Le Coco

Victor leaned back on one hand. “Who, your mom?” He cracked.

“No your mom!” Gar dutifully cracked back as he landed on his knees in a slide, almost colliding into Victor. “Raven! She said we can go on a DATE!” His eyes bugged out. “Like a real date! I need help!”

Victor’s mouth peeled back in a grin. “Way to go, loverboy! Where are you taking her?”

Gar just started babble spewing. “I don’t know! Like, it has to be somewhere she likes, but I don’t want to take her to her regular spots, I should show her someplace new and interesting, but I don’t want to pick something she’ll hate with too many people or bright flashy stuff, but I don’t want to be boring either, so I gotta think of someplace smart like a library but has food like a restaurant but not boring like a library and not like a fancy restaurant but also not McRonalds-”

“Dude! Slow down before you give yourself a conniption fit!” Victor flapped his buffing rag to wave the nervous onslaught away like smoke. “Just take her to the museum.”

Gar’s mouth clicked shut in confusion. And then, “Huh?”

“The Jump History Museum. They got cool exhibits you’ll both like, and there’s a rooftop cafe with a garden that looks over the bay.”

Gar lit back up with growing excitement. “Yeah! Hey, that’s a great idea! The museum!” Then his face twisted. “How do you know about that?”

Victor leveled his head to the side. “Cuz I go on DATES, little noob!”

Gar leaned forward with interest. “Where else do you go?”

Victor gently snapped the towel at him. “Just start with the museum, trust me.”

“It’s a real date. Like really real,” Gar sounded like he didn’t quite believe himself.

“You already said that,” Victor pointed out.

“What else do I do?”

“I don’t know man, hang out like you always do. Maybe try to yap just a little less.”

“Do you think we could hold hands? I mean - should I hold her hand?”

Victor rolled his whole head toward the ceiling. “Dude, just ask her. Before doing anything, just… ask first.”

“Ask first. Right.”

“Take a shower, mind your manners, pay for dinner - oh! Bring her some flowers…”

“Flowers! Right!”

“And don’t break her heart man. I know we’re bros, but if you break her heart, I’ll break your bones, understand?”

He was half teasing, but Gar looked hurt and offended. “I would never! Anyway, she’d break me first!” And then just the thought of broken hearts began to distress him further. “Oh my god, this is stupid, what was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking! I’m just gonna make her hate me cuz I’m so stupid and annoying and dumb-”

“Hey!” Victor jabbed a finger at Gar’s chest. “Hey hey hey! Knock that off! She said YES, dude! She never says yes to stupid or annoying or dumb, you know her better than that. She said yes cuz she likes you, and you’re a great catch, and super cute and junk. Calm down.” Then he laid his hand heavily on Gar’s shoulder. “You’ve been besties for ages now, you already have that love to stand on. Just take it slow and talk it out.”

As if on cue, the song on the radio hit the chorus, and Victor couldn’t help chuckling as he began to sing along, “Just let your love flow, like a mountain stream. And let your love grow, with the smallest of dreams …”

“Oh my god, you’re so cheesy! That’s my move, quit stealing!” Gar complained. When Victor just kept singing and started to snap his fingers and sway his torso side to side “Let your love fly like a bird on a wing!” Gar reached out to shake him. “Vic!” 

Victor grinned victoriously. The pep talk had halted the spiral, and his green buddy was smiling again. “Okay, okay.”

Gar gave him a grateful look and then the side of his mouth curved up. “You think I’m cute?”

“Shaddup!” Victor cuffed him under the chin, and then he gestured both hands emphatically at the dress shirts clutched in Gar’s fists. “What the hell is this?”

Gar suddenly went somber and wide eyed. “This could make or break the whole thing, Vic. This is the most important choice a man can make. The rest of my entire life depends on this moment right now!” He held up the first shirt, a brilliant orange with little green pterodactyls all over. “Dinosaurs?” Then he held up the other shirt, eggplant purple behind a pattern of pink flamingos in sunglasses. “Or flamingos?”

