Name: Statue

Word Count: 1,131

Song: Where Have You Been

Ivy was hugely disappointed, her father decided to cancel their Christmas vacation to New York, saying that it was simply too dangerous with all those "criminal bootleggers" as he called them. Although, Ivy highly doubted that excuse due to the fact her godfather ran a bootlegging business and he just dropped the proposed vacation so he could work some more.

Sniffing her scarf closer to cover her mouth she headed to the Little Daisy café to tell Mitzi she could take the winter shifts after all. She didn't think Rocky was a very good replacement considering he would most likely eat the food as he made it rather than serve it to their dwindling customers. Opening the door and feeling the slight warmth greet her she took off her scarf and gave an exhale of cold air from her lungs.

"Good mornin' sweetheart." Mitzi greeted, sipping some coffee and wearing a totally out of style outfit. But it fit her curves, and Mitzi was incredibly alluring… for a middle-aged woman anyway.

"Good morning," Ivy started and noticed she didn't smell any sort of breakfast being cooked.

"Your Daddy called last night and told me everything." Mitzi put down her coffee and got off the stool to give Ivy a comforting hug.

"I know how bad you wanted to visit New York." Mitzi said, holding her goddaughter close. She was never exactly the maternal type, but she could relate in being so excited for something and being let down. Like when she hoped she would eventually get her big break and become rich and famous and never have to sleep on the streets and be completely free and independent. Getting married to someone who loved her worked out nice too. Ivy sighed and she pulled away, still keeping a hold of Mitzi though.

"You've been to New York, how is it?" Ivy asked, both girls heading to sit down on the bar stools. Mitzi seemed to think for a moment.

"…A lot of pushy people." Mitzi said, and laughed a little. Ivy forced a chuckle and decided maybe some cooking would get her mind of things. The older woman seemed to catch the air of the situation.

"I can't seem to figure out how to work that stove. Could you go and get Viktor to help?" Mitzi asked. Ivy couldn't argue and grabbed her scarf as she went out around the back to the garage where the large man was undoubtedly rendering with the truck doing some upkeep so it didn't break down while running from enemy bootleggers.

"Good morning, Viktor." Ivy greeted as she walked into the garage. Viktor snapped up too quickly, from surprise of another person's voice when he was concentrated so hard on… whatever, or the fact it was Ivy's voice when he expected her to be gone she didn't know, and slammed the back of his head onto the bottom of the hood.

"Oh my-!" Viktor cursed in whatever his native language was (Ivy asked before where he was from and what his accent was but Viktor answered her in his native tongue, most likely on purpose) and Ivy rushed to him, pulling his arm down from his injured head, and he let her and even bent down a small enough so she could see if he was bleeding or not. He wasn't, but that didn't rule out a concussion.

"Are you alright Viktor? I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were focusing so closely on… whatever you were! Do you have a concussion or something? You don't seem to be bleeding, but I've heard of concussions happening from the smallest things you know! Brain damage too! What year is it? I hear doctors ask those kind of questions to see if the victim-"

"Ya, fine, Dievka, nozhing new. Just small pain." Viktor quieted her. Ivy disliked how Viktor dismissed whatever injuries he got. One day he'll lose an arm and dismiss it like he only lost a finger. Viktor's eye concentrated on her and he sighed while looking back to the truck.

"Vhy are you here? Thought you go to… big zity Vork?" It was rare Viktor asked questions, and Ivy didn't waste any time in answering something Viktor bothered to ask about.

"My dad cancelled it, said New York was 'too dangerous', but really he just had work to do. I don't think New York would be all that dangerous for tourists anyway, and it's not like we would be hanging out in the slums! But I guess I'll just be spending Christmas here and not with cute New York boys and dancing the latest new dances that New York girls do…" Ivy's tone went softer and softer to the point where she actually drifted off. Her bright eyes even seemed to dim a little.

"Well! Can you help me get the stove started? I guess Mitzi couldn't be bothered with it." Viktor nodded and proceeded to help her, even if the cold seemed to disagree with his knees a little.


A few weeks later, and the employees of the Lackadaisy were exchanging gifts, Ivy noticed one, and crudely wrapped gift addressed to her from Viktor and eagerly opened it. What plopped into her hand was what seemed to be a statue. Metal of scarp parts welded together and looked oddly familiar. Furrowing her brows, she went to find Viktor, who was sitting in the corner of room watching everyone chatter about their gifts and the reasoning. He noticed her, and seemed willing to answer her question she seemed dying to ask.

"What is this Viktor?" She presented the little welded statue.

"Is statue. From zhat big zity, Vork? Vhen I come to country, I see big vohman statue?" He made of motion he was carrying something close to his chest and with the other hand that he was holding some sort of torch. Then it clicked for Ivy.

"The Statue of Liberty?" Ivy questioned, looking back at the little reject piece.

"Ya, since… you made big sad eyes about not going to New Vork. So I make little statue so not sad about being here." Ivy was not only surprised that Viktor didn't explode from saying so many things at once, but the fact Viktor noticed she was upset about not being able to go to New York and seemed to make her happy in staying in Louisiana. Something welled in Ivy and even though the little statue was horribly ugly, it was the most beautiful thing she received as a gift.

Ivy lunged and wrapped her arms around Viktor's thick neck, and she could feel Viktor's arms hesitantly wrap around her small frame in return.

It was a nice Christmas even if it wasn't spent dancing and flirting with cute New York boys.


Apologize for any mispellings. I usually write the drabbles listening to the song it was inspired by on repeat. Again, I would want to update after a review but I felt it couldn't wait. And I'm pretty easy going so I thought might as well. I know in the 1920's gas stoves were on the rise but I figured the Little Daisy would have been too strained to afford such an update and would have done with the old fashioned appliances.