of the story.

He really wanted to be a prime exemplar of reading like his friend!

During half a dozen of concerned breaks, the fish-man always found Joy returning his gaze, softly smiling and nodding.

"You're doing great, Mo," was her encouraging whisper.

And with a proud grin and warming cheekbones, Moreau continued his slow but surely, oration of Little Red Riding Hood.

Although he favored the small sofa, the wide and weighty fish-man used to think that it didn't have much space. Nevertheless, the two friends nestled inwards and eased forward as the tale went on. And Moreau concluded that it was undeniably, a very comfy-cozy couch.

Because all it needed was a little perfection to make it seamlessly sized.