AN: First off, I have to apologise for the ridiculous time it has taken me to update. In two words: Exams suck. I had absolutely no time to write at any point in the last two months. But my schedule is completely clear from now until September, so I'm planning to actually get this story completed this summer. Wish me luck. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. Thannks for all of your previous reviews. :)
Oh, and to the reviewer who asked if Sammy exists in this story (I can't remember what your name was, I'm sorry): No, he doesn't.
Six weeks on…
Getting ready for another day at Sacred Heart.
Elliot is now twenty weeks pregnant. It's scary to think that we're now half way through this pregnancy. Not a bad scary, though. More of a 'where did the time go?' thing. At first, we were so terrified and freaked out about having this baby, but now… we wouldn't have it any other way.
As I put a few things in my back pack for today (a bottle of water, a note pad and an apple), I hear Elliot's footsteps exit the bedroom and walk into the living room. "Ready to go?" She asks.
"Yeah," I respond. I then turn around and notice that something about her appearance is different. "Hey, when did you decide to switch to wearing scrubs for work?"
Elliot smiles slightly, running her hand down the blue material and over her ever more noticeable pregnancy bump. "Yesterday after work when I realised that the high heels and smart outfits just weren't worth the pain or discomfort. I forgot how comfortable sneakers were," she sighs.
"Speaking of which, when did you buy those?" I vaguely recognise them, but I also remember that Elliot said a while she cleared out all of the – as she put it – old crap that she had lying about her wardrobe, which included her old pairs of sneakers.
Glancing to either side of herself, Elliot whispers. "I didn't. I stole, I mean, borrowed them from Alyssa. Don't tell her."
"You stole sneakers from your niece?"
"Only for a couple of days until I get a chance to go shopping," Elliot replies. "She hardly wears them anyway; she'll never notice they're gone."
A second or two later, Alyssa walks into the living room, clad in black school trousers and a grey hoodie that has her school's logo (the Pope's hat – Catholic school, you know the drill) and the word 'Leavers' printed on it. "Morning," she says. "Hey, this is going to seem like a weird question, but have either of you seen my sneakers?"
Elliot quickly glances to me as if to say 'Shh'. "Uh, I don't think I've seen them," she lies.
"Damn," Alyssa frowns. "Maybe I left them in PE last week."
"You don't need them today, do you?" Her voice obviously catches. She's not the best liar in the world.
"No. I just could've sworn they were in my room and now they're not there. Never mind, I'll just check in PE today," she sighs. "Okay, I have to go. See ya."
"Bye," Elliot and I both say.
As Alyssa walks out of the apartment, I shoot Elliot a look.
"Oh shut up," she says, once the door has closed.
As surprising as it might be, since the Christmas break, I have really been enjoying school. Everybody has been in a better mood than they were last term. I think it's because now that we're into the final few months, we're all now trying to make the most of the time we have left. It's really weird; it's February- nearly March now – and we leave school in May. And I know I've only been at St Catherine's for less than a year, but so much has happened since I've been that it feels as if I've never been anywhere else.
Kate walks into the common room, carrying lunch on a tray. She sits down next to me, before passing a Panini to me. You see, we have this agreement. We take in alternate days to buy lunch to save both of us having to stand in the queues, which are just ridiculous.
"Hey Lys," Kate says. "Find your sneakers yet?"
"No. I checked in PE, which is the only place I could have left them, and they're not there."
"That sucks," frowns Kate.
All of the seniors have been asked to attend a meeting in our common room. There's more charity fundraising things going on and I suppose they want to run something by us.
Claire Branning – the head of the charities committee – starts speaking. "Hey. Thanks for coming. We're hoping to run a guess the baby photo competition to raise some money. Basically, we get baby photos of you people and the rest of you have to guess who everybody else is. Long story short, we want you all to bring in a baby photo of yourself. Is that cool?"
There's a general chorus of 'Yeah' and 'Oh, that sounds funny' from around the room.
"Uh, yeah sure," I also enthusiastically say. "When do the photos have to be in for?"
"Just as soon as," Claire replies. "We're hoping to get all the photos by the end of the week if possible."
Hmm. A week to find a decent baby photo of me. This is going to be fun….
As usual, Sacred Heart is a constant buzz of activity. It's great just to get a five-minute break to talk to friends, even if you have to fill a chart in at the same time.
