Chapter Seven – Deal With It

Sydney nodded a thanks to the cab driver and stepped out after paying the man. He looked at the ramshackle building before him. "Adequately named," he commented as he stepped inside. "The Reckless Bar."

There were people lounging and chatting quietly. A lonely juke box sat disused in the corner. Sydney scanned the room and finally found who he was looking for: Miss Parker was sitting on a stool hunched over a dingy counter sipping at a shot glass. He approached then touched her on the shoulder. "Miss Parker?"

Miss Parker looked up. "What?"

"Is this where you've been all day?" Sydney asked.

"Yes," she snapped. "Now go away." She returned to her drink.

Sydney was concerned. "So you haven't fed Jarod?"

Miss Parker gave him an irritated glance. "Is Boy Wonder all you think about?" Finishing the shot, she added, "He's a Pretender. He can pretend himself something to eat."

Losing his patience, Sydney forced Miss Parker to face him. "We are discussing you, Miss Parker. And you need to discuss your problems. Getting drunk at a poorly kept bar is not going to help things."

"As much as you'd like to believe you are, Sydney, you're not my psychiatrist. I don't need to discuss anything with you. And you aren't my father, so don't tell me what to do."

Sydney asked yet another question before she could order another drink. "Would you do what Raines told you to do?"

Miss Parker looked at Sydney in shock. She did not believe she had knowingly divulged the identity of her biological father to anyone. "How did you know about that?"

"I do not believe anyone who has just received scientific confirmation  from a lab that her family is what she has been brought up to believe it was would go and try to drink the confirmation away."

Lacking sobriety, Miss Parker didn't bother untangling Sydney's complicated explanation. Instead she asked, "What?"

Patiently, the doctor explains, "You wouldn't come to a bar to celebrate the fact that Mr. Raines is your father. You did come to a bar, so he is your father."

A drink had come and Miss Parker quickly downed it. When she was finished, she said, "Oh."

Once more attending to the immediate problem of getting Miss Parker out of the bar, Sydney asked, "How many shots has that been?"

In a moment of eccentric reason, Miss Parker worked it out and remarked, "If it was beer I was drinking, I'd have drunk 75% of the mug."

Not impressed, Sydney affirmed, "So you're drunk."

Toying with the glass on the counter, Miss Parker quipped, "You're a genius, Syd'. A real brain."

Sydney's last nerve frayed and broke. "Fine. Stay here. Don't sober up until it's too late and you've already crashed into another car because you were driving drunk. Join the rest of the Parker women and become another statistic."

Miss Parker sat up with a gasp. The last phrase echoed in her mind. Was it really all of the Parker women? Her mother had feigned suicide but had eventually been murdered by ... no, she had not yet accepted Mr. Raines as her father. That was why she was here in the first place. And Bridget had died immediately after labor. What Sydney said was true: no natural deaths for the Parker women. And now there was only one left.

Only one left. It was an evil phrase in the current circumstances. Evil and borne of The Centre.

An ambulance raced by, sounding its obnoxious siren and sending someone to a hospital. It shook Miss Parker out of her musings.

"Sydney?" Miss Parker asked as she looked up. "Could you drive me home? Please?"

He gave her a smile. "I'd be glad to."

Sydney drove Miss Parker home as promised. However, as much as he wanted to visit Jarod, he did not linger, unwilling to provide Centre operatives a reason to get another glimpse at his private life. So he left after Jarod was fed and Miss Parker had sobered up, leaving them to a lonely evening by themselves.

It was a very lonely evening indeed. After Sydney departed, the two gave each other more than enough elbow room. Jarod left Miss Parker alone because she didn't seem to be in the mood for socializing and Miss Parker because she had not yet finished getting over her drinks.

When Miss Parker grew bored, however, she went to watch Jarod work on his puzzle. It was relaxing to watch the genius – she could let her mind wander – and, used to a life in the camera, he did not get self conscious or inhibit any behavior. He just calmly did whatever it was he was doing. In this case, he was rapidly putting a picture together piece by minute piece.

Presently, Jarod began studying the picture of his family he had drawn the night before. He studied in between placement of jigsaw pieces. On one such occasion, Miss Parker said, "That'll probably be the only place you see your family together."

