Destination Years later, they would say that it all began with a pull-cart in America. For the most part, Davis would agree with them. Not because it was true so much as because he couldn't waste every interview correcting them with the story of how he first came to love Ramen noodles when he began eating solid foods, because he couldn't recount the same tales of his childhood dream to own his own noodle shop, because he didn't want to dwell on the fact that before he started his own place he got fired from another job, because he didn't want to explain that the whole thing really started as joke with his girlfriend. They were young, they were still in school and they liked to cook. They would joke around about owning their own restaurant someday, though neither really believed at the time that their relationship was 'someday' material. Those comments however always led Davis back to thinking about his childhood dream. And when the jokes were over and 'someday' had been on the horizon for a long time, he figured he might as well go for it. What was stopping him anyway? Reason? Pah. Logic? That was never part of Davis's vocabulary. So, he decided it was time for a new adventure. And that was when it began, not with some crummy cart in New York... ********************** There were a few small triumphs. The biggest probably was when she had been there about a year. She opened a discarded newspaper and could recognize a few words in the headlines. She flipped through to the classifieds and could pick out a requirement or two for each job. Naturally, she couldn't take any of them. Fluency in French, passable English and limited Japanese were never requested. So, Catherine had no income. Not to say she was useless, no she refused to be some sort of freeloader to Davi's family. That would not do. She and Floramon cooked, Davi cheerfully helping when he could snag the early evening time away from work, they cleaned and did the laundry. She 'paid' room and board threw housework and her delightful hosts seemed to appreciate it. At times, she almost felt like a daughter. A daughter who could barely understand a word of what her parents said. As for now, though, she wanted a job. It was funny, Catherine supposed, that a summer trip to spend time with a sweet boy with whom she'd spent a school year could turn into a whole new life. She loved Davi, she was meant to be with Davi and if that meant living in Japan then that's where she would be. The transition was over, long over, she needed a job, her own place, income. Catherine was boiling rice one day in early June, Floramon rolling dough for buns that the partners had noticed Davi's father was quite fond of, when Davi arrived home from work early. He was wearing that ear to ear grin that told Catherine immediately that something conventionally bad had happened, but was the sort of thing that opened about a million doors to new opportunities. Davi was the sort of person who could have lived by the phrase 'No door closes without opening a window.' <<Great news!>> Davi cried, walking into the kitchen and throwing his arms open. "Que?" <<I got fired!>> Unlike Davi, Catherine was distressed by the news. "Pourquoi?" Catherine asked, concerned, despite Davi's large grin. <<Something about running into one of the other chefs, him knocking into a pot spilling boiling water and noodles all over the floor...then the manager slipped and landed on his rear. So I got fired. They almost got the other guy, but it was my fault, so I got him to keep his job.>> Davi shrugged and grinned. <<Oh, well, I didn't like the hours that much anyway.>> <<How is that good?>> Catherine asked frankly. <<Freedom,>> Davi replied. <<I got to thinking,>> he said, placing a thoughtful finger on his chin. <<Remember when Mimi and Michael where over and they said that we ought to go to ol' New York sometime?>> "Oui," Catherine said, thinking back on how she and Mimi had carried on a few difficult conversations in English. It had been nice not needing a translator. <<So, I was there once a few years ago, about the time you got your digivice and Floramon, you know? And there's this place called Central Park and around it they have little stands and stuff. Different types of food. So, I figure an ultra-authentic Japanese place would do well, cause they like exotic stuff over there.>> <<We don't have the money to start something like that,>> Catherine began. <<You're forgetting I have connections,>>Davi said, wagging his finger at her. <<Tai can get us through Digi-customs and we can save on plane fare and shipping by going through the ports.