17)
From one platform of the Spring City station to another just across the building was the new destination for Ro and Zeta. The commuter train to Hillsburg and other outer Spring City suburbs along the Patapsco Valley Line was free and paid for by high mid-Atlantic taxes. The people of the Spring City metropolis could afford a few extra taxes; they were some of the richest people in the country. Hillsburg was the farthest suburb, a sprawling place full of strip-malls, car dealerships, Ground Wires, country clubs and mansions for the filthy rich and the ones who just sank deeper into debt. A mix between the modern and the historic. A beautiful American façade.
Ro looked around her in wonder through the sunlit Spring City station. The place had not changed. The roof was still arched, framed with blue metal that glinted, and between the beams was sandblasted glass, where the sunlight was diffused to a subtle soft glow in the lofty complex. Immaculate as ever, Ro was tempted to tip over garbage receptacles as she went to make the place a touch dirty, but refrained from the lapse into juvenile behavior that would only lead to an interview with the police. However, she was tempted, and that said something about her. She hadn't really changed, not much, since she'd been in Spring City. There was still that restless, angsty dissatisfied young teen living inside of Ro somewhere, ready to break from the shackles of responsibility and make crazy upon the face of the earth again. Someday, she told the inner creature, you will get your chance.
The hour delay they'd suffered had no affect on their ability to catch the commuter train to Hillsburg. There was one every twenty-five minutes, departing from one of two separate outdoor platforms. People waited in the middle of the two lines for whichever train would arrive first.
"I see they're still using the electric monorail," Ro said as they approached the mid-platform. "It was efficient in its day."
"It still is," Zeta threw in. "Perhaps the city doesn't want to spend the money on the hover system."
"Maybe they're waiting for something better to come along."
"Like what?"
"I don't know," Ro presented a snide grin. "Teleportation, I bet."
The monorail pulled through the platform and slowed to a crawl, finally to a stop. The bell chimed and the doors opened. Out flew a herd of humans then in went one of similar appearance. Ro found herself studying faces of strangers keenly as they passed her. A few of them felt her eyes and stared back until she looked away. Sometimes she did look away, sometimes she didn't. It was more fun to stare at someone for as long as they dared return the look. They were everyday people, migratory workers from Spring City who went to the suburbs for lunch with the family or for small business meetings. They were not interested in a teenage girl who played the childish staring game. But Ro wasn't meaning to be ornery or scary. There was a purpose to her outright gawk. She wanted to see someone she knew. Then again, she thought as she sighed, maybe she didn't. There were more foes in Spring City for her than there were friends. She had so few friends, anyway.
Zeta took a seat in the back of the monorail cart, which could hold a hundred people snugly, but there were only about forty. Ro held to a metal pipe for balance, and mentally prepped herself for her first visit to Hillsburg in a year. Zeta's voice behind her caused her to peer over her shoulder at him. He was offering his seat to a very pregnant woman, and she accepted it most graciously. He grabbed hold of the rod just above Ro's hand. She looked at him blankly. "What?" he asked. Ro sniffed and didn't reply.
As soon as the thirty-minute ride came to an end and Ro stepped off the rail and into the familiar Hillsburg flat-box station, her legs turned to mush. She wasn't entirely sure she had the courage to go through with the visit. It was all she could do to keep herself from walking crookedly beside Zeta, and she focused her thoughts on keeping her legs stiff and straight, so they would not betray the fear she felt. But Zeta, who felt it would insult her to offer any sort of aid, sensed what Ro was going through, he could even see the physical affect it had on her. The rosy lips, usually pink with life, at least form what Zeta could decipher, were pale and tense. And her self-confidence was always visible when she walked with her chin out, her head high, her arms swinging at her sides. But now she was tucked into herself, arms folded, shoulders slouched, eyes to the ground. It was not the same Ro.
At a street corner in mid-city, she stopped on the sidewalk and threw out her arm so Zeta wouldn't follow through on his next step. "Wait, Zee," she said. She examined the buildings of downtown Hillsburg, the few blocks of it that were worth looking upon. Most in her circumference were brownstone buildings from ages past, and newer ones were renovated brick. Those built in the twenty-first century were glass and metal, sterile reminders of the future as it crowned the past and left tall shadows which doused the streets. Ro and Zeta were standing in such a shadow, in the shadow of the Hillsburg Gazette building, five stories high, relatively inadequate compared to Gotham or Spring City. Ro ignored the feelings Hillsburg threw at her from every direction, from every stinging reminder, every regretful memory. She locked herself into a vidphone booth, leaving Zeta outside. She waved a hand at him as a way to signal he should find something to do, so he wouldn't be standing about in a manner which caught the wrong kind of attention. He went to a nearby e-newsstand and found something to read. Ro dialed operator's assistance. The line rang a few times loudly, until the face of the operator appeared.
"Operator's assistance. May I help you, miss?"
"I'd like a secure line, please."
"For how long?"
"A minute."
"Please slide your credcard through to authorize the process."
Ro took out the credcard from Mrs. Dumes and ran it through the machine, magnetic strip down. She watched as the operator fiddled with buttons, and then heard the clanking of the keyboard.
"Authorization approved. You will be charged five credits for one minute of secure line use. Please tell me the number you wish to call."
Ro gave out the number of Tiffany Morgan's private line. For her own safety, Ro had taken the time to memorize the number ages ago, but had never needed to use it. Ro silently hoped the girl would be home. And Tiff always answered her phone, even if she had three calls waiting. Ro hoped a minute of secure line would be enough, or the NSA could possibly trace Tiff's incoming calls, they probably were, and trace it to the phone booth Ro stood in. The thought made Ro's palms sweat, and she rubbed them on her jeans.
The operator's face blackened off the LCD display. A moment later, after a few humming rings, the vidphone splashed into live color, and there was Tiff Morgan, staring into the screen.
