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the-shared-brain-in-retrograde · 2 years

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Shang-Chi and The Legend of The Ten Rings

A joint review

Neither of us had watched this film since seeing it at the pictures, where we fucking loved it, so what a treat this is to watch and enjoy again! Cass likes the opening on account of there’s a bit of mythology and sort of dance-fight sequence with a sexy villain, and Becks got to feel cultured because of the subtitles and that. We should mention that neither of us are really au-fait with martial arts films (other than one involving Chuck Norris and a lot of cats in The Colosseum), so we don’t know how the fight scenes stack up on balance, but we enjoyed it.

We also think that Shaun’s mum’s lovely dragon mask would have been very useful in the past two years.

This film feels like quite a paint by numbers Marvel film in many respects, in that nothing particularly unexpected happens and it follows the formula of a reluctant hero rising after some questionable parenting. However, it’s a really good one. It serves as a great introduction to characters that you want to see more of, the rings themselves are a pretty cool weapon, and it’s much more fun and light hearted than some of the other movies we’ve had recently (all that trauma!) so it was a welcome breather. Also, there’s a big dragon. And Morris! A blatant to Disney to sell more merch, and one that I’m sure we’ll all fall for.

Let’s start with the hero of this fine piece of cinema. Trevor Slattery! hahaha no we joke, that was just a little joke. We will get to Trevor in our own good time. No, of course we mean to start with Shang-Chi himself aka Shaun. Which, Katy raises a good question, if you could pick any name to go into hiding with, would you prefer one similar to your name or totally different?

Becks: A man called me Becky the other day and I hated it. So I think I would prefer something totally different rather than a wrong version of my own name.

Cass: I just worry I wouldn’t answer quick enough to a completely different name and give the game away. My on the run self will probably have to be call Cathy. My normal self is called that a lot anyway, usually in Starbucks.

Becks, raging: This happens often when I try to call you hands-free in the car and I’m always like, ‘I didn’t say it with a lisp you DICKHEAD!’

Cass, whispers to camera: Road rage.

Nevertheless, we like Shaun whatever his name. Obviously he’s a trained killer, but quite a chill one, he seems fun to hang out with, handsome, and also caring. We love his relationship with Katy. When that man hit her and he went full blown street fighter, Cass’ notes went quite fluttery and read ‘Oh, he defended her honour!’ Becks agrees, however would like it to be noted that whilst we wouldn’t change him, she doesn’t really think Simu should be playing a 25 year old as he’s actually slightly older than us and she doesn’t think we could pass for it. The aging process is a source of great concern to her, and she keeps a tally of how many times she gets asked for her ID in the supermarket in the hopes that this might serve as some sort of witchcraft and stave it off.

We think Shaun is a welcome part of the MCU. He balances Doctor Strange’s air of twatishness, which is probably why Wong is so keen to have him.

Becks, muttering: I hate Doctor Strange. And that’s why I slept through his stupid movie!

But anyway, we think we’re going to be in for a good time with him in future movies. It’s nice to have a kind, competent character involved in things. Cass is looking forward to seeing him interact with Scott. Maybe in the next Antman film it will happen? We really enjoy the fight scene on the bus. Again it was really good fun. It was exciting, it was violent, and Becks got to lust over that man with the razor arm. She does this throughout her notes on the movie, so at least one of us was happy when he kept turning up and bothering folk.

Another person we like is Katy. Becks particularly likes that she doesn’t really have any clear goals, because she finds that relatable. Her actual words were ‘she has a relatable incompetence,’ but we won’t let that stand because Katy isn’t actually incompetent, she’s very good at what she does. She saves all of those lives on the bus with her excellent driving, she is very brave at a number of points and stands up for her friend even when she is extremely far out of her depth, and she is really good at archery. Hopefully she can get some training in with Clint, I reckon she’ll love them trick arrows. We think maybe what is relatable is just that she has no bigger end goal in mind, and maybe lacks a little self belief in being able to deliver one. And that’s fine, because as she proves it all comes good!