Jarod looked up at the doorway, where Miss Parker stood leaning on the jamb with her arms crossed. "Hello, Miss Parker," he said, as if noticing her for the first time.

Miss Parker's face held a carefully hidden pained, yet exasperated look. Her expression piqued his curiosity and he cocked his head. "Will you ever give up?"

Jarod gazed at each of the people in his picture, all of whom he'd come so close to being reunited with: Margaret, his mother; Major Charles, his father; Emily, his sister; Kyle, his deceased brother; Gemini, his clone; Ethan his half-brother. Somewhat despondently, he replied, "I can't. They're still out there."

Taking up the drawing board that had come with the art set Sydney had given him, Jarod began sketching on a new piece of paper. "Will you ever stop searching for your family?"

Miss Parker's eyes flashed. "I didn't know I was searching," she said coldly.

Jarod looked at her. "You know who your family is?" he inquired, his eyes curious, as if somewhat surprised.

Her eyes flashed again. "Of course." She recounted each of her relatives, her tone reflecting her opinions of them. "There's Mother," – nostalgia – "Lyle" – reluctantly – "Daddy" – bitter reminiscent – "and Ethan."

Jarod watched Miss Parker's face as he reminded her of a fifth person. "What about Mr. Raines?"

Abandoning the door jamb, Miss Parker strode towards him with menacing steps. Jarod winced as she extended her hand in a threatening manner. When nothing came, he opened his eyes and saw her holding the picture of his family. She was looking at it with an almost envious expression. When she spoke, her voice was mocking and bitter. "I've got a pretty twisted family, for someone who was supposed to have lived a normal life."

Surprised by the unexpectedly emphatic statement, Jarod looked at Miss Parker. "At least you're searching for the truth," he said in a weak attempt to comfort her.

Miss Parker started pacing the room. "Do you want to know where it's led me over the years?" she asked angrily. "I learned about a twin brother who got an immediate display of affection from my father right after he found out about him. Not to mention, my twin is a cannibal. I learned my mother didn't die on that elevator. No, she was killed and cremated seven months later by Dr. Raines, right after she gave birth to a half-brother with the 'Inner Sense'. Then the brainwashed assassin nearly went and killed both of us. I learned my father may not be my real father. His sperm count's way too low for that. Then today I learned that my 'uncle', Mr. Raines, is my father! It's official!" She threw her arms up into the air. "My father is a wheezing airbag who killed my mother!" She used father in a dirty way. Glancing at Jarod's pained face, she resented his sympathy. "Things were going swell for me until I had to go hunting for you," she said, hastily putting the blame on the well-meaning person before her. Accenting each word with a jab to his chest, she hissed, "You had to go searching for the truth!"

Jarod sat, taking the rant and blame calmly. "It would have been better to live a lie?" he inquired in a subdued tone.

Miss Parker stopped pacing abruptly and sat next to him. She stared at the nearly completed puzzle. "Do you know how destabilizing it is?" she asked softly, the rest of her angry spent during the forceful declamation. "Do you now how unstable everything becomes? Every time I adjust to some new truth you've uncovered, I find out I've been taking something else for granted." She turned to face Jarod. "Do you know that feels?"

Jarod's eyes remained on the puzzle. It depicted a garden full of wildflowers, transplanted from their original location and carefully placed into unnatural plots, restrained from growing free any longer. It reminded him of The Centre. "It's like balancing on a ball of lies," he said finally. "Each new truth alters the shape of the ball a little, and you want to keep going because the new shape will be so much more beautiful than the ball of lies, but you can't stand losing your balance." Jarod met Miss Parker's gaze. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

They regarded each other for a moment. Miss Parker turned away first. She fiddled with a puzzle piece. "Why do you do this?" she asked.

Jarod didn't understand. "Do what?"

Miss Parker gave a sardonic laugh. "After all the times I've tried to turn you into The Centre, you still try to help me."

There was just the hint of a smile as Jarod glanced at Miss Parker. "That's just the Parker curse," he said, referring to their cat-and-mouse relationship. "Everything else is up to us."

"Hmmm," Miss Parker mused. She got up to leave. "I'll think about that." Turning off the lights, she called into the dark, "Goodnight, Jarod."

