#anagold

“I'm sorry about your arm, Annie.”

“Annie? Mmm… You're going to give my mom ideas. I'm okay now, Marigold.”

“I'm glad your arm doesn't hurt so much anymore.”

Marigold Reed was backed against the brick wall just outside of Keppler-Afton Junior High School, twirling her hair between two thin fingers. “I wish I could go to college.”

Anastacha perked up, confused. “Mmm… you can. What's stopping you?”

“My parents.” Her shoulders tensed. “They'd kill me if I even tried. I want to be a doctor, but my mother said-”

“Who cares about her?” Anastacha smirked. “She's holding you back. Girls like us have made it. You can too… or whatever.”

“Anastacha, I'm colorblind. People already don't take me seriously. These glasses?” She takes her glasses off, showing the lenses colored pink with markers– or something similar. “My parents said I'm better off being a housewife for my future husband. They don't know that I'm smart. They refuse to know. These glasses? I found out they'd help me see colors like a normal girl. I colored them with a marker I found.”

Anastacha stayed silent. Her eyes had to adjust to Marigold without her glasses. She was still beautiful.

“Do you want to come over after school? My mom said you're free to…”

There were only a few rules at the Mikaelys house. Use common sense, be nice, and bring your ID and Entry Request. Nothing like the Reed's. They had every single rule under the sun. Marigold hadn't met Francis before. Not fully. She had seen him getting ready for work, heard his voice, eaten dinner next to him… but hadn't had anywhere near a conversation. He was like Anastacha. Weird, because he was only her stepdad, right? A stepdad that had come around just nine months earlier, looked like her, and sounded like her. Weird.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Francis was a very strange man.

He didn't talk a lot. He usually didn't make eye contact. He would often spend his time studying a subject he went to college for 6 years ago, sitting at the kitchen counter after his milkman shifts with weird gadgets Marigold had never seen. Weirdly shaped jars mostly. Sometimes, he'd bring home a milk bottle or two, clinking together in his hands. He'd ramble to Nacha and try her food, which was one of his favorite things. He'd bring home food and toy with it, showing it to Nacha afterwards, having her try it, and following up by explaining chemical compounds she didn't even know existed. He was some kind of genius. Maybe a psycho. 

These thoughts came to a halt when they opened the front door and Francis was towering over them.

“Mmm… hello.” Francis mumbled. “Mom is on the phone with Elenois… if you can't tell.” you could. Through the door, you could hear Nacha's laughter as if you were right in front of her. The sound melted Anastacha's heart, but of course she didn't say anything. She was just happy her mom was happy. “You two can come in.”

There was a book open on the table, Francis had been writing in the margins. Marigold walked past, a little afraid now. How much of that had he analyzed? 

“Marigold,” Anastacha mumbled. “I need to go grab something. I'll be right back.” Anastacha cracked the tiniest smile and walked along, Francis following. Maybe now she could go look in the book. Nacha was turned around, everyone else gone.

Marigold stepped up onto the stool he was sitting on, still warm from moments before. She wobbled before sitting down, looking down at the textbook. She takes a mental note, “turn it back to page 42 so he doesn't catch me.”

Nacha shifted while Marigold sifted through the text. Her voice filled the room.

“Yeah, they're here right now”....

Paragraphs of pristine cursive notes filled the margins, arrows pointing, and even some corrections made. The book was filled cover to cover with words and letter combinations she didn't understand. Hydrolyzed, Glutelin, H-OCH. She was careful not to smudge the pencil, knowing how particular Francis was. The book was interesting, so she began to read more of his notes. Nacha was laughing, joking with Elenois, making comments here and there. The house felt safe with her around. And then she felt a figure behind her. 

“Mmm… Marigold?” Francis was leaning over her shoulder now. Marigold squeaked, jumping at the sound of his voice. 

Marigold leaped off of the stool. “S-sorry, sir! I'll get up! I'm up!” 

 “... You don't have to move.” Francis stared, confused. “If you're interested, we can look at it.”

“Well,” Marigold started. “I want to be a doctor, so I don't know how food science will help me out. I do want to listen, though.”

Francis cracked a smile. Nacha had shot a look over with shock on her face. He had never spoken to her before this. “Mmm… You want to be a doctor? That's wonderful.”

Marigold turned her face downward, embarrassed. “My parents think I shouldn't try to apply to medical school, and that I should be a housewife instead.”

Francis frowned. “Do you see my girlfriend being a housewife?”

Nacha was still on the phone, talking about work.

Marigold’s voice turned into a squeak. “No.”

“Do you see any real reason that she should stay at home?” Francis had his hand next to Marigold, flipping pages in his textbook.

“Again, no.” Marigold smiled. “I think women should have the right to do whatever they want to do.”

Francis patted her shoulder. “Mmm… I don't see why you couldn't try to be a doctor.”

Nacha hangs up the phone, looks to Francis, and walks over to the two of them. “Are you teaching her about science already, dear?” 

“I asked.” Marigold smiled.

Nacha kisses Francis on the cheek. “Now look at you, you've got an audience.” Marigold read part of the textbook, onto page 43, eyebrows furrowing at something written. She points to it.

“I don't understand a lot of these names. What is ‘hoch’ and what's the significance of it?” Marigold was genuinely curious, unfamiliar with the term. Francis looks closer.

“Are you saying H.COH or H.CHO?” 

“That one.” She points at a combination of letters.

