by Sarah Noffke
“I really am,” I say and then I’m suddenly distracted. I just catch the figure approach from the hallway. He’s being led by the butler, who I call Fuck Face. He loves it. And instinctively I know who the visitor is beside him. I would recognize the way he walks and moves in a huge crowd. It’s engraved into my memory along with his face. And then he nears the light of the kitchen and I see him clearly. His back is straight and he stands a foot over Fuck Face.
“Pops?” I say, the word catching slightly in my throat. Disbelief clouds my brain instantly. My pops hasn’t left England for all my life. Never ventured far from Peavey. “What are you doing here?”
“I bit the bullet so I could see my family. I dream traveled here,” he says with a chuckle, like that’s not the most outlandish thing I’ve ever heard.
“What the fuck?” I say, confusion like a bug bomb going off in my head, seeking to terminate every last brain cell.
Chapter Eight
Pops smiles wide as he approaches. Like my mum used to be, he’s always smiling. I didn’t inherit that trait from him, only his height, build and pronounced nose. Adelaide turns around, awe already writing itself on her face.
Immediately she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him easily. When they part he’s looking down at her affectionately.
“Thanks for the phone call,” he says to her. “After that I realized I missed you and Ren so much that I had to come see you.”
“W-w-wait. You dream traveled?” I say in astonishment and the stutter in my voice surprises me. I’ve never, not once, stuttered.
“Good to see you too, son,” my pops says, walking forward with his arms wide. I allow the hug. He shakes his head when we part, his familiar smile twinkling in his light-colored eyes. “I have been so accustomed to seeing you lately. Missed you immediately.”
“Pops, you dream traveled?” I say again.
“I did,” he says, shaking his long arms like they’re asleep. “Never used a GAD-C. Son, those things aren’t natural. Made my body feel like things weren’t reconfigured in the same way. I still feel peculiar all over.” He then ruffles his hand through his brown and gray hair, almost like he’s checking to ensure it’s still there.
“You dream traveled?” I say, now scratching the back of my head with a wild force.
“Why do you keep saying that?” Adelaide says to me.
I don’t answer the bad decision maker. “You haven’t dream traveled in…” I trail away, trying to determine the answer, but my mind has trouble supplying one. What the fuck is going on?
“Oh, it’s been easily fifty years,” he says, slapping me on the shoulder. “Once I met Mary I didn’t much care for the power. Never actually saw the thrill in it, but it got me here, and that really is what counts. I did consider taking a plane, but knew that would delay the reunion.”
Dahlia has gracefully slid into the position beside my pops and me. “Hello, Mr. Lewis,” she says and then rises on her tiptoes, pecking him softly on the cheek. “It’s lovely seeing you again. It’s been entirely too long.”
A touch of pink hits his wrinkled cheeks when he regards her. “Good to see you too, Dahlia. I dare say you haven’t changed since the last time I saw you. What’s it been? Twenty years or so?”
“Just about,” she says. The last time these two were together was when Dahlia accompanied me to my mum’s funeral. And it was promptly after that that I shoved her out of my life.
In my typical fashion, I’ve compartmentalized my personal life. I have a slot for my job, Dahlia, Pops, and now Adelaide. But presently inside this kitchen, which feels too small suddenly, they are all mixed together like the walls collapsed. I hadn’t even told my pops about Dahlia and I reuniting, but from the fond look he’s giving her he’s figured it out. I had just told him I’d moved back to the west coast and knowing I didn’t like to share personal information, he didn’t pester me on the subject. He’s pretty used to me moving about and disappearing and being secretive. And I’m used to him being the oak tree deeply rooted to Peavey. He’s always loved his simple life without want to experience new things. Loved his kids more than we deserved. And never used his power of dream travel. Hell, he only used his gift of telekinesis when he was training me to use my powers.
“Why are you here? How did you know where to find me?” I ask, my tone not at all welcoming.
“Well, Adelaide told me, of course. She’s told me all about this place and living in Los Angeles,” he says, now regarding the giant kitchen with wide eyes. He probably has never seen such an elaborate space with so many shiny surfaces and intricate details. “And I’m here for the simple fact that I missed you both. Like I said, I was accustomed to seeing you. One could say I was hooked.” And he chuckles again, like there’s anything funny or amusing about his words.
My pops had been training Adelaide over the last couple of months when we were in London. I was confident he’d fill in the gaps I was too busy to cover.
“You two talk? Like on the phone? When?” I say, pointing at the pair.
“You’ll remember that you abandoned me for a month. I got a little tired of talking to myself and I knew I had to tell Granddad about the baby,” Adelaide says, doing that thing she does where she pats her stomach. Something sour slips up my throat.
“Shame on you for abandoning your pregnant daughter,” my pops says to me.
“I was busy saving the bloody world,” I say to him.
“And Ren, why didn’t you tell me Addy was pregnant?” my pops says, wearing that familiar look of disappointment that he reserves for mostly me. “You know dream traveling can have assorted effects on a pregnant lady. You should never have allowed her to dream travel.”
