Chapter Fifteen: I See You
Following uncounted rounds of Go Fish, Joy taught Moreau a card game titled Old Maid. She thought of it since she was a maid yesterday... in spite of not being very old. It was similar to their previous pastime but with just picking out a card, hoping it wasn't the maid in Joker's clothing.
Next, they played memory. That took a bit of time, but it was always exciting for Moreau when he finally deciphered which were the matching cards. Following, was another game which sounded very entertaining to the fish-man, called War. Joy mentioned that this was her grandmother's utmost favorite game; the much-loved elder had taught her granddaughter's mother War many years ago. Joy said she would enjoy watching her mother and grandmother do their best to beat one another, over and over in family fun rivalry.
The young woman's lips tapered from the brief reminiscing. However, they perked up when she saw Moreau quite excited to try the much-loved pastime. Like the other games, it still took him some concentration, but it would become thrilling whenever the happy dual got the same type of card to win even more cards.
The two friends would interlude amid their games to replenish their drinks, stretch their arms and legs, and of course... take a break to use the outhouse. They had been at the table for nearly three hours.
That was a lot of apple juice.
When Moreau and Joy returned to the kitchen table, both looked down at what was next to the deck of cards: a pad sheet and pencil. The former was a makeshift scorecard that was supposed to keep a tally of who won the most games. Joy had discovered them in the drawer that held the deck. But the playing pair had become so engrossed with their pastime that they'd forgotten to keep track of how many games they had won so far.
"I'm sorry, Joy," muttered Moreau, sitting down as he idly stared at the barely marked sheet. "I should've been the scorekeeper."
"Oh, it's alright, Mo." assured his friend while removing his boots for him. "Did'ja have fun?"
Moreau grinned. "Oh, yes, yes. I had lots and lots of fun!"
Standing up, Joy nodded with a beam of her own. "Welp, I did too. So da both'a us-"
"Are the best!" ended her friend, wiggling his lean arms.
"Uh-huh! 'Cause dat's da point'a games anyways..." She blinked an eye. "Just having fun, y'know?"
Looking surprised, Moreau slowly bobbed his head... Even though having fun was probably the first fun that someone was willingly including him in.
And not to mention, receiving a wink in his direction.
"Ummm, Mo?"
The light and chipper tone brought the fish-man out of his thoughts to find Joy fronting one of the windows of the kitchen.
"What is it, Joy?"
"Could'ja do sun-time ta see if it's lunchtime yet?" She rubbed her lower midsection as it gurgled. "I'm having trouble checking and I'm getting kinda hungry."
With a grunt, Moreau got to his bare feet and waddled to the middle pane, squinting his milky white sights upwards.
"Hmmm... yes, the winter clouds are extra cloudy today... They're hiding the light from the sun, so it's hard to tell the time." He turned around and patted his protesting belly. "Hmm-hmm-hmm! But our tummies are telling us that it is time for lunchtime!"
"Tee-hee-hee, guess our tummies don't need da sun ta tell time!" Joy picked up the cards and small stationary gear from the table. "I'm gonna put deese in da big dresser first, den we can pick out some foodies. Alright, Mo?"
"All right, Joy!"
The young woman skipped into the living chamber of the lodge to put the little items away and she returned to find Moreau towing the big chairs on the same side of the table. As the sound of the wooden legs dragged onto the floorboards, Joy's spreading mouth-line arched from seeing how much he wanted to sit beside her.
"Awww, I woulda done dat, Mo!"
"It's... okay..," Moreau responded tiredly yet proudly. He set the seats and held up his hands. "I dideded it!"
"Ya sure did! Lemme get da foodie door-! I mean da pantry door!"
The fish-man wobbled up to Joy while she drew the large slide-in door open. Licking their palates, the hungry pair scanned the multitude of cans, sacks, and other holders of edibles for a solid minute.
Joy nodded to herself. "I think for lunch, I'm gonna have gazpacho."
Moreau turned to his friend, raising his lower eyelids.