"Ro!" Tiff shouted, overly excited, surprised beyond anything. "Oh my god, Ro!"
"Shut up, Tiff. I only have a minute. This is a secure line so your buddies at the NSA can't track me. Look, I need to talk to you. It's important. You won't believe how important. Meet me at the Seventh Street Ground Wire as soon as you can. But be there in the next hour."
Tiff's brown eyes examined Ro. There was no hesitancy in them, not much of anything beyond surprise. "All right, Ro. I can be there in fifteen minutes."
"And do I even need to tell you to come alone?"
Tiff brightened into a smile. "No need, Rosa. I got it. Ground Wire. Seventh Street. Half-hour. Tiff, signing off."
Ro flipped down the vidphone screen, ending the call. She held her hot forehead and cheek to the cool steel frame of the booth for a moment, just to calm down. Her heart was racing, and she could hear the echo in her ears. After a few deep breaths, she exited the vidphone booth, and the swift Maryland breeze welcomed her. Zeta was still at the electronic newsstand, reading the Hillsburg Gazette. He retreated to the main menu when she appeared at his side.
"How did it go?" Zeta inquired.
"Fine," nodded Ro. "I got her to meet me at the Ground Wire that's down a few blocks."
"Good. And how does your foster sister look?"
"She looks great, as ever. Like she doesn't know that. She knows. And she knows we know."
They began their slog toward the café located five blocks south. The morning was sunny and mild, warmer than Seapoint and far more humid than Glenview. Ro took off her black duster jacket, the one Julie had given to her, and threw it over her arm. She felt more comfortable, cooler internally, with just the flashy red sleeveless shirt and black pants. Her nerves were calming down, and their inflammation had caused momentary overheating. Maybe she wasn't as pretty as Tiff Morgan, to some, but she had the inner fire of a thousand Tiff Morgans. Ro knew which of those attributes was most important.
"I meant," Zeta said, "if she looked surprised to see you."
"She is pretty, though," Ro said, and kicked a scrap of garbage with the tip of her boot. It scurried ahead, then trickled into the gutter.
Zeta watched the artifact as it moved, then scanned the block ahead. He was trying to find a memory of Tiffany Morgan, searching his database. When he did, he froze it and examined the girl. He had nothing to compare looks to, except Ro, and he'd never thought of anyone or even Ro as beautiful, but Ro was. The image of Tiffany was grayed and dull, like his eyesight. He saw nothing in vibrant color as a human did. But color could be misleading, and it wasn't necessary for a synthoid. His creators knew he'd do fine without the capability of seeing bright color. "What color is Tiff's hair, Ro? Is it red or brown?"
"Red. Sort of a subtle red. Auburn, maybe they'd call it." Ro gave Zeta an askew glance. "Don't you know?"
"I'm incapable of seeing pure color," he responded.
"I didn't know that. I've known you for two years and I'm just finding this out! You're color blind?"
"Not exactly. The lenticular shield which covers my visual receptors is a translucent thermaset plastic. It gives the world a--a washed-out appearance. Any memory I record, anything I see, is only in half the saturation that you see." Zeta stopped, as they were at a street corner with a blinking "Don't Walk" sign. He noted the instructions and looked instead at Ro. Her face was so familiar to him, yet he analyzed her anew. "For instance, I know that your hair is blonde. I see that it is blonde. But I don't know the true saturation of the blonde. The same with your eyes. The irises are blue. I see that, but I don't know the exact shade of blue."
Ro blinked, self-conscious of her eye color suddenly, the intense watery baby-blue. She saw they had a walking signal and began to cross. Zeta was a step behind until he caught up. "That's fascinating," she told him. "I had no idea. I try not to think too much about your technical side. You can make a human feel like an inferior specimen. Sometimes I forget that you're not human."
For Zeta, it was a nice compliment, though Ro hadn't meant to be complimentary.
Zeta asked a few more questions, like whether or not Tiff said anything about the NSA. Ro answered duly, using no more words than she had to. Her manner was subdued, and became more so by the time she saw the Ground Wire sign looming ahead, like a beacon of light, though there was no storm. Not yet. Little butterflies, and Ro thought of them as annoying moths, tortured her stomach as she opened the door to the café. It hadn't been near enough time for Tiff to arrive, but Ro scanned for her red head just the same. Zeta chose a circle booth in a back corner, and Ro slid in behind the table. It was an out of the way spot where they could converse in ease, minus the fear of eavesdropping. The loud techno music that played through the café, along with the convivial voices of the other young patrons, would muffle most any uttered word. Ro examined the Ground Wire, a place that she had, many years ago, frequented with junior high friends and even, on occasion, her foster sister. It looked exactly the same, just as any Ground Wire should.
"Um, Zee," Ro started. She had a sudden burst of shyness at the request she was about to make. "Would you mind--uh--you know."
"Leaving?" he filled in, eyebrows lifted. He didn't need an answer; he knew what she needed. "I'll be where you can find me, if you need me."
"Thanks." She squeezed his forearm in appreciation as he left the booth. She saw him disappear into the back of the café, toward the kitchen and restrooms, probably out the back exit.
Just as Zee vanished, Tiff materialized at the front door. All Ground Wires featured slim automatic doors, motion sensitive, so as soon as Tiff appeared the door opened, and, once through, the door slid shut quietly behind her. But the girl wasn't sure she really should be there, and took a step back. The door opened again. Then she looked as if nothing could keep her from the interview with her sister, and she stepped forth boldly, only to pause again. Ro observed her quietly to form a summarization of seeing her again, instead of directly calling to Tiff Morgan. Ro realized Tiff had changed, at least a little. She was no taller, no alteration in her fine shape or figure, no change of hair color or hairstyle. Her dress was more conservative than normal: basic blue jeans and a snug pale pink blouse, with a low ruffled collar of the same pink edged in white lace. A few wide bracelets dangled from her thin wrists, and her fingers and ears dripped in precious metal accessories. Tiff had always looked a fashion plate, modern nearly to extreme, so Ro was surprised at her less gaudy attire. But it wasn't the superficial appearance of Tiff that Ro had found so altered. It was Tiff Morgan as herself, in the quality with which she walked, the maturity of her character, the elegant posture of a young woman. All of this was new to Ro. She'd been too used to Tiff Morgan as a fifteen-year-old who was spoiled by a devoted father and never reproached or disciplined by a virtually invisible mother. But this Tiff Morgan was newly eighteen years of age, a high-school graduate at seventeen, and someone who was quite pleased with herself. The latter trait was not new.