I narrow my eyes at Adelaide and say, “Funny that you think I’m the one who forgot to mention that information.”
“Well, you are. And naturally I suspected that you were covering up the information. I know how hard it’s been to adjust to all these changes. After I found out I realized you were in denial,” Pops says to me.
“He actually didn’t know,” Adelaide admits, her face tightening with embarrassment. “I hid it from him. Well…from everyone.”
Pop’s face softens. He smiles a little, one full of dumb sympathy. “Oh, I see. That’s completely understandable though,” my pops says with a deep chuckle.
“Understandable?” I say, my volume doubling. “Are you bloody kidding me?”
“It’s a hard piece of information to divulge in a situation like Adelaide’s,” he says. “And Ren, we both know you wouldn’t handle that kind of news well. To find out that you have a daughter and then that she’s pregnant.” He turns to Adelaide. “Don’t blame you in the least for hiding that kind of thing.”
“This is fucking ridiculous,” I say, my cheeks on fire.
“Now son,” Pops says, his smile disappearing at once. “Why are you so upset? You have so much to be grateful for. So many blessings.”
“Blessings? Why don’t you go look up that word because you just misused it. And I’m not upset,” I say, not even attempting to quell my tone. “Asians who fail their driving test for the tenth time get upset. Babysitters who can’t get someone else’s brat to go to sleep get upset. Yuppies who have a big lunch and have to sit at a desk for the rest of the day in a suit that feels too tight get upset. Right now I’m fucking livid.”
“What’s gotten into you, Ren?” Pops says.
Adelaide eyes me with a cold hollow stare; still I know she’s curious to what’s going on. Dahlia, of course, knows why I’m angry. Her expression makes me think she gets it and is a little peeved too.
“What’s gotten into me? For starters, you are totally dismissing that this pest who infested my life lied to me about being pregnant,” I say, throwing a finger in Adelaide’s direction.
“Now Ren…” Pops says, and it’s been almost two decades since I heard that frustrated tone in his voice and the look he partners with it.
“I didn’t lie,” Adelaid
e says, her voice strong and stupidly self-righteous.
“Shut up,” I say to her before turning my attention back on my pops. “You show up here, dream traveling for the first time in my entire life, because why? Because you missed me? I was living here for three months and you never visited. Then I introduce you to this monster and you find out she’s gone and knocked herself up and you decide to dream travel suddenly.”
“Ren, I would have come to see you, but firstly you never told me where you were. And after you left London to move to Los Angeles you always came to me for visits. You never asked me to come and see you,” he says.
“I never thought you would,” I say to him. “Not in thirty or forty years have you left Peavey. I was pretty certain that asking you to visit was out of the bloody question. Little did I know you would, but not for me. However, for the mistake I unknowingly had you’ll do all sorts of things.” I throw my finger at the girl who is glaring at me with a dark anger.
My pops still has his face arranged into one that could have a smile spring up at any moment. It really is way too difficult to make him angry. “Ren, I think this has all been a misundersta—”
“Save your calm explanation, Pops. I’ve got a fucking job to go do,” I say. Then I turn and stalk past him. Dahlia reaches out for me, but lets her hand fall away when I continue marching. Adelaide slides to the wall to give me plenty of space. “Stay, leave, train the breeder, or do whatever you’re going to do. I don’t give a fuck.”
“You’re leaving?” he says at my back, hurt in his voice. “But I just got here.”
I pause and turn back, looking at only him. “Well, next time phone and tell me that you’ve changed after fifty years and you are suddenly being spontaneous and understanding to a fault. But for now I have a job to do so you all can enjoy the freedoms in this world. You’re fucking welcome.”
Chapter Nine
Like a chipper little chipmunk checking the contents of a nut, Joseph raps five times on the wall beside my office door. It’s open because I expected him. Actually I summoned the hillbilly.
“Get in here,” I say, turning away from the file I’ve been studying and then swiveling to the front of my desk.
“I believe you meant to stand and welcome me with a sweepin’ wave of your hand,” Joseph says, and I’m not surprised that he hasn’t lost his dumb southern accent. I haven’t spoken to him in over a year and feel smarter for it. I’m fairly certain he lost all his brain cells drinking mossy lake water growing up. You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the redneck out of the boy.
“You’re right. That’s not what I meant to say.” I clear my throat. Look directly at him. “I meant to say get your fucking ass in here, I haven’t got all bloody day,” I say, pointing to the metal folding chair on the other side of the desk.
“If it’s all the same I’ll stand,” he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest and giving me a proud smile. Joseph has always reminded me of a newbie in boot camp. Short military sun-bleached hair. An eager smile. And none of that spirit yet beat out of him. I thought by now he’d resemble more of the robots the army creates but that dumb spark in his eyes hasn’t dulled.
“You’ll sit so we can get this over with,” I say, again pointing to the chair. It is much easier to catch the micro expressions linked to lying if I’m eye level with people.