We really enjoy seeing Katy and Shaun’s friendship. They have great fun together, and that’s nice to see. We also enjoy how she utterly refuses to let him deal with all the crazy people trying to kill him alone, and insists on going with him. Nice to have your best friend with you when you go on a family reunion to meet you dad after he has sent people to kill you. We just like her a lot in general, she’s funny, snarky, and has a fun sense of style. Basically, we don’t have a bad word to say.

This family reunion means that we also get to meet Shaun’s sister, Xialing. Now there’s a capable woman! Not only is she a brilliant self-taught fighter, but she has built a successful underground fight club from scratch. It’s sad of course, because her father was far more absent with her than he was with Shang-Chi, who then of course ran away and left her, so she must have had a very lonely life. But even despite all of this, being let down and having to rely on herself, Xialing comes good, helping Shaun and Katy with barely a second thought and finding some of the family she deserves in Ta Lo. It’s nice to see that despite the traumatic upbringing, she still manages to be a good person. With hella style, because she made that compound super cool at the end. Frankly, she’s the only girl boss we care to discuss at this time.

Just as an aside, we would never like to fight on scaffolding. We don’t think it’s safe, especially not that high up. We are making a pact to avoid going on it at all, and especially not to fight on it. We will fight on the ground, as God intended. In the dirt. With the worms.

We are now reintroduced to Shaun’s father, whose name we cannot recall, possibly because goes by many names. One of which Cass thought he said was Mastercard, which seemed like a bit of blatant product placement even for these movies, but turned out not to be the case so that’s okay. Anyway, we’ve looked it up now and apparently it’s Wenwu, so there. We have a bit of a difference of opinion here. Becks thinks he’s a right dickhead. She is impressed by the horse riding with no hands skills (although seemed notably less impressed when she asked if Cass had ever done that and found out that she had), and obviously all for a bit of violence, but still doesn’t really take to him because he really was such a terribly shit dad. And he was, Cass agrees. But where Cass falls down in this is, he’s also terribly, terribly hot. I mean, he’s a lunatic. But in a way that makes it hotter. So it’s difficult to remain impartial about his bad fathering, and she thanks you all for your understanding at this difficult time.

What Wenwu does do however, is proves the need for a safe-word after death. We can’t tell you ours for obvious reasons, but we’ve now agreed it. So if we do hear any whisperings from beyond the grave that don’t include it, we will know it’s not actually one of us but a demonic entity intent on wrecking destruction on the planet, and will simply ignore it and go about our business. You would all do well to gather your loved ones and do the same. Do it now in fact, before you read on.

Have you got the beyond the veil safe-word? Okay good. We may continue.

Their mother seemed like a nice lady, taken too young. And that’s unfortunately all we have to say on the subject. His aunt also seems like a badass, however she also unfortunately goes by the name of Auntie Nan, which is coincidentally what Becks’ used to call a family friend from her childhood who ran a walking group called the Bog Hoppers. This send Cass so hysterical that we find it hard to discuss Auntie Nan much further.

Becks: Another thing about her, she had a Stannah Stairlift. And I used to sneak up to her room on it and rifle through her things.

Cass: (wheezes) That’s the most you thing to do, but also as if you were sneaking anywhere on a stairlift. You probably made a right bloody racket!

Becks: She also made Dead Fly Pie. And I loved her.

Right. Trevor Slattery. Another person that makes Cass feel mildly hysterical. It’s nice to get a little closure on the Ten Rings as mentioned in Iron Man, and of course it’s a treat to see Trevor again. What a tit. A very silly man really, but if there’s no room for Ben Kingsley to do a little thespian silliness in a Marvel film then what hope do we have left? We also like him playing dead at the end, it’s the only outcome we truly accept of that man being involved in a fight, and we enjoyed it immensely.

‘Stay in the pocket!’