"Gaz...? Gaz... what-cho?"
"Tee-hee... gazpacho."
"Oh... tricky word."
"Thank you!" Joy glimpsed at the tin cylinders. "It's soup dat's best ta eat when it's cold."
Moreau made a frowny pucker which triggered more giggles from Joy.
"I know it sounds kinda yucky wucky, but it is really good!"
The fish-man made a terse bow of the head, and he watched Joy pick up a can, labeled with illustrated tomatoes next to a bowl.
"I don't see any gazpacho soup, so I'll just have tomato again." Joy gestured to the back door at her left. "I'll get some snowy-ice ta make da soup chilly willy and turn it inta gazpacho."
Moreau silently marveled at the creativity of his friend. All the same... Cold soup? The fish-man had never heard of such a lunch. However, if his super-duper smart precious person said that this type of soup was best served cold, then it must be so!
Joy placed her soup can on the table and taking her empty cup from it, she went to collect some fresh frost for her lunch. When the woman finished, she stomped her snowy sneakers and closed the door.
"I filled da cup with a lotta snow," she huffed after replacing the bar across the dense board and picking up the cold porcelain. "So we can use some for our drinks."
"Oh, yes, snowy-ice is always good for juice," concurred her friend, sitting on his chair. "I've got two cans of apple juice for us."
Joy walked up to the hung cupboard. "Great! Thank you, Mo."
"Joy is most welcome!" Moreau stated happily, yet a bit muffled.
"Tee-hee, it sounds like somebody's already munching on his lunch," Joy remarked while opening one of the little cabinet's doors for a bowl and spoon. "So what did'ja... pick..?"
The woman trailed off as her nose wiggled from the potent waft coming from the table and her friend; something yellow, round, and dense with a butter knife partly within it, next to a triangular gap.
"What is that, Mo?" Joy probed lightly.
"Mmph." Moreau finished chewing his bite. "It's one of my cheeses that I keep in a trash bag to keep it dry and fresh." His index finger was directed to the half-eaten slice of the brie wheel on a white plate. "I used to eat the cheese from the pan, but I'm staying fancy now and using a dish!"
Joy nodded politely. She didn't care for what Moreau was eating, but she was relieved that it was kept in plastic to retain its scent. Nevertheless, she smiled fondly at her friend's keenness with keeping manners.
Moreau slanted the wooden cylinder. "Would Joy like some?"
His friend blinked once. "Umm, no thank you, Mo. ...Da soup can dat I picked is super big. Don't worry, it'll be plenty'a gazpacho for me."
With a brief chortle, Moreau returned her smile and let go of the pan.
"All right, Joy."
Despite the kind mien adorning the young woman's face, the crinkling of the short, straight bridge of her small nose was very apparent. Then again, Moreau couldn't blame his friend's funny reaction. The cheese was... well, odorous. And truth be untold, after his recent repasts in the cabin, the cultured meal wasn't flavorsome to his liking.
Regardless, he ate it out of gratefulness. The cheese wheels were rewards from Mother for his arduous work in his clinic and laboratory.
Joy picked up the can opener from the tabletop, refreshed their cups with juice and a bit of snow, then prepped her lunch before taking to her seat; stirring the tiny ice particles as she watched them blend with the saucy broth.
After a minute of peaceful eating, Joy removed the tablespoon from her ruddy lips.
"Would'ja like ta play some more card games after we eat?"
Humming gleefully with another mouthful of cheese, the fish-man bobbed his head zestfully. His friend giggled with an eager squeak.
"Great! But let's play with no scorecard. Fun only, alright?"
Moreau gulped and nodded once more. "All right, Joy! Uhh... Oh, can we play... Old Lady again?"
"Tee-hee! A'course, but it's Old Maid," tittered Joy, readying to dip her utensil in the white bowl, but she quickly lifted it in the air.
"Oh! I got an idea! How'bout we switch da game around?"
"Oh, how do we do that?" inquired her eager and curious friend.
