#grumpsterkitty

The badge didn’t want to stay on his soaked shirt so he just shoved it in his pocket.  He’d check it periodically.  The building was huge and he never wanted to stay in for too long, so there were still sections that were unexplored.  The upper levels of the west wing were a little intimidating, since there was already some structural damage.  But he ventured there anyway.  No electricity, obviously, so the elevators weren’t an option; it took him another half hour to get to an unexplored level.  He pulled a marker out of his pocket and scrawled a big ‘X’ for future endeavors. 

Nothing much of value in the first few rooms.  The third office on the right had two corpses in it.  Dead bodies didn’t much bother him anymore, especially ones that were so old.  But in this case, one of them was lying on a couch, legs crossed at the ankles, hands crossed over the chest, some kind of deteriorated cloth over their face.  The other person might have killed themselves, if the gun lying on the table next to their head was any indication. 

The gun wasn’t really of much value.  Electronics yielded a small amount of useful material.  But the real money was in the jewelry.  Engagement and wedding rings, a gaudy necklace and a few bracelets.  The first time he scavenged from a corpse, he threw up when he got back home.  Ended up burying the rings in the backyard of whatever damn place he was holed up in.  Had nightmares about being haunted by the dead people who wanted their mementos back. 

Today, he brought tools that could snap bone and make his task easier. 

The rings scratched the glass, so probably real diamonds.  There were still people who cared about these things and would pay good money for it.  They might be able to go easy on the work for a couple weeks. 

He thought he heard the building groan when he tried to get at some exposed pipes, so he packed up and slipped out, back into the rain.  The bus was running late, so he got home a little later than expected, but he knew Megan and Joe wouldn’t mind.  They loved the little guy, and the new laws meant they couldn’t keep the bar open after 8pm anyway.  When he was about twenty minutes away, he pulled out his phone and messaged them to let them know he was almost home. 

The key fob didn’t work.  Must be another rolling blackout.  They never had them in the old neighborhood, but there were still definite advantages living over a bar. He went around back and used the door with a manual key.  No candles downstairs, so he went up to where their personal rooms were.   

Then nearly jumped out of his skin when he was met with a round of, “Surprise!” 

Joe was lighting candles on a cake that … appeared to have been frosted by Quark.  There was a large root beer float sitting next to it, along with a small package tied up with yarn. 

“It’s not my birthday,” he muttered as he shrugged of his coat. 

“No, it’s Father’s Day! There’s a Grandfather’s Day too, but nobody could remember when it was.”  

Oh. Was it? He imagined some people still celebrated it. It was frowned upon to be procreating in this world, and only idiots still raised their kids if they did end up creating one. He saw the looks he got walking around with Quark. And that jackass in their old town who bragged to everyone about having a mother only guaranteed their status as social pariahs. 

Quark’s smile faltered a little in response to his silence. He held out a piece of paper, and as Junpei took it, he realized it was a drawing. He didn’t think Quark had any crayons left. It was probably supposed to be the two of them, walking somewhere.  

“I made the cake with real eggs, too.” 

HIs mind was reeling a little at how much this would have cost, but he ignored it for now. 

“Sounds great.” He rubbed his temple to try and stifle the headache building. “Thank you, Quark.” 

“Well blow out the damn candles,” Megan nagged him. 

He did as instructed, careful to only extinguish the ones on the cake and not the others lighting the room. When Quark insisted on cutting the pieces, Joe asked Junpei to come downstairs with him to grab a knife and some plates. They had one flashlight and fortunately Megan must have made sure the batteries were recharged, as it came to life as Junpei pressed the switch. 

“You could try to look a little more enthusiastic,” Joe chided him. 

“I’ll pay you back for whatever that all costs.” 

“Don’t worry about it. He saved up his allowance for this.” 

“I know what he gets for allowance,” Junpei said as Joe handed him a stack of plates. “And I know what eggs and root beer cost.” 

“You’re the first boarder in a long time who paid the full rent on time every month. I told Quark his allowance covered it. So don’t worry about it.” He held up a knife and frowned at it, putting it down and picking up another, running his finger over the edge. “This should be dull enough that he can’t cut himself. Now when we get up there, act happier. He put a lot of effort into this.” 

