The smell of freshly brewed coffee envelopes the RV's unvented kitchen. Archer promised to drive smoothly back to Connecticut and take the less bumpy roads this time. I sit at the table with Clyde and Lula, sipping my mug and staring at the DNA test Archer had printed out. For the sake of professional decency, I have her borrow some of my clothes to wear over her "showgirl" uniform.
"You said you were 27?" I ask.
"Yup, and you're 25? Guess that makes me the big sister then."
"Oh great, now I'm the copycat."
She looks at me with her head slightly tilted, "So kiddo, what's with the cross-dressing?"
"It's funny how something that was once a hobby now plays a big part in tactical insertion."
"Oh, I've always wanted a little sister! All that time wasted when we could've been painting each other's nails and trying on new clothes!"
Clyde snickers lightly as my cheeks burn hot with embarrassment, "Yeah," he says, "and talk about boys and complain about getting fat."
Her eyes light up as she takes a heavy gasp. "You like to talk about boys!?"
I shake my head violently, "No, no! I'm not gay!"
She switches to a puzzled expression, "So, you're bisexual?"
"No!"
"C'mon Troy, there's no way in hell you like women, I bet you'd battle them to see who's prettier."
My mouth opens, but for what? Nothing comes out. Clyde continues to cover his mouth that is obviously twisted into a smile. He answers before I could, "Let me save you the trouble by saying that not even he knows what he likes. He's been confused for as long as I've known him."
"You've only known me for three years!"
"Yes, and in those three years I could tell you were a mess on the inside."
I stuff my nose into my mug. "No argument there."
Lula gets up from her seat and stretches with an exhausted yawn. Her tail does some amusing aerobics, and I notice the pink ribbon she had tied to the end of it.
"Pretty ribbon," I say.
She looks at it, then at me, "You like? It's something I wear for my mother."
"A ribbon to remember her by," Clyde says.
She confirms him and disappears behind the purple curtain that houses our personal beds and closets. She's probably still feeling a bit of the chemical, and coffee is not strong enough to shake the Barbiturates off. I look out of the window next to me, just watching the road pass us by. I have a lot to think about, but my spiraling mind doesn't know where to land. Clyde finishes his mug before going to the driver's area to sit in the passenger seat where Archer and he talk in private, and I was left sitting alone accompanied by my scattered thoughts. I need to know what my dad's timeline consists of, but it wasn't something to discuss over the phone. This needs to be in person.
*** *** ***
Connecticut, Hartford: Hearth Manor
Clyde follows us down the winding walkway to the front door, but his look of concern ruins the otherwise beautiful scenery. The security guarding the main gate recognizes me, however still frosty at the sight of my clone, one of them mouthing, "That's not right," to the other.
"Are you sure?" Clyde asks again.
"I'm sure, Clyde. I don't need your help for this one, I promise."
"Okay, but I'll be standing close by just in case."
"In case of what?"
"You never know."
He turns back and walks away, leaving us alone for the big conversation with dear old Dad. We stand before the tall, royal door, and for this small moment, I try and think of what I need to say, how to start the ball rolling without losing anybody's head. Lula presses the doorbell during my trance, I can't think of anything now.
"Wait not yet!" I yell
"What!? What's wrong with you!?"
The door opens, but Dad was not the one answering the call; it's his long-term housemaid, Yvette. She's been here since I was a kid, and we connected a lot since I was an only child growing up. She's a bit older now but looks good for her age. As usual, she greets the guests with the sunniest of smiles, but it slowly contorts into an opened-mouth stare.
"Troy, there's two of you," she asks, breaking the pause. Okay, let's just give a good smile and I'll do the talking.
"Hi Yvette, it's so good to see you after so long! This is Lula, she's my long-lost half-sister."
"Don't forget older," Lula adds.
"OLDER long-lost half-sister. Is Dad home? We really need to get a word with him." It takes some time for her to stop staring at us, but she snaps out of her trance.
"Yes, he's in his study right now, but he asked not to be bothered for the next hour."
"Oh," I say, "that's too bad. Where's Mom?"
"She's preparing dinner. I'll alert her of your presence, sir."
"Oh, Yvette. Always so formal."
She gestures for us to follow and leads us through the decorated halls of the manor. Lula seems smitten at the estate Dad had earned through the many years of his lifelong work. Many artifacts grab her attention as she reaches for things to touch, only to receive a quick smack on the hand courtesy of me. The smell of a familiar roast beef invades the air and grows stronger the closer we get to the kitchen. Yvette rounds the corner first and bellows out a greeting.
"Mrs. Hearth, your son is here for a visit."
"Oh how lovely, where is he?" I hear my mother say.
I walk in shyly. It's been years since my last visit, and if one or the other would get ornery about it, it would be my mother. Her gaze fixes on me as she removes her oven mitts and throws her orange-furred arms around me in a tight embrace.
"It's been so long, Troy!"
"I know, I'm sorry Mom. But as much as I wanted this to be a social visit, I'm actually here on an investigation."
"Ah, well I suppose it was too good to be true."