Tiff Morgan scanned her watchful brown eyes over the faces of the café, only to find Ro's giant light-blue gawk in the back of the square room. So there she was, Rosalie Rowen, the outlaw. Tiff, at first, didn't know what she should think or do. What did Ro want? Help? Money? To turn herself in? Tiff was uncertain, and the possibilities could warp her to hysterics if pondered too closely. But as she watched Ro, she noted something different in her, and that difference was a visible sadness. Ro was showing an emotion that, as a younger girl, she wouldn't dare emit. Tiff's cool heart warmed a little. She had been fond of Ro, very fond. But somehow they'd started their sisterly relationship on the wrong foot, a misguided foot. And a rift grew between them, spurred on by Ro's vulgarity and Tiff's ability to cry at everything that wasn't beautiful. Ro, Tiff thought, was beautiful, in her own way. Even vulgarity could be beautiful. It found its sacred place in nature, and it had found a welcoming sheath in Ro Rowen. Ro wore her vulgar attribute like angels wear white wings.
They stood in front of each other, Tiff ever so slightly taller than Ro, a little wider at the hips and shoulders, a face more slender and oval. But their eyes were equally as penetrating. There was a hardness in those Morgan eyes that burned a hole in Ro. But the fire melted away and a feminine serenity developed. Tiff looped her arms over Ro and hugged her. Ro hugged back. Tiff leaned away and sat down, and Ro followed. Her knees were still weak but at least Tiff had shown up, and at least Tiff displayed kindness. Their last parting had not been so awful that either of them would presently wish they were somewhere else.
At first the two only could smile toward each other, still in awe of their first greeting after so long a void.
Tiff reached out her hand to the table, just so lightly smack Ro on her fingers. "You look pretty good, honey."
"Thanks," Ro replied, her lips shaky as they formed a smile. "You do too."
"Um," Tiff said, fidgeting with her handbag to find a credcard, "would you like something to drink?"
"Sure, if you're buying."
"Of course I am!" Tiff began to rise, and halted a moment with one knee bent to the booth. "What would you like?" She waved a hand when Ro opened her mouth to answer. "No, let me guess. Cherry-flavored cappuccino with extra whipped cream, those little chocolate sprinkles, and three cherries."
Ro blushed and slunk into the cushioned back of the chair. The look was all Tiff needed to know she was right. Ro rubbed her face roughly, and then ran her hands through her hair. Tiff wasn't gone long, since the café was run automatically between a staff of humans and machines. The machines were cheaper and didn't require a raise or days off. The humans kept the patrons from running amuck. Tiff returned to her seat and handed Ro the giant mug of fresh cappuccino.
"I ordered a little something extra for you," Tiff said. "It'll be out in a minute. Mike's bringing it."
"Mike? Mike Swinbourne?" Ro laughed, recalling the Mike that was mentioned, someone from her and Tiff's relations long ago. "Mike still works here? He must be a manager by now."
"He is, actually. I can't imagine him doing anything else with his life but working at Ground Wire. I don't think he can, either."
The Mike Swinbourne in question presently arrived from the back of the café, dressed in a dirty Ground Wire uniform he wore so often it was a second skin. He found Tiff only by her calling out to him. He flipped around and first looked at Tiff, then to Ro. The "something extra" was a bowl of cherries for Ro, with a fat dollop of whipped cream in the middle. Mike set the dessert before the cute blonde he hadn't seen in ages.
"Hello, Ro," Mike said. He smiled coyly at her. "Long time no see, eh?"
"Sure," Ro said. She remembered the last time she'd seen Mike, how they'd had an argument, and he'd insulted her so terribly that she cried. The tears only whipped her further into anger, and she'd felt so betrayed by him. It was funny how she'd forgotten all about it until then. How to repay the debt? She kicked her leg out from under the table and it met with Mike's shin. The boy keeled over in agony, cursing and swearing. Ro broke out in laughter that would not be squelched, no matter how awful she felt for having inflicted such pain. She fell out of the booth with Tiff to help and apologize to Mike.
"God, Ro!" Mike shouted. "Is that how you treat an old friend? Is that some kind of greeting on your home planet?" He was brought to his feet by Tiff, and he would not let Ro touch him. When she tried, he just swept her away like a gnat. Between her bubbles of laughter was a genuine mortification.
"Oh, Mike, I'm so sorry!" Ro attempted. He finally listened to her, though he was, at the moment, far from forgiving her. "I just got so angry at you all over again for what you did to me the last time we met. Remember?"
Mike rubbed his shin, still grimacing. "You always were one to hold a grudge. That was so long ago, Ro! You need to keep your big feet away from people's shins!" Mike reprimanded, but a faint light mood appeared, and Ro hoped he'd let it go. Before he returned to the kitchen, Mike gave Tiff a stern stare. "I always told you I thought she was crazy! Well if that doesn't prove it, what will?" He glanced at Ro and snickered. "Still, have to appreciate a woman who can kick like that. Well, see ya, Tiffers. Take care, Ro," he said under his breath.
Ro sat down again slowly, and Tiff did the same. The other customers in the café had lost their interest in the scene. Ro couldn't believe she'd brought such unwanted attention upon herself. She looked up at Tiff, whose brown eyes were comforting, and also dearly amused. The incident was exactly what she would expect from Rosalie Rowen.
