July 2019
"Yeyette!"
Even though it had been at least a good seven years since Sören had last seen her in person, it was still unmistakably her - tall, with dark red waves a few inches down past her shoulders, green eyes, a stern face that lit up when she heard her name and saw him in the baggage claim. She was wearing dark blue jeans and a Pusheenicorn T-shirt - they were both wearing Pusheen shirts (though Sören's had Pusheen with donuts), they matched without trying. They ran to each other and hugged hard; Yeyette kissed him on both cheeks, French style, and tousled Sören's shoulder-length mop of dark curls.
Nicholas and Anthony were still waiting for their luggage to roll up on the baggage claim, and once they had it, they wheeled their luggage over to where Yeyette and Sören were still hugging. Yeyette and Sören pulled back, and Sören put a hand on each of their shoulders. Sören was six feet tall, and Anthony was six-two, Nicholas a towering six-five. Anthony gave Sören's beard a little skritch.
"Yeyette, these are my partners, Nicholas Decaux, of London but originally from France..." Nicholas was older than Sören by thirty-six years, with silver hair and beard, bushy eyebrows, intense dark eyes, high cheekbones and a patrician nose, dressed in a black tunic and black trousers, simple and elegant in an understated way, handsome in a severe way. "And Anthony Hewlett-Johnson, from London." Anthony had short black hair, wide-set green eyes - today he was wearing wire-rimmed glasses so he could see the airport signs and didn't have to mess around with contacts - and was boyishly handsome; for the plane ride he'd wanted to be comfortable and opted for his ancient Nirvana T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, but the Rolex on his wrist and the expensive brogues on his feet betrayed his background. "Nick, Anthony, this is my best friend, Yeyette Arnaud."
Nicholas took Yeyette's hand and kissed it. "Un plaisir de vous rencontrer, madame."
"Hi," Anthony said, shaking her hand warmly. "Sören has told us so many things about you, it's nice to finally be meeting you in person."
"It's good to meet you too," Yeyette said, smiling. Her smile became a threatening scowl. "Now I can make sure you're taking good care of him, not like that bitch Juni -"
"Jæja," Sören said, not wanting to get her started about his ex Juniper right now, and there was more about that horror story than even Yeyette knew. They were in an airport, and things tended to happen when either of them - or both - got angry; he didn't want the fire alarms to go off, or make some other scene. "Where are your -"
Before he could conclude the question with "men", there they were, coming over with Starbucks they'd gotten from one of the cafes in the airport. The one with silver hair and the dapper grey suit with the waistcoat and old-fashioned pocketwatch, was carrying a tray of drinks.
"Hello," he said, and then he smiled at Nicholas. "It's good to see you again, Nicholas."
"Likewise," Nicholas said.
When it had come up in conversation some time ago, Sören had thought it a funny coincidence that one of Yeyette's partners knew one of his partners, but then, it felt like they were all fated to meet, somehow.
"This is Victor de l'Aigle," Yeyette said, gesturing to the one with the suit, "and this is DeKalb Abernathy."
DeKalb was dressed down in a grey T-shirt and jeans. He had a rugged, chiseled face, with short greying brown hair, observant dark eyes. For a middle-aged man he had an impressive physique, muscles clearly defined under his T-shirt, and in his arms. "Nice to meet you," DeKalb said. "Welcome to Indiana." He took the drinks from Victor's tray and began passing the iced coffees around. "We didn't know what to get you, hope you guys don't mind iced hazelnut lattes."
"Thank you, this is nice after the plane ride. It was a bit stifling," Anthony said.
"Indeed," Nicholas said.
"Já, it's good," Sören said, taking a big gulp. "You knew to get whipped cream for mine!" He grinned at Yeyette.
"We thought you could use some refreshment after the long flight all the way from England," Victor said, "and likely wouldn't want to be in a crowded cafe."
"You assumed correctly," Nicholas said. "Very thoughtful."
