Pilgrims In A Strange Land by Starsea

I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others.
Cicero


“Tell me again why we’re doing this.”

November in Boston, Massachussetts; Boston Common, to be precise. A grey day, clouds scudding in from the sea and the wind occasionally yanking at the trees, pulling the last of the leaves from the branches. The weather could have been worse, but it wasn’t exactly perfect.

Mamoru shoved his hands further into his pockets and tried to sound bracing. “Because we’ve been here a month now and we haven’t really explored Boston.” He turned and looked at his companion, who also happened to be his roommate. “Come on, Ken, you must have some interest.”

“I’m interested in getting some coffee, as black and strong as they can make it, and sitting down somewhere warm.”

“I’m sure there’ll be a café or a bar along the way.”

“I don’t want one along the way, I want one now.”

“Are you always this grumpy?”

“I am when I’ve been dragged from my bed on Saturday morning for a history lesson despite having the world’s worst hangover.”

“Well, if you hadn’t drunk so much last night…”

“Hey, I know why I’m feeling like this and I don’t regret one single moment, okay? It was worth it, just to forget that I’m in this godforsaken place.” Ken turned away, shoulders hunched, clearly annoyed. “And if you had asked me, which you didn’t, the last thing I’d want to do on a Saturday is walk a Freedom Trail.”

“It’s the Freedom Trail and walking will be good for your hangover,” Mamoru said, moving away so that Ken was forced to walk after him. “Clear your head.”

“Are all pre-med students this annoying?”

“Are all business students this miserable?”

“I don’t want to study business, remember? That’s what my father wants me to study.” Ken kicked at the ground moodily. “I want to study veterinary medicine. And I can’t do that here. I can’t do anything here.”

“You can learn a little,” Mamoru said through gritted teeth, thinking that teaching Usagi algebra had never been half as difficult as this.

“Yeah, I get to learn that you are so easy to wind up, it’s untrue.”

Mamoru looked up. Ken was grinning at him.

“You… you…”

“See, that expression makes me feel a whole lot better than any fresh air.” Ken plucked the map of the Freedom Trail out of Mamoru’s hand and took a look. “We’re supposed to head for the State House next. Come on.”

Mamoru muttered under his breath and stuck his hands in his pockets. They climbed up the slope of Beacon Hill in silence and gazed at the white building before them. Even the lack of sunlight couldn’t take away from the gold dome.

“This is apparently the ‘new’ State House. It was built in 1798,” Ken added with a small laugh.

“Back home, that would be middle-aged,” Mamoru remarked, feeling a sudden twinge in his chest.

“Depends… Tokyo’s very modern. It’s always looking forward. It’s always in a rush. That’s what I like about this place,” Ken said unexpectedly. “I mean, yeah, it’s a city, but it’s not all ‘hurry, hurry, hurry’.”

“I thought you said Boston was ‘godforsaken’,” Mamoru remarked as they turned and began to make their way towards Park Street Church.

“There’s no time in hell,” Ken quipped.

Mamoru thought it was time to change the subject, since Ken wasn’t going to change his mind. “Are you going home for Thanksgiving?” he asked.

“What for? We only get two days off: hardly enough time to get to BC, let alone Tokyo. BC as in British Columbia,” he added, seeing Mamoru’s puzzled expression. “Besides, nobody would be free: we have our Thanksgiving back in October, second Monday.”

Mamoru felt like an idiot. “I didn’t realise Canada had Thanksgiving,” he said humbly.

“Most people don’t. We don’t make such a song and dance over it, though it is important to us. Ours is more of a harvest festival, you know.” Ken suddenly broke into song. “’All is safely gathered in, Ere the winter storms begin…’” His voice was low but pleasant, only slightly rough from the night before. “That’s one of the traditional hymns. We do have turkey, though, and pies. Lots of pies.” He smiled for a moment.

“There’s going to be something for the foreign students,” Mamoru said quietly. “Simon Davis told me about it. You’re welcome to come… if you want.”

“Who the hell is Simon Davis?”

“Exchange student from England.”

“No thanks.” Ken glanced up at the church spire. “Anyway, what could I say, Chiba? I can’t say I’m thankful for being here, because I’m not. I can’t say I’m thankful for my family, because I’m not, I wish they were all dead and buried. Leastways, I do at the moment. I’d say I was thankful for my friends, but all my friends are in Tokyo and they can’t help me.”

“I’m your friend,” Mamoru said quietly.

Ken looked at him. For a moment, they were both silent. People were walking past them but there was no sound. Even the traffic was muted. Then Ken shook his head, almost as if to clear it.

“You barely know me,” he said. “And it’s better for you that way. Trust me, Chiba. You don’t want to get to know me, not this year. This year, I’m raising hell.”

“I’ve been to hell,” Mamoru answered. “Hell doesn’t scare me.”

“Yeah? Well, it should. Come on, I’m freezing my ass off, let’s find a Starbucks or something before we go any further.” He turned and walked up Park Church Street. Mamoru watched him for an instant. He wasn’t surprised by the refusal but it still stung.