Ro cupped her hands around the mug. Her laughter had vanished only because she'd submitted it deep down inside. "Apologize to him again, will you? Tell him I didn't mean it. And on my home planet we do a lot worse to someone than kick their shins."
Tiff, still humored, nodded her compliance. "I'll probably be seeing him this weekend. Don't worry. He'll forget about it. At times I've wanted to do that to Mike myself."
Ro sipped her cappuccino and examined her fine bowl of cherries. Everything seemed right in the world. Cherries made the world a beautiful place, and heaven on earth if they were covered in chocolate. Whipped cream would suffice. She ate them one by one off a fork, slowly as to savor every bite.
Tiff stirred some sugar in her tea. "How have you been? Have you been okay?"
"All right, for the most part. How about you?"
"Good!" Tiff showed exultant body language to show just how good her life had been. "I graduated from school with honors. I start college in January. Oh, I have a great new car!"
"Boyfriend?" Ro asked, just to be on the sisterly end of the conversation. Though Ro was interested in what Tiff's life had been like, what it included, whether she had a boyfriend or not mattered little but for the big picture.
"No. No boyfriend. I'd been too preoccupied with school that I let my social life evaporate. I don't care. It was worth it." Tiff sighed and a few wisps of hair fluttered in the breath. She sipped her tea, but it was too hot to do anything but wince. "What about you? Where's your guy?"
"I suppose you mean Zee." Ro suddenly found the cream shapes in her cappuccino extremely interesting and examined them like she would a newly discovered country.
"Yes, that's him. I don't see him with you."
"He isn't with me. I ditched the useless hunk of---" Ro didn't finish the sentence. She didn't know whether to say 'man' or 'metal', though either would've worked fine, and both were part of the lie. "I came alone."
Tiff was momentarily silent. She had learned to talk less in her growing age. "So, he's just gone? You left him?"
"Yes." Ro bit her bottom lip, her head still inclined. She rolled her bowl of cherries around on the table, already more than half were ingested. It wasn't in Ro's mind that Tiff would doubt that Zee was no longer around. Tiff had always been gullible. Certainly gullibility was an attribute a person futilely clung to, long after its use had been rubbed off.
But Tiff didn't believe her. She studied her foster sister with a trained intuitiveness she hadn't had before. In the last year, Tiff had learned how people think, what makes them think, and what makes them do certain things, like lie.
Ro snapped her head up as soon as Tiff opened her mouth to let out an obnoxious command.
"You can come out now!"
Tiff burst in laughter, and Ro was so angry and upset the tips of her ears flashed pink.
"Tiff, don't! Tiff! I really am alone. Honest." Ro glanced around the café, hoping no one would notice. The five people there gave them an odd look, and Ro hid groaning behind her hand. The visit wasn't going so well. At least, Ro thought to herself, Zeta hadn't shown up at Tiff's suggestion. At least Zeta knew better. Ro began to wonder why she'd gone there at all, and couldn't remember. She was blinded by her angry emotions, unable to realize the truth of her presence back in 'Hicksburg'. She rose from the booth with the intention of leaving. Tiff let out her hand to stop her.
"Don't go just yet, Ro. I'm sorry." Tiffy lowered her pillowy bottom lip in a pout. She had felt sorry for the harmless prank, and didn't think Ro would take it so seriously. Somehow she'd forgotten that Ro Rowen was a very serious-minded teen.
Reluctant to leave Tiff without finding the answers to her questions, Ro waited. The rage was dying and she grew to recall what had brought her back to Hillsburg, all the painful reasons why. Even though Tiff had shown she could be obnoxious, Ro was sure it wasn't meant with harm. And there was Tiff to see, Tiff to talk with, hang around with, giggle with. That was what Ro had gone to Hillsburg for: a visit with her sister. With a foot under her, Ro took a seat again. Tiff was pleased Ro remained, and her apologies ballooned.
"I'm not as gullible as I used to be," Tiff said, as though it would explain the outburst and rid Ro of the embarrassment. It did, at least a little. "I guess I didn't believe that you would ditch him. Maybe him ditch you. Not the other way around."
Ro found this analysis puzzling. She sipped the cooled cappuccino and said nothing.
"You care about him too much."
Ro's reflex reaction to the statement caused her to accidentally tip the bowl of cherries noisily across the table. The bowl crash-landed on the floor. It was empty of cherries, but Ro picked it from the floor and tossed it on the table. Her temper was getting the better of her. She cleaned up cherry juice and bits of cherry pulp off the table using a napkin while Tiff went on.
"Is he the reason you're here? Do you need something?"
"No, it isn't him." Ro retaliated in the old vulgar tone that Tiff could remember well. "It's me, Tiff. I'm here for me."
Tiff's face tightened. "What is it, Ro?" She was suddenly worried for her kid sister, or who would've been her kid sister if things had worked out. "I admit," Tiff began as she sank back into the booth, "I'm worried about you, little dear."
"Tiffy," Ro said and leaned over the table, her presence agitated, "I'm worried about me. Look, is there anything else you can tell me about my family? You told me about my brother, that was nice of you, and I haven't forgotten it. But I need to know more." Ro felt a little awful not telling Tiffany the entire truth. Tiff didn't know that Ro knew her brother, knew her parents and grandparents were dead. Ro wanted to know about extended family. And she wasn't yet comfortable in front of Tiffany to say that she had been the primary reason for the Hillsburg visit.
"Ro, I don't know anything." Tiff was startled by the urgency in Ro's voice. It was a desperation. Tiff wasn't aware of how desperate Ro Rowen could be, but she was catching a glimpse. At times in the last few years, she'd even doubted that Ro was capable of real human emotion. Now that she was seeing it, the fragility of invincible Ro was upsetting. "Ro," Tiff spoke gently, and took her sister's hand. "What's going on? You can tell me."