"So, is there any progress on when Izzy's Christening will be?" I ask Carla, who is standing on the other side of the nurses' station looking for… something.
"Yeah we're hoping for the end of April at either Holy Trinity or the chapel here," she answers.
A thought occurs to me. "Doesn't the priest at Holy Trinity look like Captain Solo?"
Carla's shoulders visibly slump and she exhales loudly. "Yes."
"Oh please get Izzy christened at Trinity! Please get Mocha Cub christened by Solo!"
If I wasn't such a nerd and wanted Izzy to be christened by a Star Trek character, I'd have some sympathy for Carla. "Mi dios," she mutters, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
Silence falls between Carla and I as we concentrate on our tasks. It's one of those concentrations where you're so immersed in what you're doing and you forget where –
"Hey guys!"
The enthusiastic voice started both Carla and me. I turn around and Elliot is looking at the two of us like we're crazy.
"Uh… what?"
"You scared the crap out of us!" Carla answers. "We didn't hear you coming without your heels on."
Raising an eyebrow, Elliot says. "Fair enough. Do you guys, by any chance, know what the deal is with my patient, Mr Mayfair?"
Carla and I both shake our heads 'no'.
Out of nowhere, Dr Cox appears at the nurses' station. "Barbie –"
It's been a while since that nickname was used.
"Your patient Mr Mayfair is in fact Dr Mayfair," Dr Cox explains. "He is a private practice doctor, which by default means that he is an arrogant, money-loving, patient-hating, selfish, uncaring bastard."
"That's a bit harsh."
Dr Cox raises a sarcastic eyebrow. "Newbie, you have been partaking in what can only be described as the obsessive stalking of for the past six years. How is it you don't know my innate disdain for private practice jerks?"
"I was asking if any of you had treated him before," Elliot answers, switching back to the original topic.
"No, and you know why, Barbie?"
Elliot sighs reluctantly. "Why?"
"Because they are control freak snobs, Barbie. They only let their own private practice idiots treat them."
"Whatever." Elliot's eyes roll. "But David –"
Dr Cox scoffs. "David? Since when were you on first name terms with the enemy?"
"He told me to," Elliot responds, her tone stern. "Anyway, Dr Mayfair isn't like that. We had a really nice chat before I came over here to talk to JD and Carla."
"Trust me, Barbie, they're all the same. Give it a while, you'll see."
"Anyway… I completely forgot what I came over here to say…" Elliot trails off. Her eyebrows lower as she tries to think hard about what she was going to say. "Nope, it's completely gone. Damn it. That's like the millionth time that's happened."
"Has Kelso been at you for your maternity leave dates yet?" Carla questions Elliot.
"Yeah," Elliot sighs. "I just can't decide."
"Well, I suppose it's a case of thinking how long you'll be able to work for and how much time you want at home with the baby after it's born."
"No, that's not –" Elliot's thought, whatever it was, is interrupted by that annoying beep of a pager. "Gotta go."
"Dorian."
I turn around and see Dr Zelter – one of the other internal medicine attendings – walking towards me.
"Do you still want me to take your hours this afternoon?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Carla's eyes narrowing in the way they do when she's eavesdropping. Damn.
"Uh, yeah. Thanks. And I'll cover for you next week so you can go and do whatever the hell you like."
"Score." Dr Zelter then walks away.
And once again, I turn to face the other direction and Carla is still looking at me with that quizzical expression.
"Why is Zelter covering your shift this afternoon?"
"No reason."
Carla's eyes narrow even further, but instead of her eyes being inquiring like they were before, they're now filled with annoyance at being lied to. She's good, Carla is, a lie never gets past her.
"You're up to something."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are. And you better tell me what it is, or else I will hurt you."
"Threatening violence, seriously? And no, I can't tell you because you can't keep a secret. You're the world's biggest gossip."
Carla smirks. "So there is something going on."
"Damn." I sigh. "Fine. There is something going on, but I am not telling you."
"Yeah you are."
"No I'm not."
"Yeah you are or as well as me hurting you, I'll tell Turk that you're the one who lost his autographed Michael Jordan basketball and he'll hurt ya too."
I'm taken aback for a second. "I didn't lose his basketball."
"I know you didn't. I did" Carla admits. "But who's he gonna believe, me or you? Bare in mind, I do give him sex."
