Chapter Twenty-six: Lost and Found
The midmorning light shined red through Moreau's thin lids. He opened his eyes as a muffled, melodious sound came to his perception. Groggily, Moreau discovered the source of the tranquil awakening. A bird was perched on one of the center windows of the snuggery. The little bird stopped its song, preening shiny blue feathers. Then daintily, it fluttered out of the fish-man's view.
With a yawn and a scratch of his ashen-red hairless scalp, Moreau turned his head and blinked; seeing that the hearth had dwindled to smoky, thin wisps and sparse, twinkling embers.
Must have slepteded for much longer... Strange,I don't feel cold...
Moreau peered down and with a pleased smile, he saw the reason why he wasn't chilled. His milky white sights became entranced by the young woman curled over his bloated belly as if it was the best pillow. Moreau's left arm was still draped over her, and he dared not move it. If he could, he would stay like this all day if Joy didn't stir.
Dipping his head back, the fish-man regarded the shimmering foil streamers from their birthday celebration. He hated to remove them. Maybe Joy would want to keep them up, too. The hung, silver foil silvers did make the interior of their cabin beautiful. Additionally, there'd be no need to make more for future birthday parties and a lesser risk of any more precious fingers getting cut. This caused Moreau to wish for a wristwatch to keep track of important days... like birthdays.
That shiny, gold, and buckskin watch of the silver-scalp man showed the date quite well.
Moreau huffed regrettably. He would just have to somehow create a calendar or a new journal of some sort. That shouldn't be too difficult, especially if his super-duper smart precious person aided him with the task.
Moreau's lips lightly curved from surprised irony... Joy and now, his birthday was on the ninth of March. Precisely, one month since he'd ushered himself out of the Village. If anyone had told the fish-man that the life he was living now was real, he would think that existence and the person who said it were figments of his warped subconscious!
His eyes trailed to the empty porcelain plates and cups splayed on the long coffee table. From the time Joy started to brighten Moreau's murky world, he had never felt better. Although this would only be the fifth day of bliss, the fish-man was certain that his hated-self was gone for good! He was eating Joy's good food which didn't make him nauseous. There'd no longer be a need to keep the tin pail close by all the time!
And since the arrival of his best friend, Moreau had neither wept himself to sleep over the absence of Mother nor had any more frightful nightmares. He sighed gratefully. Mother Miranda cared enough to bring him Joy.
Still not wanting to believe the glorious priestess was gone, her most devoted son would wait for her. And with his precious person, that wait would be fleeting.
The fish-man beamed blithely, suddenly recalling a phrase he'd heard through his many foggy years...
What was once lost, now is found, he whispered to his dozing friend.
Moreau emitted a relieved breath. He would never feel lost ever again. And neither would Joy. The fish-man did not want to tell her, but he secretly said Mother's prayer for Mama Bear tonever find his precious person. This won't be an issue. After all, his closeness to her daughter was just as strong if not stronger.
And surely, Mother Miranda would sheath Joy under her magnificent black wings...
That is if she comes back for him...
Moreau sensed that horrid gnarling from those two, intrusive lupines fighting within him once more. No, Mother was alive.
She had to be... right?
Feeling warm puffs over his stomach, Moreau's anxiety faded when he beheld the resting little being again. All the same, he concernedly droned to himself. In spite of the agreement to stay, Moreau could tell... Joy was extremely bonded with her parent. And by her recounts, they had spent much time together.
How he envied that. Very much.
The mouth-line of the fish-man downturned. Unexpectedly, he imagined what it'd be like if Joy did become lost again and she couldn't be found. He rotated a free hand over his chest. It would be like his heart shattered, even if the shards kept on flickering...
Moreau swallowed. Was this how his friend's mother was presently feeling from missing her child? He closed his eyes tightly. Was... this how the villagers felt when their loved ones were sent to him to be..?
The fish-man was brought out of his confusing concertation by Joy shifting. Murmuring, bright green orbs shot open at their surroundings and the young woman sat up with a reddened face.
"Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, Mo! I-I didn't mean ta sleep in your spot!"
"No, no, no! It's all right." Moreau's cheeks began to flush. "I... uhhh... didn't mind. ...Joy's the best blanket."
Joy responded with a coy smile, trying to pat down ruffled hair.
"Well... dat's good. ...And ummm... Mo's da best pillow."
Moreau's upturned lips spread further. Yes, yes! I knew it!
Rubbing her eyes, the woman smacked her lips softly, detecting traces of their late-night snacking.
"Oopsie, we forgot ta brush our teeth."
Moreau glanced at the dishware on the coffee table. "That's all right, Joy. We can just brush them two times to make up for it."
"Good idea, Mo. We should brush our teeth twice a day anyways. Eating cake's good, but cavities are really not good!"
The grinning fish-man nodded, and he and his friend looked over their homemade birthday streamers.
Joy faced him. "So... how's it feel ta be da big three o?"
Moreau veered his view, blinking broadly.
"Uhhhh... how am I three o's? ...'Mo' has one o."
