Chapter Twenty-five: Slice of Heaven

The best friends' keen appetites were more than ready to indulge in the alluring white glazed chocolate cake. Like every supper, Joy and Moreau agreed to recite their thanks since this dessert was special. And the latter was proud to learn his friend's free verse poem.

Still side by side, the pair sat at the kitchen table, enjoying their birthday cake. To the relief of their nerves, a butter knife was able to produce their shares.

"Thank you for cutting my slices, Mo," commended Joy, tugging her plate closer.

"Mmm... Moy iz moeph melcum!"

The young woman refrained her giggles as Moreau brought the filled fork to an eager chocolatey mouth. He murmured happily every time he took another big bite. And this was his third slice. His friend was right. Cake must be the best dessert!

"Tee-hee, remember not ta talk with your mouth so full!" Joy pointed to her throat. "Please slow down before ya get da hiccups!"

Moreau bobbed his head and swigged down some coconut milk. His risen sable mouth-line went higher. The creamy white beverage just made the cake taste even sweeter.

Joy was on her second serving; her lips were blissfully curved as well.

"Emmmm... tasty wasty! My grandma called dis cake a slice'a heaven."

Moreau nodded rapidly while munching on the sweet ambrosia. He truly felt like he was on top of the clouds.

"Hmm-hmm, yes, yes, very tasty! Joy's a very good baker."

The woman grinned humbly. "Thanks, bestie. Tho, I just followed Grandma's recipe." She sighed wistfully, pricking the cake chunk with her fork. "I bet she'd be proud, too..."

"Yes, it's good to follow the rules, but it takes talent and uhhh... ex... expeer... experirn..."

Joy swallowed and licked glazed puckered lips.

"Experience?"

Her friend bobbed his head, bringing up another large bit of the moist cake, and gleefully chewed.

"Umph! ...That's it... Tricky word."

Joy beamed. "Tee-hee, thank you!"

"Yes, it takes... experience to know not just what but how to do things."

Hearing her friend's wisdom, Joy's cheeks flushed.

"Wow... Dat means a lot coming from a retired doctor. Thank you, Doctor Sal-"

The woman went silent when Moreau waved his crumb and icing-covered utensil.

"No-No, please... It's Mo... Just Mo."

"Tee-hee-hee... right, a'course!" Joy bowed her head. "Just Mo."

As Moreau ate, he noticed that his friend had begun twirling her fork on the edge of her plate.

She looked up. "May I ask Mo something?"

Moreau hummed quizzically, for Joy had become quite open with being inquisitive. Hence, this was new for her to... ask him about asking a question.

"Uhhh... yes, Joy may."

She drawled out a sigh in thought. "Why do ya eat does big cheeses?"

Her friend stared quietly as she shrugged.

I mean, it made your tummy icky wicky. And dare's still another one in da big pantry. ...If ya want, I can put it outside for da animals. Like we did with da other one."

Moreau blinked at his half-eaten slice, placing his fork on his plate with a light clack. The inner corner of the young woman's eyebrows arched regretfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mo! I... I didn't mean ta make ya sad! I'm just-!"

"Worried," Moreau finished for her. His lower lids arose with his mouth-line. "You... always worry about me. And I app... appret... apprectate..."

Smiling, Joy's small and smooth brow relaxed.

"Appreciate?"

"Yes... Tricky word."

"Thank you."

The fish-man emitted a gruff respire. "Mother gave me the cheeses. That's why I always ateded them. To... ...appreciate her."

As Moreau finished his serving, his friend hummed to herself.

"I know ya said da cheese is stinky winky, but do ya like how it tastes?"

Moreau's tongue rubbed the roof of his broad mouth. "Not... Not that much."

The woman gave him a resolute smile. "Ya should let your mom know so she'll give ya foodies dat you really like."

"Y-yes..," said Moreau halfheartedly. "Maybe I will... some-someday."

Joy patted a jutted bottom lip with the teeth of her fork.

"Does da cheese always upset your tummy or when ya eat too much or too fast?"

