Chapter Text
"Dinner's pretty much ready, guys."
Haida poked his head past the cropped noren curtain between the kitchen and the living room. He wiped his hands on his apron as he stepped closer to where his wife sat with her father. They were perched across from one another at a card littered coffee table. Her dad leaned back in his recliner while Retsuko was positioned on the couch with her legs spread in a way that was most unladylike, but also most effective at supporting the weight of her abdomen. She was looking intently at her cards while her other hand ghosted absentmindedly down the swell of her belly.
"Mom said it's time to come sit," Haida continued, being more direct; however, even as he said it, he walked over to the pair, curious. He positioned himself just adjacent to Retsuko, placing his hand on the back of the couch behind her. "Who's winning?" he asked.
"Dad, as usual," Retsuko grumbled from below. "He's ahead by like, fifteen points…" she lamented, hanging her head in shame. "And I only have two cards left…"
Haida looked over her shoulder at her hand and winced when all he found were clubs. "Yup, stick a fork in you," Haida joked with a sheepish grin. "I never was any good at this game, either."
"I swear you shuffle to your advantage, and one of these days I'm going to prove it," Retsuko muttered, glaring at her father playfully. "You'd think he'd take it easier on me since I have pregnancy brain," she added, looking back down at her woeful hand. The older panda sat across from her, innocuous as ever.
"Now where's the fun in that?" he asked, the curve of his lips steadfast. Retsuko sighed in exasperation and tossed her remaining two cards down in a show of surrender.
"You're a hustler," the younger panda accused; her father merely chuckled in reply, flipping over his cards to reveal the ace of spades, at which Retsuko balked, "How??"
"Strategy," her father said casually as he began to gather the cards. "And long sleeves," he added. His smirk widening to define his crows feet in response to Retsuko put upon expression.
"How could you? My own flesh and blood??" Retsuko gasped in mock offense, earning another jovial laugh from both her father and her husband.
"Stop cheating at Two-Ten-Jack and come eat!" chided her mother, who had materialized in the doorway sometime in the interim. "Haida and I worked very hard on this dinner, at least act like you're excited about it."
"We're coming!" Retsuko and her father said in unison, unphased by the matriarchal bluster. Retsuko shifted her hips a bit with some effort and looked up at her husband, who was still poised at her side. She raised her arms expectantly and Haida smiled as he leaned down to take hold of her, securely helping her to her feet.
Sunday dinner at her parents house became a common occurrence very shortly after they'd come clean about Retsuko's condition. Rather than an intentional choice, it was a routine they naturally fell into. In the beginning, there was always a reason. Retsuko would have more sonograms to show them, while Haida wanted to work on digitizing her childhood photos. Her mother would call because she'd gotten extra baby clothes from her friend down the street, or her dad would request for Haida to address any number of problems their family computer was wrought with that week. However, as winter gave way to spring, they stopped making excuses. It was simply understood that they'd be there biweekly, and nobody questioned it.
"So are those servers back up at your work yet?" Retsuko's father asked Haida before bringing a bite of rice to his mouth. The hyena shook his head as he finished chewing his mouth full of fish cake.
"No not yet, unfortunately," he answered, "We're going on the third week."
"They've had him pulling a lot of overtime," Retsuko commented.
"Yeah, it's really just me and one other coworker who know the ins and outs of that system, so we've kinda had our hands full," Haida explained, his exasperation showing despite his best attempts at hiding it.
"Make sure you're not overdoing it," Retsuko's mother chimed from across the table. Haida shook his head to dismiss her concerns.
"I won't. It's okay, it hasn't been so bad. We can use the extra money for when the baby comes," Haida reasoned as he went back in for yet another fish cake.
"You did have an appointment last week, right?" the older woman turned to her daughter, who swallowed, wiped her mouth and nodded.
"I did," she said, "My labs were good. My blood sugar is still looking okay, and my blood pressure is actually down…" Retsuko went on, lifting a finger with each bullet point in her list.
"Doc said it's mostly just a waiting game, now," Haida added after another swallow.
"Did you two take the car? How's it treating you?" her dad asked. The young couple flinched in unison.
"Well…" Haida began, a drop of sweat beading at his temple.
"It's a lemon," Retsuko finished flatly before popping another veggie into her mouth.