Ro wondered. Could she tell Tiff? Maybe a little wouldn't hurt, but a lot wouldn't hurt only Tiff, it would hurt her, and too much. But, even if she was prepared to shock her sister, Ro couldn't do it at the last minute. She didn't want her privacy violated. "It's just--driving me crazy." She realized then how foolish it'd been to think Tiff would know anything.
Tiff huffed, her lips drawn tight, her hand still in Ro's. She dipped her head into her chest, closed her eyes as if in a moment of meditation. "The only reason you came back to Hillsburg was to see if I could help you find your family?" Tiff lifted her eyes to Ro slowly as the words were murmured.
It wasn't the only reason. Ro hesitated. "Well. . . ."
Tiff squeezed Ro's hand tighter, and the movement sent the bracelets jingling together. "I can't believe it." Her tone was entirely made of astonishment.
"Why is it so hard to believe?"
Tiff waved her free hand. "It's not that. It's you, Rosa." Tiff tugged her hand from Ro and set it under the table in her lap. "I'm in awe of you coming back here just to find out something that I may not even know--that I don't know. How come you've always been so brave?"
"It's not all bravery," Ro told her, finding some way to disenchant the compliment. She felt like such a liar; a fake; a would-be knight. "If anything does happen to me while I'm here, you'd think it was stupid to come back. As long as I'm safe, you think I'm brave."
Tiff frowned a little. It was interesting how a certain perception can change enormously by the slightest action.
"I know, Tiff, that you can't help me. And that's all right. I didn't really expect anything."
Tiff was hesitant to speak. She kept still in the booth, as though glass had had been poured over her. Her hand moved across her chest, and she grabbed her opposite upper arm with tight fingers. A wave of thoughtfulness passed Tiff silently, and Ro caught the tail end of it.
"What is it, Tiff?" Ro urged her on, anxious and tense, but also oddly content. She had come to Hillsburg with no expectations on the outer rims of her family tree, but to see Tiff. Ro had wanted to see Tiffany Morgan because she'd missed her foster sister. The ability to sit across a booth from her sent Ro a vast contentment. And yet, something was plaguing Tiffany's mind. Ro hoped she wouldn't get more than she wanted from the visit.
Tiff toyed with her cup, nearly empty of jasmine tea, and Ro caught the faint, sweet smell of the herbal drink. But the cup was set aside and Tiff straightened her shoulders. "A while back someone came to see us."
"How far back?"
"Oh," Tiff's eyes rolled around as she thought, "five months or so. I think it was in the spring."
"Go on."
"Well, I was upstairs in my room studying when Dad answered the door. It was a woman. And he didn't even let her in the house, so I couldn't eavesdrop. I had to listen to what I could at the top of the stairs. Not the same as my real eavesdropping, you know." Here Tiff paused to wink mischievously. "I didn't catch her name or where she was from, but definitely from the east coast somewhere, with that accent. She wanted to know about you. Dad said you hadn't been around in a year. This interested her, since she seemed to know what happened the last time you came to town."
"Yeah," Ro said, "I'm like the proverbial Maryland tornado when I'm around. Did you see her? What'd she look like?"
"Didn't get much of a look at her. I think she had dark hair, but it was all pulled back so I couldn't really be sure. Plus, it was in the evening so it was kinda dark."
"Was she NSA?"
"No," Tiff declared with a firm shake of her head. "I know that much. Dad would've told me so. He said she was just some lawyer or something who wanted to know where you'd gone."
Ro was strangely relieved as well as repulsed. "At least it wasn't the NSA. I wonder who she was?"
Tiff just shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, honey."
"You never saw her again?"
"No. She took off in a black sedan. That was the last I saw of her. She and Dad only talked for a couple of minutes. He wouldn't tell her much. Well," Tiff thought, "it wasn't that he wouldn't but he couldn't."
"What kind of things did she ask him?"
Tiff leaned back in the seat, as though to relax from the purging of such secrets. She brushed back strands of naturally red hair, which, even in the dim light, shone with an unparalleled beauty. "She asked if you were alone the last time we saw you. She asked if you knew anything about your family. She asked if we expected to see you again."
"I can see why the sheriff couldn't answer those questions."
"Yes, I know. They're not easy questions to answer. Sometimes I wonder if this lady didn't know that and just went there as some kind of trick. But, then again, I can't figure out why she would do something like that."
Ro digested what implications and theories she could about the mysterious lady. There wasn't anything else that Tiff could provide that would help. "What about the NSA?"
Tiff's expression grew a shade or two darker, as if in eclipse. "They've shown up a few times. Handfuls of times. I was even thinking of having a restraining order placed on any NSA agent who comes within fifty feet of me." Tiff inclined over the table, her confidence for Ro only. "They have followed me a few times. I've seen them." She leaned into the seat again.
Ro was horrified, too sick to think she hadn't even considered shadowing a possibility that day. But, yet, nothing had happened. And Tiffany had only said a few times, not always.
"They wouldn't show up now, honey," Tiff assured. "I'd have seen them if they tried. I've ditched them so many times. I'll keep doing it, too."
"That's dangerous, Tiff. I don't like it."
Tiff shrugged, taking the shadowing by NSA agents lightly. "I think it's kind of exciting. My chance to play spy. They're just stupid field agents, anyway. Mere plebes. Not the real thing. If the NSA sends children to follow me, then I'll find a way to dupe them. Fools. They deserve it."
"When they went to your house last, what did they want?"
"Your things," Tiff said reluctantly, and clicked her tongue as if in sympathy.
Ro's insides hurt as she became mournful. Her things touched by disgusting NSA agents! "How vile," she uttered, and Tiff snickered.