"Tee-hee-hee!"
Joy gave his arm a quick and firm hug, much to her best friend's delight.
"I remember da ol' story about how my uncle said dis ta my aunt when she'd turned thirty. He just kept saying it." The woman shrugged her small shoulders. "Not sure why but I guess it's just something ta say, y'know?"
"Oohh..." drawled the fish-man, surprised over the mentioning of other family members, instead of just... Mama Bear.
"So... how does Mo feel?" Joy reiterated.
"Hmmmmm..."
He briefly studied himself and then looked at his friend.
"Mo feels like... Mo?"
Joy put a loose fist to rosy lips. "Tee-hee! Guess dat's da best answer."
Moreau beamed. "Well... How does Joy feel to be the, the... big two-five?"
The young woman glanced at the angular roof for a moment, tapping her bottom lip. She smiled widely.
"Joy feels like Joy!" She elevated a hand high above her head. "But I kinda wish I got bigger."
Moreau chuckled. Being short and stout himself, the fish-man considered being taller would've been nicer. Still, he truly liked being at his friend's level. And she was just as nice as she was.
"Ummm..." Joy briefly averted her sights as she contemplated. "May... May I nap here again?"
With a gasp, Moreau's eyes expanded so much that the woman had to repress her emerging titters.
"Yes, yes, YES!" He bowed his head over and over. "Of-Of course Joy may nap here!"
Joy cupped her hands to her bosom. "Oh good! I... I know personal space's personal."
Moreau smiled wholeheartedly on the account of how his friend recalled his previous worries.
"But naps are the best with besties," he stated favorably.
With a small stretch, Joy clung to his thin limb once more, eliciting another gasp and blush from her friend. But suddenly, she wiggled to her sock-covered feet. Moreau made a dismayed moan, and Joy shared his unhappy pout.
"I know, Mo, I was comfy on our comfy couch, too, but I gotta get dressed."
The fish-man frowned more so. "But why is Joy in a hurr-?"
Petite legs were crossing over each other.
"'Cause Joy really has'ta pee!" was the accelerated response.
"Hee-hee-hee! Hee!"
Moreau was gripping his wide smirk when he turned and saw how fast the woman bounded to the twin bed's baseboard for her clothes and through the bath basin's white cloth curtains to get dressed. However, his laughter was cut short.
"Uh... Uh-oh!"
Unblinkingly, Moreau grunted as he wriggled to his bare feet as hurriedly as he was able.
The pair's prior celebration had indeed, included much consumption of coconut milk.
Joy wanted something different for breakfast rather than oatmeal or canned fruit, so she and Moreau pulled the slide-in door to investigate the food pantry. Both sets of bright and murky eyes raked its contents until a box of pancake mix caught their interest. The woman smiled at the print on the side of the box, liking the simple ingredients. She admitted that she'd never made pancakes before but did enjoy the fluffy flat cakes. After a moment of quietness, Moreau announced that he would prepare them. Despite not having any recollection of cooking, he just knew what pancakes were. Perhaps he learned from television.
This news elated Joy and her friend as well. He was oddly impressed on finding something new about himself. All the pancake mix required was water. And of course, maple syrup.
After the sating and delectable meal, Moreau offered to wash all the dishes, cups, and coconut milk canisters for Joy had cleansed her night clothes and his previous pants from his last bath. Moreau blotted up a drop of syrup from his current blue pants and brought the sweet nectar to his lips yearningly. He couldn't wait to have more cake again. He wondered what other celebrations required them?
When the dried porcelain was returned to the cupboard of the nearby dishrack and the little tins were set aside to put in the refuse barrels outside, Moreau noticed a draft. Baffled, he swathed the damp dishtowel over the faucet and waddled through the left entry of the eatery. Joy had unlocked the front door and was standing in the center of the porch. Droning curiously, the fish-man went to the sofa to collect his black footwear.
The young woman's eyes scanned her surroundings. From the glossy evergreens and the roof of the damp pinewood porch, water droplets dropped into the glistening ice below. Some of which appeared to have shrunken vastly since she was out of the lodge yesterday. She didn't pay attention during the prior visit to the outhouse. Joy was wearing her sunny-yellow winter coat, however, its zipper remained down and parted. She let out a large exhale and no visible vapor was produced. Her lips pulled upwards. The blizzard's aftermath was ebbing away.
Joy's silent surveillance was intervened by the sounds of the front entrance closing, and her friend's big boots walking on the partly revealed planks of the frosted porch. She veered around.
"Sorry, Mo. I forgot ta close da door."
"It's all right," remarked Moreau, moving by her side. "It's not very cold out."
"Uh-huh," the woman concurred. "I still think we need coats but da weather's nothing like yester..."
She fell silent as her scanning sights froze on something that made her smile plummet faster than the soppy snow.
"Oh, no! Mo, look at my snowmaid! Dare's hardly anything left!"
Moreau partly tilted his head at his precious, melting masterpiece, the only thing recognizable was a quarter left of the ice figure's bottom half. The finned tail part was nowhere to be seen.
