Message-Id: <199308162013.AA08583@dirt.cisco.com> Date: Mon, 16 Aug 93 15:14:58 CDT From: Gina Goff Subject: "Afterimage", part 2 "Afterimage" by Gina Goff Part Two Sam looked down at his clothes: white blouse, plaid skirt, navy socks, and once-white tennis shoes. He cast a brief glance upward. "Couldn't you get somebody else to be the girls?" He found a mirror and studied his reflection. A little girl with wavy light brown hair and enormous dark eyes looked back at him. Could he really be Al's daughter? There was something around the eyes that looked familiar... Sam's brows furrowed in concentration, then he laughed because the thoughtful frown was so reminiscent of Al. He turned as the Imaging Chamber door opened behind him. "Sam." Al looked at him without meeting his eyes. "It's Friday, April 22, 1988. You're four years old." Al paused and gave Sam another furtive glance before concluding, "And your name is Maxine." "Calavicci." Al relaxed slightly, looking surprised. "Yeah. You remember my girls?" _Your girls,_ Sam thought. _You don't have any girls. Or didn't. What have I done?_ "No, Al, I don't remember them." "Then how...?" "You... he... was in here five minutes ago, walloping me for something." Sam, who had been rubbing his bottom absentmindedly, suddenly realized that the surface underneath the thin skirt was rumpled. He lifted the back of the skirt to confirm his suspicions, then dropped it in disgust. "Oh geez, Al, I've got *ruffles* on my underwear. Why do girls have to wear panties?" "Well, it wasn't my idea." Sam glared. "Just tell me why I'm here." Al punched some buttons on the handlink. "Well..." "And what Maxine was being punished for." "What difference does that make?" "I'd like to find out what she did before Daddy dearest busts my tail for doing it again." "Oh. Well, Ziggy doesn't know why you're here. Personally, I think you're here to give me... him..." "Admiral Calavicci..." "Right, and Beth a break. Maxine was a real handful. Worse than the other three put together." Al thought about some of Maxine's escapades and didn't notice the small smile blossoming on Sam's face. _So he's still married to Beth. And he has four children._ "All girls?" "What? Yes, all my kids are girls. Maxine's the baby. You really don't remember, do you?" "No." _Four girls! Well, if anyone knows how to handle women..._ "Do you know what Maxine did?" "Yeah. She's not allowed to play in the front yard by herself -- it's a busy street -- so Beth sent her out to play in the back. Maxine didn't like that, so she climbed the fence. When I came home, she was trying to skate on Ruthie's rollerskates in the middle of the street." "In the street?!" Al nodded. "That's pretty typical for Maxine. Not that she usually plays in the street. Actually, she almost never does the same thing twice, but the kid's got a lot of imagination." The door opened and a young girl with dark hair entered. "Dad says you can come down now. Time for supper." Al said "Theresa" softly, with a sadness in his voice that made Sam give him a quick, worried look. The girl, misunderstanding, took Sam's hand. "It's okay, they're not mad anymore. But you shouldn't go out in the street; it's dangerous." She started to lead Sam downstairs, but he pulled away gently. "I'll be there in a minute. I, uh, have to go." Sam waited for Theresa to leave before turning back to Al. "Wrong way, Sam. It's the second door on the left." Sam stared at Al steadily, then asked, "What's wrong? What happened to her?" "Theresa? Nothing, Sam." Al shrugged, then added wistfully, "She grew up." "But you look so..." "I'm not used to this," Al said defensively as he gestured with a cigar. "Seeing them again, so... young. Just forget it. Go on. I'll meet you there and fill you in on who's who." He punched the handlink and disappeared before Sam had a chance to say anything else. Al was waiting in the dining room when Sam came down to meet "his" family. "You've already seen Theresa. She's, uh, twelve; she's the oldest. That's Ruthie, she's almost ten, and the other one is Sharon, she's seven. Watch out for Sharon, she's a tattletale. And you probably recognize Beth and