We would like now to mention Ta Lo, because it’s just totally beautiful and it is very hard to see why you would ever leave. Not least because it’s so bloody difficult to get back again. Entering Ta Lo is like someone turning the high def on the film. Also, we get to meet the Great Protector, who turns out to be a lovely big dragon, and we love him. If you don’t love a dragon turning up in a movie, then get out of town frankly. We didn’t much like the soul sucking fella that came out of the gate (a dickhead released by another dickhead, is Becks’ commentary), but since he got defeated we thankfully don’t need to dwell on his darkness any longer.

All too soon we are turfed out of this beautiful place and Shaun and Katy are sent back to tell tall tales of their adventures to their friends in the pub, who of course don’t believe them. Doubting Thomas’! But then Wong turns up. Dear Wong, the only character in the MCU who has really got his priorities sorted in terms of the work-life balance. It’s all fight clubs and karaoke with him, and frankly after dealing with Doctor Strange he deserves it. We’re also grateful to see Bruce as Bruce. We hate Professor Hulk, it’s just all wrong, and so that little hologram gives us a hope that we won’t be stuck with him forever.

We just love this film as a whole. We like the friendships, the characters are interesting, the fight scenes are cracking, and we end the whole thing with a smile rather than in tears so that’s always a bonus. The end of the film promises that Shang-Chi will return, and we’re both looking forward to it.

But enough of these new people! Next time will see us revisiting some old friends, when we review The Falcon and The Winter Soldier. Is it the greatest TV show ever made? Well, maybe not. But has it unfortunately unleashed something in one of us? Maybe so! Brace yourselves, friends, for the full gamut of emotions that will come from The Shared Brain. Brace brace brace.

love Becks and Cass

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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 1 year

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Field of Marigolds

Summary: Marc has been having bad dreams and Jake has been depressed. Can Steven find out why? Can he find a solution that won’t leave them all in deeper trouble? Steven asks questions about a culture that they all lost.

Warnings: Some depictions of child abuse/violence and panic attacks.

Word Count: 4714

Word Prompt: Reeds

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Golden. Quiet. Alone.

Marc had many dreams about the field of reeds since returning from Cairo. None of them good. A nightmare of being left alone for all eternity.

He would wake feeling despair as he crawled from the darkness, gasping out Steven’s name. There was always that moment of silence when he waited for Steven to wake up and respond. That moment of pure fear that perhaps this time he would be alone.

Then he would get the tired sounds of Steven mumbling his hello. The relief would wash over him and he would sink back into the bed with a heavy sigh.

When Jake made himself known and started to communicate with them, Marc had started to look back on his life and pick out the times when his memory gaps were most likely occupied by the quiet and over protective alter. Their memories were all still a mess, but some pieces were starting to at least make sense.

On mornings when he woke up in a panic, he would always still reach for Steven. The one that had always been there when he needed comfort, but sometimes he would wait to see if Jake might reach back too.

Fall had settled in and items of warmth and comfort were starting to make themselves more prominent in their flat. Steven insisted on filling his closet with oversized sweaters covered in patterns and colors that made Marc gag. Jake had switched out his lighter coat and gloves for something more solid and sustaining while Marc kept his usual attire, choosing to brave the cold and rain as he did everything else: Ignore it.

They were getting used to one another. Arguments about what to wear or how to style their hair cropped up but usually were quickly settled. Sometimes they argued over food or what to drink. In the span of a few months they had only had a couple of full melt downs where Layla had been forced to step in and break things up before someone did something stupid.

As fall carried on, Marc had noticed Jake becoming more agitated. He was quiet and clipped when spoken to. He shut them off when he fronted and sometimes Marc or Steven would front to find themselves in the middle of a park or somewhere random in the rain when Jake had decided he was done.

“What the hell is seasonal affective disorder?” Marc huffed as he pulled off the gloves and shoved them into his pockets. It was the second time in so many days where he had come to the front in the city. He had found himself staring in at a bakery window with brightly colored rolls with swirls and lines on the top.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” Steven chimed in from the window reflection. “The sun starts to go away and you get depressed. Maybe he needs more vitamins or one of those special sun lights?”

“I doubt very much that Jake is affected by the lack of sun. The man works the nightshift for crying out loud.” Marc adjusted the cap and wished he were wearing his cubs hat. It had a better brim for keeping the rain out of his face.