"I couldn't help save your stuff. They took everything! Clothes, books, your school work, just--everything. Dad had to turn over all your foster papers, too. I think he was upset by that. He didn't say so, but I know Dad. His face was red all over when he gave that agent the envelope with all your information in it. Well, what information there was. It wasn't much."
"It wasn't just my foster papers," Ro told Tiff, trying to keep out the sad waver in her voice as she spoke. "It was also my birth certificate. Or, at least, part of it." Ro set her stern stare at Tiff. "I don't exist, really. It's something that infuriates the NSA. My lack of identity is probably the only reason I'm still alive."
Tiff was understanding, though she couldn't begin to know the deep loneliness that existed in Ro, or what it was like to be grateful for every new day that arrives.
"Who were these agents?"
"I don't remember their names."
"Did you recognize them? When did they come?"
"I didn't know any of them. They weren't the ones who were there before. It was just a man and a woman, wet behind the ears. Obviously fresh from training. As to when they did this, it wasn't anytime recently. I have to say about ten months ago. Not long after you and your friend showed up."
"H'mm," Ro said, then topped off her cappuccino.
"If you're finished," Tiff started to say cheerfully, "we can go out and wander around for a bit. Might be kinda nice, just the two of us. There's not much around here that's new to see."
Ro gave her foster sister a tiny grin, powdered lightly with uncertainty. "I'd like that, sure."
Tiff gathered her handbag and together they left the booth. Instead of departing from the front door right away, Tiff went to the back, to the kitchen, and opened the employee only door. "Hey, Mikey!" she shouted. Mike was standing not far from her, but she wanted to shout it anyway. He sprang to Tiff at once, ever loyal to his school friendship, though he had graduated a year ahead of the popular former homecoming queen Tiffy Morgan. "We're heading out now," Tiff told him.
Mike looked at Ro over Tiff's shoulder. "How long are you in town for, Ro?"
"No time at all. Probably leaving in a few hours. I just came to talk to Tiff."
"Are you ever coming back?"
"No," Ro answered, her mouth drawn tightly. "Once you make it out of Hillsburg, you never come back."
Mike gave a cynical snicker, appreciating the comment and the irony. He had his roots firmly established in Hillsburg, and he would never leave Maryland. The rest of the world didn't matter to him like it always had to Ro. He stood in front of the girl and analyzed her, sized her up, to see some change in her. The sharp edges were softened and the eyes glistened with less anger, more appreciation for life. "People have to do what people have to do to find themselves in this crazy world. It looks like you're getting there."
Ro's nod was grave. "I'm still working on it, Swinbourne. Forgive me for kicking you?"
"Absolutely," he said, a charming smile for her to see. "You can drop in anytime you want and kick me some more." Mike was quiet for a moment, then said, "I probably won't see you again, will I?"
Ro shook her head. The idea was unlikely.
"Great," he said. Then he grabbed Ro's shoulders and drew her to him, he and kissed her flush on the mouth. Ro scampered back, tempted again to kick him in the same shin. If she hadn't burst into mad laughter, she might have. "That'll last you awhile," Mike explained, and saluted to her as he fell away to the kitchen. The door flopped in his wake. Ro lurched forward and hit it. The door swung in and swatted Mike unexpectedly on the back of his head. He turned around, rubbing his new wound, but just made a taunting pucker face at Ro.
Stunned and blushing, Ro grabbed Tiff by the elbow to exit the café.
"What an odd little boy," Tiff said as they were greeted by the sunshine of noon. Of course, Mike was not a little boy. He was at least nineteen, years older than Ro. Juvenile to his the very last corner of his personality, however. "I always thought he had a crush on you."
"He didn't have to kiss me," Ro scowled. She rubbed her lips with the side of her hand, as if to rid it of the intimate touch. "I don't like to be kissed."
Tiff smiled secretly as they stepped down the sidewalk of Seventh Street. "Oh, lighten up, honey. Was just a little innocent kiss, that's all. I bet it's been years since you had a good smooch."
Ro didn't wish to discuss it and tried to change the subject. The tangent only amused Tiff further.
"I love to see you flustered," Tiff said. "There was a time I never would've thought Rosalie Rowen would get flustered by anything. A boy comes along, gives her a little kiss, and what's she do? Rosalie Rowen gets flustered." She was suddenly more serious. "A girl needs to be kissed every now and then. Leave room in your life for kisses, Ro. They're such nice things. They remind you of what it's like to be a--a human. More specifically, what it's like to be a woman. I'm telling you to never resist the opportunity to be embraced. Kisses are healthy."
Ro didn't need lessons in affection. She knew about affection, and to know it thoroughly was to realize what she liked and didn't like. She thought back to what Zeta had said to Julie Dumes about affection, and in a way his explanation fit Ro's own belief. Living without affection would frighten her, but it had to be the right kind of affection. Not every human was capable of giving it properly, and not every human was capable of accepting what was given.
Another attempt was made by Ro to vary the dialogue during a minute of silence. "Tell me about college, Tiff. What are you going to do? Where you going?"
This was something Tiff opened herself to. She was always willing to discuss her future plans, and her gradual take-over of the entire world. It was the greed and exuberance of youth coming through loudly. "I got a partial scholarship to Bayville University."
"Really?" Ro was genuinely surprised. "A scholarship?"
"Yes!" Tiff's cheeks pinkened, and her freckles stood out against the color. "Who would've thought, right? Tiffy Morgan as a smart girl, geeky book-queen who won a scholarship! I worked hard for it. I wanted to."
"I think that's great, Tiff. Where is Bayville?"