The fish-man canted his head while squinting at nothing in particular. Joy placed her utensil down beside her partially eaten slice, and patiently waited for her contemplating friend.

"I... I think the cheeses always make my tummy feel... icky wicky," he replied. "But I used to get sick a lot, though."

"Well...," drawled Joy. "Does Mo's tummy feel good, now?"

As if on cue, Moreau couldn't help but belch robustly, prompting a giggle from his friend.

"Huh-huh... Huh... Now, my tummy's always good." He bashfully grinned, rubbing a rotund abdomen. "Because Joy's here and makes good and tasty foods!"

The young woman revealed pearly whites at the praise. Shyly, she cleared her voice box after spurting a small burp of her own.

"Thanks, Mo, but icky tummies are tricky. Dey can get sick from da flu or if you're super-duper worried, too."

Moreau nodded with interest and Joy lifted the handle of her drink.

"My mom can't drink cow milk 'cause she has something called... ummm... la...lack...tose in... in something..."

"Lactose intolerance. Cannot digest dairy sugars."

Joy bobbed her head at her wide-eyed friend who was startled at how he was able to construct the term so fluidly.

"Dat's it, lactose intolerance... Tricky words."

Moreau's mien lightened with a big and proud smile.

"Hmm-hmm! Thank you!"

Joy took a sip from her cup and licked a frothy top lip.

"I don't got... lactose intolerance, but I don't drink cow milk 'cause I think only baby cows should. So Mom and me drink other milks." She gestured to her cup. "Like coconut milk."

Moreau glanced at his beverage and then at his vacant dish.

"So... if, if I stay happy and don't eat any... stinky winky cheeses... my, my tummy won't be angry with me anymore?"

"Uh-huh! And Mo's tummy seems ta like birthday cake way more dan stinky winky cheese!"

The fish-man's lips split, forming a concurring jagged grin, and he helped himself to another slice of heaven.

"Hmm-hmm! Thank you... Uhhh... Doctor Joyce Holi- Holidaye with an 'e'!"

"Mo is most welcome! But please..." The woman eased her torso forth, raising her cup. "It's Joy... Just Joy."

Moreau matched her beam. "Of course... Just Joy."

As he recalled from watching television families at banquets, he mirrored Joy's actions. And with dishtowels still on their laps, the dual resound the kitchen with a light clank of white porcelain.

By the time evening reared in, Moreau had refreshed and turned the latch of the lanterns, regulating their wicks. Thanks to the cast-iron oven's stovetop, the cauldron and some pots melted the snow much quicker for Joy to take a bath.

While she washed, Moreau kept himself occupied at the off-grid sink, rinsing their plates. Despite his face warming from knowing that his precious person was having bath-time not very far, the fish-man remained composed. Ever since Joy helped him clean up, he felt more secure about trusting one another's personal space.

Soon after, Moreau added a few more logs to the hearth and readjusted them with the nearby fireplace poker. He then sliced up the rest of the birthday cake. He had eaten two-thirds of the delectable dessert, but Joy told him that it was quite fair that the bigger bestie should get more shares.

After dressing in her usual sleep garb of the oversized navy sweater and blue socks, Joy towel-dried her hair and sat with Moreau on the couch as they indulged in eating the remaining of their birthday cake. Because it was their special day, Joy said they could finish the toothsome treat. And it wasn't a very big cake in contrast to their big appetites. There were four slices left which were split up evenly.

Once the respective porcelain was cleared and put onto the moved coffee table, Moreau suggested a task to which the young woman delightfully accepted. Then, the two friends spent a good time reading multiple fairy tales.

Presently, they just finished their fifth story. Joy closed the book, regarding its front illustration.

"I know I got a lotta favorites, but Cinderella is my favorite-favorite." She indicated to the drawn heroine. "Cinderella's dress is so sparkly. And I'd love ta have glass slippers, just like her."

Moreau blinked widely at his friend. "Joy... loves... glass slippers?"