Steven shrugged and glanced inside the bakery, trying to figure out what had made Jake decide to run. “Wouldn’t mind a sweet myself, since we’re here.”

“Not sure it’s vegan, buddy.” Marc checked his pockets for his wallet and keys. It was always so jarring to be left out in the cold by Jake. He never knew what he had on him or if he was supposed to go find the car or not.

“Maybe Layla would like a sweet.” Steven smiled. “Those look real good. And colorful!”

Marc sighed and went inside. Steven knew how to get Marc to do things he would normally scoff at. Steven loved grand gestures and buying Layla silly things that made her smile.

Marc paused in the doorway and looked around. It was a foreign shop, which wasn’t odd to see in London. Marc shrugged, though he suddenly felt himself on guard. There was something about the place that twinged at the back of his mind. Some memory that felt fuzzy and not quite his own floated just out of reach.

“Hola, Señor.” The shopkeep smiled brightly. A pot of bright orange flowers sat next to the register.

Suddenly Marc was swimming as he felt himself become untethered. Steven blinked hard as he was slammed into the driver’s seat. A sensation he had not felt in a long time as he waited for the world to stop spinning.

“M’alight.” Steven mumbled as he struggled to figure out what had happened. “Right. Uh… Hi. Sorry. Off day.” He nodded hello to the shop keep and smiled uncertainly. “I was hoping to get a few of those.” He pointed to the colorful rolls. “They are so pretty.”

“Pan dulce.” The man smiled. “Sweet bread. Those ones are called conchas in some places because they look like seashells. Very popular for children and pretty ladies.” He winked.

Steven nodded and picked out a couple in different colors. He hesitated as he saw an oddly shaped bread in the next display over. “What are those? They smell so nice! Zesty like oranges.”

“Ah, pan de muertos. A seasonal bread for this time of year.” The man nodded.

Steven looked up in surprise. “Muertos?”

“Yes.” The man smiled. “For day of the dead. A little something to honor our loved ones who are gone.”

“Oh…” Steven stared at the bread for a moment then shook his head. “Just the sweet breads, please.”

He checked out, looking down at the pretty orange flowers curiously as he handed over the cash. “Marigolds? Right? The flowers I mean. Those are marigolds? They don’t grow so well over here. They do best in the sun.”

It was difficult for Steven not to immediately info dump. He wanted to start up on Indian culture that used marigolds as a way to celebrate and worship. They were a symbol of brightness and the sun, placed around gods and goddesses and laid out in weddings and festive occasions. He was not as versed in this culture or mythology as he was Egyptology, so he made a mental note to freshen up a bit on it.

“Yes. From Mexico actually.” The shopkeeper looked sad. “I do miss them. My mother had a talent for growing them. She sold them to families this time of year. Gave them for free if they were mourning a child.”

“Oh…” Steven flushed. “That’s very kind of her…” He had gone for the happy use and completely overlooked the Latin American use. Strange how it had not come to his mind at all. Even stranger, how he had never thought to look any of that culture up.

Steven nodded and collected his bread. “Thank you.”

Leaving the shop he started the walk home. It took him a moment to gather what street he was on. Jake tended to wander into strange areas when out, while Steven liked to stay on the beaten path.

“Marc?” Steven quietly poked around. “You alright? We’re out of the shop now. Did you need a minute?”

He felt a rustle at the back of his mind and knew Marc was close enough to hear him but still unwilling to come out.

“Marc, are we Latin American?” Steven flushed at how odd the question sounded. “I mean, I’m English. But I suppose that’s all in my head, innit? I wasn’t born over here. My parents weren’t English. I’m Jewish. I know that. I remember school and prayer and temple and Dad a bit. Those memories are mine. I’ve at least managed to sort those out. But…”

Steven paused as he waited at a crosswalk with some other people. He liked to speak out loud. He loved the feel of using his own mouth and voice when speaking to Marc. It felt real if he spoke. It felt like he was a real person and not some voice floating in the void. He also understood what speaking out loud looked like to other people and often embarrassed himself. He was trying to get better at this part.