"Like... whoever gets da maid last, doesn't lose but wins!"
Moreau grinned. "Oh, that sounds... super-duper fun!"
"Uh-huh! Annnd... da winner gives da maid a wittle kiss!"
The unblinking fish-man almost dropped his fork.
"Give... the maid... a..?"
"A kiss," Joy peeped shyly. "On da cheek a'course."
Moreau licked his mouth-line and returned to gathering another piece of the brie.
"Uh-hem... Of-Of course."
The woman jerked her small shoulders. "I know dat Old Maid is just a card game and da joker's justa pretend one, but I still see somebody who could be somebody I'd like ta know... y'know?"
The accompanied fish-man beheld the young woman by his right and his wrinkled cheeks elevated from a humble beam.
"Yes... I know."
They resumed their lunch and Moreau coyly regarded his precious person, sipping from her cup. It was still surreal to have someone sitting so close.
"Would... would Joy kiii- like to know a... big old fishy, too?"
Joy tilted her head at her friend's query but nodded readily.
"Uh-huh... a big ol' fishy, too."
Moreau's blushing beam... suddenly began to darken as he looked away... That unsettling feeling was bubbling within, causing him to release his fork and clamp onto his jarring abdomen. Moreau knew all too well what was about to transpire...
Oh, no! I thought I was getting better! Please, not now! Oh, not now!
"Mo..? What's wrong?" asked Joy, still holding onto her drink's handle. "Do ya got a tummy ache?"
"I... I need to go," muttered the fish-man as he pushed his chair back and staggered to his feet.
"Oh, ya need ta go ta da porta-potty?"
"No... Y-Yes!"
Moreau began to move. However, the overwhelming fear and biliousness weren't aiding his effort to reach the backdoor for the outhouse. He could not use the pail. He had to get rid of his uneasiness far away from Joy. Now!
The woman's following eyes shined with concern. "What about your boots? Ya want me ta ya help put dem on?"
"No time!" Moreau blurted out; his arm outstretched for the wooden bar.
"Okay..." Joy prepped to leave her chair. "Can I help ya with da door?"
Puffing his face, Moreau receded and lurched his torso down as gastric acid and bile flushed up his gullet and decanted out of his open wide mouth.
"Mo!" Joy shouted, her spilled half-filled cup shattering onto the floorboards.
The fish-man sulked heavily at the mess before him; orts of predigested cheese were in the vast gross splotch like an oil painting terribly gone wrong. And although he had said that green was his favorite color... vomit-green was certainly not liked by him in the slightest.
Without looking back, Moreau shambled through the small hallway with the woman close behind.
"Mo?! Are ya alright?!"
"Don't look at me!" Moreau moved in front of the glowing fireplace, avoiding eye contact. "DON'T look at me!"
Joy stopped approaching until she was two meters away. While rubbing small knuckles next to her collarbone, the woman discerned her friend murmuring to himself, sometimes even cackling in between the slurry insults and throaty sobs.
"He-hee-hee-hee... U-Ugly fuggly... f-fat f-fool... mor-on-ic f-freak. He-he-hee... They were right... I am... I am..!"
"...Mo..?"
Moreau winced, tightening his closed lids even tighter. Right now, the usually comforting, little voice was akin to scathing hard water on skin.
Licking her lips with worry, Joy gingerly took a few steps forth. But when her small foot had touched that one creaky floorboard, it was enough to alert the whining fish-man.
"Eep!" squeaked Joy, bouncing backwards.
An enzyme mound had emerged, hindering her view.
Once her heart calmed from the unexpected, organic wall, the undeterred woman slowly went around the towering, shiny slab.
"Damn it!" bemoaned Moreau, not realizing that he had just cursed.
Swaying his slumped head, Moreau groaned, berating his stupidly for never fully encircling his enzyme barriers. No wonder his previous targets had always gotten away!
"I'm so stupid!"
"You're not stupid. You're a super-duper smart doctor!" remarked Joy as she stood by his flinching side. "Please don't make any more seafoam... I wanna talk ta ya."
