David Normal David 2 211 2001-11-03T03:10:00Z 2001-11-03T03:10:00Z 3 1329 7579 63 15 9307 9.2720

            I was greeted by silence and shadows of our penthouse up in Foggle Towers. Rain had begun to fall (surprise, surprise) in the dark velvet night. The kitchen clock read three AM and I felt terribly alone. I wanted to call Gina—

            Be a big girl, Maxine, I scolded myself.

            I went into my bedroom, stretched out on my bed and looked up at my mother's picture. That soft smile still played on her lips, that blue boat-neck shirt still brought out her brown eyes and reddened her cheeks and those same brown eyes were still framed by long lashes black as coal. I puffed out my cheeks and blew out hot air.

God must hate me. Hate me so much to burden me with a motherless childhood, having being lied to about my background, having the face of a dead woman and now putting Daddy in the hospital suffering a stroke.

            How many times have I blamed my mother for things that were, deep down, my fault? How many times was my mother my scapegoat? Was I really angry at God?

            I slid off my bed and sauntered into my bathroom and filled up my tub with hot water. Turning down the lights and putting on one of Daddy's classical CD's, I undressed, letting my jeans, shirt and undergarments fall to the floor in a heap, and stepped into the water. I dunked my head underneath and opened my eyes, looking up through the blurriness of the water. I blew some bubbles and watched them pop on the surface. This was very peaceful. So peaceful, I began to drift off and I closed my eyes.

            When I opened them again, I was still looking up, but I was not underwater anymore. I felt myself sit up and saw, with much suspicion, that no longer was I in my bathroom but in a small space with no windows or doors and when I looked down, I couldn't see the floor—or my feet. It was covered with smoke, like I was walking on a cloud, but I was sure it was solid underneath. Very distantly, I could hear the same classical CD I had put on earlier. I was dressed, too—in a white dress. I wore my necklace still.

            "Eva?" I heard a familiar voice call. "Eva, is that you?"

            I looked around me. No one was there until I had turned in a full circle and finished facing where I had been. My mother was standing right behind me.

            "It is you!" she exclaimed with a smile. Laughing, she made her way over to me and wrapped me in her arms with a blissful sigh. When I didn't react, she pulled away, her hands still on my shoulders. "Um, hello? You in there, Eva?" she waved a hand in front of my face. "It's only me, your mother. Remember? I was the one who was in labor for twelve hours with you?" She laughed again.

            "Am I dead?" I finally blurted.

            "Not quite. You're in limbo," Mom said grimacing. "You stayed underwater for too long."

            "Great," I said sarcastically.

            "Well, you're not going to die. You're just having a near-death experience," Mom explained. "Been there, done that."

            "Oh…" I felt faint.

            "But look at you, Eva! Aw, last time I saw you, you were only what, five minutes old?"

            "Maxine," I corrected her. "Daddy named me Maxine."

            "Why would Logan do something like that?" Mom gave me an odd look. "Where did he come up with it, anyway? He knew very well I wanted you to be Eva. I had it all planned out! Eva Lillian Cale—I found 'Lillian' in a book somewhere and it stuck in my head and I dunno, I just liked it. I pounded into Logan's head at least twenty times if not once." Mom stopped her ranting and looked at me for a minutes. Then she shook her head and muttered, "Maxine. Did he give you a middle name?" she added.

            "Guevara. Your maiden name," I answered.

            "For crying out loud…does Logan have one iota of creativity left in his head or is he getting along in his old age?" Mom asked jokingly. "Well, stand up straight, let me take a look at you!"

            I straightened up and smoothed the dress I was wearing. Mom circled me a couple of times and then cupped my chin in her hands.

            "Well, you may look like me but unfortunately you have Logan's smile and his ears. I guess you're entitled. He is your father…how is he, by the way? In the hospital, right?"

            "Uh-huh," I said as best I could—she was still holding my face.

            "Can't fight that," she winced and dropped her hands. "Has he been a good father?"

            "The best," I replied. "He's very caring and compassionate and…just the best."

            "I knew it," Mom again held my hands in hers. "Well…they usually give you about ten minutes before you wake up from these things. Shall we get started?"

            "Started with what?"

            "Catching up, of course! Oh c'mon what did you think I was going to say? I've been dead eighteen years—there's tons of stuff we can talk about."

            "I'm having a near-death experience and you wanna talk girl talk?" I was confused.