He thought about his question again as he crossed the street. How else was he to put it? “The body is Latin American.”

There was silence for a moment then Marc sighed and gave the smallest of shrugs. “Yeah. Really we’re from Chicago. You know that. The body is Chicago-ian.”

Steven frowned and felt a memory stirr. From the fuzzy detail, he knew it wasn’t his. As soon as it started it stopped, pushed back and shut off as Marc fell silent again.

Steven sensed Marc wanted him to drop it but a new curiosity had awakened inside him. This was something he didn’t yet know or understand. “Marigolds…” Steven looked up at the cross street names and took a hard turn as he made way for his favorite bookstore.

–

Golden.

So golden it warmed the very air. This time, it did not grow up around him, but spread out at his feet as if guiding him. Petals rolling gently past him and spreading out as if inviting him down a path.

He was not alone this time. Jake stood before him. He spoke softly, his voice carrying on a breeze that Marc could not feel.

“What?” Marc frowned as he only heard a garble of sounds he didn’t recognize. “I don’t understand.”

Jake spoke louder, faster. The sounds moved past him, unobtainable no matter how he reached for them.”

The wind picked up and a language he had long forgotten slammed into him. “I don’t understand.”

Jake held out a hand, pleading at first then growing angry as the Spanish turned accusatory.

“I don’t understand!” Marc yelled. He covered his ears. It was too golden here. Too warm. The flowers were glowing and blinding him.

Something moved in the flowers behind him. Turning, he found a familiar boy. The boy smiled. “Hermano.” It started to rain. “Te recuerdo.”

Marc jolted awake so hard that he shoved Layla and fell off the bed.

He lay on the floor, staring up at the window across the room, watching the London rain pitter patter down the glass.

“Marc? What the hell?” Layla mumbled sleepily. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay? He couldn’t remember the last time he had been terrified of the rain.

Something inside him clenched down in fear and he covered his ears to block out the sound.

He heard Layla shift on the bed and felt her presence as she leaned over the edge of the bed to look down at him. “Hey? You alright?”

His mouth moved on its own. “Perdí a alguien.”

Layla blinked. “What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Marc shook his head and closed his eyes. “Stop it. Stop. I don’t want to hear it! I don’t speak fucking Spanish!”

Marc could hear the sound of the rain flowing down the gutter and into the street. Washing everything away. Flooding the field of flowers.

His eyes rolled back as he was overwhelmed. A groggy Steven blinked awake and stared up at Layla. “Hmnh? What are you doing up there? Wait… What am I doing down here? What’s going on?”

Layla sighed and reached out to help pull him back up into the bed. “I have no idea. I think someone had a bad dream? I’m not sure who. There was Spanish and then Marc had a panic attack for about a second before you got here.” She gave an apologetic smile. “It happened really fast.”

“Spanish?” Steven snuggled into her and buried his face in his pillow. “What Spanish?”

“Pretty Alyen?”

Steven turned his head in his pillow just enough to look at her with one eye.

She flushed and looked away. “English is not my first language! I speak three other languages and Spanish is not one of them!”

Steven groaned and buried his face back into the pillow. “I think Jake is upset about something. It’s upsetting Marc too, but I don’t think Marc understands why or what it is.”

“And you don’t know what any of it could be?” She moved to gently stroke his back.

Steven shook his head into the pillow. “Wish I did. Whatever it is, it’s between them. I have no memory of any of that. Being English and all…”

He could hear her chewing her lower lip. It was something she did when unsure about something or thinking about something she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring up.

He had to hand it to her, since coming back to London and staying with them, she had asked very few questions. Maybe she was worried she would ask the wrong ones. She had certainly learned a lot and taken in a lot in the span of a very short time. Especially with Jake entering the picture.

Steven looked back at her and moved to take a hand, holding it gently to his chest. “Love, just ask. It’s okay to ask. I promise I won’t be mad. None of us will be mad if you ask.”