“Ah.” Francis leaned against the countertop. “Formaldehyde. That's an illegal preservative. Formaldehyde is in everything.” He knocks on the counter. “Mmm…Even this right here.”

Marigold's jaw drops slightly, eyes widening. “Does your company use that in your milk?” 

Francis frowns. “No. Public health risks. It could make people extremely sick. I don't even mess with it in the apartment. Same with formic acid. Unsafe.” 

“Then what do you use?” She was amazed at how much he knew, if not a little worried. Has he ever messed with these gross things? What if he's got some in his pocket? Her parents raised her to think British people were proper, so maybe he's fine.

“Pasturization. Using heat to kill bacteria. Mmm… Much safer, no chemicals.”

Anastacha comes out of her room with a smirk, looking up at her mother. “Mmm… oh, look, he's teaching Mari.” 

Nacha smiles and ruffles Anastacha's hair. “Yes, he is. Your little idea worked perfectly.”

Marigold and Francis looked up. 

“What idea?” Marigold seemed shocked.

“You two… Mm ... Planned this?” Francis was smiling shakily again.

Nacha laughed. “No, Anastacha did. She said that she knew you two would never talk. She never had anything to find, she wanted Marigold to socialize.”

The four of them began laughing. Francis wrote something in the margin.

“Talk to Marigold about Formaldehyde and Formic Acid.”

Francis patted Marigold's head awkwardly. “Mmm… I'll let you hang out with Anastacha, but I have an idea for later. Come back here.”

Marigold nodded. “Thank you, Anastacha's stepdad.”

Francis snickered a bit. “You can say Francis.”

“Okay. Francis.”

Marigold walks off with Anastacha. Francis and Nacha share a kiss.

“They're so cute, aren't they?” Nacha leans into Francis's chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Darn, Elle. We goin?” Steven looked up at Elenois, who was just hanging up the phone after what felt like a timeshare presentation brought to you by two overly-excited women. (to Steven, of course. He doesn’t get it)

“Yes, Yes. We can go now. The girls are over, and meet Anastacha's friend!” Elenois had a smile plastered on her face as she walked over to Steven, curls bouncing with each step. “Just up the stairs!”

They walk out of the apartment holding hands, the cold air of the apartment air conditioning harshly colliding with the two of their faces. Walking up the stairs, they began to hear Nacha's voice, which was louder than usual.

“She's excited.” Steven was grinning when they reached the top of the staircase. “Wonder what's going on.”

Elenois wraps her fingers farther around Steven's. “Maybe something Anastacha did. That girl is always doing something.”

 They knock on the door, the answer swift. “You're here already!”

Steven laughed. “We're just downstairs.”

Francis nods for the two to come in. They walk in, still holding hands, Steven's air force jacket went beautifully with Elenois's bright yellow dress.

Elenois looked around. “Where are the girls? We will go say hello!”

Nacha pointed to Anastacha's room. Elenois walked over and opened the door without knocking, stupidly. Steven had taken his glasses off. 

When the door swung open, Anastacha and Marigold were kissing. Not anything wild. Marigold had her hands around Anastacha's head, fingers tangled in Anastacha's dark brown hair. Anastacha had her hands wrapped around Marigold's thin  hips. They stayed there like that for a couple of seconds. When they split, they looked at each other, hearts pounding. Then they realized the door was open. Elenois’s mouth was wide open while Steven was laughing like this was the funniest thing that he had ever seen. Anastacha looked like she was about to puke. Marigold was completely frozen, especially because of her Russian accent. Her parents taught her that Russians were evil. She didn't look evil, though.

Elenois ran in, trying to hug Anastacha as best she could. “Listen, sweetie, I'm not going to tell your mom… because she already knows.” Anastacha was still shaking like a leaf.

Steven was still laughing. “So you're good with gals like your ol’ Uncle Steven?”

Elenois shot him a look. He shut up.

“Anastacha, you're not going to be told on. Francis doesn't care. Nacha doesn't. I don't. Steven doesn't. We're not mad. We don't hate you.” Marigold was frozen, clinging to Anastacha's sleeve. “Who's she?”

Marigold adjusted her glasses, voice shaking. “I'm Marigold.”

Elenois sat next to Anastacha on the bed, keeping distance. “I'm Elenois. I'm not Ana's real aunt, but I act like I am.” 

Marigold's eyes drew up her body, and then down. “You're pretty. You should be a model.” 

Steven immediately walked in. “She is.” Marigold was intimidated by him immediately. He was six feet tall, built, and looked like he could bench press Nacha like she weighed nothing at all. Here he was, stumbling around the apartment with an unlit cigarette in his coat pocket. 

Elenois scoffed. “He is military. Dumb boy, if you can't tell. He is my boyfriend.” 

“I'm not that dumb, Ellie,” Steven responded, accent smooth. This was confusing to everyone involved. “We jus’ caught you two kissin’. I'm not gonna embarrass y'all. I mean… I'll kiss her if it makes y'all feel better. I'm not gonna go talking to D.D.D or parents about y'all either. Not my business.” Elenois nodded. 

“Mmm… you don't have to. Thanks for not trying to get us killed.” Anastacha was looking down at her feet.

“You go talk to mama, okay? I think I wanna talk to your girlfriend.” Elenois smiled. Steven took this as his cue to leave.

Marigold looked up at Elenois, eyes wide. “Everyone in this family wants to talk to me.” 

Elenois stayed the same distance from Marigold, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. “Do they, now?”

Marigold nodded.

“Did Francis have his science talk with you yet?” She started, shifting slightly.