The lights came back on while they were going upstairs.  

“About damn time,” Joe grumbled. “This is the third one this week. I’m starting to worry about our power grid.” 

“Starting?” he muttered under his breath. As they re-entered the room, he made an effort to smile. Quark looked a little apprehensive, and he felt bad for not being more grateful. He was still fixated on the cost, the time Quark must have spent doing this, after lying to him about not feeling well, and how he could have been -  

He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to derail that train of thought. When he re-opened them, he forced the smile on his face to look natural and genuine, not … well … forced. 

“Let’s crack into that cake, huh? Haven’t had something with real eggs in it in a while.” 

“I tried to get all the eggshells out. One of them broke really easily and I wasn’t expecting it. And you have to open your present!” 

He held out the box. The “wrapping paper” was clearly a napkin from the bar, complete with stains that just wouldn’t wash out. Rum and some kind of tomato-based sauce, if he had to guess. Junpei undid the yarn that was holding it together let the napkin fall to the table. The box inside was labeled PERISHABLE and smelled like cheese, so he was surprised when there wasn’t food inside, but a small metal trinket. A brooch, actually, shaped like a J. It had seen better times, so it was clearly something Quark had scavenged somewhere. Very girly and ornate, not anything he would actually ever wear, even if donning fancy jewelry wasn’t like putting a target on your back. But he found himself tearing up anyway. 

“Do you like it? There was a whole bunch of letters like that in a building me and David were exploring. I wanted a G for Grandpa but they didn’t have one.” 

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “How long have you been planning this?” 

“Since whenever Miss Megan’s birthday was. She told me about it. If you’re crying, does that mean you don’t like it?” 

Oh. His face was wet. 

“I love it, Quark. It’s the perfect Father’s Day present.” 

The worry instantly left Quark’s face, and he held out a sloppily cut piece of cake. Chocolate, from the looks of it. He … was not going to worry about how much that cost. 

“I bet it’s delicious. Make sure you and Joe and Megan get pieces, too.” 

Quark gave him a huge grin and turned back to the cake, cutting out ridiculously large pieces for everyone. Junpei wiped a bit of schmutz off the fork before digging in. The texture was off, the frosting was grainy, and Quark had definitely not gotten all the eggshells out. 

But it had literally been decades since someone had baked a cake just for him. Decades since he felt that someone … cared about him. Loved him. 

He would protect this little one with his life. 

If she had lost the girls, she probably wouldn’t have been able to forgive Wendy.

To be honest, she hadn’t forgiven Wendy.

Which wasn’t entirely fair; perhaps the bulk of the blame was on the repair technician, or whoever decided to put the copier against the west wall, which had fewer power outlets, or whoever built and wired the building to begin with.

The blood - her blood - looked dark grey on the video.  It looked innocuous, like spilled soda.

She left the job three months after the twins were born, when she was sure they’d all be able to transfer to her husband’s insurance.

(2)

She cursed under her breath as she dropped the first aid kit.  The alcohol wasn’t even in here, she remembered, as she saw the band-aids scattered across the ground.  A tiny drop of blood slid down her ear and onto the Ace bandage.

The doorbell rang just as she managed to find the alcohol in the clutter under the sink.  She sloppily splashed some on a cotton and glanced at herself in the mirror.  The blood hadn’t gotten on her outfit, at least.  The doorbell rang again, and again, and again, as she barreled down the stairs.

“Dammit, when did you get so impatient?  Girls, Liz is early, are you done with -?”

She was cut short when she entered the dining room and saw their dinner plates still on the table, barely touched, and her daughters nowhere to be found.

“Girls?”

The doorbell ringing continued, but she ignored it.  She went through the rest of the house, picking up the pace as each one was empty.  She was only upstairs for what, ten, fifteen minutes?  Just long enough to change and put on her damn earrings. She called out their names as their babysitter kept pressing on the doorbell.

In panic and rage, she stormed to the front door and flung it open, ready to scream.  But it wasn’t Liz, just Nona and Ennea standing there with popsicles in their hands.

“We didn’t realize the door would lock behind us,” Ennea explained.  The grating music from the ice cream truck got louder as it came down their street.

