A shudder ripples up Yelena’s spine. She quickly turns from her perch on the picnic table bench, and spits red ice onto the dirt. She hacks up the offending treat, before turning back to the concerned girl sitting across from her.
Kate’s face is twisted up in a knot, “Hey, are you okay? Did you choke or something?”
”What was that?” Yelena manages to cough out, grabbing a napkin from the table and trying to scrub the sticky flavor off her face.
Now Kate frowns: “You said you liked snowcones. I got you the tiger’s blood, that’s what you asked for right?”
“This is poison,” Yelena pushes the melting cup of disgusting towards Kate, “It is not how I remember it.”
Kate considers this, and uses her spoon stained in banana flavoring (Yelena did explicitly tell her she wouldn’t kiss Kate again until after she brushed her teeth of that flavor) to test Yelena’s snowcone. She swallows, and shakes her head, “This is it, the three flavors for one combo.”
Yelena pouts and insists, “No, it is not. It was different, better.”
”Well when did you have it last?” Kate flicks her sunglasses over her eyes, peering up behind the lenses in an attempt at playing detective. All Yelena can think about is the way Kate’s mouth is stained artificially red and maybe tiger's blood would taste like it was supposed to on her lips. Then Kate says: “You know your tastebuds change when you get old.”
”Cyka,” Yelena growls and snatches the glasses from Kate’s face. She slips them on. Kate doesn’t attempt to take them back, just squints the sun out of her eyes as punishment. Except it isn’t really a punishment - Kate loves it when Yelena wears her sunglasses. Yelena plays absently with the spoon in the barely solid snowcone, “I don’t know. Must of been Ohio.”
That’s always Yelena’s answer when she ends up hating something she allegedly loved. Kate doesn’t hold it against her, but she can’t understand it either. At first she thinks it’s just nostalgia. Kate catches herself falling into that trap sometimes: the mall, sick days, McDonald's fries (nope, that one still holds up). Kate thinks Yelena just has her Ohio childhood on a pedestal - which, again, completely fair with all things considered.
Kate starts doubting Yelena experiences Regular People Nostalgia when she says she wants to go back to Cedar Point. The best Kate can do is take her to Coney Island. Kate doesn’t say anything when they walk past a warning for minimum height requirement. She doesn’t say anything when her brain absently notices that a six year old Yelena could not have made it on the ride. Maybe Ohio had even less rules than Coney Island. Who was Kate to know? Yelena throws up after the first roller coaster. She’s a curious shade of white when she practically shoves Kate out of her way, beelining towards the trash can. Her aversion to rollercoasters is very funny with all things considered.
Sometimes Yelena will be restless. She paces and sighs and opens the cabinet doors over and over and over and over again. Kate doesn’t know what she’s looking for. She just knows Yelena never finds it. She’s usually mumbling, “I was doing something.” She’ll pace off again, come back, sigh. “I just can’t remember..” The thing is, Yelena is very good at not remembering what she is doing outside of a mission. The other thing is that Yelena is very good at making up what she was supposed to be doing. Kate suspects it’s the same way Yelena is very good at filling the gaps in her memory.
Kate thinks about how badly Yelena must want these things to turn them into her reality. She thinks about how a six year old little girl had time to become the world’s greatest child assassin the world has ever known and carefully craft an entire imaginary normal life. She thinks about how another version of Yelena went to Cedar Point, had sticky tiger’s blood dripping from her chin, camped in her backyard with her sister, sat through family dinner every night, failed math class in eighth grade, broke her arm doing a backflip on the trampoline, spent her summers traversing the world on family vacations. Kate likes that Yelena just as much as this one.
Sadness sours this Yelena’s face. There’s a deep loneliness that would rival the sprawling desert. Kate says, “Ohio probably puts cherry in it instead of strawberry.”
Yelena perks up, “That must be why I remember it different.”
“Maybe we try something new next time,” Because Kate wants to stop waking in the middle of the night to half-muffled sobs coming from the bathroom after every failed attempt of Yelena trying to reconcile reality and delusion. Whatever Yelena wants to be real should be.