“For the last time, you’re not killing Lana,” Tatiana exhausted.

Jiji sat in the gamer chair beside her aunt, “Uh, this is the first time you've told me.”

“The fact you’re asking me means Dante already said ‘no’.”

Today Tatiana was recording where to find items in a medieval fantasy RPG. She didn’t need her microphone. Or any guides. Or brain power.

The game was another ‘rushed to completion’ title. Subpar graphics that didn’t match the commercials. A short main story with copy-and-paste missions. Easy to find weapons when you exploit the pantheon of glitches. Tatiana already knew this was making her ‘Tea-Time-Tutorials: Top 10 Worst Games of the Year’ list.

That brain power was better suited for her niece. A niece who didn’t quite understand the magnitude of her statement.

“I don’t want to kill that walking, one-dimensional, bleach blonde, valley girl, stereotype. I just think if you cost my girlfriend her job, then there needs to be a punishment.”

“And the punishment is murder?”

“No! Why do you and the Professor keep thinking that?”

Tea recited Dante’s text, “And I quote: ‘Marilyn was fired so I’m going to set Lana on fire’.”

“Not for long! Just like, 2nd-degree burns. 3rd tops!”

“I'm positive my wife already explained why arson isn’t ok.”

Jiji’s disappointment came in the form of an ascending groan. The text, “Uggggh!” hit the ceiling like a balloon.

“So mad, ya changing fonts on me?” Tea joked. “Kid, if I responded to every dumb comment or sexist message, I wouldn’t have enough energy to do my job. You gotta channel your anger so you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Aun-Tea, I can’t do that!”

“You’re going to learn how. I can tell you right now, wifey & I aren’t wasting wishes on bail.”

“I know not to get caught. Remember Friday’s game? How all the cameras mysteriously malfunctioned when I came into view?”

Barrett paused her game, “Jiji.”

Jiji put her hands up, “Ok, what I meant is: This isn’t something I can ignore. If I let it go, then Lana is going to keep messing with Marilyn. And Marilyn’s my girlfriend. And nobody messes with my aunties, my friends, or my girlfriends!”

Tatiana’s heart skipped a beat. Knowing someone was willing to commit arson for her warmed her up. It didn’t stop Tatiana from putting the flame out.

She unpaused the game, “Honey, as sweet and wholesome as you’re trying to be, Marilyn is a grown woman. She doesn’t need her ‘oompa-loompa’ girlfriend to cook someone’s ass for her. Especially if she didn’t ask.” Speaking from experience, “Sometimes being a partner means helping them through an issue. Not solving the issue for them.”

Jiji slunk down. Groaning all the way. The only part of her on the headrest was her ponytail. Knees almost to the floor.

Pouting, “So…what? I just let it go?”

Barrett corrected, “Oh, I didn’t say ‘let it go’. I just said ‘don’t commit a felony’.”

Jiji’s next thought was cut off by the game. Music that can be described as ‘trying to be epic’ hit. Mismatching sound effects played as a peculiar enemy rose from the ground. As if the boss glitched into battle.

Tea’s disappointment looped into amusement. It was so bad, it became funny. Her laughter was louder than the enemy’s growl.

The red beast had lava dripping from its shoulders. Its rock-hard muscles let off steam. Flames emitted from its enraged yellow eyes. Hooves and horns as black as coal.

Jiji squinted at the screen. Not at the blazing bull. But its name.

‘Ifrit: Demon of the Volcano caverns’.

“Auntie,” Jiji asked, holding in her offense, “…what am I looking at?”

It was too easy.

“What? You don’t recognize ya mom?”

Jiji teleported them to the beach, and then threw Tatiana into the Pacific Ocean.

-Meanwhile-

It took a lot of magic for Jiji to clone herself. But Marilyn was worth it. Cheering up her girlfriend would always be worth it.

One version of Jiji with a ponytail was cleaning seawater off the carpet before Dante got home. Yelling at Tatiana to stop teleporting around the house. Slipping on seaweed.

The other version sat behind Marilyn on the bed. Putting a Dutch braid in her girlfriend’s short hair. Attention split between Kamkin and their film.

‘Guilty for living’. A musical about immigrants coming to America. Only to find it’s not as accepting as they thought.

Enrique wonders if his family’s safety is worth the ‘American dream’. His wife, Paulina, tries being nice even when people say the ‘American dream’ isn’t for ‘you people’. Their child, Marilyn, questions if the dream exists at all.

Marilyn Kamkin had the lines memorized. She was infatuated with the expressive choreography. Anticipating every perfectly delivered high note.

Her only complaint was the rushed pacing during the normal dialogue scenes. As if they were scared to have lines without singing. But, it was a nitpick.

“You gonna, like, finish that braid?” Marilyn asked.

Jiji would’ve been done earlier if the songs weren’t so catchy. Or if the actors weren’t so cute. The third act had begun and Marilyn had Jiji’s frozen finger on her scalp throughout the second.

“Oh! Sorry! Sorry!” Jiji got back to braiding.

“You’re fine, short-stack. I was the same way, watching this as a kid.”

“How many times have you seen this?” Jiji asked.

“About 30. 32.” Marilyn felt Jiji pause, “Girl! Shut up! Like you’ve never reread a smut novel!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Anyway,” Marilyn nudged Jiji’s leg. “I used to watch this all the time with my grandparents. My grandpa would always talk about how the play was better and my grandma just sang along to everything. So, the second the play came to LA, my whole family took me to see it. I was like, 5 or 6 and it was, oh my god! Jiji, I didn’t even know watching someone dance could make me feel so…you know!?”

