June - Dessert
Pearl hums softly to herself while she gathers all of the ingredients for her favorite recipe. She’s used to this whole routine: the moment Marina mumbled something that kind of sounded like “creme brûlée” to Pearl while she was waking from a midday nap, the squidling got to work in the kitchen.
Sure, Pearl can make other foods, even fancier ones than this, but Pearl’s creme brûlée- and specifically Pearl’s- has always been Marina’s favorite dessert. She learned to cook even better for her wife, and yet her wife enjoyed the simplest foods.
Pearl doesn’t blame her. Marina has always been good at enjoying the small things in life, or at least better at it than Pearl.
She turns on the stovetop and gently (quietly) sets a saucepan on it, letting her cream warm up while she turns on the oven to preheat it. While she waits she takes her vanilla bean and slices it in half to scrape out the seeds. Her humming’s turned into singing at this point, though it’s nonsense lyrics that don’t mean anything.
Hopefully Marina will enjoy it. She usually does, but Pearl can’t help but worry. Her wife’s senses have been a lot more touchy since she first got pregnant- hopefully the flavor isn’t too overwhelming. It shouldn’t be; it’s always been just enough, and Marina’s sweet tooth has always been easy to satisfy.
Maybe it isn’t Pearl’s first pick for lunch, but if Marina wants it, she’ll get it. While the custard’s in the oven, she’ll make her own lunch, perhaps.
Speaking of, Marina’s pulled herself out of bed to come downstairs, if the slow creaking coming from the ceiling is anything to go by. Pearl continues with her cooking, letting Marina take her spot on the couch to watch from the living room.
“You can sit at the table, honey.”
“… nah. ‘M comfy.”
“Alrighty then. It’ll be a while, so be patient.”
“I will.”
While she pulls out a baking sheet and ramekins, Pearl watches her wife try to bury herself in her blanket while she uses a tentacle to grab the remote from between the couch cushions. The news is on, and Marina seems either too apathetic or too curious to turn it off.
Callie’s voice starts drifting through the living room, talking about a new subway line opening between Inkopolis and one of the capitals of a major Octarian province, Whirlpool City.
“Hey, that’s near where I grew up,” says Marina behind a yawn.
“Is it?”
“Uh huh. We’ll have to visit, won’t we?”
“We can bring the baby with us. And you can show me around, if you still remember.”
Pearl smiles while her wife starts chuckling. She sits up on the couch slightly, readjusting her position to better wrap herself in her blanket. Marina is starting to get a bump now, Pearl can just barely see it under her shirt, and she’s spent countless minutes staring at it and trying to talk to their baby. (According to the internet, she’s still quite small, but Pearl wonders when she’s grown if she’ll be taller than Pearl herself.)
“How’s she doing, by the way?”
“She’s fine, I think. Making me hungry.”
“Good. We need to name her soon…”
“Something Octarian,” Marina affirms, reminding Pearl of the evening where they found out. The thought almost makes her cry again.
She hums, thinking while she pours the custard into the ramekins and pulls out her fancy gooseneck kettle to put water in the baking sheet.
“You know more names than I do, I’m sure. You lived there for most of your childhood,” she says while the sheet goes in the oven.
“Maybe some. It would feel weird to name her after a stranger though, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, little bit. I don’t trust those name websites either.“
“A few are good, I think. But only a few, I’ll have to find one.”
Pearl turns a timer while she walks over to sit next to Marina. The timer is placed upon the coffee table, the gentle tick-tick-tick-ing giving the living room just a little more life. Without even having to think about it Pearl’s hand ends up under Marina’s shirt, fingers splayed over her wife’s stomach. Beneath the fat of Marina’s midsection, she thinks she can feel something small, round, and firm.
Her baby’s in there, she thinks, and she can’t help but look up at her wife in awe. Marina instinctively pulls her into a hug, making sure her hand stays right where it is.
“Reena,” she whispers, “we’re havin’ a baby.”
“I know. It’s so exciting, isn’t it?”
“We’re gonna be moms,” she says, now looking down at Marina’s belly.
“Yeah. I think she’ll like you.”
“I hope so. I’ve been working on my hugs, y’know. So I can always be there if she needs one.”
