Author's Note: Parts of "Blah-Blah, Woof-Woof" are mentioned in this chapter and the next one…they are sort of copycats of tha

Author's Note: Parts of "Blah-Blah, Woof-Woof" are mentioned in this chapter and the next one…they are sort of copycats of that episode. Oh well…ridicules welcome. Lord knows I've gotten many thanks to this story.

            To tell the entire truth, my story does not have a happy ending.

Hang on—I was lying because that's not entirely true. It's more bittersweet than anything. Shall I start from the beginning? A foolish question; of course I should begin there. Where else is there to start?

            I graduated with the Class of 2047 on the high honor roll. I did not make valedictorian thanks to a B plus in Chemistry, but I graduated third in a class of one hundred and fifty-three. Daddy was sitting in the front row, of course, clapping the loudest and smiling broadly when my name was called to receive my diploma. I never saw him so happy in my entire life. I knew, all though I didn't say it, that he was thinking about Mom and how proud she would be. He looked at me fondly in my graduation gown and I could tell he was remembering her.

            "No more little girl," he said, tugging my curls after graduation. We were standing outside the school. I bent down to hug him and I swore he was crying. "I'm going to miss you, kitten."

            Kitten. That long-forgotten pet name. I swallowed hard and tried not to cry. My choice college was Berkley in California and I was a little uneasy about leaving Daddy. I had to admit Gina had been right: I was a Daddy's girl!

            "I'll miss you, too," I said. "But I'm not leaving until September. It's only June."

            "Still, it's a little scary for me," Daddy said. I sat on a bench that was near the entrance to the school so I could be at eye-level with him. Daddy cupped my chin in his hand and sighed. "You've never even been away for a sleep away camp as a little girl and now you're all grown up, off to college."

            "I'll always be close to you, though," I said, kissing his cheek. "And I'll always be your little girl on the inside, even when I'm thirty years old."

            Daddy laughed. His eyes looked whimsical and tugged my curls again. "Do me one favor, though, Maxine. Don't straighten your curls, okay?"

            "Why?" I asked, playing with them.

            He cleared his throat. "When I first met your mom she had curly hair like this. Big banana curls. When she came back from Manticore after she'd supposedly died, her curls were gone."

            I thought back to the video Daddy showed me last month and I did notice that her hair was longer and straighter than in most of her pictures.

            "I love my curls," I assured Daddy. "They're never going anywhere."

            Now that I think about it and look back upon that quote, I wonder if I was talking about my curls or my relationship with Daddy.

            My summer was spent keeping myself busy. I had a job as a waitress now at a small restaurant and coffee house simply called The Café. It was one of the nicest in Seattle and it paid very well. This was so I could have extra money to spend at college. One of my co-workers, a shy black girl named Nikka, was also going to be attending Berkley and we became close. Our boss, an elderly woman named Marla, usually put us on the same shift.

Nikka was almost fascinated when I revealed I had no mother.

            "My daddy isn't with my mama no more," Nikka said. "I think it would be interesting to see if they get together." She joked and nudged me as we washed dishes one night. It was closing time and the last customers were leaving. "What's the matter, Maxine? You got the sense of humor of a wet mop tonight."

            "I'm sorry, Nikka," I winced. My mind flashed back to my mother's smile on the video tape. "I was just thinking about my mother."

            "Oh. Sorry. I keep forgettin' she's in the ground. My daddy's just in Virginia."

            "It's okay," I sighed as I scrubbed a plate. "She's been gone for eighteen years. Daddy's not so hung up on her being gone now that—" I stopped myself. I know the truth was on the tip of my tongue. "Now that I've been watching this one videotape she made before I was born. That I've seen her and known her almost as good as he once did. They were friends for about ten years before they got married."

            Nikka looked at me disbelievingly. "Damn. My momma and daddy knew each other for about six weeks before they had me, then got married. My sister and my twin brothers came after. When Henry and Alonzo were three, Daddy left. Ain't seen him since." Nikka smiled slyly.

            I laughed. "The problem with me going to California for college is, I'm such a baby. I've never been away from my dad for an extended period of time. My friend Gina calls me a Daddy's girl. We're so close. I think I'd roll over and die myself if I lost him." I rinsed the last dish and dried my hands on my black bistro apron and my rattiest jeans. "Whew. That's done."

            "Thank God," mumbled Nikka. "I got enough dishes at my house that need cleaning and I do 'em for free."

            Chuckling, I untied my bistro and balled it up. I glanced at the coat rack. My mother's leather jacket was waiting for me. I began wearing it with my father's blessing.

            "Nothing else will keep you warmer than this jacket," he said, "on those chilly Seattle nights coming home from work."

            "Well, at least we'll have some extra cash," I reminded her. "I don't want my dad to sell anything just to keep up with tuition."

            Daddy had told me he had sold some paintings to help cure the virus Mom had.

            "My momma's already workin' a second job to keep me and Torrance in school and my twin brothers in day care. I intend to send her at least half of my paycheck," Nikka untied her bistro and let it fall to the floor. "I'll be lucky to have a few extra dimes to spare for myself. My family never bounced back after the Pulse."

            "A lot of families didn't," I said, thinking of Mom and her brothers and sisters. "And it's been a good twenty years since that."

            "No kidding," Nikka wrinkled her nose. "You walking or driving home?"

