Author’s Note: Welcome to the beginning of one of my four unfinished books! Let’s have some fun, and be sure to let me know what you think…are you interested in hearing “the rest of the story?”
Prologue: Business as Usual
Labsters: All Present and Accounted For
Everything whirred and purred quietly, endlessly, stupidly, ad nauseum. The lab, where samples were processed twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, was steeped in that low-level blue glow meant to reduce eye strain but mostly just made everything look haunted. Dust floated through the blue like forgotten souls. Zalinka (more widely known as Eve, or as Xeno liked to call her, “Zak” just to get her steamed”), slouched deeper into her console chair, one eye on the readout screen, the other watching the cats-on-meth YouTube video playing on her muted tablet.
“Cats Crashing Nativity Scenes,” the caption read. Eve snorted. “Blasphemy and chaos…my kind of holiday.”
While Eve’s eyes were on the screens, her mind was wrestling with the riveting dilemma of what to order for dinner. Pizza? No, that was two nights ago. What day is this…Monday, then it must be Thai night.
The faint bump of a lab door closing down the hallway sounded drawing her attention back to her blue-tinged hell. Eve didn’t look up. She didn’t need to.
“Xeno. Rat Bastard. What kind of deranged muppet shows up twenty minutes early every damn shift? It’s pathological,” she addressed the screen in front of her as a tabby toppled baby jesus into a snow globe. “Merry effing Christmas,” she muttered.
For Eve, “on time” meant arriving five to ten minutes late every morning to relieve poor Yolanda at the console.She prepared herself for Xeno’s annoying effervescence.
“Hey, Zak, how’s the search scene shaking down tonight
Eve turned her suspicious glare on him as he approached. Xeno sounded complacent, but looked the same in his faded Cows with Guns T-shirt, low slung jeans clinging to whatever served as his butt, and the ratty Converse peeking out from the dragging frayed pant legs.
“I’ve told you not to call me that,” she snapped. “It’s Eve. Three letters. Rhymes with ‘leave me the hell alone.’”
Eve felt Zalinka was way too Princess-Warrior, and while she didn’t mind the strong comparison, the name was just stupid. She preferred the subtle sound of “Eve.” Like something slithering through the grass, silently stalking, sneaking up on its prey. Yeah, Eve liked that image.
Hey, where’s the bubbly Xeno?” she asked warily… “where’s that freakoid-off-the-wall geek? What is going on with you?”
‘Lighten up! ‘Zak’ has flair,” Xeno replied. “Makes you sound like a street samurai or something. I like it.” “I’m not “bubbly” and just don’t hate life like you do. And to that subject, why can’t we have a little holiday spirit in here? Maybe a tree or something?”
As if in response, a slow sad jazz version of I’ll be Home for Christmas drifted from the overhead sound system. MUTHA’s personal playlist, no doubt. Even the AI was depressed.
Eve’s quick temper flashed briefly and rolled her eyes hard enough to count as aerobic exercise. Once she regained control of her facial muscles, she said “In answer to your query, everything is just the same, my lovely. No anomalies. Not even a good glitch. Nothing to take your shorts to brunch over.”
Xeno gave her the two finger salute. “Cool, cool. Gimme fifteen. I have to perform a soft reset on the rolling gizmo before it tries to become even more sentient and files for emancipation.” He stepped to the wall of switches, buttons, and blinking lights.
Not one to pass up an opportunity to turn her irritation into a learning and possibly humiliating moment for her partner, she erupted, “Hey! Xeno! That “gizmo” is a multi-million dollar piece of specialized equipment, rated at genius level in spite of her age. Show her some respect please!, She’s the only MUTHA we’ll ever have considering the current budget freeze!!! More importantly she can hear you! You know she’s temperamental and holds a grudge forever.”
Xeno shrugged off the admonition. “If “she” ever learns to pick up after herself, I might start calling her “genius.” But she’s as dumb as a bag of kitty litter when she gets wet. And who in holy hell programmed that bucket of rusty bolts to open her closet door? She breaks out and runs around the lab like a rat on Red Bull, usually ending up stuck under the snack machine. It’s like if NASA made a Roomba, gave it trust issues, and turned it loose. AND, she tried to mate with the HVAC unit last week.”
Eve pondered a moment. “Do I need to file a harassment report on a deviant android?”
The overhead lights flickered repeatedly—like they were listening, and didn’t like what they heard.
A low mechanical purr emanated from the shadowy hallway, something metallic rolled in with dramatic slowness; clunky wheels clicked as they traversed the tiled and grouted floor like a drunken shopping cart. MUTHA emerged.
Half vending machine, half Cold War surplus, the android trundled in with her retro display panel flashing a single, defiant haiku:
I am not your maid.
Fluorescent hellbirth pulses.
Listen: Blues detected.
Eve sighed. “What now, MUTHA? Did the espresso machine insult your ancestry again?”
MUTHA’s outer chassis wheezed and made a noise somewhat akin to a burp. A puff of steam escaped one vent. Her left eye rotated 360 degrees and beeped softly, possibly in Morse code, possibly just to unsettle everyone. She was that kind of bit–…
“I require real coffee,” she intoned, her voice like a dial-up modem possessed by Miles Davis. “Xeno brewed decaf. A war crime.”
“And you couldn’t just flip the breaker like last time?” Eve asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.
MUTHA paused as if considering it. “Unwise. Security flagged last incident as ‘sabotage via smooth.’ Recommend plausible deniability.”
“Sweet baby algorithms,” Eve muttered. “Just go plug yourself into something before I order Xeno to rewrite your personality core as a Roomba.”
MUTHA beeped twice, spinning in a slow, theatrical circle. Her speaker popped, and Blue Christmas started over.
As the music swelled, she whispered, “We are all spirals, Zak,” and trundled out.
Eve watched her go, one eyebrow twitching toward orbit, and shouted after her, “You DO NOT CALL ME THAT!,” To Xeno, “That damn robot’s developing a god complex,” she murmured.
She turned back to the screen and the steady blue flickered eerily on her face making her look like a Titanic victim. Blue was not her friend, a fact she learned in the Color and Skin Phase of her absorption classes, but a lot of good that did her. She researched eye protection, but the only option turned out to be goggles. She ruled them out when they left a red puffy raised mask outline across her face. Suction might do wonders for some body parts, but not my face. No, goggles are not happenin’.