Hazuki allowed herself a sigh of relief before she chastised them.  “You left, without even asking, to get dessert, before you finished dinner?”

Nona just shrugged while Ennea at least had the decency to look embarrassed.  “Mom, come on.  You know they’re the only one who have the blueberry ones we like.  We’ll still eat our dinner.  We promise.”

“We promise,” Nona reiterated.  “Even the carrots.”

“Maybe half the carrots?” Ennea said, a grimace on her face.  “I read if you eat too many, you can turn orange.”

“You eat too many blueberry popsicles, you’re going to turn blue.  You have a perfectly reasonable portion of carrots on your plate and I expect them to be all gone when I’m done.”

Her daughter’s expression changed, from disgust to worry. “Mama, what happened to your ear?  Daddy … he didn’t come by, did he?”

“No.”  Hazuki kneeled in front of them.  “Remember that paper I told you about?  He can’t come here or he’ll get in a lot of trouble.  It’s just been a little while since I wore earrings and my holes must have closed up.  I tried to force it through and I shouldn’t have.  Now finish up your dessert and eat your dinner.”

Her twins exchanged a glance before heading to the dining room.  She took a deep breath and went back upstairs to finish getting ready.  As much as she had wanted to wear her new jewelry, she could see the earlobe swelling up.

There would be time for wearing earrings, later.  Now that she didn’t have to worry about her husband ripping them out of her ear.

(3)

It started to drizzle, but she stayed on the bench. She could see Deanna about to cross the street into the park.  She had her hand on the stack of hundreds in her purse.  Deanna waved at her and Hazuki clenched her teeth.

It was silly.  Nobody had tailed her, she was certain.

Deanna sat next to her, seemingly uncaring that the bench was wet. Hazuki handed over the envelope of cash without a word.

“It’s definitely done?” Deanna asked.

“I think he could appeal, but he probably won’t.  He didn’t actually want the girls.  He just wanted to hurt me.”

“I hate men.”  Hazuki must have made a face, because Deanna laughed.  “I can hate men and still be a hooker.”

“I thought women in your price range called yourselves ‘escorts’.”

“We’re all the same.  Just because I don’t stand on a street doesn’t make me better.”

“Well.  Thank you.”

The smile faded off Deanna's face.  "I've done this before. That wife wanted to get out of a prenup and take his money. Which I could respect. Guy was an asshole. Do you have a picture of your kids?"

The sudden shift in topic left her mental gears spinning for a moment. She supposed there was no danger in it; she had researched Deanna thoroughly before emailing her.  She dug into her bag and pulled out her keys, with the keychain the girls made for her last year.  The picture inside the heart-shaped frame was of the three of them, the girls flanking her on either side, all of them smiling.

As she handed it to Deanna, the other woman looked like she might cry.

"I see my boy a few times a year, and that's it," she said finally.  “My ex didn’t have a problem with what I did when he got to benefit from the money I made.  Then I found out he was having an affair and he needed to tell the court I was an unfit mother so I wouldn’t get custody and he wouldn’t have to pay child support.”

“System is biased against women.”  She took her keys back and tucked them back into her purse.  “I work hard, take belly dancing lessons, and already started dating again.  That was enough to make the judge question if I was a good mom.  If you hadn’t been willing to –”

“Nobody’s going to protect us.  We have to do it ourselves.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments as the rain started to taper off.

“What does your ex do, exactly?”

Deanna snorted.  “He works for a health insurance company.”

“Any idea how good their firewall is?”

(4)

“Excuse me? Hello? Does anyone work in this hospital?!”

The nurse who came over looked exhausted, with dark bags under her eyes; any other day, Hazuki would have felt bad being so harsh, but she had been there for almost ten minutes and hadn’t gotten a single answer.

“Which kid is yours?” the nurse asked in a near monotone.

“Nona and Ennea Kashiwabara. I got a call they were brought here.”

“Ah, the twins.  Yes.  I’ll find their doctor.”

“Wait, are they okay?”  The nurse seemed to ignore her as she walked down the hallway.  “Can someone just tell me if they’re okay?  What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and almost took the man’s head off when she turned around.  He was entirely too tall, with a well-chewed pen stuck behind his ear.