"Up north a ways. Southern New York. I'm glad, frankly, to leave Hillsburg. I think it'll be good for me. Spreading my wings, and all that." Tiffy rummaged through her deep and wide handbag, which carried most of her precious possessions, and lifted out a business card for Bayville University. She handed it to Ro. "I'll be starting there next semester, but classes won't begin until January. The plan is for me to be there just after the start of the year. But I guess I can't really count on plans, right? Anyway, I don't have a dorm assignment yet, but if you call the school I'm sure they'll tell you where I am." Tiff's sincerity and eager desire to be of some use to Ro was apparent. "And you must call if you need something, okay? Promise? It's the only way I can get in touch with you. I never know where you are from one moment to the next. I worry about you. I think about you lots, Rosa. Wonder if you're okay. Wonder if you're safe and--"
"And warm?"
Tiff nodded, blinking slowly.
"I am," Ro said and shoved the university card in the pocket of her jeans. An old memory of that same idea trickled through Ro's mind, when she'd yelled something similar once to Agent Bennett. "Zeta takes care of me, Tiff. I don't do it all on my own, even if I try. And don't think I don't try."
Tiff had no doubts as to Zeta's parenting competency. She knew what devotion existed in Zeta for Ro's welfare. "Well, you don't look as well as the last time I saw you. Stressed out about something?"
"Just this need to find a connection to the past. I met a Rowen in Oregon named Gwennie. I don't think we're related, but she said the Rowens were from Ireland, and many of them went back there during Ireland's revolution. Lots of them died during the rebellion in twenty-nine. Is that when the rebellion started, in twenty-nine?"
"I think so. No one's really a hundred percent positive. Why?"
"That would've been around the time that I was placed in the orphanage."
"But that happened in California, a long ways from Ireland. You think there's a connection?"
It mattered little to Ro, but she pursued the subject only to know Tiffany's insight, if there was any. "I don't know. I wish I could find out."
"Maybe you should go to Ireland."
Ro couldn't help but laugh at the suggestion. To go to Ireland would mean certain death for all that Ro had been fighting for during the last two years. "They're not going to let me out of the country."
Tiff realized the dangers of attempting to leave the country when you're wanted by the most secret government intelligence organization, and didn't require an explanation. "I hope you find them, Rosa. I do. Does Zeta know?"
"Know what?"
"How sick it makes you."
"Oh," Ro looked away, finding the angles of the downtown so familiar in strange ways, yet a slight angle would be completely new. Some things had changed. Others had remained the same. "He probably knows better than anyone. But it isn't that I want to find them. Wanting it isn't enough. It's almost necessary." Ro sighed and crossed her arms tensely. "I've been having problems lately. There's this huge aching need in me to know who they were. I can't explain it, not really. I've had an okay life, considering . . . And it's not as though I don't have anything to keep me busy, because I do. But I keep thinking about them. I wonder what they were like, what characteristics I might've gotten from them, whose hair color I have, or if my dad had blue eyes. It's the kind of stuff that the non-orphans take advantage of. I just want to know . . . whether they would've liked me as I am now, if they'd be proud of me." She kept out the part about believing she was hallucinating, about being so tired she could barely see straight. Lying was easy, Ro thought. Once you start with a lie, it just multiplies into an infinite spectrum, like a contagious virus that infects personal morals.
Tiff stopped and regarded Ro intensely. She touched Ro's arm and pressured it with caring fingers. "Are you sick? You're not dying, are you? Oh, please say you're not dying!"
Tiff's theatrics amused Ro, but irked her at the same time. Ever the actress, Tiff often cried at just about anything. Ro never cried if she could help it. In that way, like so many others, they were opposites. "Relax, Tiffy. I'm not dying. I've been a little sick, but I'm not dying. I'm sure that would piss off the NSA, though."
They walked on in silence for several feet, past some shops that Ro recognized and had once leisurely browsed in. Now they hardly looked appealing, and all the world was changed forever. Hillsburg would never be the same to her again. Ro thought this realization would bring her peace, but instead pity touched her. Another something from her past was lost.
"I understand a little of how you must feel," Tiffany said, and she peered at her friend out the corner of her rotund eyes. "I can't fathom what it must be like to grow up without a family. I mean a real family. I've always had Dad there for me, to love me. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have parental love, or how I would've turned out."
All of that sounded pretty, Ro thought. And, in a way, it was a backhanded compliment. Tiff had intended it as such. She continued.
"If you should find other Rowens, do you think you would love them?"
"That depends."
"Would you move to be near them?"
"No. I think I've chosen my life, at least my life as it is right now. I know what's most important to me. My freedom, for example."
"And Zeta's freedom?"
"His, too."
"What would Zeta do without you, Ro? I don't think he's capable of continuing his mission for freedom without you."
Ro hadn't thought about it. Or, when she had, at rare moments of complete somberness, she scratched the thoughts away. "What would you do, Tiff, if you had to make the decision?"
"A decision like that? Between family and the quest for freedom?" Tiff gaped into the distance, her mouth tenderly ajar, as if the idea was too horrifying for her delicate human brain. "I guess I would go to whomever could love me the most, to whomever I could love the most, to be fulfilled as a person. I think that's everyone's quest in life: to find fulfillment."
Ro was startled by the beauty of the response, so eloquently stated by someone she'd never thought was eloquent. "And it depends on what that fulfillment is."
"Of course."
"And it changes sometimes. One minute you think you know what it is that you want most out of life, and then the next day what you wanted turns suddenly repulsive."
"Yes, that happens. You're growing up, aren't you, Ro?"
Ro found the question humorous. She laughed a little at its absurdity. "I have to. I guess it's the way things just go sometimes." Ro decided she'd better change the subject before the lump in her throat expanded and sent her eyes flooding with tears she'd no wish to shed or show. She couldn't figure out why her life seemed so sad and dreary all of the sudden. "What are you studying? In college, I mean."
"Don't know yet. Do you have an opinion? Now's your chance to share it."
They discontinued the purposeless jaunt and chose to sit on a bench in Hillsburg Park, a small picturesque square set in the south center of downtown Hillsburg. There were tall trees that provided ample shade for midday picnics and the children running like ants on the playground. Ro remembered the park, with the distant recollection that she had started her brief career as a hoodlum there, scratching graffiti on one of the swing set bars. To Ro's knowledge, the graffiti was still there.