Jiji had stopped braiding again. Marilyn’s enthusiasm made it impossible to focus. Her girlfriend’s gushing passion for dancing was more entertaining than the film.

Marilyn continued, “Like, watching the film was one thing. Like, I love the camera angles and, hell, I named myself after this ‘Marilyn’. But when they're leaping and spinning a few feet from you. My god, it’s incredible! You just, you feel it. I remember Enrique putting his whole heart into this song and seeing his jaw vibrate as he’s hitting that high note. I could feel the impact of him struggling to be a good father every time he took a step. It hits you so much harder when it’s all right there.”

Jiji flicked her finger and the braid was done. They’d have a hair day another day. Right now, Jiji understood Marilyn needed something else.

Jiji slid off the bed. She sat on the floor behind Marilyn. Back to the comforter.

“Can you see, short-stack?”

“I didn’t think this through.”

Marilyn swapped positions. As nice as Jiji was trying to be, Jiji getting sandwiched would be a matter of ‘when’, not ‘if’.

“You were saying,” Jiji said, seated comfortably against Marilyn.

“Nah, that’s it. This story just means a lot to me. Seeing my family be so moved by a man dancing with his wife. Knowing my dedushka and babushka went through similar stuff cause they spoke, like, 10 words in English.”

Marilyn sat back. She sighed with a smile. All the memories of her memorizing the choreography from various films swept in.

Years of dance classes and cheerleading. Competition after competition. Trophy after trophy. Her family was there to cheer her on for all of it.

Even during the valleys. When she slipped and lost enough points to cost the team. When she needed math tutoring due to the ‘student’ half of ‘student-athlete’. When other adults harassed Marilyn for not being a ‘real girl’. They always had her back.

Marilyn hugged Jiji tight, “It’s why I dance.”

Jiji pondered what to say next. If she should say anything. Marilyn was done talking, but her grip remained.

“They sound amazing,” Jiji commented. “Your family sounds amazing.”

“Thanks, babe. They are.” Marilyn nuzzled their cheeks, “And so are you.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Jiji giggled.

“You have. Just, keep being my teddy bear.”

They just sat together. All day, alone together. Watching old films and chatting about their families. Marilyn more than Jiji.
Jiji just provided the popcorn and an ear.

3 musicals, 2 romcoms, and a small joint later, Marilyn got a text.

Mustang: ‘how u doing?’

Marilyn was laid back. Jiji’s head lay on her lap. As if Marilyn’s thighs were pillows.

The answer was a picture of what Marilyn had been staring at for the past 30 minutes.

Mustang: ‘I’ll leave you and A-A alone then.’

Marilyn: ‘A-A?’

Mustang: ‘Apple-Ass’

Jiji looked back. Wondering why Marilyn was laughing when no jokes were told. But then she missed the nerdy character fallover.

Marilyn: ‘You sure?’

Mustang: ‘I need to get more of my stuff. You & Jiji need to do it already.’

Marilyn: ‘Thanks’

Mustang: ‘I want no details when I return in the morning’.

Marilyn: ‘Don’t break my car.’

Mustang: ‘Don’t break my girlfriend’

With that banter done, Marilyn put her phone away. A deep breath in. An exhale that got Jiji to look back.

“Hey, are you breathing ok?”

Marilyn curled her finger, “I can use some CPR.”

Jiji almost fell off the bed rushing to Marilyn. She was on top with her knees on either side of Marilyn’s hips. Nose to nose. Stars for eyes. The biggest smile Marilyn had ever seen.

“I can do that!”

Marilyn found the small of Jiji’s back. Her other hand guided Jiji’s chin.

She whispered, “Bout time.”

Their kiss was about many things. A shared lust. A show of affection. A deepening love.

It wasn’t quick. But it started slow. Reacting to the other’s taste and touch. Growing more and more heated as the minutes counted down.

They simply gave one another their hearts. They wound up taking the other’s breath away.

The movie had ended, and the lack of background noise told them to break.

“You ok, love?” Marilyn exhaled. She brushed a strand of Jiji’s messy hair out of her red face.

Jiji’s heart thumped against her chest. She was speechless. Whatever noise her open mouth made was close to a ‘yeah’.

Again, Jiji’s state of mind was projected. Marilyn saw they were now surrounded by a sea of pillow hearts. Her bedroom floor had turned into a romantic foam pit.

Each heart had a different ‘thought’ stitched on.

‘She feels amazing’.

‘Am I in love?’

‘Should I touch her boobs?’

‘I’m touching her boobs!’

‘More tongue?’

‘Is she reading my mind?’

‘She’s moaning too!’

‘Yes!’

‘She stopped moaning, what do I do?’

‘She really likes my muscles.’

‘God, her muscles feel good!’

‘I think I love her.’

And so on.

Marilyn snagged a pillow by her foot. This one’s ‘thought’ gave Kamkin something to think about. A passing idea that fueled her next move.

“Ok Jiji. Let me know if I’m going too fast.”

“But you’re not moving,” Jiji pointed out.

Marilyn flipped Jiji onto her back. Then, she straddled Jiji. Forearms on either side of her head. Nose to nose. Nowhere for Jiji to look other than her romantic blue eyes.

Squeaking, “…oh.”

End