For a moment, Miss Parker thought she saw twin orbs hang in the dark, as if Jarod's eyes reflected some light or truth she couldn't yet grasp. Then she blinked and they were gone.

A sudden noise from behind her startled her into jumping; Jarod had thrown his voice. "Goodnight, Miss Parker," the voice said as she shut the door.

"Ahm, Miss Parker. It's nice to see you back."

Miss Parker half-turned to face the bald man who had addressed her. "Oh, hello, Broots." As an afterthought, she added, "Thanks for caring."

Broots cocked his head as he shifted his gaze to the spot of tile just left of her feet and continued modestly. "It was the least I could do. No one else seemed to notice you were gone, except Sydney."

As they walked, they observed Raines give Lyle a welcome-home hug. While it seemed slightly uncharacteristic of Raines, Miss Parker envied her twin for a single moment – not even Daddy had given her signs of affection – and sighed. "No," she murmured, "My family wouldn't notice me gone."

Timidly, Broots offered an opinion. "Well, Miss Parker, it depends on how you define family."

Miss Parker cast Broots an odd glance. "What?" she asked with a slight shake of her head.

"Well, even though he denied to Jarod, I'm sure Sydney still thinks of Jarod as his son."

Miss Parker rebuffed Broots' attempt to comfort her. "Yeah, well, Syd needs a hobby."

They watched Raines and Lyle speak animatedly. Miss Parker felt another pang of jealousy. Even with her Daddy – Mr. Parker, not Raines – she had not been able to converse so well. Broots gave Miss Parker a sidelong glance and murmured, "Be that as it may, a new definition of family may be your only choice."

Miss Parker was sitting at her desk, idly playing with a pen when Sydney appeared at the door. He knocked at the jamb, awaiting permission to enter her office. "Miss Parker? May I come in?"

She neither looked up nor stopped fiddling with her pen. "If you want."

Sydney relaxed into a chair. "You look distracted ... What are you thinking about?"

"The truth ... family ..."

"What are your feelings regarding your recent finding?"

She cast him a glance. "If you're dispensing psychiatric advice, Sydney, I already received some last night. I was just thinking of something Broots said this morning."

Sydney waited for her to continue.

"He said that you thought of yourself as Jarod's father. Do you?"

Sydney folded his hands, pressing his thumbs together. "I've never told him that, but ... yes, I think I once entertained the notion."

"What about now?"

"I've considered it more than once. If you saw things my way you would agree that it couldn't be helped. Jarod is a human being, after all, and like each of us, he needed – and still needs – love."

"But does it work the other way? What if you just found someone you hated was related to you? Do you still have to love them?"

Sydney considered his response. Finally, he shook his head. "No, it may not always work the other way. Feelings entirely opposite to the ones you are used to cultivating aren't easy to reap. Something has to be sown."

"Like what?"

"A desire to know where you came from. A willingness to forgive and accept. An ability to reconcile with and acknowledge the newfound relative."

Miss Parker sighed. "No way am I ever going to 'forgive and accept' Raines."

"Well, it's not a two-day process, Miss Parker. You just found out about him yesterday. These things take time."

"A thousand years would be a drop in the bucket."

"If you say so."

"Yeah..."

Sydney studied Miss Parker's face for a minute and when it did not look like she would be saying anything more, he got up. "I'll be going, Miss Parker."

"Mmm," she acknowledged as she ruminated. Before Sydney was out the door, however, she asked him a question. "What are you doing tomorrow, Sydney?"

He glanced at the calendar on her desk. "The fourth Thursday of November. Thanksgiving, isn't it? I think I'll stay at home, read a book. I don't feel like going to work tomorrow."

"Me neither," she murmured quietly. She doodled on the box on the calendar with the number '22' in it. She looked up at the door, where Sydney stood, waiting. "Uh, Syd ... do you want to come over to my house tomorrow? We can all spend Thanksgiving together."

The psychiatrist considered the woman. Newly scarred and recently broken as she was, the last he could do was comfort her over the holidays. He smiled at her kindly. "Thank you, Miss Parker. I'd be glad to enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner with you. When should I be there?"

She debated a time with herself. "4:00 should be good. You can play with Jarod while I finish preparing."