He plops himself down in the chair and promptly crosses his ankle over his knee, always the repulsive picture of cool casual. “You’re just as chipper as I remember,” he says, a sideways smile on his face.
“Sarcasm is really best used by people who have a three-digit IQ,” I say.
He slaps his knee and laughs loudly. “That’s a good one. You’re insinuating that I’m dumb. I’ve missed your humor.”
Oh god, this meeting will probably kill me. It’s definitely going to torch my remaining patience. Like his twin sister, Roya, Joseph loves to get on my nerves. It’s obviously a family tradition.
Unlike my agents, I’m not observing people in my attempts to find the mole. I’m outright questioning them, but from my position that doesn’t raise flags. My job as Head Strategist often requires me to investigate or obtain information from members of the Institute. Also, I know how to gain information covertly, something I can’t trust my agents to do.
“How long have you been a resident of the Institute?” I ask. He won’t lie to this question and that’s the reason I’m asking it. It’s to create a baseline.
“Well, let’s see here,” he sings, stroking his stubbled chin. Actually I didn’t think the half-wit was old enough to grow facial hair. “I say I’m about to round out my second year.” Then he brings his eyes to mine with a gigantic smile on his face. “Are you planning me a party?”
“With fucking streamers,” I say.
He whistles through his teeth and shakes his head. “You know the Lord frowns on that kind of language, Ren.”
“I know,” I say, tucking my tongue up and running it over one of my pointy canines. “But the devil loves it.”
“So this par-tay you’re throwin’ me,” he says. “Will there be booze?”
I grimace from the use of half of his words. “Yes,” I say, drawing the word out. “A keg, honky tonk and reality TV playing in the background.”
“Sounds like my kind of shindig,” he says. “Now I hear you have a daughter.” Joseph clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “You little rascal you. Who would have thought? Ren a father. Now go on, tell me all about your little one.”
“In a minute,” I say. “First let’s put together the guest list for your party. We’ll of course invite the people from your department, your class, and family. And Trent, of course, but is there anyone that isn’t at the Institute anymore who you want to be there?”
Without a pause he says, “I hear your daughter is pregnant. That means you’ll soon be a grandpa. I want details.”
“And I’ll give them to you. Every bloody one,” I say. “I swear on the bible. But first answer my questions.”
He shakes his head and clucks. “You know that’s a sin, swearing on the bible.”
“I know,” I say, kind of smiling.
“All right, all right, all right. What you wanna know?” Joseph says.
“Do you know a man named Jimmy Felding?”
The hillbilly seems to think. “Nope.”
“Terry Evermore?”
“Nope,” he says.
“Steven Faraday?”
“Nu-uh,” he sings.
Of course he doesn’t know these people. They don’t exist. But this one does. “How about Vicky Desmond?”
“Uh-uh,” Joseph says.
And there’s not the slightest change in his expression. He isn’t lying. He doesn’t know Vivian. Has zero involvement with her.
“You’re free to go. Have a nice life. I certainly will if I never see you again,” I say, turning back to the file on the other side of my L-shaped desk.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I ain’t gonna leave until you share about your daughter and your new grandbaby. You promised,” Joseph says.
“I did no such thing,” I say, my tone flat.
“You swore,” he says, obviously enjoying this more than he should.
“I’m about to swear,” I say. Then I turn to the entrance at my back, having heard the approaching footsteps.
A few seconds later Trey materializes. “Hey, you left a message for me to come by,” he says to me and then takes a double glance at Joseph on the other side of my desk. “What are you doing here?”
“Chatting with my ol’ buddy Ren. He had some strange questions for me,” Joseph says.
“Ren, he’s not the mole,” Trey says, pointing a finger at Joseph.
“Mole? There’s a mole? Here at the Institute?” Joseph says.
“No, he’s not the mole,” I say smugly. “But he very well could have been.”
Trey shakes his head a bit erratically. “No, Ren, I would know if Joseph was t
he mole. And he would never do that.”
“Oh,” I say, really lengthening the word. “Because you knew the last time that your son had someone in his head plotting against the Institute? Is that right?”
“Hey, I’ve been absolved of that,” Joseph says and finally the dumb cheery tone is out of his voice.
“Yes, but still you were once, although unknowingly, a traitor. And the man you brought back killed a lot of people,” I say. “Furthermore, the fact remains that you have proven you’re the kind of person who can be used by villains with evil agendas. You’re weak and easily manipulated.”
Last year Joseph was brainwashed by a soul-sucking leech to restore the man’s health. And then unknowingly Joseph gave him knowledge regarding the Institute. That villain then entered the Institute and created absolute destruction which only some of us survived.
“Anyway, you can rest assured that your son isn’t the mole this time. I’ve checked and I’m never wrong,” I say.
“So there’s a mole? At the Institute? How very interesting,” Joseph says, stroking his chin. “I bet it’s Roya.”
“You know it’s not your sister. And not a word to anyone about this,” Trey says sternly to his son.