The blue light continued to glare at her like a disapproving mother. “I don’t know which would be worse, having a real mother or that questionably intelligent floor vacuum that calls herself one. She yawned, stretched, and rubbed at the crease between her eyebrows. Maybe one day, someone will write a gritty noir novel about this lab…
Somewhere in the rafters something beeped faintly—almost too soft to matter, but Eve sat up straighter, cocking her head trying to locate the source. “Maybe it’s just Monday finally turning the hell up,” she thought.
“Okay boss, I am heading down the hall to find MUTHA so I can reset her highness. See ya in a bit if she doesn’t kill me.”
Xeno subdued, a very low- energy version.. He looks almost as bored as I feel. That’s new. Gotta process this new wrinkle… Maybe the job is finally getting to him. But, he’s still too early. Such a show off! Traitor!
She did some neck rolls, readjusted her shoulders ensuring the extra lumps and bumps were all hidden away, then adjusted her jaw back into place after yawning. She returned to her slumped-back position in the chair to wait for the traitor’s return and his shift to being. Oh, eff a duck, reality sucks and wine helps. I need a glass of wine and I need it now.
Chapter 1 – Another day, another restart… or Deja Vueing all over again
She did not hear the phone ring that morning, and only figured out later that the ringer volume was turned all the way down when she found her cell on the charger in the kitchen. It was the recorded greeting of the antique message machine when it clicked on that woke her.
You’ve reached me…well, sort of…Anywayz, leave a message and I’ll chat ya up when I can! Here it comes! BBBEEEEEEPPPP.
“Good gargoyles above, is that my voice?” she wondered aloud.
“Hey, girl, it’s me, Anj! I’m running late, but on my way. Don’t worry bout the mess, I’ll help ya clean up before we head to work. Oh, and sorry bout the party last night, such a bust. We can do better. Anyway, I thought we could stop at the garage on the way home from work to see if your hunk-of-junk, er, sorry, to see if Mitch is ready. Sure breaks down a lot. Can we go car shopping this weekend? I really think it’s time to put the old boy to rest…after all, he is 15 years old… and you know what that is in dog years. Anyway, see ya in an hourish.”
Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. Someone named Anj is on her way to clean up after the party and pick me up for work since my car…Mitch?… is on the blink, or make that on the blink again. Wonder what color Mitch is…wonder what’s wrong with him. Hope it’s not expensive…although, what would that even mean? I really hope it’s not as disturbing as that…Her eyes had landed on the clothing hanging in the closet across from where she sat on the bed. Oooo, colorful but maybe a little too loosey-goosey with all that paisley. I feel more 19th century steampunk.
Then she realized she had an audience. “Oh my, look who’s here…I mean… do I know you? I must, because here you are in my bed.”
Two pugs sat at attention, tails curled atop their backs, short black ears folded forward-ish, and thick necks topped by round heads tilting first left then right in tandem.
Axl quivered in excitement. Rose could no longer contain her impatience, and began to spin circles on the duvet, stopping frequently to rub her flat face on the satin pillowcase. Finally she sat down, expressing her growing impatience in three snorted blasts.
(doggo language) “I didn’t hear the magic words, bro…do you think she’s forgotten again? I mean, we’ve been doing this every day for eons. IT’S BREAKFAST TIME, HUMAN! Get your tail in gear, doggone it!”
“Rose! Knock it off. Using language like that just gets us both in the doghouse!” The look Axl threw his sister was enough to uncurl one’s tail. Turning back toward the giver of all things yummy he continued his own quivering yet controlled vigil.
Mia reached out and read the tag on each dog collar. “Rose! Stop spreading your eye goobers all over my pillows! And Axl, I can literally feel the holes you are boring through me with those eyes. Will you two stop if I get you a treat?”
Head-tilt mode was ramped up, causing the cuteness factor to skyrocket. “Ah, so food motivated.. I bet you two would like breakfast.” At last the human was getting it. They responded with gusto, leaping from the bed, the two fur blurs raced out of the bedroom, down a hallway and out of sight. Mia could hear the sound of the scrambling toe nails fading away. “You two would be faster if you could gain traction on those hardwood floors.” Do I need to get a rug? Or do they make tennies for pugs? An image tickled in her brain faintly… cartoon character suspended in air, legs bicycling before hitting the ground, then loud screeching sounds, smoke and gravel shooting out behind them. This made her snort, not unlike Rose. A light bulb popped up with a “ding.” Memo to self, make nail appointment for these two..
Amidst deep murky thoughts of car repair costs, the very peaceful contents of the closet, someone named Anj, and not least of all, her identity, auto pilot took over her action center. She fed the flat faced ones making them very happy, then focused on coffee. She punched the power button on the Keurig and a blue light blinked…must need water. She grabbed the plastic pitcher on the counter and proceeded to refill the reservoir. She selected the coffee mug with paw prints on it from the open shelf above, set it under the spout and selected the GINORMOUS button. It said ‘GINORMOUS’ right there on the machine, handwritten in tiny neon pink letters. So, my favorite color is neon pink, and I must have a sense of humor. I don’t think ‘ginormous’ is a real word… “Hey, you guys, is it? Is ginormous a real word?” Her roomies ignored her and continued the arduous task of clean their bowls with pink tongues that appeared too long to fit back into their mouths. She held the cup under her nose and inhaled the rich aroma.
With her coffee and a dry grainy fruit bar she found in a kitchen drawer, she set about searching for anything that might give her a clue about, well, anything. She found a backpack on a small stool in the hall. There was a coupon for 25% off her next Cup O’ Josephine, a pen in the outside pocket. Aha, neon pink ink! See? My favorite color. Not much else, until… neatly tucked into a zippered pocket of the very tidy bag, a small spiral notebook with “Mia’s Brain” printed on the faded cover and a funky pink (what else?) vinyl wallet that held a driver’s license. She studied the ID. “I must be Mia… hmmm.”
Mia reviewed her stats:
DOB: 2/29/1990
Gender: Female
Height: 5’8″. At this detail she smirked…Really? I feel taller.