Victor stared at Gar long and hard, a deep frown on his face, before he finally said. “Are you kidding me right now?” He shook his head. “Flamingos, duh! Everyone knows you wear flamingos on the first date!”

Gar jerked his head in a fierce nod. “Flamingos, right!” He rocked up off his haunches and rose deftly to his feet.

“And nice clean sneakers!” Victor waved the rag again as Gar started away. “And comb your hair!”

“Sneakers, hair - oh!” Like an afterthought, Gar whirled back around and flung his arms around Victor’s neck. “Thanks dude, you’re the best!” And laid a big wet one on Victor’s cheek. “Mwuah! I love you!”

“EWW, get off me you sap!” Victor shoved at him but tousled the green hair fondly. “Go get her, tiger.”

“Ha!” Gar giggled all the way out the garage. “Tiger!”

The grin stayed on Victor’s face. “And you’ll know what I mean, that’s the reason.”

Part TWO

A half hour later, he’d moved to the interior, vacuumed and steam cleaned the back seats and floor mats, and now sat in front, meticulously wiping a cue tip around lips, edges and buttons on the dash. Mariah Carey had him reaching for his falsetto, shamelessly warbling along, “I want a lover who knows me yee-yah-yee-yah, who understands how I feel inside…” He paused and closed his eyes, holding up a prayer hand and modulating his voice around the vibrato “oohooh baby!”

“Victor”

“Someone toeeaAAAAAHHH!!” Victor gave a high pitch screech at the sight of Raven sitting suddenly next to him out of nowhere like a specter.

“Sorry,” she uttered in monotone.

Victor covered a hand over his heart, closed his eyes again, and took a deep calming breath. “Girl, why didn’t you just come through the door like a normal person?”

One of Raven’s eyes twitched. “I was trying to be discreet. I have to ask you something in private.”

This had to be about the date. Victor eyed her curiously. “Yeah?”

“I’m going on a date,” she said, and  her cheeks colored slightly. “With Garfield.”

Victor widened his eyes. “Whaaaaaa?”

“You knew,” Raven accused.

Smirking, Victor shrugged. “He just asked me where to take you so you don’t end up in the cineplex watching Mega Monkeys The Motion Picture and wondering what to do with your hands. You’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” She looked down and picked at her nails in her lap for a moment. “I’ve never been on a date before. I thought of asking Kori, but I think she has a very different approach to romance than I do. She’s much more… physical.”

Victor gave a flat smile and mentally facepalmed. Why didn’t he think to give Gar “the talk”??  Ugh! Because Gar was asking about holding hands with his big dumb baby eyes, and any concept of romantic relations beyond that flitted right out of Victor’s head in the momentary importance of dinosaurs vs flamingos. “Yeah, I don’t -” He flapped a hand dismissively. “I don’t think you need to worry about that yet. Just have fun and enjoy each other’s company like you already do. It’s okay to be a little nervous.”

“He’s nervous,” she deflected, glancing at Victor and then quickly away. “I can feel it a mile away. What is he nervous about?”

Victor chuckled at her. “Impressing you, saying the right thing, not messing up, what do you think?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “He talks to me every day.”

“I mean, it’s a little different though, isn’t it? This is about taking the next step.” He lowered his voice and asked gently, “Are you ready? For the next step?”

Raven stared straight ahead at the clean and gleaming glove compartment. “That’s what I’m wondering.” She bit at the inside of her cheek and then turned to Victor. “I value our friendship too much to disrupt the balance. But if I think of anyone else being intimate or close to him in that way, I feel… possessive.” She frowned. “That’s not an emotion.”

“Jeal-”

“Don’t say jealous.”

Victor held up placating hands. “It just means you got the hots. It’s fine! You like him more than a friend, it’s okay to ease into it slowly.”

“I have affection,” she corrected. “Maybe I’m just surprised. It almost feels too easy. Romance in books and movies is always so… wrought.”

“What?”

Raven flicked her fingers around searchingly. “Full of obstacles, chaos, drama… I wasn’t expecting just… hanging out with your best friend who is a dork, talking about nothing and feeling vaguely happy for no reason.”

