LETTIE
A strong burning smell filled my kitchen.
My pie was gone.
Stumbling over the chair, I jumped up and ran to the oven. As I turned it off, I realized how much my hands were shaking. My throat was so dry, it felt like it was going to tear.
It was then that I realized: Piccolo and I kissed.
We... We kissed!!!
And Naíma had just asked if we were going to be a family now and if Piccolo would be her… daddy.
What. Was. Happening?
In a second, I was sitting there in that chair, talking to Piccolo about my fears, waiting for my pie to be ready, and the next… we were doing what I had been wanting for ages.
How did everything turn upside down in the blink of an eye?
I stared at Piccolo again. He was white and paralyzed, alternating between staring at me and Naíma. I could almost see smoke coming out of his head. It was clear that he was as disturbed as I was by the sudden situation we had found ourselves in.
What now?! What would we do?! How would we explain our kiss to Naíma?? How would we explain our kiss to ourselves??
"S-Sweetheart..." I went to her and got down to her height, trying to sound as normal as possible, but failing. "Go to your room and play… P-Piccolo and I need to talk, okay?"
"Oh, Mommy..." Naíma looked at me sadly. "I want to stay here with you... Pwease..."
My heart clenched in anguish. Desperate, I sought Piccolo's gaze. Even though he still seemed troubled, he changed his posture and straightened up, showing the paternal authority that I knew he exerted over her.
"Naíma," he said firmly, "obey your mother. Now go to your room."
Like a good daughter, despite being upset, she obeyed. However, before disappearing down the hallway, she turned to us and, with a dejected expression, asked, "Mommy, Daddy, please… Don't fight."
Her words hurt more than a violent blow. Piccolo and I were finally alone in the kitchen, with the echo of her plea reverberating around us. Slowly, I turned to him, who was staring at the floor. A shadow covered his eyes. I swallowed hard.
"Uh..." I cleared my throat. "Can we talk on the porch?" I glanced at Naíma's room. "I think it's safer."
Piccolo just nodded and made way for me to go first. When we reached the porch, I closed the door and sat down in one of the wicker armchairs. He remained standing, rubbing his hands, still avoiding my gaze.
"You… don't want to sit down?" I gestured to the armchair next to me.
Piccolo suddenly looked at me and said, "What we did was a mistake. It's best if we just forget what happened. The Androids arrive tomorrow. Now it is not the time to discuss this."
Silence.
It was my turn to look at him, and my expression was not at all happy.
We kissed, Naíma called him daddy, and he has the courage to ask me to FORGET what happened?! That what we did was a… MISTAKE??
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"No," I answered, loud and clear.
Piccolo's eyes widened. He definitely wasn't expecting such an answer. Not from the sweet and kind Lettie, who always accepted everything to avoid a conflict.
But now, it was my turn to speak.
Slowly, I got up from the armchair and walked over to him. Piccolo flinched at my attitude. I stopped in front of him, gazed deeply at him in the eyes, and declared, "I know what's going on with you."
Piccolo turned pale. "W-What…?" he whispered.
"I heard what you said to Naíma," I replied with conviction. "Three years ago, on the day we took her to get vaccinated." I pointed to the armchair I had just sat down. "You were right there, and you entitled yourself as her father. I remember it very well."
A glimpse of terror flashed through Piccolo's eyes at my revelation. A huge lump formed in my throat as I remembered that day, but I couldn't stop. Not now. With my voice cracking, I continued, "Naíma was feeling sick and you took her out here. I was making cookies with Gohan, but I got worried, so I came to the window just to make sure everything was okay. That's when I heard what you said to her."
Even as I saw Piccolo's eyes well up, I recited the words that had been stuck in my head since that afternoon, "Pay attention, Naíma. We can't be together. Me, you, and Lettie, you understand? This is the hardest thing I'm doing. It's consuming me from the inside out! But do know that's for both of your sakes. I have my reasons. It's too terrible for you to know! Maybe one day I can tell you all the truth, but I'm not ready yet. Please be patient. Even though I'm not doing what I want the most, I'll always be here. I'll protect you and your mommy."
There was a heavy silence.
A tear ran down Piccolo's frightened face, and I had to hold my own tears as I continued speaking, "Do you want to know how I managed to endure all these years by your side? Because, every day, I repeated to myself what you said to Naíma. I-I... I was content that all we would have together would be..." I opened my arms and looked around. "This. Our daily routine, at the School, on the weekends, you know?" I lowered my head. "But, I still had hopes that we would take a step forward in our relationship and that you would tell me the truth when you were ready, but... that moment never came..." I raised my eyes cautiously. "Until now."
I took his hand and squeezed it affectionately. I could feel his heartbeat racing. "Piccolo, I don't know what you're going through, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that our anguish needs to be shared, otherwise, as you said, it will consume ourselves from the inside out!" I took a deep breath. "Listen, as you asked, I've been patient and waited for a long, long time, but now I need you to tell me the truth, because it involves me and Naíma. I want to hear everything from your own mouth." Then I levitated until I was at his height and took his face. "Please, talk to me. Tell me what's distressing you."