Marigold fidgeted with her fingers. “I asked him, actually. I like science.”

Elenois continued. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“A doctor.” Marigold said, voice shaking. “Francis said I could do it. That he would support me if I went to college. My parents said I'd be in a lot of trouble if I even thought about ruining myself for my future husband by getting higher education. My mom said my brother would be better off as a doctor than me.”

She tilted her head. “Why is that an insult? Besides it being wrong to say in general.”

Marigold scoffed. “My older brother, Damien, is blind. They're saying that a blind man could be a better doctor than a woman.” 

“That's quite rude.” Elenois frowned. “Is Francis your teacher? He should be.”

Marigold shakes her head.

“You know, with her parents around, with me and Steven, and her ‘grandparents’ you two are safe around here. Don't tell anyone else.” Elenois scooted a bit closer. “If you need anything, come to my room, 01-04.”

Marigold nodded. “Thank you, Ma'am.”

“Anything for someone Ana loves.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We have your work uniform all ready for you, Otto!” Franklin called from the bottom of the stairs. “Ordered specifically from your mentor at the restaurant.”

Otto ran down the stairs. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad! He got a uniform. Maybe a little waiter outfit, or a suit like his dad got. He was so very wrong.

“Meet your tutor, Otto! She left you a little note.” Diana started laughing. 

Otto pulled a small slip of paper out from the bag. A note in pretty, swirly handwriting with a small smiley face at the end. 

“Otto, here's your new uniform. I hope you like it as much as I did!” -Nacha

Otto frowned. “Who's Nacha?”

“Put that uniform on and you'll find out.” Diana replied, gulping down a laugh. 

Otto pulls the uniform out. A long sleeved white top, at least two sizes too big, tailored beautifully for a large, curvy woman, with a long, huge blue skirt that made him look like a little girl wearing her mom's clothes. 

Otto near-shrieked. “You're gonna make me wear these?!”

Both parents burst into laughter. “Put it on!’ his mother cackled. He did. The sleeves swallowed his hands. The chest was gaping, the waist less so. The skirt was slipping off, and the name was still embroidered in the shirt. “Nacha J. Mikaelys, Chef”

“Is this that waitress’s old uniform?! Why is this so big?!” 

Both parents continued to laugh. Franklin clutched his stomach, Diana was bent over so far she nearly fell off the chair. 

“She's not a waitress. She's our head chef. And you're dressed like her!” Diana continued to laugh.

When Otto’s older sister came downstairs, holding his baby brother, she started laughing too.

“No way, Otto! You got kitchen duty? And that uniform? You look like a little girl!” She was howling with laughter. His older sister worked as the hostess at Tymann's. Otto thought he was too good for kitchen work. 

Otto's face was bright red. “Why do I deserve this?”

Franklin cut in, still laughing “you broke a girl's arm, Otto. You hurt her, bad. And now we're giving you a taste of your own medicine. Normally, it'd be an eye for an eye, but I don't think I want to break my kid's arm to make a point.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steven and Francis had locked themselves in the bedroom. They laid together, side by side, just staring at the ceiling. 

“I think I want to marry her.” Francis eventually choked out. “I've been thinking about it for a while.”

“You have, now?” Steven turned to him. 

“I have. We've only been together for–”

Steven shushed him. “It's been long enough, don't you think?” 

“Okay. That's true. But I have something to tell you. Don't immediately report to headquarters.” His hands were shaking, and he dropped the normal speech habits. He was serious. 

“Remember how I was talking about ‘German Pretty Girl’ a couple months ago?” 

“The girl you were supposed to marry, but couldn't?” Steven nodded. “Got pregnant?”

“Steven, that's Nacha. Nacha was the girl I impregnated. The guilt is eating me alive. She had to live with Lois and Roman. Her parents kicked her out ”

Steven’s eyes widened. “Really? I'm sorry.”

Francis flipped to face Steven. “Don't feel bad for me, Steven. Feel bad for her! She's been raising a kid all on her own.”

“I do, Francis. I really do. Is she mad at you?” Steven took his sunglasses off. 

“No. She doesn't blame me. I just don't want that to affect us getting married, if she even wants to marry me.”

Steven sat up. “Have you seen the way she looks at you? The way she acts around you?”

“What does that matter? She has rights. I'm not going to be a jerk.” Francis seemed more agitated now, fists balling up. “The least I can do is treat her well after I left her alone with Anastacha.” 

“She loves you more than she's loved anyone. She tried to date people, but I'd hear her crying some nights to Ellie about how terrible they were. You didn't hear their phone call, did you?” Steven scooted closer to Francis, feigning calmness. “Nacha would not shut her mouth about how much she loved you.”

“Really?” Francis said, letting out a deep breath.

“She did say she wanted to settle down with you.” 

Francis stopped panicking. She didn't lie to anyone–especially Elenois.

“I should buy her a ring.” Francis muttered, face turning bright red.

“Do it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Apparently, his apartment phone doesn't make calls out this far, David. That's why our son doesn't call us.” Angelina Mosses flipped through the pages of Francis's typed letter. “He said he's got a girlfriend, but might have some issues asking her father for his blessing. That, and she's got a 13 year old.” she begins to read off part of the letter. “Mum and Dad, I put a photo of my girlfriend and her daughter in the envelope.”

David smiled. “A girlfriend, With a kid? Our Francis wants to marry someone already? I'm glad.”

Angelina whipped around. “No, David. Wanna see the photo of her he sent?”