Though Moreau still wasn't facing her, he was not creating any more barriers. His sad sniffling and somber moaning was making Joy's chest feel heavy, but she kept herself composed to aid her friend.
"Is your tummy still upset?"
Staring at the flickering embers in the hearth, the fish-man wiped his short, crooked nose with a tattered sleeve.
"No-no... But... I'm up-set!"
Holding folded descended hands, Joy emitted several sniffles of her own.
"About what, Mo?"
"A-About... not gett-ing better!" he hiccupped.
With lifted eyebrows, the worried woman canted her head.
"Getting better?"
Moreau's entire jawline was quivering. "I-I thought that I wasn't going to throw up anymore! I th-ought I-I was, was getting better but, but, but I'm not! And, and now... Joy's going to h-hate me for being... being... disgusting!"
Another wave of horror flooded his mind. For God forbid if his hated-self remade its presence known, as well. Now, he had to be diligent again at all times so his former friend did not ever see him like... that. True, Moreau had been lightly prying about Joy's views on fish, however, he needed to be realistic...
That was a far cry from a cute and chubby goldfish.
The hearth reflected in the shimming sights of the young woman as she swallowed her rising sorrow.
"Mo... I don't-"
"ALONE!" Moreau wailed, pulling the roped rings on his hood. "I'll always be alone!"
"But Mo..." Joy moved closer and rubbed his unseen shoulder. "I'm right here."
Immersed in self-pity, Moreau partly raised his head with feared hindsight...
No, I can't be alone again! I can't! I won't! I won't have that!
Shuddering, he wobbly swerved and grasped Joy's forearms, catching her a bit off-guard.
"Please don't go, Joy!"
Joy blinked broadly. "Um... ya mean ya don't want me ta use da porta-potty?"
"Don't leave me!" The fish-man released her arms and grabbed onto her hands. "I, I, I can clean the floor! And I promise to, to never throw up again!"
The surprised woman closed her small mouth and shook her head.
"Mo... I'm not-"
"Towels!" declared Moreau frenziedly, letting go of Joy and backing around the enzyme wall, almost bumping into the condensed slime. "I'll-I'll get towels! And, and, and soap!"
With confused, empathetic observance, Joy stood in silence while Moreau waddled into the small corridor. And with heaving breaths, he returned to the living area with an armful of towels and a box of detergent; only to remember that the vomit was by the backdoor.
"Oh, damn!" he mumbled, as he began to cumbersomely veer for the hallway once more.
"Mo, ya don't need ta- Oh!"
Moreau stood still, staring downwards. For he had dropped the towels and spilled nearly the entire box of soap flakes.
"Oh... why!" the fish-man yelled to no one in particular. He tried to stoop to pick up the items. "Ow!"
"Mo!"
Joy bounded next to Moreau while he tried in vain to nurse his heavy back. She fastened his right hand with hers before he weakly attempted to bend again.
"Mo, please, listen ta me!" She squeezed his fingers. "Listen ta your friend!"
Hearing the last word caused the wheezing fish-man to finally grant the woman his attention.
"We're... we're s-still friends?" he hoarsely uttered.
"A'course, Mo!" Joy kept a firm yet gentle grasp of his hand. "And it's not your fault... I had tummy troubles and threw up a buncha times... It's nothing ta be ashamed'a."
Moreau's teary sights flitted to his held hand... As always, the tangible aid of his precious person would always amaze him.
Moreau sniffed loudly to clear a much-clogged passageway.
"Joy... d-doesn't hate me?"
With a sniff and damp beam, his friend shook her head.
"I could never hate you, Mo..." Her tone was completely free of resentment. "Never ever."
After his left, webbed fingers blotted his blurry view clear, the fish-man's frown gradually upturned.
"Sorry, that I cussed, Joy."
With a final clinch of their palms, Joy patted his arm.
"It's alright, Mo. Ya were just very upset."
She peeked over her shoulder at the kitchen's right entrance, and something occurred to her.