"Aaaaand the ride from Indy to where we are is a good two hours, so we should probably get moving if y'all don't mind?" DeKalb asked.
No one had any objection to that.
As they began marching out of the airport, to make the long trek to where Yeyette and her partners were parked, Anthony started laughing.
"What?" Sören asked.
"You have whipped cream on your nose."
"Dammit, every time I have Starbucks this happens," Sören said.
"I know." Anthony leaned in to give him a little kiss. "Don't change."
_
Sören found it amusing that Yeyette, Victor and DeKalb had a minivan - none of them seemed like the minivan type. But then, he supposed it was practical transport for six people.
It was a hot day; Sören knew July in Indiana was going to be considerably hotter than July in England - and July in Iceland, his home country - but he had still worked up a sweat by the time they made it to the van in the parking lot. He was grateful the van had good air conditioning.
DeKalb drove, and Yeyette rode shotgun. Nicholas and Victor sat together in the middle row so they could catch up - Victor had brought his laptop and wanted to show him some files - and Sören and Anthony cuddled in the back. Sören saw Yeyette rummaging in the glove compartment and took out what he thought was breath mints, but when the object came floating in the air his way, Sören saw it was 24-hour allergy medication.
"What's this for?" Sören asked.
"You have asthma and the pollen count is ridiculous this time of year," Yeyette said. "Actually, Anthony, if you're not used to it and don't have any contraindicators, I would recommend taking one too."
Anthony snorted. "Even if Sören hadn't told me you're a doctor, I would have been able to figure that out." He unscrewed the bottle and dispensed a tablet for each of them, then Anthony waved his hand and the bottle moved back up to the front of the van.
The one thing all six of them had in common was Force sensitivity. It felt good to be able to use the Force openly around people other than Nicholas and Anthony. Sören had been worried about a slip with his anxiety on the flight, but had managed not to accidentally expose himself. Now he was starting to relax. He relaxed further when Yeyette put music on - she liked reggaeton, and so did he.
As they made their way southwest on I-70, leaving Indianapolis in the direction of Terre Haute, and got enough speed going that they could turn off the air and have the windows down to let in a breeze, Sören realized what Yeyette had been talking about. They were driving past cornfields as far as the eye could see. "Wow, look at all that corn," Sören said. "That's incredible!"
DeKalb chuckled. "You act like it's the Eighth Wonder of the World."
"It is! There's farms where I come from in Iceland, up in Akureyri - my great-grandparents were farmers - but we don't grow corn like this, up there. I've never seen anything like it."
"That corn is fucking evil," Yeyette said. "It's pollinating right now."
"Awww, you don't want the corn to have sex?" Sören couldn't resist teasing her. "Let the corn have some fun..." Sören snickered. "You've got on the right music for it." A reggaeton song was playing where a guy was singing in Spanish about how he liked to go down on women.
There was something hilarious to Sören about driving past seemingly infinite cornfields, in the heartland, with filthy reggaeton songs blasting on the stereo. Then they were behind a truck that just said TRUMP in all caps on the back of the cab, and when the truck pulled over to let them pass, the driver gave them an angry look and yelled "SPEAK ENGLISH!" out the window. Yeyette flipped the bird in response. While Sören was horrified people were like that, he also thought people like the truck driver deserved to be offended, and he laughed.
"Welcome to Hoosierland, where we got good ol' heartland values," DeKalb said. "Fuckers."
"Oh no," Yeyette said under her breath.
"I put on a goddamn uniform and served this goddamn country for all Americans, and that orange sonofabitch calling himself Commander-in-Chief who's never fought a day in his life seems to think 'America' is only a country for rich straight white 'Christian' dudes like him... Fuck, I should calm down because I'm driving and the cops get happy in this state if you're speeding just a little. And it gets worse. Wait till we get closer to home, you'll see what I mean."