“I’d like to see Fran’s new bird.” David walked over. A black and white photo of Francis and Nacha, with Anastacha in the middle. “Is that the German girl? And…”

“Nacha. Yes, it's Nacha. They met again and he wants to marry her. Do you not see the issue?” Angelina’s fist balled up.

“It's been almost fourteen years, Angie. We can't act like it was her fault anymore. He deserves to be happy.”

She sighed, fist uncurling, crescents dug into her palm. “I just think–”

“We should have let them be married.” He walked over to his wife, placing his hand on her shoulder. “We should at least give her a chance. Maybe she's a good wife.” 

Angelina nodded weakly, looking at the photo again. “Look at their daughter. She looks just like Francis.”

David smiled. “We should try to talk to them.”

“Nacha isn't going to want to talk to me, David. I ruined her life, didn't I? I still think she's… disgusting, but I can't pretend like I didn't hurt her.”

“Look.” David mumbled. “I think we should give him grace. He's our son, and it's not like Frank is out doing anything good. Maybe we could go out. It would be a good distraction for all of this. Tymann's?”

“Baby,” Angelina gripped onto his shirt. “Nacha works there. What if she thinks we're crazy parents?” 

“Everything will be fine. Maybe she won't see us.” 

“... Let's call the Mikaelys’ apartment. Her Parents.”

“Angelina, that's a terrible idea.” David went to stop her, but it was too late. She dialed, the phone rang, and an American woman picked up.

“Hello?” The woman answered, confused. “Are you calling to make a reservation?”

“No. I'm trying to call–” 

“Ma'am, I don't know what you're talking about.” The woman had a strange tone in her voice. “We've been a hotel for ten years.’

“Well wherever you are, there must have been a few houses ten years ago, because this is the residence of my in-laws.” Angelina added.

“... Ma'am, I'm going to look at something. I have some old files for callers like you.” You could hear paper ruffling. “Who are you trying to call?”

“Leopold Mikaelys.” Angelina was calming down now.

“I'm sorry, but the records show that they haven't been here since 1942. Their reason for moving out was going back to… West Germany.”

Angelina hung up on the spot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Steven and Elenois left the apartment a few hours after the little “incident,” Francis started to fiddle with files. He couldn't make a call to Germany, especially off of Nacha's phone. He wouldn't be able to afford it, and off of her phone? She'd be the one charged $4 a minute. Was it worth the price? A ten minute call would be almost as much as the ring he wanted to buy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marigold stayed in Anastacha's room a bit longer, head on her shoulder. Anastacha was honestly horrified about what had happened. Marigold didn't really care. In the room over, you could hear the shower running–Nacha getting ready for a closing shift at Tymann's. Anastacha breathed deeply against Marigold's arm. 

“Mmm…” Anastacha mumbled. “I know I'll see you tomorrow, but I don't want you to leave.” 

“I don't want to leave either, Ana. But I have to.” Marigold ruffled Anastacha's hair. “My parents might ship me off here this weekend anyways.”

She nuzzled deeper into Marigold’s dress. Marigold shifted to make sure her cast wasn't being pressed on. “Hope so.”

Knock knock. Francis opens the door a crack. “Marigold? Your… Mmm.. parents called. I got to take you home.”

Marigold nodded, getting out of Anastacha's bed. She kissed Anastacha on the forehead. “Are you coming with me?”

Francis sighed. “Nope. She has to go to Tymann's with mom. Internship. They want her working when she turns 14, so she's going to go do training.” Anastacha nodded weakly. 

“Mmm… sorry, Mari.” Anastacha hugs Marigold. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Annie.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You really live way out here.” Francis turned a corner in Washington Park, driving near a particularly large neighborhood. “This is where I used to live.”

“Wait, you lived right down the street from my parents?” Marigold peered at the house. No lights on, empty driveway. The sun was setting, leaving a rich golden glow on the house. 

“Yeah. They're out. Mmm… I wonder what they're up to. Hey, Marigold?”

Marigold looked up. He didn't meet her eyes, focused on the road. “Yes?”

“Come over again. I'll teach you about science. I don't care what your parents say. Say my girlfriend is teaching you how to be a housewife.”

Marigold nods. “Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nacha had free time at work. The restaurant was slow, all of the chefs on duty were doing their job. Franklin was actually at the restaurant today, Anthony was sick, so the owner went around ensuring quality and supervising everything that was going on, so she had no work for a bit. Then, Franklin walked by and tapped her shoulder. 

“Hey, Nacha?” He stayed low. “Hate to do this, but could you go check a tab? It's over $20. You don't have to bug them unless they start acting sneaky. I don't think they'll do anything bad. It's just policy after our opening weekend. I would have Otto do it, but I'm making him mop.” 

Nacha nods. “Yes, of course. Which table?”

He shudders. “Emelia’s section.” The name made Nacha shudder. “There's only one table. I don't remember the number off the top of my head, but you'll know.” Nacha nodded and walked away. She tried to stifle her words, swallowing, pretending she was American. It hurt.

As she approached, her throat caught. Francis's parents, sitting there talking. She stayed at a distance, suddenly acting like her notepad was the most interesting thing in the world. To her horror, Angelina looked up at her, and immediately tapped David. He swallowed, looked up, and went white as a sheet. 

“Nacha.” Angelina whispered. Nacha thought about running away, about going and telling the owner she couldn't stomach being around that table, telling him what happened. But she didn't. She approached, slowly.

“Long time, no see.” David smiled at her, almost sickeningly sweet. 