>> Fondly, Catherine smiled. <<Is there anything you didn't think of?>> <<One thing. What we're going to tell my parents.>> Catherine laughed and they both seemed to understand the conversation was over and their livelihood had been decided. ********************** "Noodles, noodles, come get your noodles!" Despite the fact that Catherine had been standing next to him when Davis climbed atop the seven foot portable cart, she had no idea how exactly he managed to do it. Yet, there he was, sitting with his feet dangling against the wooden planks, slurping his made from scratch lunch. Every so often, he would shout an advertisement. At first, it had been something different each time, but eventually he settled on one phrase. Catherine thought this one, while better than 'Ramen noodles you don't have to microwave!,' wasn't the most original thing he could have said. "Hey!" a high pitched voice called. "Can we get some service?" Davis looked down and grinned. "Slow day?" Mimi asked, looking the cart up and down. "I think we've sold three cups," Davis answered, "and that's not counting the fifteen orders Veemon ate and the twelve that Floramon had." "Treize," Catherine corrected, pointing over her shoulder to where the digimon sat. Floramon was currently eating noodles one at a time with her finger-like appendages, a neglected set of chopsticks lying between herself and Veemon. "Well," Mimi said, "in that case, I'll have one." "Thanks," Davis said, "Come again. Please, please, please, come again." Catherine laughed and filled a cup with noodles. She passed it to Davis, who passed it to Mimi in exchange for a dollar. "I'll have one as well," Michael said, "But I can't be sure how many Betamon will want." "Hopefully a lot," Davis said. Mimi and Michael laughed, but Catherine, who to be fair wasn't one hundred percent sure what they had said, had the feeling it wasn't a joke. As Mimi and Michael sampled their lunch, the passing tourists seemed to be walking past the cart at a slower speed. At first, none of the four friends noticed, but finally a group of teenage girls stopped. And requested Michael's autograph. "Sorry," the actor said, "I don't have anything to write on." The girls, all fans of some soap opera Michael was on that neither Davis nor Catherine had ever even heard of, seemed disappointed until one noticed the ramen cup he was eating out of was made out of cardboard and quite autographable. Four more sales, four happy customers which turned into four happy soap fans. "Sank yuu!" Davis called as they left, "Come again!" "This is a pull-cart," Mimi said suddenly, "maybe you could get more interest if you came to the customer instead of the customer coming to you." ********************** They weren't lost, per say. True, they had no idea where they were going, where they had come from or how to get back to where ever it was they were soppused to be, but that wasn't lost, was it? Floramon had said something, but Veemon hadn't quite caught her meaning. New...noss...perdon...whatever that meant. "Nous nos perdons," Floramon pouted every so often. Other times she would call for Catherine, that at least, Veemon understood. There were only so many ways one could pronounce a name. "Je vais aller a notre apartement ou je vais aller a Paris ou je vais etre avec Catherine. Tu t'ennuie Davi, n'est-ce pas?" Because her last statement seemed to be directed at him, Veemon stuttered a positive, then a negative and finally admitted that he really only knew she had asked him something about Davis. For all he knew her simple inquiry of 'you miss Davis, right?' could have meant 'you like to eat Davis, right?' "Je t'ennuie Davi, aussi. Je lui aime. Catherine lui adore. Aime-tu Catherine?" "'Aime' sounds like 'ami,'" Veemon said aloud, trying his best to figure out what the flower digimon had asked, "And everyone knows 'amie' means friend in French. So, I guess Catherine est mon ami," "Ta amie," Floramon corrected. "Catherine est ta amie?" Veemon questioned. He had always been under the impression that 'mon ami' meant 'my friend.' While he hadn't picked up much of what Floramon and Catherine said in French, Catherine had been really trying to improve her Japanese and English conversation skills over the past few months and Floramon spoke much to quickly, he had picked up on 'is.' Suis, es, est, sommes, etes, sont. "Oui!" And 'yes.' He knew 'yes.' "Mais," Floramon