Victor’s smile went sentimental. “Awwwww, you really are in love!”

Raven turned desperate eyes to him. “So then what do I do?”

“What do you mean, what do you do? You’re already doing it! Just communicate with each other.” He threw his hands up.

Raven gave a half echo of the gesture. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. Let him know how you feel. Go whatever pace makes you comfortable, have a little fun, don’t put too much pressure on it, and don’t…” he trailed off and gave pleading eyes back to Raven. “Just don’t… hurt him, please?”

He expected her to rear up with offense, but instead her expression softened. “I would never,” she promised reverently. “I would die before I let him hurt like that.”

Victor dipped his chin down. “That’s a little dramatic.”

She shrugged and looked out the passenger window like they were on a drive. “I guess I’m dramatic about him. He…” She suddenly turned to Victor, and to his utter shock, began to sing along with the radio he’d completely forgotten about. “He takes me up, takes me down, takes me anywhere I want to, baby now.” She did not have a singing voice, but her sense of humor was such an unexpected treat, Victor threw his head back and howled with laughter before joining in. “Won’t you please, come around, cuz I wanna share forever with you bayyybeeee!”

Victor would never forget that, how happy she looked in that moment, how excited and hopeful and relieved. It made him excited and hopeful too. For her future. And Gar’s future. He felt a happy little ache in his chest, thinking of them together.

“I have an even more important question now, though!” She finally said as she sobered up and reached for something on the other side of her, under her cloak. “I’ve been overthinking myself into a cyclone of vapid distress over the dumbest thing. This isn’t a formal affair, but it still needs to be a little special, right? But I don’t want to come off as over doing it…”

Victor blinked in surprise as she presented two dresses on hangars. “Oh!”

Raven held up the first, a wrap style dress, dark maroon with white pinstripes, elegantly casual. “Red?” Then she held up the second, more of a cute tea dress, deep mustard with a smokey gray floral pattern and a soft ruffle at the knee. “Or yellow?”

“Uuhhhh….” This was very much less in Victor’s wheelhouse. But he was determined to see this most honored and treasured Big Brother roll to the very finish. So he tried to imagine them sitting up on the rooftop garden cafe of the museum, leaning toward each other for a picture. “Yellow.”

Raven gave a sigh of relief. “That’s what I thought too. Thanks.” She reached for the car door handle, paused, then turned back again. “Thank you, Victor.” She said more sincerely and leaned over to peck him on the cheek. “Wish me luck.” Then she got out of the car before teleporting away.

“Okay, the red pourover contains the beans from Madagascar. The yellow pourover has the Brazilian beans. And the green pourover contains Ethiopian…” Dick looked already wide awake as he grandly presented each carafe of steaming coffee. He had also set out cream, oat milk, raw sugar, honey, and even some hot chocolate powder. Off to the side sat another set of condiments; horseradish, rice vinegar, and jalapeno sauce.

It was 7am, but Vic didn’t feel too offended. His implants usually helped spark the rest of him to life when he needed to be awake, and the roasty toasty aroma of the coffee surrounded them like a good morning hug. Everyone sat around the island in pajamas, robes, sweats, and loungewear. Across from him, Kori still looked sleepy but was devotedly blinking herself awake to give Dick her undivided attention. Beside her, also looking sleepy though much less devoted, Raven frowned at the coffee display with half lidded eyes and deep disapproval.

But Raven was here. Even now, Victor felt a satisfactory warmth to see her sitting so comfortably amongst them, with them, a part of them. It had taken him and Dick weeks to cajole her out of her room, when she first arrived, for anything other than meals or training. Not that he could blame her. She was a troubled young girl, and they were two older guys. But she eventually warmed up to them, and even began to feel like a fellow resident. Which made all the difference when Gar and Kori showed up, for it was Raven who advocated for them when Dick and Victor applied their initial wariness.

“I pre-warmed your mugs for you,” Dick continued excitedly and lifted the steamy dish towel from the small stack in the center of the table. Victor noticed Raven’s frown soften with approval as she reached for hers and Gar’s. Her… partner in crime, lil bestie, other half, booooyyyfriend, when Vic really wanted to needle her good… was currently fast asleep in the form of a weasel, curled around her neck like a fluffy collar.