"It's not a lemon," Haida defended, "But we…have had some problems with it stalling out, the engine has a few issues. I just haven't had time to take it– "
The tinny din of cell phone speakers erupted from Haida's jeans, filling the room with an abbreviated cut of the song I Wanna Be Sedated. The hyena stopped speaking and immediately went for his pocket, irritated with himself that he'd left the volume up to begin with.
"Oh man, sorry about that. Let me just send it to voice-mail," he said hastily, pulling the cell into his line of vision with full intentions of doing so. However, his thumb hesitated above the red icon on the touch screen. In tune with his body language and more than a little interested, Retsuko glanced over at his phone before she could stop herself. What she found was no icon, and no contact information. She was at a loss, but not for long.
"Its Jiro," Haida supplied to himself and to her. Retsuko raised a brow; surprised wasn't a strong enough word to describe how she felt. She looked back at the screen, at the unassuming anonymous gray icon, and then at her husband.
"Really?" she inquired. A familiar bubble of unpleasantness expanded in her gut. "I wonder why he's calling," Retsuko said vaguely. Meanwhile her parents continued to eat across the table for them, though their matching white ears were trained forward.
"I can just call him back later," Haida reasoned in a hush, as if they could have any semblance of privacy in their current position. But if he conveniently forgot to return the call later , that could be his own business. Retsuko's expression shifted as a worry line was born between her white brows. She felt a ripple at her core as life shifted within her, and ran her hand down her mid-line in a halfhearted attempt at soothing it.
"Maybe you should pick it up," Retsuko advised, though she treaded carefully, "You haven't talked to him in months."
"Yeah, and there's a good reason for that," Haida noted. "We're with your parents, I can always call him back when we get home." It was a foolproof excuse, he thought, with etiquette on his side.
"Nonsense. If it's a call from home, it could be important," his mother-in-law urged, "No need to ignore it on our account."
His resistance cracked under the duel attention of the women in his life, and he folded. "Okay…then, please excuse me for a moment," Haida said politely, standing up from his place at the table. Retsuko's mother implored him not to rush and the three panda's watched discreetly as he retreated from the kitchen and through the living room. The sound of the sliding glass door being opened could be heard through the thin walls, indicating that Haida was venturing to the privacy of her parent's small outdoor patio.
When the door shut, Retsuko's mother wasted no time before she leaned towards her daughter, face contorted in mild concern, "He still doesn't keep up with his family much, then?" she asked quietly. Retsuko pressed her lips together into a line and shook her head to indicate that her mother was indeed correct in her assertions. Her father said nothing, though his mouth displayed a similar reflection of displeasure.
"They're very difficult people to be around…" Retsuko said plainly. Of course that was just the tip of the iceberg, but they generally avoided the subject of his family all together.
It was just easier that way.
"That really is such a shame," her mother said, exhaling. In response, Retsuko simply looked down at her plate, pushing around a green pepper noncommittally with her chopsticks.
____
The summer had been a scorcher, to say the least. With the arrival of July came the arrival of humidity, as well as the kind of heat that never seemed to relent, even after the sun went down. Haida could already feel his armpits begin to sweat, though he wasn't sure if it was from the external temperature or from the immediate flood of cortisol that happened within him when he had the misfortune of interacting with his blood relations.
Still, despite the discomfort, he swiped the green icon over and answered the call. He sat down on a bench that was situated against the stucco siding of the home. Once seated, he brought his phone to his ear.
"...Hello?" Haida said, cautious. When he was met with silence, he tried again, "Um…Jiro?"
The sigh which erupted on the other end was exasperated, displeased, and very much Jiro . It was followed by yet another brief pause – a hesitation – and then,
"Father had a heart attack," his brother stated, as evenly as he would a weather report. "I'm afraid he's no longer with us."
Haida blinked as his brain buffered. His brows raised by millimeters and his mandible fell lax, displaying his underbite. His denim clad knee was bony under the tight grip of his sweating hand. There was a rush of emotions within him that he didn't have the mental capacity to properly identify. The hyena opened his mouth to speak; to say what, he wasn't sure. Of course it didn't really matter, because the only word he was capable of forming at the time was, "H…huh?"