"And I'm sorry... I think I dropped and broke my cup 'cause I was upset, too."
Moreau blinked with both admiration and returned appreciation. Again, he would always be in awe by his friend's humbleness and constant, caring consideration for him. Always.
The young woman looked at the dropped mess of assorted thick cloths and detergent.
"Tee-hee... I guess we're both kinda nervous nellie wellies, huh?"
Her friend made a small, concealed shrug and emitted a meek chuckle.
"Huh-ha... Yes, it looks like we, we are."
After chortling lightly in unison, Moreau prepared to rub his face, but Joy gently prevented him from doing so. She pointed to his right leather sleeve; it had fresh, green spots from when he had just wretched.
"I think ya have a little messy wessy on your coat."
Moreau blinked at the new spots and huffed curtly with a slight grin.
"It's all right, Joy. I can wipe it off. I've done it lots of times."
He began brushing with his webbed hand, but Joy gently intervened.
"I used ta do dat after I spilled stuff on my clothes," she stated. "But I've learned dat it just kinda makes da mess... more messy."
The fish-man peered down at the vast splotches that horrifically decked his tatty, gray attire... How on this flat earth did he not realize all of these multiple messes until now?
Moreau hung his head in self-pity. He really was just... one big mess.
The young woman placed her hand over her sad friend's arm which incited him to refocus on her.
"It's... alright, Mo," she assured softly. "I can clean it for ya."
Moreau's ashen lips tugged upwards. "Really?"
His positive friend nodded. "Really, really."
Taking a step back, she held out small open hands and she noticed the perplexing look that Moreau was giving her.
"I... kinda need your coat," explained Joy with a little shrug. "It can't be cleaned very good when you're still in it."
At these words, the fish-man turned partway, shaking his head as forcefully as he could.
"No-no-no-no-no!" he mumbled, covering his eyelids. "I-I can't do that!"
The startled woman moved her palms from her open mouth. "Why, not, Mo? I just wanna clean your coat for ya."
"But, but, but if-if you take it... you'll laugh at me!" Moreau whimpered more so. They always laugh at me.
With an incredulous blink, Joy slanted her view of her distraught friend.
"Why would I laugh, Mo?"
Tersely stepping in place, Moreau rubbed his drippy nostrils. All at once, he felt the conflicting, overpowering need to flee and to stay.
"Because... I'm different."
His weepy sights reopened when the sudden presence of soft warmth was felt along the sides of his oblong, clumpy chin, gradually pulling it up...
Joy was lifting his face.
"It's okay... I'm different, too... remember?"
The hunched fish-man had never been so close to the fair, round face of his petite friend. He gazed straight into the bright green orbs and realized not only how much they truthfully, silently spoke, but how aligned they were with his own parted milky-white eyes.
Perhaps, he and Joy were the same kind of different...
Joy saw Moreau's meek smile and her glistening sights beamed as well.
"Please, Mo... Let your friend help you. Okay..?"
Moreau regarded the young woman's warm gaze and soon, his desire to get away melted in the consoling touch.
"Okay?" she asked again, under her breath.
A detained sigh relented from the fish-man's mouth.
"...O... O-kay..."
Joy moved slightly back, and Moreau idly patted at where her palms had cupped his large, distorted face. Then, disquietedness took over the peaceful assurance.
"If... if, if I take off my coat... Does Joy promise not to run away from Mo?"
With a firm nod, the woman crossed a left hand above her chest.
"Joy promises."
She extended her arm towards the fish-man but with a hesitant gulp, he recoiled.
"Wait, wait, wait! Please, please! I... I can do it."
At least he was sure about that declaration. He'd done so... on so many forced occasions...
"Alright, Mo," agreed the concerned woman, putting her hand down. "Your back's okay tho?"
"Y-yes," he weakly fibbed.
After another gruff respire, Moreau precariously shuffled until his massive, coated back was fronting his precious person's perfect yet pouting face.
He was actually doing this... He was willingly revealing himself to someone...