"You win," I reluctantly sigh. "Fine, I'll tell you, since I could probably use your help anyway. But you have to promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone. Not to Dr Cox, not even to Turk and especially not to Elliot. You got it?"
Carla looks nervous. "I got it, just tell me what's going on."
"Okay, so…"
I love having a free period at the end of the day. It's fantastic. Thanks to that, I can leave school and go home early. Okay, so it means that I have a lot further to walk rather than get the school bus home, but put it this way: An hour stuck at school doing not very much in the study room, or a half hour walk home in the sun? See.
Anyway, I'm nearly home now. Sigh. I guess I need to look for a photo of me by the end of the week. The question is where am I going to find a photo. Maybe Aunt Elliot has a stash of old photos somewhere. I'll ask. Although I don't think anyone'll be home yet. It's only 3.15.
Although, it looks like I'm wrong. The front door is unlocked. Unless… somebody left it unlocked this morning. That wouldn't have been good. I wonder if anything is still left in the house.
Once I'm into the house and see that everything is still where it should be (Phew.), I just hear a phone call. And the little spy in me (everyone has one, don't you think?) makes me stay by the door and listen to what's being said.
"So I can visit at any time?" JD says on the phone. "That's great, thanks."
I then walk further into the apartment. "Hey."
"Crap," JD mutters quickly. "How much of that did you hear?"
O…kay. "Only the part where you asked when you could visit. What are you visiting?"
"A patient," he unconvincingly responds. "I'm visiting an old patient."
"Right." Because he's totally not lying. Part of me wants to ask a bit more, but at the same time, I don't. It's strange.
"Aren't you home early?"
"I could say the same about you. Seriously, aren't you supposed to be working?"
"Yeah, but Zelter asked to if he could take a few of my hours. He needs to leave early next week. It's his kid's school play."
"Okay." It's so obvious I don't believe him, but I don't care. "You wouldn't happen to know if there, like, a box of old family photos anywhere in here, would you?"
"Can't help you. Sorry." JD then starts to walk towards the door. "I'm going to go visits my old patient." JD leaves.
That was… strange, to say the least.
"Hello?"
"Hey Carla, it's me. I just went over to see it and I love it. Could you maybe go over and give me a second opinion?"
"Sure. But am I really the person you should be asking?"
"I've got it covered, okay. Could you just?"
"Yeah, I'll go tonight."
"Thank you. Tell me what you think tomorrow, okay? Bye."
Elliot is checking over Dr Mayfair, so this is the best chance I've got of speaking to Carla, who luckily is walking quickly towards me.
"So?"
Carla nods. "I approve. But seriously, shouldn't you –"
"Shh!" I say (really?), when I notice Elliot walking out of Dr Mayfair's room. Followed by Dr Cox. That's weird. Elliot does not seem happy at all, but Dr Cox seems to be grinning wickedly. As Dr Cox walks off down the corridor away from us, still grinning, Elliot stands beside Carla and me.
"I will kill him," she states.
Carla looks at her sympathetically. "What's he doing?"
"Every damn thing I said to Dr Mayfair he was trying to correct me on. Every fricking thing. Oh, and Dr Mayfair was talking about his practice – which sounds amazing, by the way – and everything he said Dr Cox was contradicting him on. It was pissing me off."
"Why was Dr Cox even there anyway?"
"You tell me," Elliot snaps. "God, it's like being an intern again. He hasn't tortured me like this in years. I am so angry right now, I can't believe it. You know what, I'm going to go and get a glass of water and cool off before I see the next patient because I have to place and IV and I don't think Mrs Harris will be all too happy if I stab her with it," Elliot vents. "I'll be back in five."
Once Elliot is out of earshot, I speak to Carla. "So, uh, when do you think I should tell her?"
Carla shakes her head. "Definitely not today."
I wish I'd never agreed to do this photos thing. It's turning out to be more hassle than it's worth. I've just looked through one box of old photos my aunt gave me and I'm now just about to look through the other box.
You know what's beginning to really annoy me? I've been around every department in the school looking for my sneakers and they are not there. I even went to art to see if they were there, which was entirely redundant because I don't do art! It was worth a try. I've even had Kate go around to the dancing studio and look. I would have gone myself, but Kate lives two blocks away from it and I would have had to get the bus. And plus, she offered. Guess what? No luck. They're not there. I'm at a loss.