            "Driving," I said. I knew what Nikka was asking for. "Want a ride?"

            "Sure, thanks," she smiled. Picking up her bistro, she sighed. "My back hurts. Can't wait to get home, even if it means sharing a room with Torrance. Hey, how come your parents never had any more kids before you?"

            I dumped the old coffee into the sink. "My mom had two miscarriages before me. Maybe more, but I don't know. I guess if those babies lived, I might have other siblings but I think those miscarriages kept her alive longer."

            Nikka cleaned the cappuccino machine. "How so?"

            "Well, she died right after I was born. If the other babies lived, she might have died then. I don't know. There's a lot of 'what if's' and 'if only's' about my mom."

            "I hear you. Your momma must've been really pretty," she said all of a sudden.

            "She was. I carry her picture with me," I admitted.

            "Could I see?" Nikka asked.

            I nodded and went over to Mom's leather jacket. Out of the pocket I took out my silk wallet Daddy had given me for my seventeenth birthday and opened it to the picture pockets. Daddy had scanned some pictures on one of his computers and shrank them to make them fit. I handed the wallet to Nikka who smiled when she saw Daddy and Mom's wedding portrait and the one of Mom posed on her Ninja motorcycle [I eventually discovered that Daddy had given that bike to Aunt Cindy for "safe keeping"]. I also had the picture of Mom and Zack on the beach.

            "You do look just like her," Nikka said fondly. "Who's that blond man? That isn't your daddy, is it?"

            "Oh," I said, looking over Nikka's shoulder. "No. That's my mom's big brother, Zack. He's dead, too."

            "For real?"

            "He's been dead longer than I've been alive," I grimaced. "He shot himself."

            Nikka nodded knowingly. "My momma's brother committed suicide too. He OD'd on sleeping pills to avoid paying a gambling debt." She snapped the wallet shut and handed it back to me. "I'll sweep and you mop tonight," she suggested.

            Nodding, I took my wallet back to my mom's leather jacket. I detested sweeping and was happy to take the other job.

            "Turn on the radio, Maxine," Nikka called as she gathered the broom and dustpan. "I need to dance."

            I went behind the counter and switched on the radio. Nikka used the broom as a partner and danced around. I laughed and clapped to the music.

            "Please, girls," snapped Marla, coming up from the basement. "I'd like to get out of here before midnight. Fletcher, put your 'boyfriend' to work and Cale, start vacuuming the back room."

            When Marla called you by your last name, she ment business. With our heads down and concealing tight-lipped smiles to keep the giggles from coming out, Nikka and I finished our work.

            That night after I drove Nikka home and was on my way back to Foggle Towers, there was a lot of traffic. Rather than honk my horn and rant and rave, I turned off the engine and got out of the car to hunt up a police man. I was within walking distance of home but no one was budging. I found a cop whose back was to me. I tapped his shoulder. Annoyed, he turned.

            "Yeah, what do ya want?" he asked.

            "Listen, man," I said calmly. "Is there any way I can get through? If I could I can walk home from here but I happen to have my car over there…"

            "Where do you live, ma'am?" he asked, rolling his eyes, as if he's heard this complaint before.

            "There," I pointed over the cop's shoulder. "Foggle Towers."

            The cop cleared his throat. "Well, there's been a little emergency at the towers, miss. So if you want to go, you can, but—"

            "Aunt Cindy!" I spotted her in the distance. I waved and the cop looked confused.

            "You know her?"

            "That's my godmother," I said, pushing past the cop. "Aunt Cindy! Cindy!" I ran towards her and fell into her open arms. She had been standing by an ambulance with a worried stare in her eyes and her mouth covering her grimace of…horror? Fear?

            "Boo, I was wonderin' where you were," she sighed, holding me close like I was still a tiny baby. "I was getting' scared."

            "Aunt Cindy, what happened?" I asked. "Why are you here?"

            Pausing, she managed to croak out, "It's Logan…he ain't doin' so good."

            "What are you saying? What happened? Aunt Cindy, tell me!"

            "Oh, Max," she said, calling me my mother's name in a way that made me want to sob. "It's all gonna be okay, boo. Just fiiiine."

            "Aunt Cindy," I broke from her embrace and held her hands in mine. She was trembling. "Tell me what happened," I said in a slow and steady voice.

            Aunt Cindy opened her mouth to speak but her gaze shifted from me to off to the side where three men were carrying out Daddy on a stretcher.

            "Oh God," I dropped Aunt Cindy's hands and ran.

            "Max!" she yelled after me.

            "What happened? How is he?" I asked one of the paramedics.

            "Ma'am, please get out of the way," one of them growled.

            "I'm his daughter!" I screamed. "Someone fill me in!"

            "Move outta the way, honey," I was told. One of the meds took me aside and told me what was up.

            "Thank God your aunt was there or your father might be dead right now," he said sternly.

            "How'd he—what happened?" I was near tears.

            "We found him unconscious when we got there…apparently he'd fallen out of his wheelchair and when your aunt came for a visit, she found him."

            "Can you tell me anything else?"

            "Not at the minute…you and your aunt should follow us to Metro Medical."

            Aunt Cindy and I got into my car and we followed the ambulance. It was the longest ride of my life. Nothing would prepare me for what was ahead.