Hot and Sour Soup (and Strawberry Lemonade)
They were sitting in one of the five or six restaurants that the Camp had chosen. The counselors were bunched together in the middle of the room having a quiet conversation while four or five pairs of kids were on their dates.
Asami smiled at Mako and took a sip of her Strawberry Lemonade. “So what classes are you taking next semester?”
He leaned back in the booth, “It’s kinda silly.”
“No, come on. Tell me.”
“I want to take a poetry course.”
“You like poetry?”
Mako nodded, “Yeah. I know it’s not very masculine, but I… I just really feel a connection.”
“There are so many writers out there who are masculine, Mako. Steinbeck. Hemmingway. King. They’re all really great authors. You shouldn’t feel pressured to run away from something you love. Don’t let this place tell you what to do.”
There was… a sadness in Mako’s amber eyes.
“So… what looks good?” he asked.
Asami looked at the extravagant menu in front of her. They were at a really, really, REALLY fancy restaurant in the City. Not quite Kwongs, but everything looked pretty damn delicious.
“I was thinking Hot and Sour Soup,” she said with a smile and a flip of her hair. She’d been at this game for three years. She knew what the counselors were looking for.
“Oh… that sounds really good. I think I’m going to have the Yellow Curry. I’m a sucker for that stuff.”
They joked and laughed throughout the meal. Where most of the kids looked to be nervous and shy— Asami felt some connection with Mako and the others. It was effortless. She had a sip of Strawberry Lemonade and leaned forwards.
“How’s your Dad doing? You said that you called him this past weekend… after… you know.”
Mako smiled sadly, “He’s still coaching, but I think the old man is going to go into the professional scene. He was quite the player in the day. What about yours?”
Asami looked out the window with a frown, “I don’t know. We don’t talk much. He’s at board meetings or locked away in his office or working at the assembly line. The only time we really get together is to tinker with prototypes, and that’s kind of a once in a while thing— you know?”
Mako fiddled with his napkin. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“Don’t be. If anything, I just feel pity for him. After my mom died… it felt like he left too.”
The boy— the only one of the group who could really connect with her on something like this— reached across the table and took her hand. Kind amber eyes stared into soft peridot. She squeezed his hand and then moved to wipe a tear away.
As far as dates go, this could have been going worse.
. . .
She pushed the iron gate open and walked through. The place was absolutely empty, save for the elderly couple in the corner. They were holding hands and placing flowers on as many graves as they could. Asami smiled.
‘It’s nice to know there’s still some kindness in the world after all,’ she thought.
She could’ve walked to the plot blindfolded. Third column, last row. A nice, secluded place where she felt like she could safely have a private conversation.
She set down the folding chair she had brought with her and opened her SatoThermos. Despite the clear weather, it was absolutely freezing out. The new rush of heat from the can warmed her stiff fingers through the leather mittens.
“Hey there,” she said with a smile. Not a sad smile, not a defeated smile. But a happy one. One that she had inherited from the woman across from her.
Yasuko Sato
122 AG – 158 AG
Loving Mother and Wife. Incredible Engineer and Inventor. Catalyst of the Modern World.
Asami had a spoonful of the Hot and Sour soup from the SatoThermos. It was a family recipe— one that she had some great memories making with her mother. So, she brought it everytime she visited— secretly pouring a little on the ground for her mother to taste-test.
Like the old days.
“So… I’m going away this summer… it’s a new place… I doubt you’ve heard of it…”
. . .
It got worse.
Not immediately. No, it was very nice to walk arm-in-arm through the park— counselors sitting on the benches chatting while the kids sat on the grassy hills and had some alone time… together. Mako and Asami tried to identify constellations.
“That one’s Toph Beifong,” Mako said, pointing at a bright cluster to the left.
“She’s still alive, you doofus!” the engineer said, playfully hitting his arm.
“Okay, okay!” he laughed. “It could be Aang— the Air Nation war hero.”
“That sentence is an oxymoron.”
“Yeah…”
Mako’s gaze fell onto Asami, and she pretended to stare at the skies a bit longer before it felt awkward. She met his eyes.
What’s that look? No, wait. Is he gonna—
Rough lips— unfamiliar and unfathomable— pressed against hers. It’s not as though he was bad at kissing. Though she remained as still as a statue, the boy kept moving his lips and even swiped his tongue through her mouth at one point. He tasted alright. But it felt off. Because she already had a pair of lips to claim back at camp. Korra’s bright, cheerful face flashed through her mind and brought her spinning back into reality.
Shit!
Asami pulled away from him like a startled cat. Only after a few seconds of shock did she realize that her hand was covering her mouth. She pulled it down and cleared her throat— as though she was about to do a school presentation.
“Listen… um… Mako… WHAT THE HELL?” she whispered harshly.
The boy winced, his eyes darting around like a panicking deer on a highway.
“I-I thought that— you were f-flirting at diner and— I’m so sorry I just—“
“Why did you do that?” she uttered, softly this time. “Why did you kiss me?”
Mako let out a dejected sound, halfway between a sob and a sigh. “I… I needed to know,” he said, hanging his head and burying it in his hands.
“Mako, I don’t understand.”
“mm… supposed to be… straight.”
“What did you say? I couldn’t catch that.”
She knew perfectly well what he had said.
“I… I don’t want to be gay, Asami.”
“Why?”
“Because it hurt. It fucking hurt a lot.”
“What happened?” the engineer whispered softly, her voice flowing like a wisp of smoke from a campfire.
“I had a boyfriend. And he… Spirits he was horrible. I spent all this time thinking he was the best thing that ever happened to me—“
“Mako. Were you in an abusive relationship? You don’t have to answer.”
The boy looked up and stared at her. He fidgeted with his scarf, absentmindedly, for a moment— and then nodded his head.
“He w-wouldn’t let me do anything without his permission first, and would barely speak to me… and then one day I went to his house… and I found…
“And the way people treated me in school. My own team— guys I thought were going to be my buddies for the rest of my life… they treated me like total shit. One time, I opened my locker (I didn’t keep it locked back then) and I found real piece of shit in my favorite pair of shoes… is that how I’m supposed to live the rest of my fucking life?”
“It’s not like that everywhere.”
“Does it get better? Does it really fucking—“
Asami wrapped her arms around him, engulfing him in a massive hug. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. He blushed and put a hand on her arm. They sat there, in that awkward embrace, for quite some time before the girl spoke up.
“Mako, as someone who’s spent an inhuman amount of time at this Raava-foresaken ‘camp’, I can tell you that what you’re seeking isn’t here. But… I don’t think that you know what it is you really want. What I do know for sure is that there’s a very, very long fucking road to being happy. And it starts with loving yourself.”
“I do want to be happy, Asami,” he said. In that moment, the big, tall athlete looked like a lost small child.
“Well… I think that you can be who you are… sexually and poetry and all… and still find a lot of joy in life. Maybe your joy will even derive from you being gay. I know mine does.”
“You think so?”
Asami looked across the big grassy hill, where Korra and Wu were sitting there laughing their asses off. Kuvira tried to be chiding but they waved her away with a fit of giggles. The engineer had never seen such a display of pure friendship. She found the baseball player’s hand in the dark and gave it a squeeze.
“I do, Mako. I really do.”