Oh, there's an envelop inside this box, maybe there's something in there.
So if the shoes aren't anywhere in school, and they're not at dancing… did I leave them at Michael's? I could've, I suppose. But I can't think of any reason why I would have taken them up there in the first place.
Unless… I did leave them at school and, instead of taking them to lost and found, someone has just flat out stolen them. I hate people some times.
Um… I didn't realise what this envelope was before I opened it. It's old photos my dad sent me before… you know. I forgot that I gave these to Aunt Elliot to put away somewhere because I didn't want to keep them. I completely forgot about these until now.
The funny thing is I don't particularly want to look at them, but at the same time I can't help it. There are photos of me when I was younger, me with my dad, me with my mom.
Further into the envelope, I notice that there's a piece of paper. I take it out and read it.
15 Maple Road, Woodside.
Right.
Back in Sacred Heart, yet again. Every day is different, but it's similar in that every day is busy and sometimes you can't catch a break, which can be difficult when somebody wants to talk to you. Sometimes you've just got to multi-task.
To the right of where I stand, filling in some charts quickly, Carla quickly walks up to collect something. "So did you do it?"
"Yep," I answer.
"So how does it feel?"
"It's uh… It's scary."
Carla looks around me. "Heads up," she quickly mutters. "Hey. You look like you're in a better mood."
"Yeah, well, I didn't throw up this morning, Coffee Bucks had one white chocolate chip muffin left, it's 1.30 in the afternoon and I haven't seen Dr Cox yet, and now I get to get Dr Mayfair he's being discharged. Oh, and I can prove Dr Cox wrong – finally – because Dr Mayfair has not once brought one of his other private practice friends in to treat him." Elliot happily sighs. "It's a good day." She walks away and into Dr Mayfair's room.
"So seriously, when are you going to tell her?" Carla asks. But before I get a chance to answer, you'll never guess who decides to make an appearance.
"Is Barbie in there?" Dr Cox asks.
"Yeah, she is," Carla answers. "And you won't be."
"Relax, would ya?" Dr Cox snarls. "I'm just checking something about a patient she treated. Gimme a break," he mutters, heading towards the room.
"Do you believe him?" I question Carla.
"Probably not," she frankly answers. "So, how do you think she'll take it then?"
"I have no idea. Probably one of three ways. She'll either be really happy, too shocked to speak, or she'll club me over the head with something."
"Oh, I'd like to see that one!" Carla jokes. "Heads up, Dr Cox is leaving."
Behind me, I can hear Dr Cox's footstep, and he's clapping his hands. "That was fun!"
I glance to Carla. "That can't be good."
"Yeah, I'd go check."
Once I get to the door of Dr Mayfair's room, I knock gently on it. Elliot turns around swiftly and it's immediately obvious that she's pissed off. Her face softens slightly, and she nods me in.
"What did Dr Cox do this time?"
Elliot angrily sighs. "Oh well, did he not just try to scare me by screaming in ear every time I tried to talk. If he's doing his weird thing where he has an inherent need to torture somebody, couldn't he torture somebody else? I hate that guy, I swear."
"Which is exactly why you should come work at my practice," Dr Mayfair says.
"Excuse me?"
Elliot rolls her eyes. "Dr Mayfair thinks it's funny to try to convince me to join his practice when he has no real intention of ever offering me a job. That's not very nice, you know."
"No it would not," Dr Mayfair responds. "Just as well I'm not kidding."
What?
"What?" Elliot says.
"I'm offering you a job at my practice. You'll earn double the money you make here and you could still work between here and the practice. The difference is, you won't have to answer that jackass."
"As lucrative as that offer sounds," Elliot sighs, "I'm going to have to pass."
"Mind if I ask why?"
Elliot looks a bit nervous. She glances at me first. "Because… I think I'm going to be leaving medicine. In four months."
"Say what now?"
Turning around to face me, Elliot says, "Can we talk about this later?" she asks me. "I'll be out in a few minutes, okay?" She closes the door behind me.
Carla is still, for some reason, standing at the nurses' station, so I walk over to her.
"Did you know that Elliot was planning on leaving medicine when the baby was born?"
"No. Really?"
"Apparently so."