Eyes: Brown. This is seriously lacking…Even I know (and right now I don’t know much) my eyes are dark chocolate brown…at least 98% dark chocolate. They must not have a category for dark chocolate brown, a serious deficiency in the overall system because there is a ginormous difference. Hmmm, versatile word, ginormous…
Hair: Brown. I’m sorry, I have a mirror, and I know how to use it. I can see myself, so I am not a vampire, so unless the damn thing is bewitched, the truth is right there… I have Magenta hair and Magenta has never been in the brown family on any color wheel! And what about these magical apple-green streaks sprouting from my messy bun, people! I see them clearly with my DARK CHOCOLATE BROWN eyes. So, thanks, but none of this is really helpful.
For the moment she decided to chalk up the discrepancies in her appearance to the fact that the license was issued several years ago, which she was able to determine with the help of the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall.
She couldn’t even remember taking the driver’s test. The faulty descriptive details added to her rising discomfort. Not only can I not remember taking the test, I have no inkling of from whence I came.
Mia liked the phrase “from whence I came,” it had an aristocratic ring to it. I wonder if I am of royalty? If I am, something is seriously amiss or I wouldn’t be living in this ground floor apartment” she paused and looked out the window, yeah, ground floor, good for doggos. Then she looked down at the license again… “ ground floor at #2 at 1522 Barnes Port Drive…ain’t no palace, but I do live with two of the most magical fur balls that have ever shed.
While the errors on the license were obvious to anyone with half a wit, it was her face in the photo. Jeez, this was taken so long ago, I wonder if I could just get a new picture? She slid the card back into the wallet. Okay, ol’ girl, time to get serious. What kind of job do I work at that allows such leisurely attire? Then more worrisome thoughts cropped up. How will I know how to do my job? And, who is this Anj person?
The clothes in the closet were her size, so it was reasonable to assume they were hers. I wonder why every piece in here is so… so… hmmmm, crazy. I feel more fun and fancy than hippy runaway. I guess they will do until I can rectify the situation.
Mia stifled the rising panic in her stomach, nothing was striking her fancy until she found a black velvet waistcoat that she put over a pink (naturally) T-shirt that had the picture of an elephant dipping his trunk into a ginormous bag of circus peanuts on the front and “I work for peanuts” printed on the back. I think I can live with this… She moved to the dresser and found her only choices were jeans with stylized holes, and jeans without stylized holes. She settled on a pair sans holes and the most bedazzlement. So, casual Friday is everyday. A challenge…I will stand out, and by doing so, start a fashion trend everyone will run to follow. She found some gold lame Vans to complete the outfit.
The doorbell rang as she finished dressing, and a disembodied head poked in, throwing all eight paws into hysterics. Anj must have a key; at least I hope that’s Anj. “It’s okay, kids, I’m here but I can’t stay,” Angela said as she snuffled each one. “You know the drill. Time for Mama Mia to go to work.” Anj headed to the kitchen with Axl and Rose close on her trail. “I’ll take these two outside for a quick business trip while you saddle up. This train is leaving the station in five or we will miss the boat.”
Wow, what a mixer! How many metaphors can this Anj use in a single sentence and not overload the system?
Business done, the pugs stood waiting ready to come back in, ignoring the doggy door. Angela let them in. Mia watched from the hallway. A bill of sale for installation of a super deluxe retrofitted doggy door flashed through her mind…a very expensive super deluxe retrofitted doggy door.
“Look, kids! Milton custom made this with sides wide enough for your portly figures to squeeze through without drawing blood. Why don’t you just push the flap with your nose…” her voice trailed off, a look of “aha” on her face. That might have been the problem all along. Noses are not standard equipment on pugs.
Given this deficiency in nostril equipment, they stubbornly refused to use the portal when Mia was available to let them in or out the people door. “Okay, I get it now, the part about the noses, but I know you must use it when I’m not here. Clever devils.”She gave them each an organic grain-free dog treat and picked up her backpack, heading for the front door where Angela was now waiting.
“Hey, Mia, meant to ask you. How’d ya sleep? Hangover this morning? I think you and Enrique may have had a little too much to drink last night.”
Mia could feel her big brave-girl smile twitching at the corners, preparing to abandon ship. , Interesting, so I like to drink. Thank the mermaids for that. Sure could use something in my coffee right about now.
She had absolutely no memory of the night before, or anything else occurring prior to the rude beep of her answering machine that morning. Wonder what “too much to drink” means… Starfish! My entire knowledge of who I am is in that pink wallet, and a good portion of that is so wrong.
“I’m good, I’m good. And you are…” Mia paused, pulling her face into casual mode, plastering on the “of course I know who I am, and what’s more, I know who you are” look. “You are Anj, right?” Mia asked as casually as she could without giving anything away.
“Whaddaya mean? Oh, yeah, I get it. You’re teasing me bout last night.” Angela reached down to grab a handful of doggo squeaker toys and tossed them onto the large dog bed in the living room. “Not sure why I couldn’t remember Axl’s and Rose’s names when I was introducing all of you to Enrique. Cute, really cute. I’ll tell you what really IS cute though! Enrique insists on calling me Angela now, funny, right? He says he thinks we should just be friends and Anj is too familiar for our relationship. Isn’t that just adorable? I’m glad you two hit it off. Never know when the right one could be sitting on your living room floor,” Angela said with a wink.
Mia gasped, “What right one? What does that mean? Who’s Enrique? No…I mean, I’m not looking for…I’m sure…I mean, what happened last night? I don’t remember much.” Remember much? I don’t remember a single thing! Mia thought, confused, stumbling over words as her mind raced after a herd of random rabbits jumping down holes. She startled when Angela reached out to touch her arm.
“Ready to go?” and then to the pugs, “Bed, now, please.” The two fawn colored creatures looked into Angela’s eyes, saw something there that made them immediately turn and find their way to the dog bed.
She has a key, and these fur balls certainly know her… How did she get them to behave so easily?”
Mia looked at Angela. “Okay, I guess I’m ready, like you said, saddled and ready to roll.” Wow, can’t wait! Can it get much weirder? Mia grabbed the very hippy Levi jacket hanging on the wall hook, and followed Angela out closing the door to her apartment as four eyes slowly closed.
“Well, since you rollin’ with me girl, you be ridin’ side saddle! I got my Mustang all detailed and shiny, and the leather smells, you know, all leathery and such. Be sure and shake off those fancy sneakers before you climb aboard.” Angela put her giddyup in gear and they were rollin’.