Marina gasps and gently nudges Pearl.
“You’re so cheesy!”
“I just wanna be a good mom.”
“You will be.”
The living room falls quiet then, while Callie yammers on about the subway line on the TV. Marina watches curiously while the camera crews walk down the streets of the city, showing new buildings made from brick and wood next to ones from before Marina’s parents even hatched, built from concrete with bamboo roofs.
She tells Pearl about a candy store she used to frequent when she was small. Whenever she’d bring home money from working with the bigger engineers, she’d wander until she ended up there and listen to the old man behind the counter ramble on and on about his grandchildren. He always remembered little Marina, always remembered what she liked.
“I wonder if he’s still working there. Or maybe one of his kids.”
“Who knows. We can go find out.”
“Maybe soon.”
At some point, the news broadcast ends with a small bow from Callie, and Marina almost habitually nods back. The action makes Pearl smile and reminds her of how cute her wife can be.
From the coffee table, Pearl’s timer starts to ring, and she hesitantly rises from the couch to tend to her custards. Marina’s hand lingers on her waist for only a moment. Pearl turns around to kiss her knuckles before rushing into the kitchen.
The baking sheet is removed from the oven and the individual ramekins are placed gently into the fridge. Pearl preemptively pulls out the kitchen torch, pretending not to notice Marina furrow her brows at the sight.
“You still get nervous about this thing?” she calls to the living room with a quiet laugh.
“A little. I worry about fires…”
“I’m careful, you know that, honey. When have I ever started a fire in the house?” Pearl grins at Marina while she walks over and sets another timer.
“A few times it’s gotten too cold inside. So you put a fire in the- the, um-…”
“The fireplace, baby.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t count.”
Pearl grabs the remote from the table and turns it to a game show, one where contestants had to do silly challenges without making too much noise.
“You think we could do that, Marina?”
“… No. Callie would laugh too much.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Marina hums softly and pulls out her phone, resting it on Pearl’s head while she begins to scroll.
“Anything good?”
“Not really. Uh, there’s a new game coming out. People are arguing about Minecraft… again…”
“Eh, when are they not? I’m glad the game’s fun, and that’s all.”
The two of them sit on the couch for a couple hours, and eventually Pearl ends up sitting upright, straddling Marina’s legs. Marina gives her a confused look until Pearl pulls up her shirt and starts gently rapping a drum beat on Marina’s baby bump. She immediately starts giggling and halfheartedly trying to push her wife away.
Marina’s always been ticklish, and Pearl has always enjoyed making her laugh. So long as Marina is happy, Pearl is happy. Her drum beat goes on for a few more minutes until Marina is laughing so hard she’s having trouble catching her breath.
“Pearlie!”
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist, did you know drum heads used to be made of stretched out skin? Your belly’s perfect.”
“But our baby…”
“Fostering her sense of rhythm,” Pearl jokes, then much more seriously, “I was being very gentle. I doubt I would’ve hurt her.”
“Okay,” Marina sighs, relieved.
Soon, the timer goes off again, and Pearl gets up to finally finish her desserts, sprinkling sugar on top of the custard and torching them until they’re beautifully golden. She’s always wondered why Marina considers her creme brûlée to be the best she’s ever had. It’d probably be worth it to ask, and she does while she gently hands Marina’s serving to her.
She thinks for a moment, cracks the caramel gently, and gestures to it.
“It’s the perfect thickness. Or at least you know exactly how I like it. Restaurants don’t quite get it the way you do.”
“Makes mine real special, doesn’t it?”
Marina just nods in reply, her mouth full. Pearl sits next to her on the couch and lets her wife lean on her. She probably doesn’t even realize it, but Pearl chuckles when one of Marina’s tentacles slips behind her back and rests on her hip to pull her closer. Pearl does the same, though this time with her arm- she thinks she hears Marina sniffling slightly.
“I’m right here, honey. I got you. Is it that good?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I don’t mean to…”
“It’s okay, you can’t help it.”
Pearl contentedly closes her eyes while she starts eating. Maybe it’s hearing Marina praise it, or admit it’s so good she started to cry, but she swears it tastes better than it ever has before.