“Why does Jake speak spanish?” She looked at him curiously. “I’ve never heard Marc speak Spanish. You certainly don’t. You know more French than Spanish from what I can gather. He must have picked it up from somewhere. You can’t just form as a person knowing a language. You have to be around it.”

Steven lay there for a moment thinking about the question. He reached out, trying to see if Marc or Jake were near the surface. When he found both buried deep inside, he sighed.

“Mom was Latin American. I don’t know from where or how many generations back. She spoke Spanish sometimes. Mostly on the phone to relatives. I think we must have met them at some point. I have no memories of this. I didn’t know I was… The body was… Hispanic, too.” He had gone through a complicated day of emotions when he had learned all this. Marc had refused to talk about any of it so he had been forced to coerce it out of Jake, which had taken him hours to get just this much. Jake had finally shared the memory of listening to her talk on the phone in rapid fire Spanish.

Between the three of them, Steven still didn’t fully understand. He would have to do more research into it later. The hard part was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to do the research. It had been kept from him for a reason. It wasn’t part of his own backstory or memories.

“I’m a fictive.” Steven didn’t like thinking about it. “My memories are… If it doesn’t fit my story to make me then I don’t have them.” He pulled the pillow down and hugged it for a moment, finding comfort in the weight and feel of it.

“Hey.” Layla moved closer and hugged him. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“But I want to know.” Steven frowned. “I want to know why they are so upset. I want to help them.”

Layla was quiet a moment. “Sometimes I worry I will forget my own language.”

Steven looked at her in surprise.

“When I left Egypt I didn’t speak Arabic for over a year. Not even once. Not even when I was alone with myself.” She gently stroked his arm, tracing the familiar muscles and lines she found there. “When we went back I stumbled on my words. I spoke slower. It took me almost an hour before I got back into my normal rhythm. It was scary. I felt like I was losing a part of myself. Like I had let my heritage down. Like I was letting my father down. Like I was forgetting him.”

Steven fidgeted with the pillow, trying to hide his distress. “You should never feel that way. He was so proud of you!”

“I know.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “It came back to me. It just… For that hour I looked at myself and didn’t know who I was.”

“Do you think Marc forgot? Do you think he used to know Spanish?” Steven blinked. “Is that where Jake comes from? But why? Why would he take it all? Why does he hold onto it so hard when it comes from such a place of hurt?”

Layla shrugged. “Jake is complicated. So is Marc. I don’t understand what goes on between them. Something is upsetting one of them and the other isn’t exactly helping.”

Steven nodded then remembered the flowers. “What’s today?”

Layla reached across him to grab her phone from the side table. “October 31st. Happy Halloween I suppose.”

Steven made a face. “I hate scary things. I’m the worst fictive ever.”

Layla laughed and kissed him on the forehead. “You are fearless where it matters.”

He smiled a little. “Thank you, love.”

He squeezed the pillow then moved to nestle into her side. “I have an idea. I don’t think they’re going to like it. It might be a terrible idea, honestly. There’s a good chance it could backfire and well… If you thought Chernobyl was a meltdown disaster…”

“You’re saying you want me as support just in case I need to intervene?” She looked at him curiously.

Steven nodded. “If I upset Marc that much and then I also upset Jake, I might be flying solo for a day or two. They might never speak to me again!” He suddenly looked scared. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t think I can handle that. I hate when they cut me out.”

“Steven, do what you think is best to help them, but don’t worry so much. They love you and would never shut you out forever. I trust you to take care of them.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

He nodded and yawned. “What time is it?”

“Three.” Layla sighed. “Marc always has his nightmares at this hour. It’s like he knows that this is the perfect hour to ruin a perfectly good sleep schedule.”

“In the morning, I need to run to the store and pick up a few items. Then I need to do some more research.” This was going to take him all day, but he hoped it was worth it.

–

The house smelled like warm bread and oranges. Steven had returned to the bakery and purchased some pan de muerto. He had also found a small toy in a shop that he couldn’t pass up.