Mia was grateful for Angela’s intense focus on the drive to work, leaving her time to review what she’d learned about herself since the answering machine beeped. There was the basic albeit incorrect personal data on her license and then there was her apartment which identified her as a class-B hoarder, with 99% of the stuff pug-specific, supporting a diagnosis of pug-o-matic object disorder. There was enough flotsam and jetsam to host her own QVC channel. Images of the alien-looking dog breed lived on every flat, and where manageable, every vertical surface, not to mention the piles of short, spikey dog hairs throughout the apartment. Probably wouldn’t be able to sell those on QVC. At that very moment Mia could feel one of the little basta…uh, daggers piercing its way through her bra and into her left boob. She realized there was one thing for certain, the most significant part of her life was her pack, her roommates, Axl and Rose.
And she came to the conclusion that she would have to get brave soon, pull up her big girl panties, and dig up more important details of her life prior to today. I feel like a tiny mental island sitting in the middle of a fog bank, or maybe on a boat … no, just an inner tube. No engine, no oars, no sails. Just drifting on a vast ocean of hidden secrets. No idea which ocean, or for that matter, what planet. It’s difficult to continue a life you just don’t remember having.
Chapter 2 – Angela
Angela left the message on Mia’s answering machine and hung up, not expecting Mia to answer especially after the previous evening’s festivities. I can’t fathom how it all ran amok right out of the gate…best laid plans and all of that…
Angela’s plan the night before was to introduce Mia to Enrique, an agent she had known during a long ago mission. This she hoped would lead to a long term relationship for Mia with someone Angela could trust but that did not shed spike-like fur and snort. She had coached Enrique and hoped the liberal application of alcohol would help blur lines and smooth rough edges, and at the end of the night they would be three amigos planning nuptials for Enrique and Mia. She had obviously forgotten that alcohol was never a reliable lubricant with people like Mia or Enrique.
The evening started with a bang or really, more of a pop. Enrique uncorked the first bottle, poured generously, and poured again.
“Hey, girl! I think it’s time you meet this man! Enrique, say hey to my bestie, Mia!” Angela winked and nodded during the introduction, sending what she thought was a clear message of “you go, girl,” but Mia mistook the signal to mean something much different. Looking back Angela now realized that Mia thought something serious was happening between herself and Enrique.
“And these little buggers are…ummm…” Angela stuttered and Mia jumped in eager to introduce her furred ones, and save Angela from embarrassment.
“These are my roomies, Axl and Rose! Pugsters, meet Auntie Anj’s fella, Enrique!” Busy finding another bottle to open, Angela missed this first clue of Mia’s incorrect assumption and a disaster in the brewing. Since treats were not produced or even mentioned, Axl and Rose were unimpressed and chose to remain atop their pile of cushions surrounded by legions of squeakies.
“Yellow Submarine” blared from the living room speakers. Not the right vibe…gonna need something a little more romantic, Angela thought, and left the two alone again, stepping into the living room. We need something a little more danceable…s l o w danceable I think… I have choreographed the perfect cute-meet moment! It’s a balancing act until I can sneak out of here and leave those two alone.
Conversation deepened as Mia led Enrique into the living room to the notes of Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl,” and indicated he should sit next to Angela on the small couch while she took the chair on his other side, pen in hand, notepad on her lap.
Angela frowned. Hmmm, this won’t work with me between the two of them. Angela stood up saying “I’m just gonna pop into the kitchen and fix us something to snack on.” Immediately the eight paws were heading down the hallway guiding her as she left Mia and Enrique alone. Twelve minutes later she was congratulating herself on her cleverness as she reentered the living room to find the two sitting on the floor amidst copies of Bride magazine opened to pages displaying decorated tables, flowers of every kind, and yards of yellow netting.
“I agree, Mia, all three of the bridesmaids will look stunning in different pastel shades; what a fun idea! Too bad you won’t all be able to wear the little brain binders we saw. Your TITO would definitely cause discomfort. And don’t forget to make a note about having shrimp cocktail added to the dinner menu.”
Mia stood up to open the third bottle of her favorite Cook’s Extra Dry Champaign and took the plate Angela put in her hand.
“Really, Enrique, I think you will love the little chapel on First Street. And you two can hold the reception at the park across the street…now, where are you thinking for the honeymoon? Wait, what? What’s a tito? Do I have a zit or something?”
Enrique laughed nervously. “You know, your TITO…there on your forehead over your left eyebrow. It’s too bad it wasn’t installed someplace less visible, like the bottom of your foot or something. Of course that might make you limp but…I heard that later in the project Dr. Killyman had begun using the smallpox scar on some TESTers as camouflage for the insertion scar.
Angela, still not tuned in, did not register whose wedding was being discussed. More critically she was slow to focus on the conversational turn involving TITOs. When it all finally landed she stood frozen in the middle of the room, one hand holding a bag of pork rinds, the other covering her mouth. All blood drained from her face.
“Wait, what? What two? Who two? Enrique? What are you talking about? AND, OH MY GRAVY, TITO??? REALLY? What have you done?” In the twenty minutes they had been there, Angela’s entire plan unraveled like a cheap sweater.
“Enrique! You have royally screwed this up. I thought I made it clear. You were to end up as Mia’s love interest not my groom to be. And why in the world is are you discussing TITO? I know I told you the subject is strictly forbidden. You know better!”
Enrique blinked hard for five seconds. The gears finally falling into place, the trance was broken and he jolted to his feet. “Oh, nooooo I’m sooooo sorry ,Angela. I forgot the plan. Can you ever forgive me? I really don’t know what came over me. I think Mia has some wonderful ideas about the ceremony though… I guess I just got caught up in the whole happily ever after thing. So caught up in the idea of romance…I mean, you are a lovely woman, and I, I…But don’t you agree Mia should have her TITO moved to another location…you know, for future wedding plans and such?”
Angela’s color returned, and then some. She grew redder and redder. She hiss-whispered loudly, “JUST SHUT THE EFF UP, ENRIQUE. What’s wrong with you? I told you! NO talk of her condition or identity, and you were to fall for her, not me you nit-wit! Are your wires disconnected? Your battery need recharged?”
Her plan fell completely off the screen. She reached out and pulled Enrique’s glass from his hand, steering him as he shuffled robotically toward the front door. Over her shoulder, Angela said, “Mia, I’m so sorry, but I have to break this party up. Enrique, you know we all have to work tomorrow, right? Here’s your jacket, put it on and get out.” From the other room she heard Mia’s protests that he could not drive himself home, “He’s had (hic) too much (hic) champagne!”