The fish-man's moping was in sync with his friend, and he felt his hidden, misaligned shoulders droop even lower.
"Yes, yes... I see," he sadly sighed. "But that's what ice does when spring begins."
Joy put her hands into her coat pockets. "Oh, I know..." She looked down at her feet and began idly kicking small clusters of ice. "But I was hoping da snowmaid woulda stayed for a wittle longer tho."
Moreau gave the woman's arm a consoling pat while watching the last tuft of rolling ice hit the side of the exterior entryway and crumble apart.
Joy hummed in thought. "Looks like we'll be using all da rainwater in da big barrels 'cause da snow's going away."
Moreau bobbed his head. "Yes, but we'll have more when it rains."
Taking a couple of steps that ended with a hop, the woman's white sneakers merged with the forest's frosty ground, and she briefly tramped forward. Moreau followed suit, but slowly made his way down the three wooden steps instead.
"It must've gotten warm last night," he mentioned, standing just a meter behind.
"Uh-huh," replied Joy, after enjoying the song of the little bluebird that was in one of the nearby trees. "I still like ta sleep with a blanket, tho." She glimpsed over her shoulder and smiled. "But Mo was just as snuggly wuggly, too."
Rubbing a broad neck, the grinning fish-man shyly looked away as Joy took a few more strides. She bent her torso. The snow only reached the lower part of her calves. Pearly whites gleamed through the morning's cloudiness.
"...Mo? Maybe we can now-"
The young woman straightened. Her upper back had felt a soft but sudden impact, followed by hearing ice sprinkling downwards.
She swiveled around. "What was dat?"
Her eyes and ears received her answer. With throaty sniggers, Moreau was molding another clump of snow into a lumpy circle. Long ago, from a safe and concealed distance, he'd seen village children play this game and considered it entertaining.
And apparently, so did his friend. Grinning profoundly, she drew out her yellow mittens from her pockets.
"Welp, alright den!" she giggled, slipping her hands in the cottony pair. "Snowball fight!"
Moreau tossed the icy ammunition, but Joy dodged it this time. And padding down a snow puff, she managed to target her plodding friend's chest.
"Ah, cold, cold, C-COLD!"
"Tee-hee! Mo started dis!"
With quickened huffs of air amid laughter, the dual shambled and hopped around the snowy and slushy ground of their little lodge.
In oversized boots, the stout, misshapen fish-man was much less graceful than Joy; gradually bending his knees to create more ammo. Nevertheless, his focus was steady on getting his bubbly objective. Joy lost sight of him, but then, felt a hit to the shoulder. Her giddy friend was dipping behind a great of buildup snow that hadn't quite melted yet.
"Up and down!" he proclaimed with a laugh behind the newfound fort.
"Ya sneaky weaky!" Joy yelled friskily, rushing to counter his attack, only to catch him wobbling to the other side of the snow mound.
The best friends' chilly pastime went on for ten minutes. Their mirthful harrying one another resulted in them being behind the cabin. And after the woman's hair was adorn with snow dust and the fish-man felt seeping ice drip around his ankles, they decided on a truce.
"It's, it's not very cold out... in... indeed!" commented Moreau, finally regaining his breath.
"Phew! ...You're right, Mo," agreed Joy as she tugged the neck of her sweater's collar. "But I think we're all warmed up from all dat running."
Moreau nodded. "But my hands are still cold from holding the snowballs."
The woman blinked at her friend's ruddy fingers and gasped.
"Oh my goodness!" She began pulling at her mittens. "Here! Mo can wear deese till we go inside our lodge."
"Hmm-hmm-hmm!" Moreau waved his palms. "I don't think those little round gloves will fit these big old fishy han- Oh, no!"
In her haste to remove the mittens, Joy had slipped on slushy ice and landed chest first.
"Joy!" The fish-man lumbered to his fallen friend, extending a reedy limb. "Let-Let Mo help you!"
The lying woman respired sharply, pushing her upper torso off of the snowy earth.
"Uhhhhh... Thanks, Mo!" She fumbled her hidden forearms. "Good thing I put my... hands... ...up..."
Joy had trailed off... Her embarrassed expression receded, becoming a large and very blank stare. Without a word, Moreau clamped onto her upper arm, notwithstanding his aggravated back. Joy got to her cold, wet knees and her friend eased her to her feet. But she remained silent and so did her odd mien.
"Is, is, is, Joy okay?" Moreau inquired worriedly, dusting her pants free from the icy, pesky particles.
At length, the young woman blinked at him, an outspread grin growing on her rosy face.
"Joy's more dan okay, Mo!" She flipped and opened a frosty mitten. "Lookit!"
The shocked, hunched-back fish-man gawked at what she was disclosing, and the old idiom resurfaced in his mind.
This time, however, the phrase flooded the former Lord of the Reservoir's thumping heart with dread. Dread that was far worse than when he had lost his Rose jar that month ago.
What was once lost... now is found...
The smartphone of Joyce Holidaye was no longer missing.