Sliding out a table, he placed a newly purchased children’s blanket over it then set out a plate of the bread. A cup of orange juice was set next to it. Something he thought might compliment the orange zest of the bread nicely.

A small tea candle was lit and he placed the toy to the side, a little astronaut waving nicely.

He had printed out a baseball pennant for the Chicago Cubs and carefully cut it out, taping it to the wall above the table.

Lastly, he set a couple of marigold flowers on the table. He had explained the situation to the man at the bread shop and he had practically thrust the whole pot of flowers at Steven. Steven had politely declined but had asked for just a couple of clippings.

Stepping back, he sighed. “It looks pitiful.”

Layla shook her head. “I think it looks lovely, Steven. Go ahead. See if they are ready.”

Steven nudged around. Of course he found Marc first, easily pulling him out of his deep sleep.

“What’s going on? What time is it?” Marc looked from Layla to the table. “What is this?”

“It’s midnight. Steven wanted to try something. Don’t be mad at him.” She gave him a stern look. “He worked hard at this.

Marc frowned and moved closer. A memory tugged, but it wasn’t his. Refused to be his. He pushed back from it and crossed his arms. “Why would he bother? Waste of time.” He moved as if to blow out the candle then stopped when he saw the little waving astronaut.

His hand lifted in a returned wave.

“Abuelita had one of these.” He gestured at the table dismissively. “Bigger. Better looking too. More flowers.” Marc crossed his arms and looked away. “We had to pay respects every year. It was Importante. Mom wouldn’t put one up.” He struggled to get the words out, fighting against the desire to shut down. “I asked dad… If I could. I wanted to… She threw the flowers…” His breathing started to grow erratic.

His breathing stilled in an instant as Jake blinked in, looking around for a moment to take in the table.

He picked up a flower and slowly spun it between his fingers, watching the petals rotate. He mumbled something in Spanish then set the flower back down gingerly.

“Are you okay?” Layla asked softly.

Jake inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled. “Yes. I think so.”

“Is Marc okay?” She was always hesitant to ask.

Jake took a moment. “Yeah. We always wanted an Ofrenda. Abuelita’s was so beautiful. The candles and the flowers… We loved the stories she told as she lit each candle for each person. When Randall died, we tried to set up our own. We thought he deserved to be with all the pretty lights and flowers.”

Layla was quiet as Jake shifted on his feet slightly. He had a way of speaking of their bad memories like a casual observer. She knew he was far from partial to it all. There was always barely simmering rage just under the surface of them, waiting to smother out the pain that threatened to rise up.

He put his hands in his pockets for a moment, remembering what Marc could not. The screams. The rage. The overturned table. The flower pot crashing into his head as it flew across the room. The bloody gash that needed stitches. The lies at the doctors office that he had told. It was not the first time Jake had taken over to protect them, but it was the first memory that he had closed off as his own.

“We never had one again. Marc stopped speaking Spanish after that. Refused to do anything from her side of the family. I don’t blame him.” Jake shrugged and picked up the small astronaut, looking it over. He then looked up at the baseball banner and single candle.

Realization hit him and he dropped the toy. “It’s not for him…” Jake breathed out. “It’s for us.”

Steven slowly surfaced. “We died, didn’t we? We lost everything when we were so young. Don’t you think that we deserve to be remembered too? When we were one? One heart struggling to survive?”

“Yeah… We did die.” Marc bent and picked up the toy, holding it tightly.

“I read that an important part of today is to not just have pictures, but to tell stories. To talk about your memories and be happy for them.” Steven gave a small smile. “I don’t think I remember anything real. I just remember our room. Kinda like this.” He set the spaceman back down and lightly traced a finger on the Cubs banner. “I liked the colors. I don’t think I knew what they were for, but I liked the triangular shape and colors.”

Jake smiled and realized the blanket on the ofrenda was a kid’s race car blanket. “We had a race car bed. We used to roll over and kick the side every night, but we refused to admit we needed a bigger bed. We colored a paper plate like a steering wheel and kept it under the pillow.”