“…right, so Enrique, call an Uber, or whatever, just go.”
A baffled Enrique did as he was told. The alcohol was not a problem for him, so he skipped the Uber and climbed into his Lamborghini, and in a very un-Lamborghini manner, pulled away from the curb slowly and headed home.
Angela returned to the living room and watched as Mia busily stacked magazines on the end table.
Why couldn’t he have just followed my directions? Why did he not woo Mia even a little??? She’s adorable. AND WHY, OH WHY had he mentioned TITOs?
Mia’s finished with her task stood up. “Anj, he’s your boyfriend, almost your fiancé…what have you done? And I repeat, what’s a tito?”
“I’m sorry, honey….” she sputtered, hunting for a plausible explanation. “He was just moving too fast,” …and not toward the right woman! “And a TITO, well that’s something we will have to talk about another time,” like never “ but for now I’ll make you my special Alka-Selzer night-cap to help you sleep,” and forget this night ever happened. I’d make myself one if I thought it would work for me. We are so very far off course. This whole night has to be erased. And Mia still needs an anchoring relationship our for survival. But the match-game will have to wait for now.
Angela knew that the hiccups Mia was experiencing had nothing to do with the champagne she had consumed. In fact alcohol had no effect on her at all. Of course, that didn’t keep Mia from being confused. The special nightcap was to once more provide Mia with a fresh start, far away from the truth of her life. And provide Angela another opportunity to lay the groundwork for a safe world for them both.
“I don’t understand any of this. I thought you and Enrique were a, you know, couple. Why did you have us going through Bride magazine for ideas? And I feel fine. I don’t need a “special nightcap. You’re not my mother, just my best friend. And that’s another thing you keep promising to talk about – my family. Lady, you got some ‘splainin’ to do.”
Angela ignored Mia’s avalanche of interrogation.
“Good thing Enrique didn’t finish his last glass or he would be sleeping on your couch.” Angela handed Mia the glass of water with two fizzing tablets along with something from her jean’s pocket. Mia reluctantly took it and drank it down.
“There, that’ll help you calm down and get to sleep. And don’t worry about the rest of the party dishes, I’ll come over early tomorrow and help clean up before we head to work.” She then turned the volume all the way down on Mia’s cell phone and placed it on the charger in the kitchen before shooing Mia off to bed. Over time, Mia had developed the ability to turn a ringing cellphone off in her sleep. An endearing trait, but annoying and dangerous. Angela helped create a work around to avoid missing important messages. Turning the volume all the way down and leaving the phone on the charger in the kitchen allowed Mia a restful slumber, and callers to leave a message on the antiquated machine her cell defaulted to when it was not answered. Angela wasn’t sure why Mia preferred the boxy recorder over automated voice mail through the service carrier. Humans, such a strange breed. Go figure.
She followed Mia down the hall with the furred ones close on their heels. That should put her to sleep and erase this whole night’s catastrophe. Damn Enrique! I really hoped we wouldn’t have to go through this erasing process again.
Axl to Rose “Sis, did you see how mad Angela got? I haven’t seen her like that since we arrived to help.” Rose responded by rubbing eye goobers on her brother’s shoulder.
Angela’s plan to solve the growing problem of Mia searching for answers failed once more forcing her to apply the emergency fix. It was exhausting. She wanted a permanent fix, but she didn’t have all the pieces yet, and Mia was growing more unsettled with every passing day. A love interest would have livened things up, changed the focus, provided entertainment, and more importantly, given Angela cover for her agenda to move forward. Damn you, Enrique! I was so close!
Angela had known Mia from the very beginning, and had been her protector as well as her best friend since they first met. Mia was why she was here; and she knew more about Mia than Mia did. Starting over again meant long nights of consuming bottles of red wine therapy while listening and answering Mia’s same questions again, supplying details to fill the gaping holes with made up memories. It had been a fluke that Angela found Mia after decades of searching for her.
“So, Mia, are you feeling any more comfortable in your skin these days? You seem to have settled into some sense of peace with yourself. Do you still not remember anything of your past?” Angela asked recently.
Mia answered thoughtfully. “I am thankful I have you, my friend, who has known me for so long. But I wish I could remember. I’ve learned to live with the gaps in my history. It all seems so odd. I wake up some nights thinking I’ve lost my mind, not just my memory. Like, maybe I was dropped on my head as a baby. Or I’m in some crazy witness protection program, and it’s the men in black that are keeping me here, using their magic memory eraser wands. You remember that movie, don’t you Anj? The one with Frank in it?”
Angela cringed at the reference.
Mia continued, “It sounds almost plausible, you know, like, we have the technology.”
Refocusing the conversation, Angela got back to reciting the carefully crafted details she had settled on once more.
“The first traumatizing event happened when your adoptive parents died in the car accident. Of course, you wouldn’t remember that, but you were so lucky to have compassionate social workers that were dedicated to keeping you safe, and in good foster homes. It was just unfortunate that there were so many. I was your first real friend. We met when the Shroeders were your foster parents and I lived next door. You were with them from sixth grade, and they were your last family until you moved out after high school graduation, and they moved to Mexico to do missionary work. I think all of that piling up of disconnections may be part of your memory block and makes it difficult to hold on to details of your past.” And Mia believed it all, every time.
I guess that explains the lack of any kind of family photos, Mia muttered, trying hard to pull a thread of memory through the fog. But if Angela has always been my best friend, wouldn’t something feel familiar? Sure glad she remembers stuff.
Angela worked hard to establish trust and their friendship began to focus on things other than Mia’s past and her need for reassurance. And the therapy began.
Good job, Mia. You’ve got this. It’s not too hard, just keep doing what worked for you yesterday. When it doesn’t work anymore, we will try something else.
Chapter 3 Trying something else – Spit Happens –
Angela answered her phone to hear a breathless Mia on the other end. Her jaw tightened. “I have something I want to tell you, Anj, I mean…I need to tell you. Can you come over?” Mia asked. Angela knew what was coming and tried to put on that happy face she used when she really wasn’t…happy. She set aside her reluctance regarding the matter in preparation of supporting Mia. She drove to her friend’s house to hear the “news.”