that yutz at the end of the table. No, Sam, you sit on the right, next to Sharon." Sam took a seat, feeling slightly unreal. _I wanted to go home. Instead, I ended up with a family of strangers -- and my best friend. Would it have been any easier if I'd come home to my own family? Do I still have a place there? Maybe Al's the only family I have now. I don't think I can get used to calling him Dad..._ "Sam." He looked up as Al's voice broke into his thoughts. "You okay?" Sam nodded. "Then eat something. Theresa's staring at you." "How was school today?" Sam panicked, until he realized that the Admiral had asked the question of no one in particular. _I'll have to ask Al whether or not Maxine goes to nursery school. And if she can read yet._ "Ruthie got in a fight today," said Sharon. Theresa gave her a venomous glance, but Sharon ignored her. "She beat up Michael Pendergast." "Is that true, Ruthie?" asked Beth. "Yes," said Ruthie. Her voice became defiant as she added, "Nobody spits on my dress." "Michael Pendergast is a nozzle," said Theresa. "He thinks that he can do anything he wants just because his dad is the principal." "You shouldn't call him a nozzle," said Admiral Calavicci. "Why not?" countered Ruthie. "He is one." Theresa said, "And so's Mr. Pendergast." "Girls..." _So they team up against him. Tom and I used to do this to Dad._ "You said so, Daddy." "Sam! What are you doing? Stay out of this!" said Al, but Sam gave him a wide grin and went back to his game of Dad- baiting. "You called Mr. Pendergast a nozzle." Sam heard the handlink squawk and looked at Al questioningly. "I've got to go, Sam. It's nothing. Well, it is something, but not anything you have to worry about. I'll be back soon. And don't push his buttons." Al stepped through the Imaging Chamber door and disappeared. Al found Dr. Beeks waiting for him in the Control Room. "Al, we need to talk about your daughter." "What's wrong with Maxine? I want to see her, Beeks. I don't care if... " "I agree." Al stopped in mid-argument, looking surprised. "I know I didn't want you to see her at first. She's going to be very confused if she notices you look older. But we've got a bigger problem right now. She thinks being here is some sort of punishment. I've told her that isn't the case, but she's convinced that her parents have abandoned her for misbehaving." "Oh, God... I could never do that..." Al entered the Waiting Room and saw Maxine huddled miserably in a corner. She stared at him for one incredulous moment before running to him, nearly knocking him down as she threw her arms around him. He sat and pulled her into his lap. _Boy, it's a good thing the brass aren't visiting today. If they saw Sam sitting in my lap crying his eyes out, they'd yank our funding in a second_. "Easy, baby, easy. It's all right." He smoothed her hair while she sobbed and said something incoherent about rollerskates. "No, sweetheart, this hasn't got anything to do with Ruthie's skates. I'm not mad at you." "I want to go home!" "We can't go home, not right now. Listen to me, Maxine -- are you listening?" She gave him a tearful nod and he continued. "You aren't being punished for anything, do you understand that? Your mother and I love you very much and we'd never send you away, never. No matter what." "Then why can't I go home?" "Well... this is a secret place, where Daddy works." "With Uncle Sam?" "That's right, with Uncle Sam. And the work we do is secret, so most people can't come here. And now you're here, and you're not supposed to be." "I didn't do it on purpose, Daddy! I don't remember coming here." "Sweetheart, I know that; it was an accident. Nobody's mad at you for being here. It's just that now you're here, you'll have to stay for a few days." "Can Mommy come here? Or Theresa?" "No, Maxine, they can't be here, but I'll be here. And Dr. Beeks will be here; she's a very nice lady." "You'll stay with me?" "Yes, baby. I'll have to visit Uncle Sam now and then, but I'll stay with you." He held her for a long time, wondering whether the indefinable sadness he felt was for the child cradled in his arms or the friend he had been unable to touch for years.