Author's note,
This story sequels two others that I've previously written- 'Dad's the Man' and 'My Other Mother'. While these previous stories can stand alone and apart from each other, they are nevertheless related and both make up the groundwork for 'Sera'. If you haven't read both 'Dad's the Man' and 'My Other Mother', 'Sera' won't make much sense and you probably won't enjoy this much.
Kitten
I'd come to hate the grocery store.
Little Parker was four months old then and, as much of a blessing as he was in our house, he'd changed things. He was now the center of attention, not me, and that was something I could have dealt with if I didn't feel so 'dealt with'. It's hard to explain, but pitching in and adjusting to such a change was one thing; not getting the freedom and respect that's supposed to come along with that responsibility was quite another.
My name is Kathleen Hale. My daddy calls me 'kitten', although he doesn't as often these days. I have mousy, blech brown hair because it doesn't matter anymore and, at age twenty-one, I'm in very good shape. I live with Daddy and Mummy, who is really my aunt, and my adopted sister Gina, the mother of my father's son, Parker. I can never have babies like Gina because Daddy is also my man. I have two little kitties, Ms. Lulu and Mr. Toodles. I spend a lot of time with them in the evening while in my basement laboratory, sipping a little vodka, maybe a little wine as I'm surfing the net or working at something.
So there I was, in the stupidmarket for Gina once again. It wasn't just that I had to be there instead of doing something useful, but also my latent aversion to the asshole carts. At just over five feet tall, those big giant things they have now make me look like a munchkin, and somebody even already made a joke about it, offering me one of the 'shopper in training' carts for the kiddies. I could have killed him right then and there.
The lineup had been depressingly long, but I was almost to the cashier with only one frumpy, useless old cow stuck in front of me, when something completely unexpected happened.
A rather funny looking little man with a rapidly retreating hairline approached from the direction of the bakery section. He wore a suit and the hair he had left was slicked back, the horn rimmed glasses on his face making him look strangely professional. He held what looked like a pamphlet, a fancy seeming thing of teal and, with an uninvolved, businesslike grin, he passed it to me.
I took it out of surprise more than anything, looking down to see my name written across the front in silver script. When I looked up again, he'd already made it halfway to the doors, his nondescript back quickly mixing with the crowd of exiting, grocery laden shoppers, and it's not like I was about to abandon my place in line at that point, was I?
People who'd noticed were looking at me, just as curious about the teal coloured leaving as I was. I opened it and was further intrigued, if a bit disappointed. In the same silver script was an address, date and time, nothing more. The address was in Montreal, the time being three pm, two weeks and two days hence.
I don't usually carry a purse, so I held onto it, slipping it into a bag between two boxes of cereal so it wouldn't get bent on the way home. Stopping at the liquor store, I was still distracted, not even irritated as I usually was when they asked me for my ID.
In my half worn out work jeans and pink T-shirt, I walked across the parking lot with my liter of vodka in a large paper bag, inserted key to the trunk of the
Trans Am
to add my little evening treat to its contents. On impulse, I removed the invitation from the bag I'd put it in before closing the trunk, studying it in the car for a few minutes before I left the parking lot.
Two days later, two weeks left to keep the invitation. I had it hidden in a rat-rod magazine under my bench, but would often take it out to look at it, soon picking at my nails in agitation over the possibility of driving all the way across the country to... what? Sheila? Who else?
Later on, the invitation hidden away again, I was staring at the text in a chat room with a half empty glass of vodka, not really paying attention to the conversation when Gina's soft knock alerted me to her presence outside my laboratory.
I took another sip of the drink and hid the glass behind one of my speakers, calling afterward, "Come in."
"Hey, slutty."
"Hey, smutty."
"How's things in the laboratory of doom? Any super weapons yet?"
She was trying to keep things light, but I could see concern in her eyes.
"It's really not a super weapon economy right now."
She smiled widely at this reply and stepped closer, running her fingers through my hair to speak in a softer voice.
"Is everything okay?"
"Sure."
"No, really. Is everything okay?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" I asked, barely able to act the part.
"Well, you've been different lately."
"In what way?"
"Quieter, especially in the last couple days. Kind of distant. Is there something on your mind you'd like to talk about? You know you can always talk to me, right?"
I looked at her, the beautiful brunette that I loved so dearly, and remembered the old days, the days when we both danced and things were different. I don't know why, but I reached under my desk and removed the rat-rod mag, quickly found the invitation within and handed it to Gina.
She looked it over, then looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression, asking, "What's this?"
"Somebody handed it to me in the supermarket the other day."
"Who?"
"I don't know, he was a stranger."
"Didn't he say anything?"
"No, he just kinda smiled, handed it to me and walked away without a word."
She looked it over again, her eyes resting inside the cover where the address and date were. She was looking at the silver script, but I could tell she was thinking and I was pretty sure I knew what she was thinking about. She finally looked at me, closing the invitation and absently waving it in the air as she spoke slowly, looking at me very seriously.
"Slutty... there's only one person..."
"Sheila."
"Sheila," she agreed, nodding and still looking back very seriously. "You want to go, don't you?"
" ... I think so. Yes."
"Oh, boy."
This irritated me, but I said nothing, only looked down at the floor as I compressed my lips a bit, listening to her begin.
"Baby, this is... Have you thought about this? For one thing, we don't know this is from Sheila. You could be walking into anything and, even if it is from Sheila, that could end up being a whole different nightmare for
all
of us; you know what trouble she is from everything Mum and Dad told you. I thought you'd put all this behind you."
"Well... until the other day, I had. What can I say?"
"Wh-? Kat... Concerning yourself with her has never been anything but bad for you. Can you imagine what actually meeting her would be like for you? My god, what if she wanted to come back and-"
"Isn't this my decision?" I interrupted quietly, still looking at the floor.
"You're just not listening. How can this be your decision alone if the outcome could affect us all in ways we have no way of knowing? Even if you did go, I'd have to go with you. Mum couldn't and Dad sure as hell couldn't, could he?"
"Why would anybody have to come with me?"
"Because, kat, we couldn't let you drive off across the country on your own, could we? That would be like letting a... a..."
"Letting a child do it, Gina?"
"That's not what I mean."
"It's what you were going to say."
"No, it isn't! Look, you know you're special and precious, we've talked about this and it's why you don't dance anymore, it's why... Please don't look at me like that?"
"I'm going."
"Oh my god," she sighed, shaking her head and adding, "Kat, god-dammit, I told you that
I'd have to go with you!
"
"So, what if you do? We might have fun. You could look at it as a vaca-"
"I have a four month old baby, kat! I can't be gallivanting across the country with you!"
"So, leave him with Daddy and Mummy, he'll be alright."
" ... Do you even
care
