“This is the proof. It’s undeniable,” she declared. Eliot did not move from his position at the office table, seated slightly turned to the right with his face cradled in his left hand that was propped up on the arm of the comfy leather swivel chair. He kept staring at the young woman, taking in her features. She looked like she was in her early twenties, with dark brown hair kept long and tied in a bun, and piercing green eyes. Not quite the same shade of green as Eliot’s, he thought, but pretty close. She had a small, round nose and a large mouth with thin lips. She wore a pair of rimless glasses and had a severe look about her. Size wise, she seemed like a tall lady, quite probably taller than Eliot, who already was five foot ten inches tall. She was not very thin though, more at normal proportions. Definitely not as slender as Eliot twenty years ago. Eliot thought back to himself at her age, remembering how skinny he had thought herself to be and how much effort he had put in to build up some muscles to stroke his own ego.

“Why are you telling me this?” Eliot finally asked. Naomi seemed shocked that he would even ask, and fumbled around for an answer.

“Wouldn’t you want to know your own daughter?” she finally managed after a while. Eliot raised an eyebrow.

“Who is your mother? Birth mother, I mean,” Eliot inquired, as delicately as possible, sitting a little straighter and leaning forward on the table to look directly and as disconcertingly as possible into her eyes.

“Well – she – um,” Naomi began haltingly. “Her name was Rowan. Rowan Mion. She died soon after I was born,” she added almost hopefully, waiting for a reaction from Eliot. There was none.

“I was given up for adoption because her parents wouldn’t take me in, or any of her other family. They didn’t know who the father was. I was adopted by John and Emma Rown and I grew up out in a neighboring town. But I really wanted to know more about my birth parents, so when I turned eighteen I contacted an agency and found my maternal grandparents. They told me that you had been very close to my mother,” Naomi said.

Eliot sighed, and sat back. “That is true. Rowan was my first girlfriend in high school. She was the first person to call me Eliot,” he said quietly. Naomi didn’t seem to notice the strange sentencing.

“So you did know my mother. She had to drop out of high school because she was pregnant,” Naomi said.

“So did I,” Eliot muttered. A shadow passed across his eyes as he looked away momentarily. “But I went back.”

“Well that was fine for you, you weren’t pregnant,” Naomi said accusingly. Eliot closed his eyes and very quietly, in a dangerous voice, spoke.

“Please leave now, Miss Rown,” Eliot said.

Naomi, eyes flashing, got to her feet. “The evidence -” she started to say, but Eliot stood up, dwarfed by her by half a head but with a presence commanding enough that she fell silent instantly.

“I do not have any children, Miss Rown. I am completely sure of that. I can never be a parent. So I would thank you to leave right now. I have an appointment at four,” Eliot said.

Naomi let out a growl of frustration, grabbed her papers and stormed off. Eliot watched her retreating back intensely and sat down heavily as soon as the door slammed behind her. He waited two minutes, then hit the intercom and spoke to his receptionist.

“Lorna, could you please cancel all appointments for the rest of the day and reschedule them to some other time? And after that you can go ahead and take off. Thank you,” Eliot said politely.

“Very well, Mr Tanner,” Lorna answered as pleasantly as she always did. Eliot thanked her again, and turned in his chair to look out the window. Finally he picked up his cell phone and dialed a number.

“Hello, Deo?” Eliot said when Deo picked up. “We need to talk. This is about… that. Twenty one years ago. I need to know what happened to the child I gave birth to.”

Stepping into the veranda he looked out at the spacious garden. Karl breathed deeply in the morning air and smiled again. Karl turned around and picked up a bucket from a corner of the veranda. Inside the bucket was full of general gardening equipment, like a small garden fork and shovel, two varieties of shears and a couple of spray bottles filled with various liquids. He stepped down from the wooden deck into the garden and knelt by his prized rose bush, inspecting each bud with a well practiced eye. From deep inside the house, Nikolau gave a kind of hoot. There was some sounds of flapping and a crash. Karl sighed, put down his spade, stood up and walked into the house.

There was another, louder crash and a shout, followed by the sound of shattering glass and a loud screech. Most neighbours would be out of their houses to investigate at this point. But all of them were either out at work or school. Nobody came.

Some moments later, Karl returned to the veranda, Nikolau perched, dignified, on his broad shoulder. His long aquiline nose had a scratch, slightly bleeding, across it and his eyebrows were knit in disgust. On his right hand he carried Nikolau’s perch. He took two steps forward and set it in the center of the veranda. With a shrug of his shoulder Nikolau flapped over and regally perched upon the pole, imperiously staring at Karl, who hooded the bird and subsequently ignored him. Karl went back to his gardening.