continued. That, Veemon didn't know. "Catherine est ta amie, aussi." "But that's what I just said!" Veemon protested. Seeing he didn't understand, Floramon shook her hands in a 'stop and wait' motion. "Catherine est ma amie," with that she pointed to herself, "mais, Catherine es ta amie, aussi." The second part of the statement she touch Veemon's shoulder. "Catherine est ta amie," Veemon said pointing to himself. "Non, non, non!" Floramon insisted. "Ma," she corrected. "Catherine est ma amie," Veemon said pointing to himself, "because 'ma' is my. And 'ta' is yours." He waited for confirmation, but Floramon, not understanding what he said, gave none. So he tried her approach. "Catherine is my friend," he pointed to himself, "Catherine is your friend," he pointed to her. "Catherine is my friend," Floramon parroted Veemon, pointing to herself, "Catherine is your friend," and she pointed to him. Veemon clapped in affirmation. Floramon mimed a curtsy to which Veemon bowed in response. "I know what we can do to find Davis and Catherine!" Veemon said suddenly. "Come on!" He took off a run, leaving Floramon standing where the two of the had been moments before. Seeing she wasn't with him, the dragon dashed back, took her leaf enveloped hand and they ran together. They traced their steps, both the ones they took before being separated from the wheeled cart and the ones they had taken afterwards until they returned to where the quartet had originally been before Mimi and Michael's arrival. Though Floramon recognized the location, she still didn't understand why they returned. Catherine and Davi knew they weren't there. After knowing each other so long, while he didn't understand her words, Veemon could still read her expression. He knelt down and ripped up a patch of grass on the edge of the path. With his forefinger claw, Veemon scratched an image of Davis's D-3 in the dirt. He pointed to the drawing. "Davis can find me using his D-3," he said slowly. "Davis," he repeated, waiting for Floramon to nod in response, "find," he pantomimed looking for something by touching his thumb to his forehead and shading his eyes with his hand while turning his head, "me." He pointed to himself. "With his D-3. Davis and Catherine find us." "Nous no nos perdons pas!" Floramon exclaimed. "Uh, yeah. Let's go back to 'is my friend.'" ********************** Veemon awoke lying in Davis's noodle cart as the young man pulled it along with Catherine struggling to help. "Davis?" he questioned. At the sound of his partners voice, Davis turned his head to see Veemon. "The next time we get separated," the human told his digimon, "and I have a really big cart to lug around with me everywhere I go, stay in one place, man!" "We must have gone all over the borough looking for you two," Catherine added in that slow, careful Japanese of hers, "How did you get separated from us?" "While we were waiting for that Unimon and buggy to cross the street," Veemon began, "Floramon saw a bunch people at a little outdoor rose stand and--" "Say no more," Catherine said holding her hand up. Veemon chuckled and noticed Floramon was still asleep beside him. "How long did it take you to find us once we stayed in one place," Veemon asked, remembering the two digimon had eventually fallen asleep under the shade of a large tree, but not after Floramon yelled a few things at it. What, Veemon wasn't quite sure of. But he did know being in the Real World without your partner was some tiring work. "Between lugging this thing around and people wanting to buy ramen, it took a long time. When the signal finally got steady we were about thirty blocks away from Central Park, at least." "And it was early evening by then, we were mobbed with singles trying to get a quick dinner," Catherine added. "What did you guys do all that time?" Davis asked, "you can't even talk to each other." "French lessons," Veemon responded. "I know the difference between 'ma' and 'ta.'" "What about 'mon' and 'ton?'" Davis asked. "Et nos et vos?" "'Catherine est ta amie' is as far as we got," Veemon said. "That reminds me of when we met," Davis said, eyeing Catherine. "Je m'appelle Davis, tu t'appelle Catherine," he quoted himself. "Elle s'appelle Floramon," Catherine continued. "Je suis japonais, tu es francaise," Davis added. "Elle est du Monde Digital." Veemon laid back down as his partner and Catherine laughed and, not for the first time, wondered what they were talking about. ~*~*~ |
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