Dick absently reached over and scratched the weasel’s head with one hand as he held up the yellow pourover with the other. “This one is a medium roast, amenable to everyone’s palette, versatile and easy to dress up however you like.”

It was an understood compromise. Gar was at least up with the rest of them instead of still in bed, and no one could deny the soft comfort of a furry cuddle first thing in the morning. A cat in Dick’s lap, a chinchilla on Victor’s shoulder. It was a quintessential example of Gar’s disregard for boundaries or personal space. He couldn’t just stand or sit next to you. He had to press into your side, barely restrained himself from climbing into your lap, clingy as a touch-starved puppy.

And Raven, of all people, minded the least. Maybe she was secretly also a touch-starved puppy. Vic could understand that. He didn’t one hundred percent understand her empath ability, but he made a point to practice mindfulness to keep himself from being a pain or annoyance when in close proximity to her. She was unapologetic about holding herself at a distance until she got to know you better, definitely did not like crowds, and retreated to her room at least once a day for quiet solitude.

Unlike Gar. If no one was available for some reason, he filled the space around him as if he were more than one person - video games, movies, talking to himself, music and dancing, taking up messy disruptive “projects.”

Dick held up the red pourover. “This one is lighter, sweeter, and almost fruity. You don’t need to add much to this one besides maybe a little cinnamon or honey.”

Vic thought maybe it was the innocence of youth. Gar certainly wasn’t an airhead by any means, even if he did act like a manic pixie beach boy half the time. But he was almost too good at smothering trauma with stubborn optimism. It was practically pavlovian. Victor decided it worked as the perfect instinct to counter Raven’s tendency to withdraw. Instead of processing in private meditation, she frequently found herself obliged to wack-a-mole any sad or mad thoughts with social interaction and fun activities. “Forced family fun.”

Victor watched her pour some of the coffee from the green carafe - “bold, full bodied, dark and bitter,” Dick had described it - into her cup. Pretty brave choice, Vic mused, for a girl whose go-to was chamomile. The weasel blinked slowly awake as Raven brought the coffee up to her face and inhaled the smell. The whiskers twitched, and he watched her take a small sip. She didn’t grimace or frown. Rather, she made a thoughtful smacking noise, then set the cup down and reached for the sugar.

Victor chose the medium roast blend, added a splash of cream, and sighed contentedly as the heat of his first swallow bloomed pleasantly down his chest. Kori was giving the lighter blend a dutiful try on its own before reaching for the rice vinegar. Dick had a cup of the arabica, straight black, a look of pure bliss shining on his face. The kitchen was comfortably and companionably hushed as they all took a minute to just… savor.

After a generous spoonful of sugar, Raven gave her coffee another try. And Victor made sure to record the moment her eyes lit up with pleasure. He bit back a smile as she reached for the sugar again and added just one more, extra generous this time, spoonful. The weasel was watching her with open curiosity now. After a slow swallow, Raven smiled with delighted surprise. She tipped the cup toward the weasel who tentatively sniffed at the dark liquid before dipping his snout in to lap some of it up. He pulled back again with a vigorous shake of his head, and Raven chuckled gently as she set the cup down and began to prepare him a hot chocolate.

That was Rita. She cared tenderly for people. Made missions out of caring. It was probably the only reason she was still with Steve. He didn’t feel he deserved her, but she made a daily responsibility out of proving that he did. “You fight so hard for humanity,” she’d remind him. “You should also get to participate in it.” She’d point at his chest and claim she saw the good good man inside.

It was enough to make him try. Try to be softer when they extracted victims from perilous situations, instead of simply handing them off to the proper aids and authorities. Try to be more understanding when they caught a criminal who acted out of desperation rather than ill will. Try to pause and listen when emotions entered an equation.