"The funeral is Tuesday. You need to come home as soon as possible," Jiro continued, seemingly unbothered, "Mother is asking for you."
"Hold on – just…wait," Haida managed as he began to process the sheer weight of the news. He leaned back against his in-law's house, pupils fixed on the cement pavers beneath his feet. There was a nebulous stain on the ground near his docs. Perhaps it was from oil or something similar. Haida focused on it, for no other reason but to keep himself grounded. "Um…okay," he tried again, though he was still struggling to manifest words from his voice box. He cleared his throat, which felt much tighter than it should. "When did…that happen?" he managed to ask.
"Yesterday," his nonplussed brother answered from the other end of the line. "He collapsed in the garden. As you know, he'd been ill for some time. His heart was weak. It's hardly a surprise."
A weighted silence passed between them.
The stain was definitely oil, Haida decided.
"...okay," he said quietly. He wiped his hand against his pants and leaned forward at the waist, pressing one elbow to his thigh while he held up his head with a clammy palm. "Okay, um…right. Let me, uh…make some calls. And, uh…talk to Retsuko, and then…I'll let you know when we're coming."
"Fine," Jiro said, "But do be quite quick about it."
With a curt finish, Jiro ended the call. Haida's phone beeped against his ear before going silent. He sat numbly with his smart phone still against his ear for a beat. Then, when he finally summoned the strength, he pulled his cell away from his head and looked at the call log for the nameless, faceless contact. The previous call had been missed, and the one before that was from the previous year.
The sound of the sliding glass door moving got his attention. He looked up and saw his heavily pregnant wife stepping out onto the patio, "Everything okay?" she asked. In response, Haida lifted his eyes to hers. At the sight of him, Retsuko turned and grasped the handle of the door. She slid it shut to afford them some privacy, and then put her attention back on him. As she walked over to the bench where he sat, she spoke. "So everything's not okay," she said, taking a seat beside him, "...is it?"
Haida looked back towards the familiar stain and shook his head slowly. The panda's frown deepened, as did her concern for him.
"...what is it, hun?" Retsuko whispered, her voice feather light, as if she may scare him away at any moment. She reached over and placed her small hand on top of his.
"...Retsuko…my… dad died, " Haida rasped with an inflection that suggested he was telling himself as much as her. His brows furrowed together in an expression not unlike confusion. The words felt strange to say, like speaking with a mouth full of cotton. As odd as the sensation was, hearing himself actually verbalize it was even more peculiar.
She didn't react right away. It would have been quiet, if not for the cicadas, who tirelessly played the song of their species. Retsuko too had a mix of emotions stirring within her, but primarily, she simply felt worried about Haida. His relationship with his family was complex, and she didn't think she could begin to comprehend what he might be feeling. "Oh, Haida…" she sighed. "When? Today?"
"Yesterday, I guess," Haida murmured. Even that was a bitter pill to swallow – they could have called him sooner. Though, he was used to being an afterthought by now; there was something to be said for their consistency. Haida hung his head, "Jiro said mom wants me there sooner rather than later."
"I can understand that," Retsuko said, feeling empathy pull at her heart and prick at the corners of her eyes. "We can go tomorrow,"
"I think…maybe you'd better stay here with your parents for a few days," Haida looked down at their hands, joined on his thigh. "I don't know if you should be…around all this in your condition. It's probably gonna be a lot of stress," Haida sighed to himself, "and a lot of people. "
"I'm pregnant, not a leper," Retsuko squeezed his fingers. "Haida, if you're going, I'm going," she stated, as if it was a simple fact. He looked at her with a strange cocktail of sorrow, confusion, and trepidation on his face. "'You and me,'" his wife continued, undeterred. Retsuko shifted her body to be closer to him on the bench, before reaching up to place her free hand on his cheek. "You and me," she whispered again, "The 'and' is the most important part,"
Haida glanced back down at their hands. The surface of the thin gold band that adorned her ring finger was smooth against the pad of his thumb when he traced over it. "You're playing dirty," he murmured, "Using that line…"
Retsuko guided him down and pressed her nose to the soft fur on the side of his face, inhaling him slowly as she placed a sweet kiss to his cheek. In turn, Haida dipped his head, nestling his muzzle against the side of her neck and his nose into the dip above her clavicle. His left arm reached around her belly as he embraced her gently. As he held her, he ran his knuckles down her side, over the soft cotton of her light pink maternity blouse. When he did this, there was a fluttering inside her; a roll in the depths of her body. It still felt alien, and not particularly pleasant, but despite all that, she always savored each tiny shift the little life made inside her.