Nacha still didn't speak, barely able to choke out her professional spiel about policy. “I'm sorry. I had to come over for a tab check.” 

“We don't mind, Honey. We're not going to skip out. He has our money.” Angelina looked like she was going to puke. What one of them said could make or break their reputation with her. Angelina sighs, fidgeting with her hands under the table. “How's your kid?”

Nacha's heart drops. “She's good. Starting high-school next year.”

David perks up. “What did you decide to name her?”

Nacha swallows, throat tight and uncomfortable. “Anastacha. Anastacha Francine Mikaelys.” Everything got tense. Angelina's fork could have bent in her hand with how tight she grabbed it. David choked on his water.

“That's a beautiful name.” David added. Nacha began to loosen up. “Reminds me of Francis.”

“That was the point.” Her accent began to slip. “How have you two been?”

“We haven't seen Francis since he was in college. We're not sure what Frank is doing nowadays. He could be anywhere with anyone.” Angelina sighed. “Francis sent us a letter. I'm so sorry.”

Nacha's brows furrowed. “If you want to meet your granddaughter, she'll be walking around at any moment. She's being trained to work here.” 

Was this conversation not going well? Was Nacha still so angry she could kick them out and not care one bit? They couldn't tell. Nacha turned around. She had a smile, but she seemed extremely upset. I mean, why wouldn't she be? Of course, at that moment, Diana walked out having Anastacha trail behind like a duckling. She was in a pale pink uniform, standard for the waitresses. Nacha sighed, turning back to them. Her shoulders were tense. She was clearly mad.

“That's her.” she mumbled, flatly.

Angelina smiled. “Oh, she's a stunning young woman.” 

Nacha didn't say anything.

David smiled awkwardly, pushing food around. “We don't wanna keep you from your job too long. Just… don't be a stranger, yeah?” 

Nacha seemed taken aback. She had so many words to say. “You ruined my life.” “I'm stuck here because my parents went back to Berlin without me.” “The only reason you recognize me is because your youngest son bought me groceries when this job didn't pay enough to feed me and my baby girl.” “You called me a prozzie kraut when I was fourteen years old, and now I have to forgive you?” but she kept them all inside. She took a shaky breath, exhaled, and forced a smile. 

“Thank you for stopping in here.” And then she walked away. Face burning, tears pricked at her eyes. As soon as she walked back into the kitchen, things were busier. She tried to distract herself, walking around and checking orders, but ultimately couldn't take it. She started crying silently, hiding it using her hair. That didn't last long. Diana walked back, letting Anastacha try out serving on her own for a table that agreed.

“Nacha, Anastacha is just the best worker–Oh, why are you crying? What happened?” Diana rushed over, looking Nacha up and down. 

Taking a shaky inhale, Nacha leaned against the nearby wall. “The table I had to check on. Was… my boyfriend's parents.”

Diana raised an eyebrow. 

“It's a long story.” Nacha said, wiping her tears the best she could.

“I have a while.” Diana responded.

Nacha began to speak steadily. “I’m a teen mom. I got pregnant at thirteen, gave birth at fourteen. I'm only twenty-seven.” She could see Diana's heart drop. “My parents wanted me to get married, my boyfriend, ironically, was the same one I had in high school. His parents said some awful things to me. They forced him to move–i was broke half of the time at this job. After your husband got control over everything and not his brother, I actually had a liveable wage.”

Diana started stuttering while she talked. “You're twenty seven? She's… almost fourteen?”

“Yep. The milkman here? My boyfriend.” Nacha sighs. “Anastacha is his kid. Biologically.”

“He's a nice man. I'm so sorry. That must have been traumatizing for a little girl.”

“My parents kicked me out when I didn't get married. They moved back to my home country without me, and I went and lived with this public accountant and his wife. They saved my life.” Nacha seemed less scared now.

Diana cocked her head. “Where were you born?”

“Berlin, West Germany. English isn't my first language. I learned English from my friends and working here. I'm more comfortable speaking German, but I don't want to get hurt.”

“Oh, sweetheart… please tell me my brother in law had some sympathy for you and gave you at least a livable wage.”

“Nope. A while ago, when Anthony had the majority of control, he barely paid me. I was probably 90 pounds, because I wasn't really eating. In the past.. almost year, since Francis and you two being back, I've gained all of my high school weight back and then some. I'd rather be like this, instead of weak and tiny like I was.” 

Diana looked sick. “Seriously? And you've had a teenage daughter? Do you have any files with this information?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Because I'm getting this Cad fired.” Diana walked off swiftly, yelling for her husband. “Franklin, get over here before Anthony gets it!”

She stood there, confused, before going back to her job like it was any other day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Francis was at home. After dropping Marigold off, he had went to the Washington Park bookstore and hunted for more textbooks. He found a couple science related ones for cheap, and one for German language learning. It was a spur of the moment decision, but he figured one thing. If he was going to ask to marry a German woman, he'd better do it right. Going up to the clerk, a friend from highschool, was pretty difficult.

“Hey, Francis! Haven't seen you in ages.” The man said, smiling ear to ear.

“Mmm… Hello.” He handed the books to the clerk.

 The clerk wasn't shocked, until he reached the German textbook. “German, huh? What's this about?” He poked at the cover. “I haven't seen you in ten years, and now you're out here with all this new stuff. Are you a doctor, or something?”