Luckily for Ken, Mamoru wasn’t the kind of man who gave up at the first hurdle. He continued to mention the foreign students’ Thanksgiving dinner, once each day, for the next week, until Ken slammed his (veterinary) dictionary closed and yelled, “Just shut up and leave me alone, damn you!”

Ken had often been annoyed but he’d never screamed like that before. Mamoru saw the boundary, noted it, and backed down. Thanksgiving dawned cold and frosty, but clear. Mamoru didn’t know whether to say anything, but Ken solved that dilemma for him by muttering “Happy Thanksgiving” and then leaving. A few minutes later, Mamoru heard the harmonica notes waft down from the roof, the same tune that Ken had sung for him when they explored the Freedom Trail. Technically, Ken wasn’t supposed to be up on the roof, but Mamoru wasn’t going to tell (after all, he’d been on so many rooftops, it would be hypocritical) and there wasn’t anyone to tell, really. Security was minimal at the moment.

The dinner was to be held in the dining hall. Most of the chairs and tables had been cleared away, leaving one table alone in the centre of the room, covered in a white linen tablecloth. It was edged with crimson embroidery (Harvard crimson, of course) and the centrepiece was a bowl of Virginia creeper and poinsettia flowers, with some ivy for contrast. When Mamoru arrived, some of the foreign students were already there: there were quite a few from Japan, but he didn’t have much chance to see them during term time, owing to the fact they all took different classes. Others were from China, Hong Kong, Canada, Mexico and then there was a group of Europeans, who stood looking at the table with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. Simon waved at Mamoru to come over.

“Ken not coming?” he asked.

“Is he awake?” asked a girl with a German accent. “I have him in most of my classes and he’s usually at the back, taking a nap.”

“He’s awake,” Mamoru replied, squashing the urge to snap. “But I don’t think he’ll be coming. It’s not really his thing.”

“If he doesn’t make more of an effort, he’ll get himself thrown out.”

Mamoru just shrugged, and didn’t mention the fact that this was Ken’s plan. Ken had told him so on the day he’d moved into their room. After helping Mamoru unpack, he’d sat down and said, “I don’t want to be here. I plan on being the worst student in this whole place, just so they’ll ask me to leave. Thought I should warn you.”

Simon changed the subject and they began to talk about their perception of Thanksgiving and what they’d seen in American programmes. Mamoru was able to inform them that Canada also had a Thanksgiving, although it was earlier. They all seemed impressed. He wished that Ken were here to see that.

The turkey and vegetables were brought out and they all sat down. Mamoru’s mouth watered as he looked at the bird and he thought of how Usagi would love this. His heart gave a painful jump. He’d phone her later, even if it wasn’t Thanksgiving in Japan. Just to hear her voice.

Then the doors burst open and Ken strolled through, for all the world as if he’d just happened on the gathering. “Hey,” he said with a smile to the gaping mouths and wide eyes. “Mind if I join you?”

Mamoru turned and pulled out the empty seat on his left, trying not to smile. Ken sat down in it and smiled at Simon, who was seated at the head. “Don’t let me keep you.”

Simon blinked, nodded, and said, “Well, I think it would be nice to start off the meal by saying what we’re thankful for. I’m thankful for being here and sharing this meal with all of you. It makes a real difference.”

“You’re late,” Mamoru said in an undertone as the others began to follow Simon’s example.

“Nah, I’m right on time,” Ken replied, his eyes laughing even though his mouth was straight. “I didn’t have to stand around making conversation with people who think that I’m a drunken idiot.”

“You still have to say you’re thankful for something.”

“Got it covered.”

Mamoru raised his eyebrows but Ken assumed a virtuous expression tailor-made to make him laugh, so he had to look away. When it came to his turn, he cleared his throat and said, “I’m thankful for being here… and for being alive.” There were a few exchanged looks at that, but he didn’t care. Being alive was something he couldn’t take for granted.

Ken looked into space for a moment, then ran his hands through his hair, which he’d actually brushed so that it looked like a halo around his head, rather than a tangled mane. “I’m thankful for my friends,” he said slowly. “Not just my old ones, but my new ones, too… even though I may not show it.” He caught Mamoru’s eye for a moment and then nodded. “Friends are the family we choose.”

“Well said,” Simon agreed and there was a murmur of agreement, most people looking shocked that they were agreeing with Ken West, the freshman from hell. Mamoru smiled to himself.

“If friends are the family you choose for yourself,” he said a while later, when they were eating, “who’s your ‘father’?”

“The guy who sends me all the vet stuff. I should introduce you two one day. I think you’d get on. You’re similar. In fact, I think you’re my new ‘uncle’.” Ken slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “Welcome to the family.”

“I feel like I’m in a bad gangster movie,” Mamoru retorted.

“Just be grateful you don’t have to do a New York accent.”

“Oh, I’m grateful. Trust me, I’m grateful.”

More than you know.


DISCLAIMER: Mamoru belongs to Naoko Takeuchi (and Usagi).