“What’s up, girlfriend?” Angela knocked and let herself in the door and followed the sound of Mia’s anxious answer, “We’re in here.”
Mia sat in the cozy living room with Axl and Rose, one on each side, snoring softly. She was holding a mirror in front of her face. Angela could hear the mumbling…
“No, they are dark chocolate brown eyes, (note to self…petition the state to include dark chocolate brown as an official eye color designation on IDs).”
Angela recognized the look and tone instantly. Mia’s uncertainty and dissociative behavior was running deep today.
“Anj, why don’t I feel like me? Who is that looking back at me”? Mia pointed to the image in the mirror, frown lines like a picket fence marching across her forehead. “I feel like I have an itch, but I can’t scratch it because I can’t find the source; it’s not on the surface of my skin, or under my skin. I’m afraid it’s in my head.”
Angela sighed. Mia was digging deeper into a bottomless pit of desperate questions. She wanted to know who her birth parents were, and where they had lived. The question Angela dreaded most was spilling from Mia’s lips. She winced.
“What happened to me that I don’t remember my own story? There has to be some record somewhere, some explanation.” Angela had always tried to answer Mia’s questions about her past as best she could without breaking her contract, without breaking Mia. But, her answers included very little of the truth. Mia looked back into the mirror and spoke more to the image than to Angela.
“It’s as if I have been dropped into a life, someone else’s life, from another universe. I just feel confused and crazy. I have to find answers or I feel I will be lost forever. I believe what you tell me, but I need more. I need to do this for myself, for my sanity.”
Well, at least I don’t have to wait any longer for the inevitable, Angela thought. I knew it was coming and was even overdue. Angela crossed the small room to sit across from Mia.
The two had discussed the topic many times. Angela knew that the consequences of Mia submitting a DNA sample could be disastrous, and proffered the best answer she could come up with for not submitting a sample, couching it in a cloak of scamminess, making the whole DNA tracking business sound unreputable, just a money grabbing scheme. The consequences of a test result were averted because Angela had been able to redirect Mia’s attention …until today.
“Talk to me, Mia. Tell me what you want to do.” Angela said in a defeated tone.
“I guess I should start with telling you what I have already done. I ordered one of those DNA sample gathering kits from Genes R Us.com. I did it after you poo-pooed the testing idea last time we talked about this. And it may be a scam. I know we’re best friends, but you’re not the boss of me. Sometimes I wonder if you even want me to find the answers.”
Angela’s words of caution were no longer working, and now Mia held the key to unlocking her past and so much more. She launched one last attempt at heading off disaster.
“So, you ordered the kit…have you already submitted a sample?”
“No, it just arrived in the mail today. I really think I may be able to find something helpful.” Mia looked at Angela. She was hoping for answers, maybe some peace, some anything.
“Don’t put too much hope in getting an intelligent response,” Angela said quietly, but she knew it was futile. The battle was over when she saw the hope in her friend’s eyes. Hope was something she hadn’t seen there ever. Yup, this is the day I knew would come. And if we don’t face the dragon now, we will end up right back here at this same juncture in a few months. Let’s get it over with now. Besides, maybe we’ll be lucky and TITO’s timing will be right to avoid detection.
“I know one thing,” Angela said, “if that report doesn’t come back revealing results of you carrying the biggest “STUBBORN” and “GULLIBLE” genes ever recorded, I’ll know for sure it’s a scam. Let’s do this thing!” Angela said pulling Mia off the sofa. “Where is it? Have you opened it yet? Are there lots of protocols to follow? How can you ensure a clean sample?” There was relief in Angela’s spirit as she followed Mia to the kitchen, Axl and Rose trotting behind, curious.
##Mia spit in the tube, then giggled, “Only a spit second of hesitation!” Angela knew the humor was Mia’s way of dealing with her anxiety. Go figure. This from the girl that laughs at the Geico lizard commercials; Love his accent but something about those round lamellae on the end of his toes just makes me cringe.
“What if the results are so vague I gain nothing. What if the answers are…” Angela was hoping Mia didn’t get answers, or that the only answers she got would be just enough to sooth her soul while still vague enough to keep them both off the radar. The worst result would be if the test proved there was no DNA present in the sample at all. That would set the whole final showdown into motion. Angela crossed her fingers, praying to the lizard gods that TITO was not in the on-cycle the time Mia spit into that damn tube.
She watched the series of emotions play cross Mia’s very readable face, like a silent movie. She watched the glaze of fear form with the shadow of uncertainty.
Angela wrenched the vial of spit from Mia’s tightly clenched fist and capped it in one swift motion. Too late, she thought. She screwed the plastic cap on the tube, placed the tube in the hazardous material plastic bag and sealed it. Too late, she thought. She put the bag in the postage paid box, sealed it, placed the label reading “GenesRUs” on it and walked with her friend, her TESTE.R., to drop the package in the mailbox. Too late, Angela thought. If I try to retrieve it now, I could go to jail for tampering with the US mail…that’s a felony I’m pretty sure. So, there. Done. Too late. She was resigned to the destiny that awaited them both.
After dropping the sealed sample in the mailbox, the women walked around the corner and up another block to Brewskies Tavern, and took the two remaining well-worn stools at the bar. Ivan nodded, he already had their regular order – two pints of Brewskies’ signature IPA and two orders of the world famous bleu cheese curly fries – on the way. This was a celebration and deserved the best to mark the momentous occasion of Mia’s decisive action. “I think you should have let me call the rest of the SQUAD up to join in the celebration,” Angela said as they clinked sweating glass beer steins. She was referring to the group they formed as a joke during lunch one rainy day. The four were barely acquaintances until that day when they discovered they all shared the same status – adult females, reasonably attractive, unattached for the most part, few prospects, a little picky, at the top of their field, and with a healthy appreciation of all things alcohol…for therapeutic purposes, obviously. And the SQUAD was born: Superior Quality Unique Available Dames. Kandy and Dani made up the rest of the crew.
Mia pondered the suggestion, then said, shaking her head, “No, I don’t think I want to share this with anyone but you. Kandy and Dani don’t really get me like you do. They wouldn’t be excited for me and that would bring me down. I don’t want to be down right now.”