He let out a sob from deep in his throat. I think it was unintentional, and it broke my heart. I could see how much he longed for the touch of my hands, but at the same time, he seemed to be afraid of them and tried to pull away.
"No…" he said, his voice revealing great pain. "I can't…"
"Piccolo, please." I held him tighter.
"No!" He pulled away from me and turned his back on me. "You can't help me! No one can help me!"
I landed on the ground, startled by his behavior, and watched him walk across the porch until he leaned on the wooden railing a distance away, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. He looked like he was about to faint.
Okay. Now I was really worried about his emotional state.
What was happening to him? What was tormenting him so much? Piccolo was sweating coldly, panting, running his hands over his face, shaking his head… I had the impression that he was having a panic attack. I knew the symptoms pretty well.
I was about to run to the kitchen to get a sedative when he suddenly stopped, took several deep breaths and fell silent. Then, in a low but very clear tone, he confessed, "I had a dream."
I frowned, confused. What did he say? That he had… a dream? Anyway, I didn't need to ask him to repeat himself, because Piccolo turned to me, his eyes red, puffy and tired, and said, "Do you remember that, on our last day of Training against the Saiyans, you told me to look for my new dream? Well, I had it. Right after I died in your arms, I dreamed that I was training with our children. They were two boys. Twins. Nail and Daikon were their names." He let out a bitter chuckle. "You should have seen them. Nail had the features of a Namekian and Daikon had the features of a Saiyan. They defeated me so easily. After training, we came here." He looked around. "To this very house. Naíma greeted me there at the front door." He gave a small, melancholic smile. "She was already a teenager. The most beautiful and loving daughter in the world… And then," he gazed deeply at me, "you welcomed me in the kitchen. Goku's family would visit us for lunch, and you were preparing the largest amount of food I've ever seen in my life." He sighed. "So, they arrived, we had lunch, spent a nice afternoon together and then, at night, when everyone had left, you and I went out to train, near our old Camp. In the middle of the fight, you transformed into a Super Saiyan and defeated me." He gave a sad half-smile. "Actually, I confess that a part of me pretended to lose just to get your attention, because, after training, we…" He looked away and blushed, running his hand behind his neck. "We did… Well, you know." He looked me in the eyes. "There, in the Hot Springs." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, when we got back, we put the kids to bed and went to sleep." His gaze became pleading. "Everything was fine, Lettie, I swear! We had the perfect life! Me, you… and our children."
I covered my mouth in complete shock at the description of his dream, so similar to countless fantasies that I had allowed my mind to imagine about our family. I could see nothing else, only Piccolo in front of me.
So, all these years, he had actually dreamed the same thing as me? Wow, he dreamed that we had twins?! Nail and Daikon… I remember I thought the name Nail was pretty when he mentioned it… And what about Naíma?? If Piccolo had that dream when he died in the fight against Nappa and Vegeta, it means that he dreamed about her before she was even born!
But… Why didn't he move on? Why did he abandon that wonderful dream?
WHAT HAPPENED???
My answer came soon after, as Piccolo continued, "Everything was perfect, until he arrived."
"W-Who…?" My voice was a whisper.
"The one who has tormented me ever since: my Enemy." His tone was filled with bitterness and pain. "He came here, to our home, and didn't show us any mercy."
"W-What did he do?" My pulse resounded in my ears.
"He killed us, ruthlessly. First our children, including Gohan, then you, and lastly, me." Piccolo let out a shaky breath and lowered his head, letting a tear fall, then looked at me again with a desolate expression. "Lettie, do you know what it's like to watch your wife and children die right in front of you and you can't do ANYTHING?" His face twisted in disgust. "My Enemy is vile, evil and full of hate. But above all, he is extremely powerful."
"Who do you think he is?" I asked, astonished. "Could it be… one of the Androids?"
"That's the problem, I don't know who he is. I couldn't see his defined form." Piccolo let out a tired sigh. "The only thing I know is that, since I was resurrected on Namek, his voice is a constant threat in my head. I've never had peace again. Every day, he talks to me, tormenting me and showing me images of you and our dead children." He stared at me with bloodshot eyes. "It's bizarre! I-I… I can't push him away, and that's what's consuming me from the inside out, Lettie!"
Without meaning to, I grabbed my clothes around my chest, so much anguish invaded me when I saw how much the man I loved was suffering. In the meantime, Piccolo turned his back on me again and leaned on the railing, looking frighteningly exhausted.
After a long minute of silence, he continued, "I believe you now understand why I said that to Naíma. If I..." He sobbed. "I-If I stay with you, we run the risk of my dream coming true. My Enemy will win, and it'll be all my fault."
My heart sank so hard that I felt physical pain, and the only thing I felt for Piccolo was pure compassion. A tear ran down my cheek as I looked at him there. Even though he was so tall, he seemed so small, so fragile…
And then it happened. My heart, which had been hurting before, suddenly expanded with the warning I received. A Voice, the same one that had urged me to leave my house the day I met Naíma and told me she was mine, said clearly to me, "Piccolo is being deceived."