Because he was far too used to being the one to take care of the dirty work. The part of the job that was too difficult or unpleasant. Steve did it. When a nefarious organization needed to be stopped, when a madman needed to be taken down, when a situation called for bloodshed. Steve just. Did it. He buried the human part of himself a long time ago, so that the rest of humanity could be safer.

But Rita had found a thread, at some point along the way. And she’d tugged and pulled until she found purchase, and she tied herself to him, to the good good man inside. Sometimes it ached, and sometimes it rattled him, but it also made him hope. And try. To be worthy of her, he always tried.

This was such a small situation compared to some of the missions Steve had completed. Little clues here and there, Steve and Rita quickly deduced a man was embezzling from his dead client’s estate, taking advantage of their orphaned child. Galtry had been shifty. He feigned politeness, but his smile was too flat, too forced… and there was no sign of the kid. So Rita “excused herself to the restroom” while Steve casually questioned the other man and felt him out. He did the dirty work, he sussed out Galtry’s scheme, he raised fisticuffs when the hired hitmen appeared at Galtry’s summons, and he felt zero guilt with how roughly he took them down and handed them over to the police.

Rita had found the kid and sent her coordinates to Steve. When he arrived at a tiny rudimentary campsite hidden in the jungle, he stopped short. His chest fluttered dangerously. Because he suddenly knew, at the very first sight, his life was about to change.

It was the look in Rita’s eyes. That tender determined look. And the possessive way she held the kid in her arms. Absolute certainty. And then she turned that look to Steve, and he knew it was not a request. It was a yank on that thread she had a hold of. A holy command to the good good man inside.

The kid was small, dirty, twig thin… and green. Rita could just as easily been holding an actual live goblin against her chest. But it wasn’t the green that scared Steve. It wasn’t the long pointed ears, the clawed tips of his fingers and toes, or the little glinting fangs. None of those things scared Steve.

What scared Steve was the vulnerable way the kid clung to Rita. What scared him was the nervous hope in those big green eyes. Steve should not be a target of that kind of hope. He didn’t know how to handle children. Children were glass, and Steve was a hammer. He did the dirty work, he nailed the bad guys. He crushed the knees of drug and trafficking rings. He stained his hands where others could not. He did not… he could not handle a child.

But Rita was already approaching him. She held the kid like a gift. A very precious gift. And she had that look in her eyes. You can do this, Steve.

No, no he couldn’t. He was too scared. He would get it wrong. He would mess it up. And he swore the kid could see it too, those big green eyes reading him with sharp curiosity. I don’t want to hurt you, Steve thought. But I don’t know how…

Superheroes don’t cry, came Steve’s firm voice in his head and he instinctively flinched. Dick had said that was bullshit and never ever made Gar feel bad about getting upset. But when your head is in a bad place, it just likes to pull up every bad thing ever that you’d rather forget.

There were four aquariums on the right side of the room, warm and cold, salt and fresh. All filled with colorful gravel, waving seaweed and coral hills, little plastic castles and scuba men. Neon and black lights made them glow cheerfully. 

Gar stood in front of them for a moment. Maybe he could turn into a goldfish for a while and forget. Forget about the falling stones. Forget about the sound they made when they struck her. Forget how he’d been too slow to notice until it was too late. 

Or he could be a hermit crab and hide in one of the little conch shells. Hide from his guilt and worry and shame. Hide behind a haze of cloudy water and pretend the salt was not from tears.

He sighed and turned toward his big picture window instead, where a jungle of potted plants, shrubs and small trees framed a view of bluebird sky and the sparkling sea. It was messy over here too. Loose soil, dead leaves and shedding needles littered the floor. Grow light stands and humidifiers were shoved in without coordination or thought. He couldn’t keep all the species and their particular needs straight, so they were in various states of thriving and dying. 

But when he was a bug or a small critter, he never minded. Maybe he could be an orb spider and weave his anxiety into a web. Or a praying mantis and…. Gar rolled his eyes. Too on the nose.

The flowers, of course, were quite healthy. She brought those in, so he was always careful about looking after them properly. He couldn’t help the little rise in the corner of his mouth. They were all so gothic. The chocolate cosmos. The queen of night tulips. The black star gladiolus… She’d said so he could be a bee. He had to inform her that boy bees do not collect pollen. No, they don’t help build the hive or act as guards either.