Marc nodded. “Yeah. There was a telescope. Thought we could be an explorer out there or something. Weren’t any good at remembering the names of the constellations, but we could find them.”

“I remember that.” Steven smiled. “We found the Little Dipper every night.”

“You know, we used to hate milk.” Marc made a face. “Or was that just me?”

“Milk is right disgusting.” Steven made the same face.

“You two are idiotas. Milk is wonderful! Prefer it in my coffee to creamer.” Jake huffed. “Do you remember the little candies Abuelita used to give us?”

“Red hots.” Marc groaned. “Basically candy coated cinnamon pain.”

“I keep a pack of them in my car.” Jake grinned.

“I have a memory of getting into a jar of jalapenos once.” Steven shuddered. “Was that real?”

“Oh god.” Marc chuckled. “Her homemade pickled Jalapenos. She hid them up on the top of the cabinet. DId we really eat half the jar?”

“We ate the whole jar. We puked.” Jake nodded.

Steven cringed. “Is that why I can’t look at a pickled jalapeno without gagging?”

“I’d do it again.” Jake smiled smugly. “Those were the best damn jalapenos I ever had.”

They laughed softly and watched the candle flicker for a moment, remembering hazy moments that weren’t quite clear to them. Piecing together moments that some only had bits to and correcting memories that were almost forgotten.

Marc turned to Layla after a moment. “Would you mind… Find us another candle?”

She blinked in surprise and moved to get one from the kitchen. “Who is this one for?”

“Randall.” Marc set it down next to the first one and carefully lit it. “I don’t have any pictures, but I think it’s time he was properly honored.”

“We never got to attend his funeral or Shiva.” Jake whispered. “She made sure of that.”

“Yeah.” Marc sighed. “I don’t know how much of him you remember… But I’d like to share…”

“I didn’t even know I had one.” Steven looked down sadly.

“I have some images…” Jake shook his head. “Not really connected with good things.” Memories that were locked away so completely that he made sure none of them had access to them.

“Let’s fix that.” Marc moved to sit down and beckoned Layla over. Once they were all settled, Marc took a slow breath.

“I had a younger brother named Randall. He was a pain. Always taking my toys and wanting to color. But any time I wanted to play pretend, he was right there with me.” Marc took Layla’s hand and held it tightly.

They talked for hours and ate the bread together, telling stories of what he could remember of his younger brother and growing up with him. It was the most Marc had ever let himself remember before. There were a surprising number of good memories.

Now and then, Jake would add in a detail Marc had missed. Something small that made the memory more real. Steven had even added in a detail he was surprised to remember, though he lacked the context.

By the end, they were exhausted, curling up on the couch with Layla and fading in and out of sleep.

“Thank you for sharing.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. “You should get some rest.”

“I know it isn’t really your culture or anything…” Steven nervously looked up at her. “The holiday does last all day and ends on the second… If you wanted to… You could tell us about your father. Marc says it’s okay if you share. Jake says it’s okay to put his photo up if you like.”

Layla thought about it for a moment then nodded. “It’s about honoring family, isn’t it? I think I would like that… Adding my memories to yours…”

Steven smiled and closed his eyes. “A path of Marigolds to lead us to the field of reeds. I think it would be lovely if we could all be there together next time…”

Marc dreamed. Gold and orange mixing in the silence. He wasn’t alone this time. The silence was broken by the sound of Jake humming softly, playing a guitar somewhere in the reeds. Next to him Steven looked around with wide eyes as he took in the colorful sky. He was buzzing and babbling about the history of the reeds.

Marc breathed a sigh of relief. He hated the silence. Smiling, he sat back and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of family.

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight fic #Marc Spector #Steven Grant #Jake Lockley #Layla El Faouly #MoonKnightober2022 #MKtober2022 #Prompt word reeds #Dia de los muertos fic #I used to steal jalapenos from my abuelia #Ate the whole jar #She was not a small woman and laughed when we called her Abuelita cause she was six foot one #THIS IS THE LAST OF THE OCTOBER CHALLANGE #Didn't finish it but I planned to end on this one from the start so here we are #ta-dah

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