"Child psychology." The two words just poured out of Ro's mouth, as though she wasn't even aware of it, like an instrument of someone else's voice and opinion. "It might be something you're good at."
Tiff looped her arm over Ro's and tilted her head to rest on her sister's shoulder. Ro's idea of studying child psychology was not far from Tiff's own thoughts. She liked the idea of helping orphans, since she had longed to help Ro, even if it meant having arguments with her father, the impervious Sheriff. They had antithetical views on Rosalie Rowen, sending them into altercations with no resolution.
"I could see you being a journalist, too," Ro added. Tiff did have a certain creative callousness, the same characteristic in most successful journalists of the decade.
Tiff wasn't so sure about journalism. She didn't like words; they lied so easily and betrayed unintentionally due to ignorance. "What would you do, Ro, if you went to college?"
"Astrophysics," was Ro's tart reply. She watched the kids dance through the cropped green grass, and felt the cool September breeze hit her face, with that luscious Maryland scent. It was almost peaceful. Almost.
Tiff snickered, lifted her head and looked at Ro with her eyebrows scrunched together. "No! Really? You?"
"Sure," Ro said. "Why not? I like all that stuff."
"You do not!" Tiff insisted, managing to still find it funny that tough Rosalie Rowen should find science interesting. "You probably don't even know what astrophysics is."
Ro did know, and told Tiff so with a scholarly and arrogant intonation. "Astrophysics is the study of celestial objects and events. How they developed. Where they came from. Why they're there. What they're made of. Nebulae and--and such."
Tiff scoffed at Ro teasingly, and smacked her on the arm. "Smarty. I think Dad was really wrong about you. You will make something of yourself, when you're given the chance. It's in you. I believe you're a lot smarter than you let on."
"Being book-smart isn't everything, not if you don't have the common sense to use what you learn." Ro's eye caught the phone booth on the corner, empty, and felt the inclination to make a call that was a little overdue. "Tiff, would you buy me five minutes of secure-line time?"
"All right," Tiff agreed. "What for? Or is that top secret and I can't know or you'll have to kill me?"
"It's not that important. Just something I have to do."
Tiff purchased the secure-line time for twenty-five dollars, and then handed the phone over to Ro. An operator hooked Ro up with the long-distance number. While the phone changed lines Ro shoved the piece of paper with Batty Gwennie's info on it back in her jeans' pocket. The line rang a few times, and, finally, just when Ro feared the old woman wouldn't answer, the video screen came to life. Only it wasn't Batty Gwennie's elderly face that appeared. It was a stranger's. Ro wondered idly if she had gotten connected to the wrong number.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked.
"I'm looking for Mrs. Gwennie Rowen. Is she there?"
The woman on the end of the line titled her head in a way that turned Ro's body cold. She knew almost immediately what was coming.
"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Gwennie has passed away."
Ro's heart pounded against her ribs and her breathing labored. She was shocked. "When?"
"Last night."
"How?"
"Appears to be a stroke. Were you a friend of hers?"
"Yes, a good friend. Could you tell me if maybe she had a message for a Miss Ro Rowen?"
Ro saw the strange woman's head nod negatively. "Nothing like that. But things have been in a crazy state around here. If you call back another time, someone might know something. If no one's here, you can call the Glenview police. They might have information for you."
Ro didn't like the idea, but she might do what she could to find out whether Gwennie got in touch with the Cryobin employee acquaintance or not. That information was vital for Zeta's search to find Dr. Selig. Ro would go to any length to get it, maybe even call a police department. She'd even call Cryobin if she thought it'd do any good, though Dr. Selig no longer worked there. Someone knew where he was and what happened to him, and Batty Gwennie might've been one of those people, even if she was just at the tip of the circle of people who knew. Gwennie had given Zeta some hope when Ro couldn't. Now that line of hope was severed. "Who are you?" Ro suddenly asked the face in the screen.
"Maze Rowen, Mrs. Gwennie's niece. What'd you say your name was?"
"Ro Rowen."
"Any relation?"
"Don't think so. Just a coincidence."
"You look like a Rowen. You look even a bit like Gwennie did back in her youth." A voice from off-screen called to the Maze Rowen who was on the line. She looked away to the source of the yahooing then turned back to the vidphone camera. "I've got to go. Call back in a few days, Miss Ro. Someone might know something. What was the message about?"
"Oh, I can't really say. Goodbye, Maze. I'm sorry about your aunt."
Maze Rowen said a farewell and the picture disappeared. Ro slammed down the vidphone screen and let out a very deep, very long sigh. The pounding of her heart was still abnormally rapid. She stood there a minute, stilly, and allowed the shock to seep through, into a final denial phase. She stumbled out of the phone booth and into Tiff's grasping arms. Tiff was alarmed by Ro's pale appearance, and the warnings her sister had uttered about recent ill-health ran through her mind.
"Ro, honey!" Tiff said, trying to revive the girl to a state of normal consciousness. She hadn't fainted, but there was the look about her, an alabaster meekness that suggested fainting was not far behind. Tiff set Ro to the grass gently and checked her pulse by palpating the wrist. It was shallow and weak, but accelerated.
Ro could feel the world spinning around her, and she felt like she was caught in the center, so she could see it spin and spin. The edges blurred and color faded. Everything seemed to fall over everything else. Ro fought with all her strength to keep herself in the present, to escape the sink into a blank, black void. It had happened to her too often lately, and she was determined it wouldn't capture her again without a decent fight. She brought what she believed to be a massive amount of air into her lungs, but Tiff saw it as only a normal breath. Ro covered her eyes with her hand, the sun distracting her, blinding her, as she peeled one giant scream from deep down inside.
"Zeta!"
--
Note
Bayville University
A nonexistent school I named after the X-men town.