My eyes widened. A chill ran down my spine.
Everything became clear.
I watched him once more, still leaning over the railing, in a hunched and suffering posture. Then, slowly, I walked over to him. I gently ran my hand down his back and hugged him from the side. Piccolo shivered at my touch, but I didn't let go. I fixed my gaze on him, who was head down, showing a look of pain, and I said, "Please, let me help you."
Piccolo gritted his teeth and shook his head violently. His temples throbbed. Whatever was tormenting him was there, and it was reaching its peak.
"I'VE ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT NO ONE CAN HELP ME!" he exploded, breaking free from me and walking away through the porch. Then, he suddenly turned and faced me, his face livid. "Lettie, I beg you to understand! I. CAN'T. DO. THIS! I cannot allow this future to happen! Oh, come on! One way or another, it has already happened!"
"What do you mean?" I approached him, my whole body shaking.
"Do you want to know what happened to Naíma in Trunks' future?!?!" His nostrils flared. "SHE BECAME AN ORPHAN!!!"
His words echoed across the porch, and I gasped in astonishment.
"For the past three years, I've hidden it from you," he continued, his face devastated. "Because I didn't want you to know the terrible future that awaits her if we don't defeat those freak Androids. But now, since you want to hear it from me, I'll tell you: in Trunks' future, the two of us got together, for a brief period, but we died soon after at the hands of the Androids, and our daughter was left alone." He let out a sob in his throat and his voice became weak, almost a whisper. "She was going to be a ballerina, Lettie, a ballerina… But she gave it all up to build the time machine with Bulma."
Tears, boiling and heavy, streamed down my face and onto my neck as I listened to the description of that terrible future; my future, Piccolo's future, and our daughter's future.
Our daughter. He himself admitted that.
Then, slowly and through swollen eyes, Piccolo looked at me with heavy sorrow and said, "There is no salvation for us, Lettie. Not here or in any other timeline."
I could no longer feel the extremities of my body. I got into a state of numb stupor in the face of everything I had heard in the last few minutes: Piccolo's dream about our twins, about Naíma, our family lunch, our training, my transformation into a Super Saiyan, our intimate and romantic moment in the Hot Springs, and then, the death of our children, my death, Piccolo's death...
And now, Trunks' future... Naíma's future... Knowing that she's an orphan in that timeline, who gave up on pursuing the career we had dreamed of for her from the beginning... Knowing that Piccolo and I were together, even if only for a short time, but that we were killed by the Androids...
I didn't even notice that Piccolo had turned his back on me and leaned against the railing again in a tired posture, and I also didn't notice when I sat down on the wicker armchair to find support for my wobbly legs.
I place my head between my hands, running my fingers through my hair, trying to catch my breath. I glanced at Piccolo from a distance. He looked much, much worse than me, immersed in great distress.
Seeing him in that state, I remembered the cause of all that: his Enemy.
Doubts began to swirl in my mind: Could it be that… Piccolo was right? Could there be no salvation for us? Was our family destined to never be formed? Was our only future nothing but death, sadness, and destruction?
For a moment, panic and anxiety tried to take over me, and then it came: a strange voice, hissing like an evil serpent, wanting to whisper something macabre in my ears. It was a horrible and terrifying sensation! How had Piccolo endured such torment for so many years?
But then, that other Voice, so familiar, soft and gentle, spoke above the strange voice: "There's still hope. In each and every timeline."
A great peace invaded my soul. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and calmed myself. When I looked at Piccolo again, he was still hunched over and in agony, and the deepest love filled my heart.
Slowly, I got up and walked over to his side, but I didn't touch him. "Go back to the Lookout and rest," I said, in the calmest tone. "We don't have to solve this now. Come here early tomorrow morning. We'll leave Naíma with Chi-chi and go together to the agreed meeting place with Goku, Gohan, and the other warriors. Is that okay to you?"
Piccolo turned to me with a confused expression and looked at me for several seconds. At that point, he was no longer hiding his tears. However, it was clear how strange he found my behavior in light of everything we had just discussed. He probably thought I wouldn't let us leave that matter pending for another day. I had said that myself.
But now, everything had changed. Naíma was right, I wouldn't fight with Piccolo. All he needed at that moment was to be taken in with love, not being pushed away.
"Y-Yes, that's fine," he finally replied, frowning and blinking many times as he still seemed confused by my sudden pacifism. "Thank you."
I followed him to the porch stairs and watched him descend them in a shy posture. Before flying off, Piccolo looked at me with his face a mix of confusion, shame and fear. In response, I gave him a small, kind smile with a slight nod. He finally disappeared into the clouds, and I was left by myself.
I let out a long sigh. Now, my challenge would be to talk to Naíma. She was only four years old—the same age Gohan was when we met Piccolo and began our training against the Saiyans—and I would need to explain to her that it was not yet time to call him daddy. Her sweet little heart would certainly understand that the man who had taken care of her since she was a baby was not well and needed a lot of help.
But we wouldn't be the ones to help him.