"Come on," she said after one too many mosquitoes classified her as a friendly port. "Let's go back inside and get ready to go home. We need to pack."
Haida sighed, and Retsuko could feel his air tickle her neck.
"Yeah."
____
"If you two need anything, let us know," Retsuko's father instructed in a tone which was even more gentle than his typical speech. He and his wife followed the younger couple to the genkan.
"I'll see if I can't come over and give the place a quick tidying up while you're both away," her mother told them. Haida slipped his feet into his boots, which he was loyal to even during the summer months, before crouching to assist his wife with her own shoes.
"Thanks, but that's okay mom," Retsuko assured the older panda, all the while supporting herself on her husband's shoulders as he adjusted the back of her less than stylish orthopedic slip-ons so that they fit correctly around her heel. "There's still boxes everywhere, I doubt there's much you can do with it now."
" Still?" her mother clicked her tongue against the roof between her mouth, "Hun, you're due in six weeks, you should be baby ready by now…"
"It's gonna be fine, mom," Retsuko said, exasperation thinly veiled, though she knew all of the nagging was forged in love. "We just haven't had much time to get things organized yet, but now that I'm on maternity leave, I'll have more opportunities to nest."
"How about this: why don't you let me come over and unpack some for you? That way you can both come home to something more put together…" her mother offered. Retsuko paled at the thought; the last thing she needed was her mother going through their drawers. "Now don't you think that would be better?" she pressed.
"Reina, leave them be for now," said the soothing voice of her father. He placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, and she in turn glanced over it to look at him. After a beat of silent exchange, she again appointed her attention squarely on Retsuko.
"Be careful traveling tomorrow," she told her daughter, before looking up at her son-in-law. "I'm so sorry, again. My condolences to your family, Haida."
Haida looked at her and stiffly nodded, "Thank you for that. I appreciate it."
They said their final goodbyes. As Retsuko embraced her mother, her father reached up and wordlessly wrapped his stout fingers around the circumference of Haida's forearm. The older man pursed his lips, and when he did, Haida recognized the familiar shape they formed as belonging to his wife, too. His in-law didn't speak, but instead rubbed his rough hand over Haida's limb, awkward but earnest. The hyena in turn looked down and nodded one solid time in silent understanding.
The train ride home was a quiet one.
____
Their apartment building was built in 1974. It was a bit outdated and privately owned. The location was convenient, it had space for a small washer dryer unit, and the parking was affordable. It wasn't huge, and yet it was still three times the size of the studio they shared prior. There were some boxes still left to unpack, though perhaps not as many as Retsuko let on.
The panda waddled from the bathroom with her toothbrush in her mouth and sheet mask plastered over her face. One of Haida's band tee shirts that she'd long since claimed hung loose on her frame, safe for over her stomach. There, the cotton was stretched taut, distorting " Sex Pistols " to the point of near illegibility.
"I'll have to call my boss first thing in the morning," Haida said, as off-handed as possible. He went through their dresser, pulling undergarments from its contents. "I think I get a week of bereavement for parental death." He went on as he added more garments to their weekender bag. He would have preferred to pack their nicer suitcase, but it was already packed up for the hospital, so his shitty duffle would have to do. "I'll need to steam my suit. I hope it still fits," he continued to ramble. Retsuko watched him, idly scrubbing her teeth. She walked back over to the sink and spit, washed her mouth out with water from her mug, and spit again. "I guess we can take the car. But I need to bring the coolant in case it starts running hot again…"
When Retsuko emerged from the bathroom, brushed, scrubbed, and ready for bed, Haida was sitting at their second hand kitchen table, laptop open. She walked over to him with her hand supporting her lower back, "Haida. It's time to stop for tonight."
"I just want to send out some information about the servers to the rest of the team since I'll be away. Takahashi is gonna be pretty busy..."
"I'm sure he can handle it," Retsuko said, "You need to slow down for a second."