Sören had heard from Yeyette that DeKalb used to be in the Army, but she otherwise hadn't said much about his background, and considering Yeyette was one for detail - she was a doctor, and that meant having an investigative, observant mind - he knew there was something she was holding back... something she couldn't get into on the phone or over the Internet. He'd known ahead of time about the Force sensitivity because he and Yeyette had developed a code years ago when they were roommates in college. He had a feeling that the story with DeKalb involved Force sensitivity somehow, but whatever it was, they would tell him in due time, Sören was sure. It was pretty weird they were living in Indiana, of all places; weirder still since Yeyette had been living in Paris after school. Paris, France to Terre Haute, Indiana was not a typical relocation. On the other hand, an Icelander living in Florida for a few years hadn't exactly been typical, either - he was still glad to be gone - but he had a feeling this situation was very different.
Sören distracted himself by watching the corn. And then he started to see what DeKalb was talking about. First there was a billboard sign that proclaimed PRAY TO END ABORTION with a count in the millions of "babies murdered". Sören cringed - he was strongly pro-choice, that wasn't even a question where he came from; he wondered if all the people who wanted to stop abortion were willing to pay for welfare to help poor single mothers, and guessed probably not.
"It gets even worse," Yeyette said, picking up on his discomfort.
A few minutes later there was a road sign that just said JESUS, all caps... above a billboard advertisement for McDonald's with a giant cheeseburger that said "Beefy, cheesy glory." Anthony almost spat his coffee, and Sören and Anthony leaned on each other in hysterics, Sören laughing so hard his face hurt.
Then there was a random wooden cross in the middle of a cornfield. "Someone should put a scarecrow on that," Anthony said.
"Oh man, sometime we should drive back here, pull over, go out in the cornfield, and..." Sören could barely finish the sentence, laughing too hard at the mental image. "Three of us pose to make the letters M, C, and A."
Anthony laughed harder. "That's a good plan."
"I would approve, but the owner of that cornfield might come at us with a shotgun for trespassing," DeKalb said. "Lotta people packing heat out here."
"Ugh, really?" Now it was Anthony's turn to cringe. "I keep forgetting America is much more relaxed on gun laws than we are."
"I don't mind guns," DeKalb said. "I mind idiots who think having a gun compensates for having a tiny dick."
Sören liked this guy already; he was refreshingly salt-of-the-earth. Though he made quite a contrast in comparison to Victor, quiet and refined in the way Nicholas was. Sören wondered again what the story was, and told himself to be patient.
And then, there it was. Speaking of dick... "Oh my god, that sign looks like a dingdong... made of corn," Sören choked out, laughing so hard he gave himself a cramp, tearing up. "And it says..."
"Yeah, yeah, shut up," DeKalb said.
It was a very large, very phallic-shaped ear of corn, rising up like a penis growing erect, and it said DEKALB; Sören guessed it was some sort of corn company.
"Is that how you got your name?" Sören felt almost bad ribbing him a little, but he couldn't resist, and if DeKalb was one of Yeyette's partners that made him family - this was how Sören was with family.
"No," DeKalb said, driving just a little faster. "I was named for Johan de Kalb, who was a general during the American Revolution. Look. Him. Up."
"I'm sorry," Sören said, but he really wasn't.
"I'm not even from around here," DeKalb muttered. "I'm from Missouri."
Sören found that even more curious - it would have made a certain amount of sense if DeKalb was from Indiana and Yeyette and Victor had moved out here for him, just like Sören had moved out to Florida for Juniper. But with DeKalb not even being from Indiana...
"We'll explain later," Yeyette said, as if she picked up on Sören's curiosity.
"Don't feel too bad," Sören said, hoping he didn't start on the wrong foot with his practically-brother-in-law. "Anthony isn't Anthony's given name, he has a weird first name too -"
"Sören." Anthony glared.
They're going to find out anyway if they see your passport, Sören spoke into his mind, and then he announced, "Anthony's first name is Cornelius. Anthony is his middle name."