Karl knelt by the rosebushes and picked up his shears. Slowly, surely, inch by inch he clipped and pruned his way through dead leaves and deadheads to bring his roses to utter perfection. Half an hour later, tired and satisfied, he put down his tools and sat back, heaving a sigh of bliss which Nikolau echoed with a purr. After resting for a few minutes Karl picked up his gardening tools, returned them to the bucket and stood up. He stretched with a long groan, then picked up the bucket and went over to rinse it through with a hose. He drained the bucket and returned it to where it belonged at the corner of the veranda. Karl went back to the rose bushes and half kicked, half swept the fallen leaves, branches and petals under the bushes to decompose into mulch.

From far inside the house, the doorbell rang all of a sudden. Karl, still admiring his rose bushes, ignored it with a grin. The doorbell rang another couple of times, and there was banging. Rolling his eyes, Karl shuffled back towards the drawing room, taking his time to remove his glove and rubber boots and brushing off his sleeves. He left the drawing room and entered the central hall, then reached the front door and peeked through the window on the right of the door. The banging continued all the while. Knowing this was probably urgent, and barely caring, Karl opened the front door.

Karl was confronted with a tiny, burly clown, breathing heavily. Though to say he was a clown might be somewhat misleading. Dressed in brilliantly eye piercing colors like neon green and yellow overalls with red pockets, the man had curly hair, dark eyes, a very red nose and scarlet lips, but the rest of his face was deathly pale and he stared at Karl with a face full of terror. Even so, however clown- like he might seem, this man was most unfortunately a plumber. In his left hand was an enormous wrench.

“Good morning, Charlie,” Karl said pleasantly.

“It’s not a good morning, Mister Pickering!” Charlie wheezed. “The hydrant – the hydrant!”

“Please, your exclamations are distressing Nikolau,” Karl said, gesturing at the direction of the drawing room, from which some muffled squawking and flapping could be heard. Charlie, if it was even possible, paled further. Karl rather felt like laughing, but that would end the fun, so he did not.

“So what is wrong with the hydrant?” Karl asked. “You should know that I don’t have any plumbing experience. Or any technical experience whatsoever. Apart from book binding and restoration. Or falconry.” Karl smiled and waited for a response.

“But Hanif…” Charlie said a bit uncertainly. “I thought your youngest boy, Hanif was a fireman… “

Karl raised an eyebrow. “My youngest child is a girl, if you don’t mind. And there are no firemen in this family,” he said firmly. Charlie visibly wilted. “But Hanif -” he began.

“She is at work now. I don’t believe she will be off duty until tommorow morning. If you have a question to ask her about the fire hydrant I suggest you call the Brightvale County Fire Department. But this is not Brightvale County, so it might not be a good time. I have no idea when she will be here next, nor do I know what her contact numbers are apart from the Fire Department. So it is not very likely that you will see her here any time soon.” Karl paused and looked at Charlie critically. “So what’s wrong with the fire hydrant?”

Charlie looked more like a clown than ever, as his eyes widened and he stared at Karl with a mixed look of horror and dismay. One could almost imagine a painted blue tear under his right eye.

“I, uh,” Charlie stuttered, trying to find words to say, “I think I may be able to figure this out on my own for now,” he rushed out. “I am so sorry for bothering you, Mr Pickering. So, um, uh, I… Uh. Good bye!” Charlie said. He turned around and rushed off. Karl stared at his retreating back and calmly shut the door.

Karl burst into a fit of giggles, needing the front door for support.

“God, you’re awful, Karl,” Deo said from the top of the staircase.

“So are you,” Karl managed to reply, still chuckling hard. Deo shrugged, smiling, and came down the stairs. Karl finally caught his breath and stood straighter, though still not quite recovering his classically somber demeanor.

“I see you are up early,” Karl remarked as Deo came down to stand next to him and looked out the window to see if there was still any sign of Charlie. There wasn’t.

“I have an appointment later,” Deo murmured, turning slightly to check out the neighbours’ lawns. A dog, quite possibly a chihuahua, was barking incessantly at a postman. It was driving Deo nuts.

“Ah.” Karl said, and said no more. He stepped past Deo and went towards the kitchen. “Toast?” he asked. Deo nodded. “Buttered please,” Deo said, and smirked at the postman giving the chihuahua the one fingered salute, shocking the cultured creature into submission. Deo watched the drama ensue as the neighbour stepped out to collect her mail and spotted the postman who suddenly had the expression of a deer in the headlights. Later, Deo could have sworn that the chihuahua sniggered.