Before the conversation in continued any further, Dr Cox storms by. This time he's not looking smug or gleeful, but stern; prepared for action. "RTA," he says. "Three being transferred up here from the ER. You're up," Dr Cox whistles.
Oh joy.
Sometimes, because the study room can get quite busy, we have to go to the library to study, which is where I am. I could be in the study room though; today isn't one of the busy days.
I keep the little the piece of paper that has my dad's address on it in my hand, and the envelope with the photos sits on the table while I stare into space.
"Hey."
Michael sits down next to me, snapping me back to attention.
"Hey," I respond. "Could you do me a favour and pick one of these photos for me to hand in. I can't decide." I slide the envelope over the table.
"Sure." A second later, Michael asks, "You alright? You seem really… quiet."
"I'm fine; I'm just thinking," I answer. "I found this yesterday."
"Is that your dad's address?" He asks, looking at the piece of paper.
"Yeah. And I'm thinking… am I doing the right thing here? Not speaking to him? Because I know he's a total jackass and I hate him for that but… what if… what if he dies and I never really made any kind of peace with him and I hate myself forever for it? It's not like I'd be able to go back in time and make things right, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know," Michael takes one of my hands. "But you've still got to think about the reason you don't speak to him in the first place. Because none of that changes, and you shouldn't feel obligated to start speaking to him again, just because."
"I know and I don't. But," I pause, thinking, "it's me that has to live with everything that's happened, not him. I've been thinking about this a lot, and it's hard enough to look back at it all now without trying in a few years and it's so much worse because there's nothing at all that can be done to make anything better and I don't know I could cope with that. But at the same time I don't want to disappoint anyone…" I trail off.
After a moment of silence, Michael asks, "How come you haven't spoken about this before?"
"I didn't want to. Every time I thought about maybe speaking to my dad, I just reminded myself of everything that had happened, and that seemed to work for like… two weeks. I thought maybe if I didn't talk about it with anyone it would go away but it hasn't. And I think the only thing I can do is try to make peace. But on my terms, and not because it'll make him feel better but because it'll help me move on." I sigh heavily. "Do you think that'll be okay with everyone?"
"It's not really got anything to do with everyone," Michael says. "Would that be okay with you?"
I simply nod.
"Then it would have to be okay with everyone. Alright?"
"Yeah. Thanks," I smile. "By the way, did you pick a photo?"
"Yeah, I think you should go with this one of you with the really curly, almost white blonde hair and the multi coloured shirt on, because that's entertainment."
I roll my eyes. "Okay, one: I did not choose my outfits when I was two years old. Two: Are you kidding?"
"No, you're really cute in that photo. And plus, you should see my photo. My parents thought it would be cute to dress me in a fluorescent green t-shirt and bright blue pants."
I laugh. "That's nasty."
"So do you wanna head down to the dining room and get a table and some food before those annoying 7th graders steal everything?"
"Yeah," I say, standing up.
As much as talking things through with Michael helped, I need a second opinion.
"Aunt Elliot?" I say nervously as I step into the living room. "Would you be angry or disappointed in me if I… started speaking to my dad again? Because I've been thinking and I know that I'll never be able to forgive everything. But years from now I don't want to beat myself up because I didn't reconcile things with my dad when I had the chance. But I don't want it to seem like everything's okay just because… well, you know."
It's at this point that I realise I've been bouncing on the balls of my feet and I've been nervously clutching at the bottom of my sweater.
"Honey," my aunt frowns at me. It's not a disapproving frown or anything… it's I don't know. "God, of course I wouldn't be angry or disappointed if you wanted to have contact with your dad again. How could I be?"
"It's just that… you've taken such good care of me since I got here and you didn't need to… and I feel like I really owe you…. and your opinion really means a lot to me… and you're so angry at my dad and…"
"Listen honey, sit down."
I go and take a seat on the couch.
"Look, it doesn't matter how pissed off I am with Brian, because that's irrelevant. He's your dad before anything else, and if you want to speak with him, that's entirely up to you. Everything's up to you, and whatever my opinion about your dad is shouldn't affect that. And do you want to know the real truth?"
"Yeah?"
"I always expected you to start speaking to your dad again. I was just waiting for it."
There's a silence.
"Do you think I'm doing the right thing, talking to my dad again?"
"If it helps you sleep at night then you're doing the right thing."