"Cornelius Anthony Hewlett-Johnson. Boy if that don't sound la-di-da," DeKalb said.
"He does come from a posh background," Sören said. "But not so posh that he can't be a total dork." Sören gave him some pets in anticipation of what he was about to say next. "I like to bust his ass and call him Corn." Then Sören lost it again, having a gigglefit at the endless corn fields. "Oh shit, Corn, meet corn. DeKalb, meet DeKalb. DeKalb, meet Corn. It's Cornception up in here."
"Corn of eternity," Yeyette said.
"Thanks, I hate it," Anthony said.
"You're welcome." Sören booped his nose.
Allow me to show my gratitude later, Anthony spoke into Sören's mind, broadcasting a mental image of taking Sören over his knee and spanking him.
Promises, promises.
There was yet another sign for DeKalb corn as they came closer to the Terre Haute city limits, this one had the same phallic corn symbol but with the slogan "When Performance Counts".
Anthony and Sören were both laughing so hard they started snorting. "I bet it does," Sören said.
_
Yeyette, Victor and DeKalb lived in Beauregard, Indiana, a small town outside of Terre Haute. Beauregard was an interesting mix of rural and urban - a Starbucks and Wal-Mart here, a farm with horses there. The three lived in the portion where it was mostly rural and a bit of a drive to get to civilization.
Sören had sent Yeyette things in the mail before - at a post-office box or her place of employment at the hospital in Terre Haute, because she said her neighbors were nosy. Sören didn't know what he was expecting, but when Yeyette said "Almost there, here's our street now" as they turned onto a street with a sign that said Old Town Road, Sören and Anthony lost it again.
Sören began singing, "I'm gonna take my horse to the Old Town Road, I'm gonna riiiiiiide till I can't no more..."
"Hoorrrrse," Yeyette said, teasing Sören about his Icelandic accent, though she had a mild French accent herself.
"Jæja, horse. Do you guys have a horse? Or horses?"
"No," Yeyette said, though she broadcasted someday maybe, and then she added, "And we moved here well before that song came out."
"We rode on Old Town Road before it was mainstream," Victor said. "Pretend I have hipster glasses."
"My husband, the memelord," Yeyette said. "Now you and Sören can have meme competitions, dear."
"Mon Dieu," Nicholas said under his breath.
"Most excellent," Victor said.
The memeiness intensified when Yeyette said "we're heeeeere". Sören looked at a huge red brick farmhouse, three stories, with a barn nearby, then his eye caught a quaint green tin mailbox at the beginning of the long driveway, and Sören saw the number on the mailbox, repeated in iron-cast numbers on the farmhouse. "420420 Old Town Road." Sören loved it. "You guys live on 420420 Old Town Road."
"We don't blaze it," Victor said.
"Only when you set the lab on fire," Yeyette quipped.
"What?" Sören felt mildly concerned.
"I have... a laboratory," Victor said, pronouncing it la-BOR-a-tor-y instead of LAB-ra-tor-y like most Americans; Sören knew of course that Victor wasn't American but that made him stand out even more. Victor pointed to what looked like a small whitewashed-boards chapel with a brick foundation, out in the enormous field of a yard, standing by a lone, very tall pine tree.
"I see," Sören said.
"Yes," Victor said in a way that hinted I imagine you do and confirmed that they were probably out in Indiana for weird reasons. Sören felt like he had just fallen down a rabbit hole, and he had no idea where it was going to lead.
"Well, welcome to Indiana," Yeyette said as they got out of the van, and opened up the back to retrieve the luggage. She gave Sören another hug. "Welcome home. Even if you're only going to be here three months... it's been too long."
"It has," Sören said, feeling guilty all over again that they hadn't done this sooner, but life had been... life... for both of them.
Yeyette gave him a noogie just before Sören grabbed one of his suitcases.