Francis pointed at the German textbook. “I'm going to ask my girlfriend to marry me in her first language. I'm also going to ask for her father’s blessing in the only language he speaks.” He shifted his hand over to the science textbooks. “These are for my daughter's best friend. She wants to be a doctor, and I'll be blowed if I'm not the one helping her out.”

The clerk scoffed. “You're with a German girl? You have a daughter, and you're unmarried? You're helping someone who wants to be a female doctor? Are you some kind of sissy now? You were tough in high school.”

Francis looked down, not letting the comment shake him. “Mmm…I'm still tough. You know what happened to me my sophomore year.” 

The clerk shook his head. “Well who cares? You should at least try to discourage that little girl. She should be a housewife.”

“Ring me up, would you?”

Francis pays, grabs the books, and walks out without another word. He mumbled something under his breath, quiet enough for nobody else to hear. 

The laziest of days call for laying down on the couch and simply watching your phone.

Or at least, that's what Anastacha expected her afternoon would usually be, except there was quite literally a pretty girl sitting on the couch next to her with her hands on her laps and with no phone in either of their hands because both Marigold and Anastacha had theirs taken away by Marigold's mom moments before Tacha visited so they'd be able to have a more 'authentic' hangout like, Mmm. Back in the good ol' days, or whatever these boomers like to say.

Marigold slowly glanced towards her before quickly averting her gaze and forcing her pupils back towards her lap. The air was stuffy despite the air conditioning, making even Anastacha begin to sweat bullets as she glanced back and forth between Marigold and the TV that had been turned on but wasn't playing anything either of them liked at that hour, so the only thing left to do was stare.

Stare until this all turned out to just be a silly dream that Anastacha was having because her mind likes to torture her subconscious with imaginations when it was anxious about anything. Stare until maybe the TV melts to the ground and becomes a more interesting point of conversation. Stare until the time has already passed by and Anastacha eventually have to leave early under the excuse of chores.

Because clearly, some people or rather adults, sure like to ruin the fun for two girls who just wanted to hang out like the teenagers they are. And it wasn't like Anastacha hadn't been hanging out with Marigold in ways that didn't involve cellphones---they've gone to the park before and uh, went to the park some more… Okay, maybe it was a necessary sacrifice, Anastacha grumbled to herself. But it was just that today was supposed to be a day when they'd show each other stupid Tiktoks and laugh at even stupider comment sections together. Just one casual, chill and lazy day. Was that too much to ask for? Her and Marigold hadn't been hanging out for that long either which was probably why she expected too much from her parents that they already established as rich snobs.

"I'm sorry, Ana," Marigold said with a genuine sorrow to her tone that it made Anastacha perk up and look at her incredulously.

"Are you kidding? It's not your fault, Mari, you shouldn't say sorry for everything, you know." Anastacha rolled her eyes with a small grin on her face.

Marigold blinked, as if she couldn't believe that her friend didn't just unleash hell on her for something she didn't even do. "I just… Well, this is actually my first time having any friends over. So I guess my parents are wary."

"Yeah, I can tell, they've been walking in on us like every 15 minutes or so." Anastacha scrunched her nose and furrowed her brows when she saw Marigold's dad walk in to pick up a conveniently small item on the desk next to them once more. "Don't you get suffocated? I mean, with all these…" Marigold's brow narrowed. "Traditions that they follow and believe in, I'd have probably been disowned and kicked out in your place."

"Yeah… They're not very understanding parents, and neither are they, um, I guess you can say, very open-minded. You saw it earlier when they were looking at you funny."

"For my outfit?" Anastacha looked down at the classic goth outfit she had on and scoffed. "Yeah, no kidding, who the fuck wears an actual MAGA hat in their everyday wear? That's gotta be a knew level of Trump c-"

"Shhhhhh!" Marigold placed an index finger on both of their lips and Anastacha, fully taken aback, had her breath hitch in her throat and a blush color her cheeks. "My parents can't hear you say that or else they'll kick you out…"

At the thought of bumming both her and Marigold for the rest of the day just because she said something that didn't quite please her unpleasing parents, Anastacha sighed and made a motion of zipping her mouth. Marigold mouthed a thanks and it was only then that she recalled her finger that was still on her friend's lips and she quickly averted her eyes and put it away.

"Mmm, y'know, we should totally get out of here."

"I thought you wanted a couch day?"

"Yeah, but that was when I thought we'd get to keep our phones and just laugh at memes, or whatever."

Marigold tilted her head to the side and leaned against the couch cushion. "As long as it's not somewhere dangerous…"

"You remember that boy we saw beating up that jerk---Kyle---in front of the school gates two weeks ago?"

"The blonde one with the scary eyes?" Marigold's brow twitched and furrowed as she curled her fingers against her sides. "After that, you said you felt sick and went home. Did he- did he do anything bad to you?"

Anastacha smirked and leaned back to rest her head against the headrest and meet Marigold's eyes. "Well, I followed him yesterday."

"You what-?!"

"Shh, keep your voice down."

Marigold sighed but complied. "So after that, what…?"

"Turned out he really likes going to this junkyard spot. I overheard him murmuring something about two weeks. Maybe he came back today."

"A-are you sure? Junkyards are pretty scary… And that boy was also scary…"

"He's fine, a bit of a lousy thrower, but just generally really quiet. Maybe you can teach him a thing or two since you're smart, Mari." When Marigold's eyes widened at the compliment, Anastacha smiled back shyly. "Well, only if you want, of course. I'm not telling you to just teach the guy, obvi. You're way too cool to just be some guy's tutor. There are also other things we can do, like, tag or find a can and use our slippers to hit it."