Sydney envisioned coming into Jarod's room as he worked on the puzzle and could imagine his protégé's surprise. It brought a greater smile to his face. Returning his gaze to Miss Parker's face, he said, "That'd be nice, Miss Parker. I'll see you then."

Miss Parker wandered down an aisle in a supermarket in a leisurely fashion. She looked like she knew exactly what she was doing, but she did not feel it. Her last real Thanksgiving had been nearly a decade ago. Her shopping cart reflected her memories: There were yams, an assortment of herbs and vegetables she'd remembered in her stuffing, turkey, and more. It's just as well Jarod is at home, she thought. I wouldn't be able to prepare all this by myself.

That evening, Miss Parker arranged the new food items in the refrigerator, ready for tomorrow. Then she went to watch Jarod.

The puzzle was little more than a third done and he did not stop working when she came in. He did, however, ask her a question: "How are you feeling, Miss Parker?"

She turned away with a resigned expression on her face. "Not you, too."

Jarod cast her a perplexed glance as he shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Everyone I've run into today has tried to give me psychiatric advice."

"How many is everybody?" he asked, throwing her a curveball.

"Well, two," she admitted. When she smiled, she quipped, "Well, how many people give you psychiatric advice?"

"I'm my own shrink."

"And if you go mad?" Miss Parker asked, unsatisfied with the response.

"I'm too smart to go mad," Jarod said, closing the topic with half a smile. "What about you?"

"Why would I?"

Jarod exaggerated her predicament. "A lovely girl lives alone with her uncaring father, her mother having died when she was ten. Years pass and she becomes a beautiful woman, the striking image of her mother. Her father's company puts her to work searching for a childhood friend. While hunting for him, she learns she has an anthropophagic twin and a half-brother born to her mother several months after she supposedly committed suicide in an elevator. When she finds out the man who killed her mother is her father, and her adopted father is really her uncle, her mental barriers collapse and fall. Unable to distinguish between the truths and lies in her life, she descends into a violent madness that ends with her bombing her father's workplace and dying with it."

Miss Parker gave him an odd stare. "You make my life sound like the synopsis of some pulp fiction novel."

Feigning innocence, Jarod murmured, "I did, didn't I?" as he returned yet another puzzle piece to where it belonged.

"I'm too level-headed to go insane."

"No one with your story could be sane."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Jarod looked at her. "That brings up an interesting question. Who are you?"

"What kind of question is that? I'm Miss Parker."

"A name's just a label. I, of all people, should know that. If you didn't have a name, who would you be?"

Miss Parker leaned on the door jamb, pondering the question she did not have a quip to. No name meant no family. Jarod was spending ages reuniting his. If she were in his stead, would she do the same? ... Of course she would. Because it wasn't just the name that was important, it was the sense of belonging that went with it. Family as where you were cherished and respected because you were you. Admittedly, her family was as yet none of those things. But digging for the truth meant digging for the past, and who she was had bearing on who she could become. Uncovering her history helped her decide her path. And she would go where the path led, ever mindful of where she came from: she was a Parker.

Returning her gaze to Jarod's, Miss Parker gave him a stern glance. "Hypothetical situations are just that: hypothetical. They aren't real. I am who I am, Jarod. My name is Miss Parker.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Jarod turned away first. "That'd be a good thing never to forget," he said quietly. He continued working on the puzzle, assembling another flower.

She continued to watch the man work on the puzzle. Her own was like that. Each search into each lead yielded a bud, and although the resulting flower might not smell nice, it was easy to find. Suddenly, she felt pity for Jarod, who could not search for his past without being jumped on.

Miss Parker got up abruptly. Her thoughts were steering into murky waters, and it would not do to have a soft spot for her captive. She needed to think of him less of a person and more of a lost thing that needed to be returned to its owner. Once out of the room, she could start doing so. Out of sight, out of mind, they said...

"Lights out, Jarod," Miss Parker said aloud before she flipped the switch. Jarod looked up at her, his deep-set eyes penetrating hers. When he found what he was looking for, he broke his gaze and arranged the blanket around himself. He bid her goodnight as she closed the door.

For a moment, all that could be head was the ticking of the clock. Then, in the darkness, Jarod whispered to himself, "Everyone needs to be treated like a person."