With another delayed swallow, Moreau shakily tugged the twined hood from a clammy brow, drew back his trench-coat, and with several shakes and whiny groans, the old, stitched apparel dropped unceremoniously behind the arched torso. Then, holding in a hitched breath, the former Lord of the Reservoir slowly swiveled with despondent, dangling limbs and faced his friend.
Moreau's sights remained buried under creased lids as Joy took in the knobby, transfigured being before her. Uneven, stringy hair that appeared so dirty, the color of the unkempt strands hanging on the sides of the irritated, bald, lumpy head and misshaped ears couldn't be distinguished. His disproportionate shoulders were nothing more than moth-eaten thin hide, connected to reedy arms. His whole back carried a malignant brain that contained differently sized, amphibious eyes and a plethora of raw, fleshy bulges of substantial lumps that ripped and stretched, sparse, ashen skin. Including a distorted swim bladder that dangled past the ratty rim of stained, shabby pants.
The woman remained quiet as a church mouse while Moreau finally exhaled so he wouldn't pass out. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for the shrieks of horror and the patters of frantic feet...
However, none of those sounds came to fruition. No ear-piercing screams. No onslaughts of derogatory terms. The only thing that the terrified fish-man could perceive was his panic pulse, pounding in his mutated eardrums.
The waiting was horrible and out of nowhere, Moreau instinctually felt a pang of pure dread. He barely peeked his cloudy, right eye and within that second of sight, he emitted a raucous yelp and wobbled back to the fireplace.
Moreau's peripheral vision had caught his reflection in the mirror. For he had been so fixated on Joy's reaction that he had oversight himself ambling all the way to the large dresser.
"Mo..?" Joy peeped, small, crossed hands over her bosom. "...Are ya-?"
"A-A monster?!" finished Moreau with hoarse sobs. "Yes, yes, yes, I AM!"
The young woman's small chin and pouty bottom lip juddered as she walked up to the sorrowful fish-man covering his drooped head in utter shame.
"A-A m-monster. ...A, a... beast."
He faced the approaching little being, but his sights were reclosed from constricting eyelids practically condensing them into his bulky, malformed skull.
"I'm s-sorry for w-what I look like, Joy!"
With a long whimper, Moreau clamped his hands over his face, once more.
"So... so, so sorry!"
Just when Moreau felt that his tears would flood behind the black sclera of his eyes, soft, warm skin pressed onto his sweaty temple, followed by something lush and fluttering.
The snuffling fish-man released the salty streams to catch Joy moving in front of him.
"Do... do da big bumps hurt?" was her query.
With his sobs silenced by the recent and wondrous new interaction, Moreau droned indifferently with one sway of his partially elevated head.
"Not, not as m-much as my heart hurts..."
Reexamining the flappy, strange organ below his backside, Joy lightly rested a hand over one of the joggling masses that was beside an enormous, unmoving eye; her own gaze and hand didn't flinch.
Not once.
"You're not a monster... You're not a beast. You're someone kind and fun ta be with... Someone wanting ta share his home with somebody who needs somebody, too."
She took hold of his right, upper arm and her rosy lips curved.
"You're my friend, Mo."
With his entire broad jaw quavering from the woman's voluntary closeness, Moreau sniffled profusely.
"Then... then please... t-tell Mo... what Joy sees?"
Gently caressing her friend's limb, Joy tilted her head, scanning him one more time. Then, she eased forward. Despite her welling eyes, her smile never wavered...
Not once.
"Joy sees Mo. ...Just Mo."
The woman pressed her small forehead onto the clammy, big, brow ridge, encouraging a trembling, long smile to reappear, lifting puffy lower lids. Overjoyed, Moreau clung onto his friend's left upper arm and returned the nuzzling. And while much-relieved whimpers and chortles echoed throughout the small cabin, elated thoughts resonated within the fish-man's simplistic, elated mind.
Joy sees Mo! Just Mo!
A/N: This chapter was heavily inspired by MISSIO's song of the same title.