"Is that a game where your dad's from, Ana?"

"Y-yeah, tumbang preso." Anastacha stammered. She pursed her mouth shut, stopping herself from rambling any longer than she uncharacteristically had to.

"…It sounds fun." Marigold smiled wide. "Sure. As for the boy… I'll- I'll try! I used to love tutoring my little cousins who were a grade younger than me before we moved."

"Mmm." Anastacha breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad. Maybe it'll get your spark back, or whatever."

"Hopefully!" Marigold grabbed both of Anastacha's hands and looked into her eyes. "Let's go, then!"

Anastacha blinked rapidly and glanced quickly at their entwined hands before averting her gaze from Marigold's. She didn't know where this newfound enthusiasm came from all of a sudden, but if she was down for it, then there was nothing to complain about. Her excitement was somewhat infectious as well, making Anastacha actually excited to go to a dilapidated setting of ruined cars and garbage piles which she never would have predicted in her entire life.

"Whatever. Let's go."

The door wasn't that much taller than Marigold, still, it stood there tall and imposing over her, as if it contained a dimension to another world. And to the poor, anxious girl who was about to meet her girlfriend's parents for the first time ever, it could practically be a ticket to heaven or hell.

"Mmm, relax," Anastacha held her hand firmly in her own and interlaced their fingers, squeezing it softly. "My parents aren't going to be like yours, don't worry. They're cool with it, with… us."

Marigold smiled towards her sheepishly, "I know, Ana. I mean, they created a unique and wonderful girl like you, so…"

Anastacha's eyes widened, her cheeks dusted with light pink and she snorted. "Then there's nothing to worry about, Mari. Come on." She stepped forward and tugged Marigold's arm forward. Though still reluctant, Marigold took that one step forward and Anastacha smiled back at her before pushing open the door.

They didn't even get three steps in before Anastacha paused in her steps and Marigold halted beside her. A plump red-haired woman who was about the same height as Tacha hurried over towards them while removing her mittens.

When she was finally standing in front of them, Marigold perked up and the pink on her cheeks deepened into a shade of red.

"Willkommen zu hause, Tacha! Und…" Nacha blinked at Marigold beside her and Anastacha cleared her throat. "Oh! My apologies for ze German, dear. You must be Marigold, correct?"

Anastacha internally facepalmed herself at the huge grin that her mom had on. "Mmm, yeah, she wanted to finally meet you and dad, or whatever."

"I'm- I'm Marigold Reed, nice to meet you, ma'am…" Marigold couldn't help but stare at Tacha's mom---well, how couldn't she? Her mom had the most gorgeous green and blue eyes, and she also had freckles (which, to Marigold, were just the prettiest dotted stars on someone's face). She's so pretty…

Anastacha glanced towards Marigold from her periphery and nudged her out of her stupor. Marigold flinched and glanced at Anastacha then back towards her mom. They're both so pretty.

Nacha giggled and smiled up at her, "I've heard a lot of things about you from my little Tacha! And you are indeed as tall as she said you were… Oh! Since Francis isn't here yet, do you want to help me reach the pantry?"

"Mom, there's a stool in the kitchen," Anastacha rolled her eyes, but didn't actually mind her mom's antic much.

Nacha smiled. "Oh come now, Tacha, your maman is getting old and need some help around the kitchen every once in a while. It'd give me and Mari here a chance to have some girl talk too!"

Anastacha exhaled. "Whatever, that's up to Mari to decided."

Marigold perked up when she felt Anastacha's gaze boring straight into her soul and she straightened her posture on her mary janes before responding enthusiastically, "Yes, ma'am!"

"Oh, dear," Nacha chuckled and Anastacha shook her head with a small smirk. "You can just call me Nacha, or auntie Nacha, maybe even mom if you wanted."

Anastacha squeezed Marigold's hand while she struggled to school her expression into complete nonchalance. The knot in her throat relaxed from its hold a little and she squeaked out, "Y-yes… auntie…"

Nacha heaved a breath and supposed that that was enough teasing for the poor nervous wreck that was Marigold. One day, she'll get her to call her mom, but for now… "This way, missy! Kommst du mit, Ana?"

"Nein," Tacha shook her head. "Ich warte, bis papa kommt, damit ich ihm von Marigold erzählen kann."

Marigold didn't understand a single word except her name and a 'papa'. She's probably going to look for her dad.

"Na gut, Tacha, komm einfach in die Küche, wenn du fertig bist."

Anastacha released her hand from her grasp and hesitated for a moment before giving Marigold a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll be in the living room if you need me, or whatever."

Marigold nodded, though a bit confused that she wasn't going to look for her dad after all. "Okay." Anastacha walked off and Nacha tutted to get her attention.

When she finally got her attention, Nacha turned in the direction of the kitchen and motioned for Marigold to follow her with a flick of her wrist. "Alright, this way, dearie!"

Marigold followed suit in Nacha's footsteps, stepping into the mini-kitchen that was in the corner of their living room. It was rather lively, with colorful wooden decors of positive quotes like 'Live, Laugh, Love' and 'A House is Temporary, but A House is Forever' hanging beside the fridge and one over the countertop next to a towel. Even the fridge had tiny magnet letters stuck on the door, forming the names of Anastacha and her parents---Ana, Nacha, and Francis.

So that's her dad's name… I wonder if Ana looks a lot like him?