“Then what do they do?”

“They lay around and wait.”

“For what?”

“For their queen.”

“They wait on the queen.”

“Yup. Just wait until she needs them.”

He leaned down and smelled the flowers. The warm chocolatey scent of the cosmos wafted up into his head and picked apart the warm pressure behind his eyes. He told himself she would be okay. He hummed tunelessly, blinked away a bit of moisture, and then shrank until the dark maroon petals of the flowers surrounded him like deep velvet curtains. He pretended they were her arms, healthy and strong. He hummed and remembered her face when she had brought these flowers, eagerly arranging them so that his little jungle looked a bit more organized or curated. He hummed and settled into the powdery fluff of the stamen, planning what he could make her for breakfast as soon as she woke and felt well enough to eat.

It’s the most positive human interaction Rachel experiences. She’s too weird at school, too awkward, avoided by most of the other kids, but maybe she also avoids them. The people who come here, though, almost feel like kindred spirits, overlooked or shunned, looking for a safe space and a friendly face.

This is Rachel's real education, amongst real people trying to survive, striving for dignity, appreciating what little they have.

That evening at home, they’ve had enough of food for one day, so they sit in front of the TV with popcorn and diet soda. They watch Hallmark romances and Disney cartoons. Rachel will sneak out after her mom’s asleep to watch the unapproved trashy reality shows and Lord of the Rings, but for now she paints her toenails purple, and her mom trims her hair. They laugh about the impromptu barber shop quartet that four of the soup kitchen volunteers had attempted. They sang badly, but the applause was so resounding, they could have been in Carnegie Hall.

Her mom sits on the edge of her bed as they say their prayers, and then she kisses her goodnight. “This was the best day of my life,” she tells Rachel. She says that every time they have a volunteer day together, but it always feels special.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“To explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life,” his mom dramatically declares just before pulling a hazmat helmet over her head. Then she leans forward with puckered lips and bumps the face shield against Gar's nose. “Woops!” comes her now muffled voice, their little joke. She does the same thing to his dad as he uses masking tape to seal her gloves to her sleeves.

“See you tonight, honey.” His dad is in field khakis, like Gar, and once his mom disappears behind the heavy tent flaps into the decontamination compartment, they exit the other way into the bright sunshine outside. “Let's find some flying foxes!” His dad exclaims with a wide smile and sparkling eyes, and they climb into the back of a truck with other scientists and volunteers.

They set traps the day before. Today their team will collect samples from whatever bats or birds they'd caught. Last week was frogs and shrews, and the week before that moths and millipedes. It’s like a giant elaborate puzzle. What animals carry what germs or viruses, during what season, in what part of the biozone? And what might have disrupted migratory patterns or caused an irregular exposure between species?

Gar and his dad both gasp in delight when, during the ride into the jungle proper, they see a leopard in the distance. It jumps from behind a shrub and races parallel to their vehicle, its long powerful limbs a blur beneath it, until it disappears into a copse of small trees. They are laughing, and Gar’s dad keeps a strong steady arm around his waist as they cruise into the heart of the Congo.

This is Gar's school, out in the grassy bush, under the green canopies of the jungle, and along the banks of the river. He spends his days peering through long blades of grass, across crags of rock, and through the fractals of silvery tree branches.

Latex gloves and N95 masks on, the men collect samples then release the flying critters as Gar carefully packs away the traps. Next week, they’ll search for bigger mammals, hogs and okapis. His mom is looking for a particular virus.

When they return, he and his dad scrub themselves and everything in their tent to an inch of its life, and then they prepare a dinner of mayebo, plantain, and cassava bread, just like they were taught by their hosts. When his mom arrives, though her eyes look tired, she lights up and exclaims at their presentation.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65034370/chapters/167219992

After dinner, they huddle around a laptop to watch youtube videos of vigilante heroes back home, like comic books come to life. Gar falls asleep in his mother’s arms.