By the time Deo entered the kitchen chuckling, Karl was already done with preparing breakfast and was seated at the fully laid out kitchen table reading the news. Deo entered the room and smiled, going over to kiss Karl on the cheek. “And good morning to you, dear. Thank you for breakfast.”

“Did you hit your head?” Karl asked equally pleasantly.

“No, but I might be getting it examined,” Deo replied, biting into the slice of perfectly  toasted and buttered wheat bread. “Or what’s inside my head, in any case,” Deo added. Karl hummed in indication of the fact that he was only half listening. Which was perfectly fine with Deo.

Taking a few sips of orange juice Deo recalled the morning and remarked, “I don’t ever remember you referring to Hanif with ‘she’ before.”

Karl glanced up from his newspaper. “Me neither,” he said perfunctorily. He paused before returning to his newspaper however. “Though I do remember signing my name on the birth certificate change forms, so I must have done it at some point,” he commented.

“So it’s more like you don’t ever remember ever referring to Hanif before?” Deo smirked.

“Well, you’re her father. Mother. Aunt. Uncle. Brother, sister – her  anything and everything,” Karl stated bluntly. Deo almost recoiled. Karl observed with some interest. Deo quickly looked away guiltily.

“You’re the one who did the adopting,” Deo muttered.

“Because you asked me to,” Karl replied, in the air of someone who had had the same argument hundreds of times. “You’re the only reason why I would adopt your buddy’s illegitimate child and raise him like my own for twenty years,” Karl added.

“You did not raise Hanif. I did. If you call that raising like your own -” Deo paused thoughtfully. “You would be exactly right, actually.” Karl smiled. “I only raised the three of you from Beth,” he said.

“I know, I know, Mark and me and Beth Junior. Right.” Deo looked at Karl pensively. “Mark and Beth aren’t coming back, Karl.”

“I am quite aware of that fact,” Karl answered, turning back to his newspaper. After some silence, Karl asked, “Do you think they would turn up for my funeral?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Deo said quietly.

“I am being quite serious, as I always am,” Karl said, and flipped to the Sports page. Deo half snorted orange juice. “You’re being stupid. Why are you talking about your funeral on a sunny Tuesday morning?”

Karl pointed to his nose, where the scratch, complete with a streak of dried blood, remained. “Nikolau is going to kill me,” he said.

Deo regarded Karl strangely and for a moment contemplated sending him to a specialist to get his head checked. Karl stared back at Deo and seemingly aware of his strangeness, gave Deo a grin, then shook out his paper to cover his face.

“Hello, Marion, how have you been?” Pallas asked, smiling tiredly.

“Oh, quite fine, thank you. You don’t look so good though, my dear girl. Would you care to have a seat?” Dr Won asked. Pallas nodded, and sat on the comfy couch. Dr Won sat on the sofa to the left of Pallas’s couch.

“So, what is it that’s troubling you? Has anything new come up after your last visit?” Dr Won asked.

Pallas shrugged. “Nothing new at the hospital. But at home, a few things.” Pallas smiled again. “I’ve actually started a blog,” she added.

“Really? That’s great, I think any kind of self expression is very valuable to our personal growth stories. What do you write about?”

“Oh, this and that,” Pallas said. “So far, mostly stories about my experiences at the hospital.”

“I see. Do tell me more,” Dr Won requested, her hand scribbling gently on a clipboard. Pallas shifted slightly in her seat, making herself more comfortable.

“I mentioned my research into alternative methods of anesthesia, and I talked a little about a hypnotist I met. Have you heard of young Omar Wonin?”

“Oh yes, many good things. We have worked together a number of times before. I think he will go places,” Dr Won said, and they smiled at each other. “And you mentioned some things are happening at home?”

“Why yes. Deo, my husband’s…” Here Pallas paused in faint surprise. “Why, I’m not sure if Deo is a man or a woman!” she exclaimed. Dr Won’s eyebrows rose.

“Deo has a girlfriend, and some masculine characteristics, but his – her voice seems somehow both and neither male or female,” Pallas said, seeming to be at a loss.

“Very interesting. Do go on,” Dr Won said calmly.

Pallas composed her thoughts for a moment, and said, “In any case, Deo is planning to buy a house.”

“I see. And how do you feel about that?” Dr Won inquired with a certain air of satisfaction.

“Well I think it’s wonderful. I don’t really know anything about Deo’s financial situation, but I’ve thought for a while that it’s quite odd for someone Deo’s age to still be living with his? her? father. Deo’s forty two, you know.”

“And does Deo have a job?” Dr Won asked.