The woman wriggled her pedicured toes. "Uh-huh. Just as much as Mo's nail polishing."

Blushing, Moreau discerned his work of the little sunny-yellow ornamented feet and chuckled modestly.

"I'm, I'm happy that my... bestie is happy."

"I am." Joy lowered her calves. "I just wish I was as good at it as you."

The fish-man's eyes descended to new colorful cuticles on his pointy toes and grinned gleefully.

"Joy paints nails very good, too!" he added with fixed assurance.

His friend warmly looked at him. "Thanks, Mo." Her sights went back to the book on her lap. "I just know dat painted toes would look so pretty in glass slippers."

"Hmmm..." Moreau motioned for the hardcover and he studied its picture. "Maybe we can make them."

With a tilt of the head, Joy's lips scrunched into a perplexed pout.

"Make glass slippers?" Her bottom eyelids slowly arose. "Umm... How would we do dat?"

"Uhhhhh..." Moreau idly scratched the side of his broad jawline. "...Mayybee withh... ice? ...Like snow with the snowmaid?"

The pair exchanged profound blinks then both snickered at the silly suggestion.

"Oh my goodness! No way, Mo!" Joy tucked her legs under herself. "My feet would get way too cold!"

"Hee-hee-hee! Yes, that's right." The fish-man laid the book onto the coffee table. "We don't want Joy to become a, a peop-sickle!"

"No, we really don't want dat!"

The woman's mirthful giggles chimed in. The funny concepts with her best friend... just made them funnier.

After sighing contentedly, they both scanned the books before them.

"Which's your favorite-favorite fairy tale, Mo? Is it The Little Mermaid?" Dat's a good one, too."

Moreau lowered his sights in deep recollection.

His upmost favored tale was the one they had read before Cinderella. It was about a large and ugly creature whose curse was broken by a beautiful, caring maiden. But for some reason unbeknownst to the fish-man, he didn't wish to say this out loud. At length, he faced Joy.

"All my books are the best!" he stated, with gangly, outspread arms.

Joy bobbed her head. "Dat makes sense! We can have lots'a super-duper favs. Like Grandma told me... da more da-"

"ICK-UP!"

"...merrier?"

Moreau made the abrupt noise again and the young woman quickly concluded what was happening.

"Oh, Mo's got da hiccups!" she cooed, leaning over to reach for his open can of coconut milk. "I warned ya not ta eat so gosh darn fast!"

"I know, J-ICK-UP- Joy! But our birth-UP-day cake was so- ICK-UP- tasty wasty!"

Joy refilled his cup, which he gladly accepted.

"Please drink slowly, Mo. It'll help ya."

After several delayed swallows, Joy retook the empty cup, placing it down once more.

"Better?"

Moreau waited for his big diaphragm to relax. Then he let out a steady breath, followed by another long and booming belch.

"Yes, much, much better! He-hee-hee!"

Joy tittered and tapped above her chest, emitting a little but mighty burp again.

"Tee-hee-hee. Me, too!"

Grinning awkwardly, the pair settled themselves more comfortably on the little brown sofa. For a short while, Moreau regarded the hearth's soft crackling flames and speckling embers as Joy soundly admired her newly decorated wrist. With half-lidded eyes, she refocused on her friend.

"My mom really likes golf and is really good at it. I... think she lets me win sometimes."

Moreau turned his view. "Oh?"

"Uh-huh. But I like golf 'cause Mom's so happy when she plays it... She works so hard and kinda needs dat... y'know?"

Moreau silently nodded. He often yearned for something fun between abiding by Mother's will... Like sailing...

Joy's mouth-line grew higher. "But today was da best birthday party I ever had."

Moreau gawked incredulously. "The-The best? ...Really?"

"Uh-huh. Really, really." Joy allowed a yawn to escape her. "I never had one with somebody who was so much fun. When my family visits, it's really great. But... But having a bestie dat really likes da same stuff and really trusts ya... was something I always wanted but could never have..."