“I’m Detective Lynch.  Can I help you?”

“I just want to find my damn kids!”

“Kashiwabara, right?  The staff here are a little overwhelmed, but your kids are in good hands.  And your girls are okay.  Nona has a scrape on her knee, but that’s the worst of it.”

“Did you interrogate them?  They’re minors. You can’t –”

He held up a hand.  “I met the detective who rescued them at the pier.  I rode with one of your girls here.”

“Did you say the ‘pier’?  The – but – I was told they were found in a building in Nevada.  Where – what the hell happened to them?  They were missing for days!”

Lynch opened his mouth as if to respond, but suddenly seemed distracted by something just off to her left.  She turned to see what he was staring at, but he reached out and took her hand.

“We’re looking into it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “When the nurse comes back, go be with your daughters.  Take them home.  I’ll give you my card.”

He barely took his eyes off her as he pulled out a business card and scribbled something on the back.  He handed it to her and walked off without another word.  His cursive was sloppy, but she could clearly read the message – not safe, text me, I’ll call you.

“Mrs. Kashiwabara?  Your girls are in room 407.”

When she turned around, there was no one there but the tired-looking nurse.

“The … the policeman who found the kids, where is he?  Is he still here?  Can I talk to him?”

“No, ma’am.  I think he went back to the station.  407 is this way.”

She realized she was clenching her fists and had crumbled up Lynch’s card.  But the writing was still legible.

(+1)

“Are you really sure you’re both okay with this?”

Nona cracked open the oven and clucked her tongue.  “Not quite.  And yes, mom, although it’s a little late to ask again now.  And stop eating all the deviled eggs, or you won’t have room for dinner.”

Hazuki rolled her eyes; before she could grab another egg, Ennea swiped the plate out from under her hand.

“Need me to help with anything?”

“Sure mom, you can make the cranberry sauce.”  Nona handed her can and an opener.  Hazuki sighed heavily as she cut the lid off and schlorped the dark red jelly tube into the bowl.

“There, sauce is made.”

“It’ll be good to see Mamoru again.” Ennea told her.

“Oh, you’re on a first name basis now?”  Nona teased.  “What happened to Detective Watanabe?”

“He hates formality and you know it.  Did you know he shares a name with a porn director?”

“Seriously?”

“Girls.”

“It’s true, though,” Ennea insisted.  “The guy did a film called Virgin Rope Makeover.”

“Did Mamoru tell you that?”

“No, mom, the internet is a thing.”  Nona peeked in the oven again. “Ah, finally.”

Hazuki tamped down the urge to remind her daughter that the turkey pan would be hot and heavy and to be careful.  She had never been one of those mothers while her girls were growing up, but ever since … ever since, it was hard not to be overprotective.  As soon as Nona had the turkey out, Ennea put in the pie.  And then the doorbell rang.

“Okay, please no mention of porn directors,” she told her daughters.

Ennea rolled her eyes as she set a timer and followed Nona out to the living room.  When Mamoru came in, he had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the doorjamb.  He inexplicably had a large cardboard box in his hands.

“Hey, so, uh, hi.  I brought wine, but then I realized I didn’t know if you liked red or white, to I got both, but the girls couldn’t drink it, so I got grape juice, but then I realized I didn’t know if they liked red or white, so I just got both of those, too.”

Nona took the box from him and grimaced as if she hadn’t anticipated how heavy it was.  “No worries.”

He shrugged out of his coat and Ennea giggled as she took it from him and put it on herself.  It was so big on her it was practically a dress, and when she held up her arms, it was clear her hands were where his forearms were supposed to be.

“I call it … Three and a Half,” she declared.  Hazuki smiled and Nona chuckled, but Mamoru looked puzzled.

“Oh,” he said finally.  “’Cause I was Seven.”  With that, he let loose a loud guffaw.

“Go on,” Ennea told him.  “Dinner is basically ready.  Do you feel like carving the turkey?  Mom and I usually butcher it when we try.”

“Uh, sure.”  He followed Nona as she hauled the box of beverages into the dining room.

As Hazuki put her arm around Ennea, she heard Nona ask, “Is it true you share a name with a Japanese porn director?”