From what she knew of him, he majored in Food Science and studied in Washington State University. Double U freaking State University. Marigold once told Anastacha about her desire to major in a medical degree there and it was the first thing she brought up. Her mind already raced with questions she wanted to ask him---what kind of college was WSU like? Did the mascot really look terrifying? Wait, what is college even like?

"Mari!" Broken out of her stupor, Marigold turned around to find Nacha staring at her with a concerned look in her eyes. "Are you okay? Is the summer heat too much? Oh, I apologize for not having air conditioning in this house!"

Marigold blinked rapidly and shook her head just as fast. "No- no, auntie! I'm fine… I was just… lost in thought. It's not that hot, don't worry about me."

"Oh, phew," Nacha placed a hand over her chest and let out a breath of relief. "You scared me, honey! I was just pointing which cabinet I needed you to reach for me but you didn't respond so I had to check. You looked like your mind was elsewhere!"

"You could say that," Marigold chuckled nervously.

Nacha reassured her with a soft smile and took that as a sign to change the topic. "Alright, dear, I just need you to grab the box of flour from this cabinet here-!" she huffed and got on her tiptoes to point at the second cabinet to the left. Marigold outstretched her hands in front of her out of an irrational fear that she might suddenly trip over her foot, but let them fall back to her sides with an exhale as Nacha laid flat on her feet once more. "Is that doable for you?"

"Of course, auntie." Marigold stepped in front of the cabinet, got on her tiptoes, and opened it before taking the blue and white box of all-purpose flour from within anticlimactically.

Nacha clapped her hands enthusiastically, "Oh, thank you, Mari! You're a great help!" Marigold handed the box to her and laid back flat on her heels while Tacha's mom set the flour down on top of the counter. "I'm going to make pretzels with this, it's Tacha's favorite. What about you, Mari?"

"Um- pretzels are sweet! They make for a delicious light snack and…" She hung her head low and gazed down at the floor. "…I really like the chocolate-coated ones you made a few weeks ago for Tacha."

"Ooh, so she did share them with you after all," Nacha nodded and hummed approvingly. "Well, lucky for you, I do have some melted chocolate chilling in the fridge today! Just sit back and relax while this old lady makes dough. Or maybe you'd like to go to the living room and talk with your girlfriend until this is done!"

Marigold briefly considered finding Tacha in the living room and hanging out with her while waiting for the pretzels to bake, but she shook her head. "I think I'll stay here and talk with you, miss auntie."

Nacha grinned toothily. "Make yourself comfortable then!"

And she did. Marigold walked over to the lone table in the corner of the kitchen covered with a blue checkered tablecloth and conveniently surrounded by exactly four chairs.

While Marigold slid into a seat, Nacha spared no time and poured two cups of flour into an already available bowl sitting atop the counter. Marigold watched as she grabbed a salt shaker and tapped it three times, raining salt onto the flour before setting aside.

Marigold can't help but be mesmerized by the focus and precision that Ana's mother had while making the dough. Next, she grabbed the bowl of activated yeast mixture that she had set aside to dry earlier and poured it into the flour. Nacha washed her hands thoroughly before beginning to knead the bread slowly and firmly.

"Well, dear? Don't just go quiet on me! I remember Anastacha told me you're quite the chatterbox and that we would get along."

"Did- did she?" Marigold nervously scratched the side of her neck. "I only ever do that around her because she's… well, she's a great listener and- and a great responder too!"

"Oh, honey, breathe." Nacha giggled. "I'm glad my Tacha is not the only one who's head over the heels after all. I'm curious… How did it happen? Who confessed first?"

"Well…" Marigold swallowed and trailed off as she remembered the very moment that led to the confession and the confession itself that still left her feeling a little lightheaded and touching her lips. "We were having a fieldtrip, then. It was at a zoo. Me and Tacha got separated from the group so we went to a lion enclosure and I was just looking at the lions when suddenly she was gone from my side. I was so scared… But I chose to trust Tacha and stay put while thinking of ways to calm down my nerves. This one lioness seemed to notice my emotional turmoil and came up to the glass to say hi. When I turned to look back, Ana was already there… It spooked me so badly that I didn't even notice the flowers and the mixtape she was holding! And well…" Marigold looked up to find Nacha looking at her expectantly while her hands kneaded on autopilot.

"Go on…"

Marigold blushed and sank into her seat. "I was a bit taken aback because I've never actually seen a mixtape before. I thought they were already gone after CDs became a thing, and also Spotify. But she told me to listen to the mixtape so I did, and it was… well, I recognized that song! It was a girl in red song, and…" Another gulp. "She shoved the bouquet into my hand then and asked if she could be my girlfriend. I… I never thought Anastacha actually liked girls! I mean, I had a hunch, but…"

"Well? What did you say?"

"A bunch of stuff, I was a mess. But ultimately… My answer was yes."

Nacha audibly let out a loud 'aww' which made Marigold turn the shade of a ripened tomato.

Just then, two more figures entered the room and looked at Nacha who was glowing then at the poor teenage girl who was red in the face.

"Mmm, mama, what did you do?"

"Just as mutti should! You didn't tell me you were such a romantic, Ana. Making quite the grand gesture…"

It took a slow blink and a flash of red to color her cheek for Anastacha to audibly groan, whining, "Mama! This is why I never told you the full thing! Ugh, it wasn't even that grand…"

"Mmm, did I miss something…?" Francis stepped in beside Anastacha.

"You came at just the right time, Francis! Our girls have a lot to tell us."

Anastacha shook her head.

Today's first meeting between her parents and Marigold was going to be longer than she thought.