With an empathic gulp, the fish-man bowed his head again as his friend beamed sleepily.

"...And I like... how my bestie says my nickname... all da time. Ya... say... 'Joy' a lot. ...I... I like dat."

Moreau's creased features softened a tad. "You, you say my name, too... I guess that's what besties are for."

"Uh-huhhh." Joy rubbed teary, tired eyes. "I think sooo... too..."

She slumped onto the surprised fish-man's left side, and he quietly reveled in the gentleness of his nudging, precious person.

With welling sights, Moreau beheld the young woman beside him and he exhaled sharply.

"Uhhh... J-Joy?"

"...Hmm?"

"Do you lov- like it... here?"

"Uh-huhhh," she murmured, reclosing her eyes and shifting her craned head. "Very much."

"Well... our lodge can, can be Joy's forever home... because Joy isn't losteded anymore but is unlosteded with Mo now."

The fish-man took in another respire from releasing that detained admission.

"All, all right, Joy?"

After an edgy minute of waiting, Moreau gingerly patted her hand.

"...All right?"

"Emmm... Ulmight," muzzily mumbled his best friend.

With an elated gasp, Moreau's eyes widened; not just by her answer, because presently, she was snuggling her head and arm atop his distended midsection.

"Happy... Birrthdayy... G'night... Mooo,"

Smiling profoundly as ever, the weary but jubilated fish-man stroked the damp, deep red scalp.

"...Happy Birthday. ...G-Goodnight... Joy..."

After clearing the corners of his eyes of moisture with his other hand, Moreau's shimmering sights went to the fireplace in pure utter bliss. His birthday wish had become a reality and he was receiving a goodnight hug on their comfy couch for the entire evening.

Joy knew she was family now. A family that truly appreciated him... dare even love him.

Once a finned hand was drowsily placed over his slumbering, precious person, Moreau tightened his lids in full-on gratitude.

Thank you, Almighty Mother Miranda! For giving me my... slice of heaven!

And blinking heavily at the birthday painting atop the fireplace, with a yawn, the Lord of the Lodge granted sleep to take him.

"Hi! I'm really sorry I can't talk right now. I must be busy wizzy or maybe just sleepy weepy. Tee-hee! Please leave a message and I super-duper promise I'll call ya back. Thank you!"

Why won't you call back?

Standing at the entry of her hotel chamber, the tall woman forced a fingertip to tap the end call button and returned her smartphone to her back pocket.

Dealla lost count of how many times she halted herself from nibbling her nails and the number of lengthy voicemails that she'd left. The woman didn't want the inbox to be full. Her maternal psyche needed to keep listening to that light and chipper recording... to feel close to her. So it somehow would keep her close by... Somehow...

Closing the door from behind, Dealla entered the rented room. The discovered purple coat on her broad and slender shoulders dropped to the carpet. It had been lying on the back mat of the rental car.

Dealla let out a bemoaned sigh. The one thing she wasn't interested in finding, she finds.

Feeling like the soles of her boots were made out of lead, Dealla hauled herself to the dark windows and stared blankly through one of the panes; her lofty form illuminated by the pole lamp.

The woman's body and soul were the epitome of being completely overwired and overly exhausted, all at once. She could not sleep, and her stomach was too full of uneasiness to eat.

All the same, Dealla was aware that she required rest and to consume a meal or she'd slam her brow onto the driving wheel. Searching those damn overcast woods for the Village Ruins in the darkest of hours would only cause problems. As she had told that ball-less officer; becoming lost... or being eaten by some Godforsaken predator would not help recover her lost child...

Soft gray eyes enlarged, and the grief-stricken, yet gritty mother shook her head curtly to pitch that last thought out of her fretting mind.

No, that did not nor would that ever happen!

What has happened is her daughter wasn't getting a signal and she just needed to get closer to... wherever that was...

Releasing a harsh and shaky sigh, fists tightened around a LED flashlight and car keys.

"Please, Baby... Call Mama Bear... Just... Just call..."

A/N: The calm before the storm...