            "No, I want to talk about my miserable childhood," Mom countered with a cynical undertone. She snapped her fingers and a plushy white loveseat appeared out of nowhere behind me. "Take a seat, Eva, uh, Maxine."

            Staring at my mother, I took a few steps backwards and sat down. Mom sat beside me and we were silent for a few seconds.

            "So…did you know when you were a little girl I would come down and sit on your bed and brush your hair while you were asleep?" Mom finally revealed.

            "That was you?"

            Mom nodded. "In Manticore I had my head shaved as a kid. I wanted long hair so bad. Hmm…who had curls in Logan's family?" She played with my hair. "No one on my side, that's for damn sure."

            "Daddy said when you first met, you had curly hair," I said.

            "Probably. I can't remember," she tugged at my curls like Daddy always did and I wanted to cry. "But yeah—I looked down on you a lot when you were growing up. Quiet you when you cried, push you on the swing, brush your hair…so I really didn't miss out on all that much."

            "I want to say that it was hard growing up with just Daddy," I began, "but after hearing about you and Manticore, it seems a little silly right now."

            "Nah, s'okay. Bitch all you want. I'm sure Original Cindy taught you how to do it the right way."

            I couldn't help but laugh, "Yeah, she's been a great mentor."

            "Okay, so I saw you pull that stunt with Lydecker. I'm proud of you, girl. That took guts," she nudged me playfully. "You are truly your mother's daughter."

            "Thanks, I think."

            "Don't think. It's a compliment," she let out a big puff of air, like she'd been holding her breath for a long time. "Towards the end, Lydecker got kinda cool. No longer was my worst nightmare. Any guy who can take down his own company with a smile is okay by me."

            "That one visit almost got me in serious trouble with Daddy," I explained.

            "Yeah, yeah—he's sort of overly protective of you, isn't he?"

            "I guess so. He's always had strict curfews, analyzed every one of my friends, skeptic about their parents."

            "Doesn't surprise me. I had a feeling Logan would be that kind of father. Of course, I'd probably be a much cooler mom. But I think my death made him like that, though. Didn't want to lose the biggest piece of what he'd lost, I guess. And you," she emphasized, "aren't happy about me being up here, right?"

            "Um…"

            "Don't hide it.  Saw your little psycho moment two years ago, don't think I ignored that. It was a little rubber band in your mind, right? Pulling, pulling, pulling, and then SNAP! You go crazy, can't control yourself, you wanna hurt, bleed, wreck…am I getting warmer?"

            "Hot," I agreed.

            "I was sitting right on the couch while you went around with the hammer."

            "Really?"

            "Would I lie?"

            I didn't answer for a few seconds. "We-ell…"

            "That wasn't me, Logan was the one who kept it from you! I've been up here! Remember?"

            "Okay, okay!"

            "I'm kinda depressed you banged up my baby…that was harsh."

            "Baby?"

            "The Ninja cycle? My baby?"

            "You called your bike your baby?"

            "Hey," Mom held up her hands in surrender, "you call your car Frankie."

            I cracked up, "How did you know that? I've never told anyone, not even Gina or Nikka!"

            "I heard you in traffic one day, 'If we get out of this Frankie, I'm treating you to super unleaded gas'."

"You were there?" My jaw practically came unhinged.

"I'm practically your third foot. I was even a fan of that doc Logan made you see. I liked her. Very interesting woman."

            "Wow…how come you never made yourself, you know, noticeable?"

            Mom shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe I didn't want to scare you…uh-oh."

            "Uh-oh?"

            With a sad look on her face, she snapped again and a clock appeared in front of us. "Twelve seconds."

            "Will…will I see you again? Will you come back and maybe just say hey?" I asked hurriedly.

            "Most def," Mom said. She kissed my cheek, put something in my hand and whispered, "wake up."

            That was the last thing I remember.

            When I sat up again, I was back in the bathtub in Foggle Towers. My candles had burned out, the CD had turned off, my skin was wrinkled like a prune and it was nearing dawn. Recalling what I had experienced, my first thought was, Was it real? I looked down at my hands and noticed that I was holding tightly onto something in my closed fist. I opened it and in my palm was a tiny little crystal figurine. Stepping out of the tub and flipping on the lights, I moved closer to a lamp and examined it—it was an girl, with wings and wearing a long toga. The face was that of my mother's.