The hyena turned to his wife with his eyes bleary and his brow creased. She looked back at him and said, "Let's get some rest and we can finish getting everything else together in the morning, okay?"
Haida looked at her silently for a lengthy moment before finally relenting. He saved the work email to his drafts and shut his laptop quietly. Retsuko stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, just over one of his spots. When she pulled away she touched over the place her lips had just been and rubbed her thumb against his cheek. "You should go get ready for bed," she told him gently, to which Haida nodded and obeyed, standing up from his seat at the table to do just that.
When he finished, Retsuko was already in their bed, coiled up with her contoured pregnancy pillow that Gori and Washimi gifted her when she entered her third trimester. The room was dark, but she had yet to shut off the bedside lamp. Haida came over and sat on the edge of the bed, memory foam sinking beneath his weight.
"He won't settle tonight," Retsuko murmured from behind him, sensing her husband's presence. Haida shifted his body; he turned to her and brought his legs onto the mattress. He positioned himself on his right side to spoon her before reaching around and placing a flat palm on her abdomen, over her protruding navel. "He keeps kicking down ," Retsuko explained, "It feels like he's river dancing on my bladder."
"Yup, I definitely feel that," Haida said as her flesh rippled under his palm, "Wonder if he can't get comfortable…"
"Him and me, both," Retsuko huffed. Haida didn't respond; he simply leaned back and reached over to the bedside lamp, quelling it with a tap of his finger. The apartment still wasn't as dark as they'd prefer; the light from the street lamps always leaked in through the window near their bed. Their black out curtains were still in their Amazoo packaging, somewhere amongst the other unopened boxes. Haida returned to his position behind her and wordlessly pressed his thumb and knuckles against her lower back, rubbing the exceptionally sore muscles there. Retsuko moaned melodically, her eyes falling shut at once.
As she relaxed, their baby settled, slowly but surely. Haida brought his arm back around her and moved his legs under her, flanking the lower part of her body pillow with his own knees. They laid there intertwined in silence for some time, but Retsuko could tell by his breathing pattern that Haida wasn't sleeping.
"Haida," Retsuko hesitated; her anxiety was a lump in her throat, but she pushed past it for him. "You know…you haven't said a word about how you're feeling," she stated, understanding that she may have opened a can of worms in doing so, but knowing that it had to be done. She waited patiently for his reply.
"I…don't really know what I'm feeling," he answered eventually, his voice a whisper in the dark. Retsuko touched his hand where it was still flush against her stomach. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I didn't exactly like the guy, but I – " his voice broke inadvertently, and his self-reproach deepend. "I guess…maybe I hoped one day, we might come to understand each other a little better. I knew it was unlikely – I mean, I'd basically given up, but…" Haida paused, "Now I know for sure that it won't ever happen. It feels…kinda strange."
"...it's okay if you feel sad, Haida," Retsuko replied gently, "I mean…he was still your dad."
Haida sighed, deep and tired, "...I know."
"I just want you to know that…however you feel, it's not wrong," Retsuko told him, "You understand?"
"Yeah," Haida said. He pressed his face against the back of her head and kissed it. They fell into a comfortable silence then, attempting to take refuge from their current reality in slumber. For all her nagging that they needed to turn in, Retsuko was still wide awake. There was one other pressing question weighing heavily on her mind, keeping her tethered to the waking world. As her husband's body began to relax behind her, she told herself it could wait until morning. However, she knew that if she did that, she wouldn't sleep a wink. So, begrudgingly, she opened her mouth again.
"Hey, Haida…" Retsuko began. Her husband made a noise in the back of his throat in acknowledgement; sleep was finally calling him home into its loving embrace, but her call was louder. "So, they know we're married," she went on, cautiously, "...right?"
"Mm," Haida confirmed behind her, "I called to tell my mom, remember?" he said, his voice gravelly.
"Yeah, I do." Retsuko took a deep breath, already apprehensive to hear the answer to the question she was about to ask. "But…did you ever tell them that I'm pregnant?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Haida propped his torso up on his elbow. Retsuko turned her head, twisting her neck so that she could meet his eyes. There was a wordless exchange between them which said it all.
Haida felt a sharp jab of pressure against his palm: a sign of the storm to come.