Susan Patterson sat in the back of the van as it pulled up to her house. "So, why are you guys bringing me home again?" she asked of the large man sitting beside her. He was kind of cute, if she was honest, but she didn't think her dad would appreciate her bringing home a new guy, especially on her birthday. He always liked this day to be about spending time together, just a father-daughter experience.
"Just being friendly," the man answered. "With your car in the shop, we just thought you might like a ride."
"Well, thanks, Mr..."
"Richard."
"Thanks, Richard." She opened the van door as it parked in front of her lawn. "I guess this is goodbye." She slammed the door shut and looked up at her house with a warm smile. College was great, but sometimes it was nice to be home, in the same house where she grew up. She knocked on the door and waited for an answer.
The door opened. Her dad took one look at her and exclaimed, "Susan!" He hugged her so tightly she almost couldn't breathe.
"Okay, okay, jeeze, Dad, it's not like you don't see me every holiday and between semesters!"
He let go of her, but she could swear he had wiped away a few tears. "Yeah...of course, yeah, you're right. I'm just happy to see you, that's all. Happy birthday, Susie; come in, come in, don't be a stranger!"
Susan stepped into the house, and immediately felt nostalgic. The living room was just as she remembered it; there were so many photos of her as a baby trying to stand up next to that very couch. She went to her bedroom to drop her bookbag off, the same room where her dad had taken photos when she'd finally decorated it to celebrate their move into their new home. And God knows how many videos had been taken in that kitchen for every holiday meal ever eaten. It was strange how she seemed to remember her childhood like a movie flashing in front of her eyes.
"Wait, wait, don't go in the kitchen yet!" her dad yelled as she almost passed through it to reach the family room.
"Dad, I can already guess you got me a cake; there are no surprises to ruin," she teased.
He ran into the kitchen, grabbed a lighter, turned off the lights, and pulled the cake out of the fridge, candles already stuck inside it. As he lit them, he gestured for her to enter and started singing. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday my dear Susie...happy birthday to you!" She sat down at the table and he deposited the cake in front of her. "Make a wish and blow out the candles!"
She closed her eyes, wished that she didn't have to return to her dorm, and blew out the candles. It was so nice being back home with her father, she wanted to stay forever. Her dad sat across from her and cut a slice of cake for her, then one for him, and they started talking. He asked her how school was, and she told him about an essay she had to write for a psychology course. She'd been worried that she hadn't understood the material, but then she got the paper back with a 100% grade and a note from the professor asking if it could be used as an example to future students.
Her dad chuckled. "I love hearing that story," he said.
"What?" Susan asked, puzzled. "But I just told you about it now..."
"Oh, nothing, don't worry about it," he dismissed. "I'm just glad you're doing well. I really do appreciate getting to spend time with you every year."
"Aw, Dad, you're making blush," she joked. "Nah, you know I'll be here every year until I'm done with school, and then I'll probably be living here until I find a job, so you'll get sick of me soon enough." She took another bite of the delicious cake.
"I could never get sick of you, honey," he said. "Remember when you were seven, and you ran away from home because you wanted some toy that I didn't buy you?"
Susan burst out laughing, almost spitting cake in the process. "Yeah, I do. It was a Polly Pocket; I even wrote in my diary how mean you were for not buying it and how I wanted to live with Santa in the North Pole because he always got me gifts." She was such a silly child, but then, she supposed all children were silly like that.
"Yeah," her dad agreed, "but you never made it to the North Pole. And then I felt so bad that a couple months later, I got you that Polly Pocket for Christmas."
"Wait, you did?" Susan asked. "I don't even remember that."
"Yeah. You were so happy you told me that you loved me more than Santa."
"I don't remember any of that...well, it couldn't have been too important to me, then."
"I suppose..." her dad said, but he seemed worried for some reason.
"Dad? Is something wrong? You haven't even eaten any of the cake, and you love vanilla cake."
"No..." he said quietly. Suddenly, he seemed angry. "No! You love vanilla cake, but I never have. You should know that, Susan!"
"Woah, Dad, calm down," Susan cautioned, a bit scared now. "It's just cake."
"No, it's not just cake. It's also that you don't remember your Christmas gifts. And you probably don't remember anything that's not in your diary, either. Every year I sit here, and every year we have this conversation, but it...it's not you! You're not her!"
"Dad, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't call me that! I thought I could hold onto her memory, but you're not even her memory! You're just an imitation! Just a ghost of a ghost who doesn't even know the first thing about me!"
Susan pushed her chair back, stood up, and slowly backed away from the table. She'd never seen her father this upset before. "Dad, I have no idea what you're saying. What's wrong? Can I help?"
"NO! You can't help! You are not Susan. You never will be, no matter how many years I pretend."
Just then, there was a knock at the door. "I'll get it!" Susan yelled, desperate for any excuse to get away for a bit. She answered the door, and standing there was Richard, the guy who'd given her a ride home earlier. "Okay, this is not a good time, Richard."
"Family drama?" he asked presciently.
"Yeah, it's just—wait, did you wait outside for me or something?" What a creeper.
"Can I speak to your father, then?" Richard dodged her question completely.
"Uh, no. I don't know you at all, so no. Can you just leave?"
"In that case, would you like a treatment?"
Susan considered for a moment before deciding a treatment would definitely help reduce the stress of her father's tantrum, whatever caused it, so she made her way back to the van. As she did, her dad came to the door, and she saw Richard say something to him out of earshot. The door closed and Richard came back to the van with her. "As soon as it's over, I'm coming back here. I need to see what's up with my dad."
"Of course, Susan, we'll bring you right back after."
"Did I fall asleep?"
"For a little while," Wis said.
"Shall I go now?"
"If you like. It's painting time in the art room." Lyra grinned and walked over to the art room; painting always helped her be her best.
Wis turned to Richard. "What the hell happened? Before I wiped her, her adrenaline and cortisol levels were through the roof. Don't tell me she was abused on engagement, too?"
"Not quite," Richard assured him. "I guess Patterson couldn't keep playing the charade anymore, and he almost exposed Lyra to Susan. Kept bringing up all sorts of memories she didn't have, yelling about how she wasn't really Susan. I stepped in before anything violent happened, but she was pretty shaken."
"I can imagine," Wis lamented. "It's not good for a doll to be faced with contradictions to her imprint. Nothing physically dangerous, of course, but it can be disorienting and straight-up confusing. Really bad, psychologically speaking."
"Yeah, well, I spoke to Foster when we got here, before I brought Lyra up, and I'm pretty sure he's about to blacklist Patterson for almost damaging his merchandise."
"They're...they're not merchandise, they're people, Rich."
"I know, and I agree. But try telling that to Foster or, for God's sake, Luca. To them, the dolls are just toys and dollar signs. I think we might be the only two decent human beings working here besides the Doc." He sighed. "Well, all we can do is keep them out of harm's way. I'll catch you later." With that, he left.
"No..." Wis said to himself. "No, we can do so much more. We can give them so much more..." And with that, he sat back down at his computer and began programming, with not an open case file in sight.