In six to eight weeks, so the brochure from Genes R Us? promised, Mia would be holding a report outlining her ancestry and possibly lead to finding family members who might be searching for her. The added perk was a result of all licensed DNA testing companies (GotGenes?, GetYourGenesOn, and NotUrMamasGenes) were required by law to file results with UDD (Universal DNA Database) based in New Jersey and coincidently also doing business as GenesRUs testing services.
Mia watched the mail impatiently as the days turned into weeks.
Chapter 4 – Karma’s A Bitch
In retrospect Mia surmised her Good-Karma chakra must have on vacation leaving her completely defenseless that whole day. It began when she was running five minutes late getting out of the apartment because of the pugs, then suddenly remembered Mitch was almost out of gas. She pulled into the empty lane at the station! It was only after removing the gas cap that the reason the lane was empty became evident – the pump was flatlining. Couldn’t someone put a sign on this thing? Or tied a plastic bag over the handle…something? She drove Mitch all the way around the building and pulled into the next lane over – with three cars in front of her. Finally at a working pump, her card was declined. She headed inside, ignoring the scowling drivers behind her. Can’t you see it’s not my fault here? Then there was a line inside, because of course there was. She waited. Her card was authorized, and she returned to the pump only to have the machine shut off after pumping three whole gallons. THREE GALLONS? Really? WTF??? Just What.The.Holy.Fuck! Resigned to the latest Bad-Karma smack down, she decided it wasn’t worth getting any more worked up over, and well, three gallons would last three weeks. She did not stick around to figure out what the problem was or to risk leaving Mitch alone with all the angry vultures in line behind her. He was delicate and sensitive.
Running this late she figured finding the four-hour metered space two blocks from her office was as good as it was going to get. She slid between a minivan brandishing bumper stickers attesting to the brilliance of the owner’s off spring, and a monster truck with wheels four feet tall.
How do you actually get in and out of that thing?, she thought as she wedged her way out of her car door.
She plugged the meter, set the timer on her phone to remind her to return in three hours and fifty minutes, and took off down the sidewalk. She told herself the two-block hike was a good thing, now she wouldn’t have to go for a walk when she got home. As if! Just glad I wore flats today. Jogging in anything else would be suicidal. She hitched her backpack higher and moved faster.
Out of breath, she reached the automatic front door of the Luxton City Hall office building where she worked as a biller in the Water Department.
Does this door always open so slowly? In peevish defiance, it stopped less than halfway open, frozen in place. Mia couldn’t wait, so she turned sideways and shimmied through the miniscule space. Ha! I don’t even need to exercise when I can get through a space that narrow!
Waving at the Chester when she passed the security booth, she slid her security badge through the automated system slot and pushed the turn stile to go into the lobby. It did not budge. Nor did it budge on her second attempt, so she tried a third time. Patience may not have been a strong feature, but Mia prided herself on her persistence. Then buzzers.
Reallllllly, Buzzers??? Chester came out of the security booth to the side of the turn stile, and seeing her, nodded and reset the scanner.
“Hey, Miss Mia. I guess you are still using the old ID badge. They switched systems last week. You musta missed the email that went out to everyone working in the building. I thought we caught all the stragglers, but all you gotta do is go upstairs sometime today and get a new one in Admin and this won’t happen to you again. I’m not supposed to let you in without clearing it with them first, but…”
Mia was already midway up the escalator when she turned to wave to Chester, mouthed “Thank You!” and blew him a kiss as she turned and began climbing the moving stairs. He tipped his hat, and returned to his station.
Mia was thankful for the time she spent cultivating a friendship with Chester. It wasn’t like she was ever planning to sneak into the building after hours and do something covert, like, say, send out a mass erroneous billing with her bank account as payment recipient, but as Angela had always told her:
“Don’t ever tick off the janitors, receptionists, secretaries, or security guards. You will need these people one day. Bond with them, bring them into your circle of love, make them family, make them cookies, bring them booze. I have found Snickerdoodles are especially appreciated.”
Mia knew better than to bring them booze,. First, it was too expensive and second, couldn’t she get in trouble for that? Her Christmas Munch cookies and brownies were a hit this year, but it was the rum balls that brought down the roof. The recipe called for a cup of rum. She figured if one was good, two was better. Besides, doesn’t all the alcohol burn off when you cook ‘em? It was hours later after forming the balls and placing them into the cookie tins that it occurred to her they were cooked. Maybe the alcohol dissipates over time…the recipe said these suckers have to be stored for a month before they are supposed to be served. It was illegal in all 50 states to drive after consuming just one. Last year, Chester winked at her as he swayed his way through her department at least three times, grabbing another ball each trip. She made sure he had a ride home.
Mia secured an updated ID badge in HR, and punched her timecard for the day. Wow, forty minutes late; I really hate being late. She worked till lunch without taking her coffee break, and when her phone vibrated reminding her to plug the meter two blocks away, she jumped up and dashed out, almost forgetting her shiny new badge. She kept an eye out on the way for a closer spot to park Mitch, but no such luck. That of course meant that not only was she late this morning, but now she would have to leave a little a little early in order to get back to her car and on the way to the deli before they closed. Mia followed most rules, and she would of course make up the cumulative missing hour another day, really, she would. Note to self: leave home earlier!!!
She headed for Porgies Deli for provisions for that night’s SQUAD “meeting,” and would have made it before they closed if it hadn’t been for the stalled Tesla blocking the ramp to 405. Damn ugly Cyberfruck. You’re just a wanna be tank and you’re too ugly to be on the road. You should be confined to the Wild Animal Park, or Safari Land. She arrived home, checked on the roommates, and regrouped. I think this calls for Plan B.
Chapter 5 – Plan B
“Your act is not working for me tonight, guys.” You had dinner and I’m out of treats, so the trip would be a major tease for you and torture for me.”
Rose pouted about not getting to go bye-bye. Axl reminded her that while going with Mamma Mia was always a treat, it was the edible treats that drove their desire to go with. There was the treat at the front door, then one at the open car door encouraging them to jump in and up. onto their seats for buckling in. And of course the treat when she had to get out and couldn’t include them in her errand. Lot’s of treats. No treats, no trip. Remember Rose, we have to keep our strength up to perform our job well. So make it look good. Pouty face is good. Work it, girl!
There were token protests to deal with but Mia cut them off at Pug Pass distracting them with a toss of their favorite squeaker toy, Hah, trusting suckers fell for it again!