"No, no Mom! Another day we'll get together. I promise."
"Yeah, yeah. You promised last time, remember? So, an investigation here? Did your work bring trouble to our front door?"
Wow, she turned bitter real quick! I call to Lula, who enters the room with her arms behind her back and her gaze glued to the floor. She looks up slowly, letting her green eyes meet my mother's blue ones, and gives a meek smile and a small wave to her.
Mom returns the wave with hesitation."I...um. Who's this, Troy?"
"She's a relative from Dad's side," That was painful to lay out.
"She's a perfect lookalike of you, that's such a rare treat." She turns to Lula, her warm smile returning to her face, "So, how are you related to Samuel?"
Lula's eyes go back to the floor, "I'm his daughter."
Mom's smile fades quickly; maybe that's an understatement; it crash-landed into Frownsville with zero survivors of the Happy residents of Joytown. She storms out of the kitchen without another word and heads up the stairs.
"Your mom is very pretty," Lula says. I only spare a quick glance at her before I set off to catch Mom before she does something horrible to Dad. I race up the stairs after her, but she's already on the 5th floor by the time I make it to the 2nd. I've never seen her move so fast! The sound of a door slamming open comes first upstairs, then some frantic dialog follows suit.
"Sherry, dear? I'm a little busy at the moment. Wait, what are you doing? Sherry, what's wrong!? Honey, I swear I put the toilet seat down this time! Ow, stop! You're gonna rip my ear off! Sherry!"
There are scrambling footsteps coming back down along with the howls of an old fox in pain. I stop in my tracks, causing Lula to bump into me. A pair of feet appear at the top stairs above us next to another pair frantically kicking and trying to keep its balance. Mom's vice grip holds on to Dad's almost dismembered ear as she literally drags him downstairs. He continues to verbalize his pain and confusion.
"Ow! Honey, what's going on!? Please wait a moment! Sherry!? Sherry!"
They reach the bottom step, landing on the 2nd floor Lula and I are located. Mom swings her arm at us, flinging Dad with ease and causing him to spin around and turn him dizzy. I catch him on the left side while Lula takes the right. He looks up at us, eyes crossed and head spinning.
"Troy?" he asks, "Is that you? Wow, I'm dizzy, I'm seeing double!"
I keep a straight face, Lula winks and clicks her tongue. His revelation comes slowly. We help him back on his feet as he removes his glasses and gives breathy air to the lenses, wiping them clean with his shirt.
"Wha-what's this?" he asks. I take a breath to explain, but Lula's mouth shoots quicker before I can get the words out.
"Samuel Hearth. Back when you were 20 years old, you had a child in New York! You left before the baby was born, and never received notice of the mother's death." Not even three seconds could pass before the tension maxes out. I put a hand on Lula's shoulder, mostly for security rather than compassion, but she rejects me, her fire aiming at Dad.
"I...I don't-" Dad stutters.
"Let me spoil the ending; I was that child! I lived 12 years through foster homes, and you know what ran through my head all that time getting passed around like an unwanted baseball card? Why wasn't I loved enough?" Her tears have no limits, but her voice is firm and convicted. "Why was I dealt with a hand that gave me no parents, no guidance, no discipline, and no affection?" To read a room is one thing, but to feel her anger frightens me.
I interrupt, "Lula, please just-"
"It was hell to get your name, Samuel Hearth, but I did it! All I see is an unaffected man standing in his great house with his new family, feeding his firstborn to the wolves in another state. I'm glad I found you like this though, it makes it easier to do what I have to do." As fast as the Old West, her arm reaches around her and snaps back with a silenced pistol aiming for Dad's dome.
"No!" I yell, hitting her arm upwards. The gun goes off, and my parents hit the floor and scramble upstairs. Clyde appears out of nowhere with Archer, in which they both manage to subdue Lula and sedate her again.
"On second thought," Clyde begins, "maybe it wasn't the best idea to take a half-crazed assassin to meet her biological father." I nod in agreement and feel incredibly ignorant for not predicting this outcome.
"I'll take her back to the RV and restrain her," Archer says as he hoists her over his shoulder and makes way for the exit.
"How did you guys get here without alerting security?" I ask.
"Sorry," Clyde says, "Archer made me promise not to reveal his secrets."
"Mom! Dad! It's safe now, I promise!"
*** *** ***
The roast is cooked to perfection as Mom serves everyone a plate at the table with the exception of Clyde; she has Yvette take him a plate in another room as she was terrified of my partner since the day she met him. His incredible size and gruff voice reminded her all too much of a childhood fear she harbors deep in her subconscious.
"I'm sorry, Clyde!" she calls to him, "I can't help it!"
"It's okay Mrs. Hearth, I understand!" he calls back.
"So Dad, we should really clear the table on this one," I say.
"But your mom just set it," he responds with a smirk. What a guy, busting a dad joke while he recently almost became a murder victim.
"No, that's not what I meant! I mean, we should talk about the elephant in the room."
"No elephant here, but there's a big dog in the other room."
"Stop that!"
"Stop what, son?"
"You're evading the question!"