"Right." Okay then. I stand up. "Um… there are a few people going over to Kate's house to do some Chemistry revision. Can I go?"
"Of course."
I walk towards my bedroom door, before I turn again. "Aunt Elliot," I say. "Thank you."
"Anytime, honey."
"Oh, and by the way, can I have my sneakers back?"
Car accident victims can be one of the worst things to some into the ICU, mostly because the patients can often be very unstable which means anything can go wrong at any minute. But luckily, this time… well, put it this way it hasn't been the worst it could have been. However, it did mean that I didn't get a chance to speak to Elliot during the day and I'm also two hours late home.
When I walk into the apartment, I notice that the TV is on. A TiVoed episode of Grey's Anatomy is showing, and I can just see the fluffy slipper socks that cover Elliot's feet hanging over the arm of the sofa.
"Hey," I say softly.
"Hey," she replies, as she runs an absent minded hand over the bump. "You know, she's walking about the hospital talking to a dead guy and they all see it, yet none of them do anything about it. Are they idiots?"
"Yeah. How the hell do they get away with all their crap?" I ask as I sit down on the couch, Elliot having moved her legs so I can get a space. "If that were real they would all have had their asses fired by now."
"Damn right," Elliot says, as she puts her legs back to where they originally were, like a pyjamaed seatbelt over me.
"About earlier," I begin.
"I'm sorry, okay," Elliot interrupts me. "I should have spoken about it with you beforehand. I just… I didn't expect him to offer me a job like that and I really didn't know what else to say. Because before…. I wouldn't have even hesitated. I would have snapped his hand off. But now, everything's so different and it's not just me I've got to think about. I should've spoken to you earlier, I'm sorry."
" And I'm sorry I was such an ass. It was just a bit of a shock because I thought you loved medicine."
"I do. But I love the baby more. And I'd much rather be at home looking after the baby myself than be working every day and having a nanny look after them day in, day out."
"Turk and Carla have a nanny for Izzy, and they seem to do fine."
"I know," Elliot sighs. "And that's fine for them. But it's not what I want for our child. I've been putting extra money away in my savings accounts, and I've been cutting back on things I don't need to buy and I've worked it all out financially and we could afford it. I mean, it'll be a bit tighter than we're used to, but we could manage."
"How long have you been thinking about this?"
"Pretty much since I found out I was pregnant," Elliot answers. "But then with what happened in Connecticut at Christmas and being with my family… it just made me think some more. I don't want out family to end up as screwed up as mine is. Which bit probably will, but at least I can't blame it on a nanny. I was going to tell you, I just never got the right moment."
"Wow. You know what, whatever you want to do is completely fine with me," I honestly respond. "I just wish you'd told me a bit sooner. You know, before I put a deposit down on a house."
"I'm sorry about – wait, what?"
"I, um, sort of put a deposit down on a house."
Elliot's eyes go wide, and she sits up sharply. "Again. What?"
I reach down to my open backpack, which sits at the foot of the couch, and pull out the folder that has all the information in it and hand it to Elliot, who opens it hurriedly and starts looking at everything.
"It's not quite finished yet, and we can't move in for a few months yet, but I've seen the show home and honestly, it's amazing. There's loads of space, a big garden, four bedrooms, so there's one for us, a nursery, a room that Alyssa can stay in when she visits from college and even a spare room for whatever."
"Oh my god," Elliot mutters.
"We could go and see it tomorrow after work if you'd like? But I know you'll love it."
"Yeah," Elliot answers, still reeling from shock. "I can't believe you did this." Then her face falls. "But… if I'm not working, how can we afford this?"
"I never told you this, but I've been saving money for years too. We'll manage, trust me."
"Oh my… I can't believe you did this," Elliot mutters again. She leans forward as far as she can, which is getting to be more of a struggle the bigger the bump gets.
I lean in too, and quickly our lips meet. Once the kiss is over, Elliot sighs and leans back so she's lying down again.
"Holy crap," she says, quite suddenly.
"What?"
"We're really growing up."
I was going to go to the study group, I swear to God. But I was walking and thinking and then I decided there was something else I had to do.
Since I don't really know this neighbourhood, it took me a while to find this place. But now I'm here waiting for the door to be answered. I can hear movement on the other side, and the door starts to open. Okay, here goes.
"Hi, Dad."