Okay, Rose, make it look good. While they fought for traction on the kitchen floor, Mia grabbed her backpack, slithered out and quietly shut the door. In her rush, she didn’t bother locking it. She was only gonna be gone twenty minutes tops.
She crunched through the snow to her car listening for the howling protests behind her, evidence of their displeasure at being punked. Not as bad as I expected. She climbed in, shut the door, turned the key, and shifted into gear. 7/11 was only five miles away, but Mia groused anyway. “I don’t know whose turn it is to buy refreshments for the next meeting, but it can’t be me again.” The duty had fallen to her the last two gatherings. Note to self: create refreshments assignment schedule on the calendar for SQUAD meetings.
Unrelated to any “morning after” issues, Plan B was Mia’s backup plan for any occasion. Plan B was and always would be the 7/11 on Cedar. Quality was not their forte, but then it’s 7/11; your quality expectations are already low, so no problem. What they lacked in the quality category, they made up for in the always open category, even on holidays. She knew the owner, Teddy, was from some mid-east country and US holidays didn’t mean much to him. What did mean a lot to Teddy was earning money for his large family. And because she frequently relied on Plan B, she was very appreciative of his heritage. She parked Mitch across the street avoiding the crowded parking lot.
She waved at Teddy sitting behind the counter as she passed through the automatic door causing the dinger to sound; he smiled when he recognized her, showing all three teeth through his tobacco stained beard, and wave.
“Just here for wine and pork rinds. SQUAD meeting tonight.” He nodded in complete non-understanding and returned to his crossword puzzle in some language that looked like Greek. She headed to the varietal wines on the shelf mid-way through the store and loaded two bottles of her and Angela’s favorite cab in the cart. The whole red vs. white carb debate was still raging for her and Angela, but they almost always went for the red anyway. Then she turned to the snack aisle. Maybe the girls wouldn’t really notice how low the nutritional bar was set for her snack table tonight. She grabbed bags of Fritos and Ruffles, then pulled out her phone and dashed off a quick message to Angela.
“hey, no rinds at 7/11. get some?”
Really, the night won’t be a bust if I can at least score that bean dip with that liquid cheese in it…for more protein. It’s not like Kandy or Dani ever offer anything more than one of those dried out pre-made veggie trays with the gross runny white dip in the middle when it’s their turn.
The liquid cheddar-laced bean dip shelf was completely bare. Crap! No rinds and now no bean dip. She cursed. Looks like we will have to settle for Kandy and Dani’s favorite. Yuck, she grimaced as she pulled a jar of the runny white dip and set it in the cart with the wine bottles. Tick-Tock – her phone chimed a reminder of the approaching meeting. Gotta go.
The instrumental intro to “Angel of Harlem” sounded from her phone. It was Angela getting back to her. Santa help me, that song always makes me want to dance. She did a quick step as she glanced down at the message. “got rinds.”
Sweet! Bad-Karma must be wearing off! Mia thought as she thumbed the response, “coo, i got ruffs, tos, and white dip but no bean w/chz, u get plz?”.
That left the remainder of the liquid refreshments to grab and she was outta there. She turned her cart and headed to the refrigerator section for a bottle of cheap but cold Pinot Grigio for Kandy. From experience, Mia knew a bottle of red below $7 could hurt you, your gut, your head, and several other probably important organs, but you can go “cheap” with white wine, it really didn’t seem to matter. Two bottles of cab and one white should be enough. Wait, is Dani coming tonight?
Dani was a loose cannon. No one, including Dani herself ever knew for sure if she was going to show up until the moment she arrived, or didn’t. Mia turned the cart back to the refrigerator section and grabbed another PG just in case Dani was present and accounted for.
Okay. Two reds, two whites, chips, dip… That should do nicely, and a balanced load for each arm.
Mia consciously declined the less-than-reliable plastic bags. Even when they were doubled they proved sketchy at best; been there, broke that. The small market was even doing their part to save the planet by keeping recycled plastic grocery bags available to customers who didn’t have their own, so kudos, but kudos revoked if used for wine. A noble endeavor, to be sure, but frequently not prudent. Wine is heavy, and much too valuable to risk alcohol abuse. Instead, she loaded the bottles back in the cart after they were scanned. She paid cash, left the receipt for Teddy to toss, and made her way out the door, four bottles of wine dancing in the basket. Stopping briefly in the middle of the parking lot, she pulled off her scarf and hat and wrapped the cab bottles, then stuffed a bottle of PG in each of her gloves. Better. She proceeded across the crowded, bumpy lot heading across the street to Mitch. The lot was filled with people jockeying for gas pump positions since the one pump was still not functioning, but she nodded in satisfaction at the fact that someone had wrapped one of the weak-ass plastic bags around the handle. Aha! another sign karma is now in tune with my universe. She opened the car door, laid the wrapped bottles on the floor of the car, and wedged an empty soda can between the cabs, and an empty Gold Fish bag between the bottles of white for extra protection. She put the Ruffles, Fritos, and dip on the passenger seat. Changed her mind and opened the Ruffles and shoved a handful of salted crunchiness into her mouth. Settling behind the wheel, she started Mitch, and cranked up the defroster to full blast before heading home.
The air coming from the dashboard wasn’t warm, but defrosted the windows enough to see out. Crap, what’s that on my windshield?
“Angel of Harlem” announced another text from Angela. Mia took a quick glance to see if she would need to go back in the store before pulling away from the curb. Nope! It was more great news. “No Dani or Kandy tonight.” Score! This was happening quite often of late. Kandy seemed to be preoccupied with something, or more likely, some hunk. And, Dani, poor Dani. She was always an easy target for her family’s last-minute emergencies. Oh, well, more bean dip and pork rinds for Anj and me…and wine, lots more wine. Hey there, Good Karma… I accept your apology!
She released the emergency brake, put Mitch into gear, forgetting the flyer plastered to the passenger side windshield, licked the salt off her fingers and headed home, humming softly to herself, “Subie doo be dooooo, what are the chances, subie doo be doooo, exchanging glances…
###
In a New Jersey lab hundreds of miles away…
What a rush! Eve was ecstatic having confirmed that the alarm bouncing off the concrete lab walls was the real thing. “At last,” she whispered, “I’m going home!” Next, she texted Xeno and Yolanda. “Let’s do this!”
Never at a loss for words... 