"Evading the question? Is this your bad cop while on the job? Am I being interrogated by a gorgeous agent?"
My cheeks burn hot, "Dad, don't say that, you're making me feel inadequate. Just answer my questions please." He sits up straight, his joking over. His elbows rest on the table as he absentmindedly pokes his food with his fork, his green eyes never able to look at mine.
"No elbows on the table, dear," Mom says.
He reluctantly removes his arm and looks around the room. His sight goes back to the plate, and he slowly picks up his fork and begins slicing the roast into small pieces. He stabs one and lifts it to his muzzle, a flick of his tongue judges it to be too hot, and his lips pucker and blow.
"Dad!"
"Okay, okay! Yes, I did have a girl besides your mom back when I was young but doesn't everybody?"
"Look, I'm very grateful that you eventually met Mom and made me, but leaving a mother and child behind to pursue something else doesn't sound like you. Not to me, not the father I know and love. What happened in New York?" The question visibly bugs him; he shifts in his seat, his body sits stiffly against the chair.
"Son, I know I've painted a picture in your head about how I want you to think about me, but you're an adult now, you're smart enough to know that people have... different agendas as they age," his fingers tap loudly on the table. "I'm like any other sentient life form, I will make mistakes, I will regret these mistakes, and I will learn from them."
"Stop talking like some politically correct professor, I need you to head straight for the point. Please."
A quick fist slams onto the placemat, shaking everyone's drink and rattling their silverware. "What can I say, Troy!? I was young and stupid, consequences weren't weighing on me when I was invincible and carefree. I didn't know what it meant to be a father back then, I was just looking out for my next adventure. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for what I did to that innocent woman, but I can't change the past, I can only get over it." Teardrops fall onto his plate, his small sniffles echo through the now-too-quiet room. My mouth is open, but I can't think of the words. I feel indifferent at first, but awful afterward.
"Dad," I say, standing up and moving towards him. I put one hand on his, and the other to his cheek, "I forgive you, I will always love you, and there's nothing you could do to change that."
"Samuel," Mom starts, "I don't have words. This is your past, it's something you can't run from, it'll always be right behind you. You need to talk to me about these things, please don't go alone on journeys like this one."
"If I could get a word in," Clyde says, poking his head into the room and keeping a good distance from Mom.
"Clyde?" I ask. " What do you-"
"Actually, I'd like to talk in private with your father."
This day is just full of surprises. I let go of my sobbing father and leave with Mom who quickly passes Clyde into the next room. Minutes pass with no sign of Dad or Clyde. They closed the door for assured privacy. Mom begins knitting on the couch, making me the model to try on what she makes. These are the warmest mittens I've ever felt, but I'm not too sure of the color for this skirt she made me put over my pants.
"Give me a small twirl, honey," she tells me. I do, and feet pretty while doing it. The door creaks open, and out walks the pair. Dad is beaming with happiness and has his arm slung over Clyde's broad shoulders. Mom wastes no time putting a wall between her and Clyde, a reaction if anything.
"Dad? Are you feeling any better?"
"Oh yes, son! There was a better point of view to see life, and Clyde showed me the way. Thanks for that, sir."
"Anything for Troy's family," Clyde says. He looks at the knitted mittens and skirt I was still wearing, "I always knew you were a momma's boy!"
My cheeks burn again, "Mom didn't even make these!"
"I did to!" she calls, sticking her head out from the corner.
"Mom!"
She covers her mouth and ducks her head behind the wall again, giggling softly to herself.
*** *** ***
We give our goodbyes at the front door, exchanging hugs and kisses and promises of future visits. Clyde stands ten feet behind me so that I can tell my mom goodbye without interruption. I turn around and place myself side-by-side with Clyde. They both deliver a final wave, and we both return it sincerely. The door closes, and we stroll back to the RV.
"Hey, thanks for taking care of my Dad," I say.
"No problem. It wasn't that hard."
"By the way, what were those magic words you told him?"
"If you ever need a motivational speech in the future, I'll tell them to you."
The visit didn't go as planned, but feeling closer to my family was something I thought I couldn't achieve any further. This certainly unblurs Lula's past, but there are still some unanswered questions buzzing in my head. I need to talk to Lula again before we let her go.
*BOOM*
The sound of a deafening explosion erupts behind me. The intense heat follows the shockwave, and then the force came knocking us down. We fly across the yard and tumble in the grass. My vision is distorted and inaccurate, and my body is trembling with adrenaline. I pick myself up and stare at the catastrophic results.
The dancing flames glisten in my eyes as I stare, gaping at The Hearth Manor burning to a crisp rapidly. The entire left wing is blown out completely, and the remaining roof caves in on itself. Clyde is already up, and he's shouting something, but I can't hear him. I'm not even paying attention to him. I feel the hot tears trickle down my cheeks, but I still can't utter a single word. I fall to my knees, never looking away until I see Clyde running towards the burning building. He dives straight into the fire, and I just sit here and watch. I feel myself being lifted up, but I don't bother looking at who's doing it.
"Troy," the voice says, "it's a setup!"