“Why yes, as a computer hardware engineer. And I’m very sure that Deo’s extremely well paid. So yes, I think it’s rather strange Deo hasn’t left home. Well, it’s true that everyone else has gone though. Karl has thirteen children, and they had all moved out but Deo and Hanif by the time I married Karl. Maybe Deo just thought that she… he had to take care of  Karl in his old age,” Pallas said.

“Mm hmm,” Dr Won murmured. “Carry on, dear.”

“But I’m married to Karl now, so I think it’s justifiable to think that I have the ability to take care of Karl. We could hire someone to come in while I am away at work. We already have a housekeeper come in to do the more heavy duty types of cleaning. I usually do the lighter things at home, like sweeping, vacuuming or shining. We could hire a live in caretaker,” Pallas thought aloud. “I’m sure Karl wouldn’t mind. He’s such a wonderfully agreeable man.”

“Hmm. So you want Deo to move out? Do you know where the house is?” Dr Won asked, writing quickly on her clipboard.

“If that’s what Deo would like to do. I think it would be a good step for Deo to be able to step away from Karl for at least a little while. They’re so close, you see. It sometimes worries me,” Pallas said.

“What worries you?” Dr Won asked.

“I worry about what Deo thinks of me,” Pallas confessed. “I’m afraid that Deo hates me for taking Karl away from… him. Or her.”

“And why are you afraid?”

“I don’t want Deo to hate me. Everyone seems to think Deo can be a terrible person with his – her sharp tongue and sarcasm, but I know that Deo’s one of the kindest people I have ever met. It’s the same with Karl. They are so much alike.”

The phone rang again, and Eliot was momentarily worried that the person he just rejected was calling back to plead or something. Checking the Caller ID nervously, Eliot suddenly smiled and picked up the phone.

“Why hello there, little grasshopper. And how are you today?” Eliot said into the telephone. He picked up a pen and twiddled it around in his fingers, swiveling his ergonomic chair around to look out at the view from his office.

“Pretty fun. I hung out with dad today,” Hanif told Eliot. She was laying back on the sofa in her room, watching the ceiling. She had just returned from the house after either completely ruining Karl’s day or totally brightening it. It was rarely easy to tell the difference between the two. After puttering about and watering her violets, strawberry plants and cacti, she suddenly got the urge to talk to somebody, and one of her favorite persons in the world to talk to – after Deo, whom she seemed to be feuding with, and Karl, who is an awful conversationalist, was Eliot the stodgy loan officer.

“Ah, grand old Mr Pickering. I hope you didn’t give him a stroke,” Eliot teased good naturedly. He welcomed the call, it certainly broke the predominating atmosphere at the loan offices of bureaucracy, doom and gloom. Eliot sometimes wondered how much bad-will versus goodwill points he had accumulated in his lifetime, and almost always concluded that ill will far outstripped any goodwill he might have gotten over his last thirty eight years of life.

“Nah, I think he’s immortal. It’s all the wine, women and song,” Hanif answered.

“Wonderful. And I hope he didn’t give you any shit about being who you are?” Eliot asked.

“Nah, he never does. I still don’t know if he actually approves of me or not. I think I never will. But he did pay for my hormones through half my teenage years. Maybe he thinks of it like, I dunno, letting me have braces or something. Well that’s what it seems like to me, in any case.”

“Mm hmm. Well, that’s an interesting way to put it. I’ve never thought of it that way before. For me it’s more like a quest, actually. Something from King Arthur. Like the search for the Holy Grail,” Eliot said.

“But Sir Galahad and Sir Perceval die in the end. It’s a pretty awful story, don’t you think?” Hanif asked.

“Ah, but they achieved the Grail, you see. It’s a great metaphor. Especially for the trans community.”

“I guess. But it’s arguable.”

“Almost everything related to any kind of value judgment is arguable, in any case,” Eliot said.

“I suppose so,” Hanif conceded. “Oh, and I’ve been the only one blabbering for so long now. What about you? How are you doing?”

“The same,” Eliot said, “I approved a loan for Deo quite recently actually. Did Deo mention that to you?”

“No, we’re having a bit of a stick in our communications right now,” Hanif admitted. “I think Deo has some soul searching to do before we can talk again like we used to.”

“Deo has a soul?” Eliot joked, and laughed. “But you’re right. I wish I could help, but things don’t ever work that way. In any case, Deo’s planning to buy a house somewhere.”

“Yep, dad mentioned it to me. It’s a good time to make the investment. I’m amazed you could get the loan through. Thanks, on Deo’s behalf, I mean.”

“Ah, you don’t have to thank me at all. Deo’s credit history is almost a work of art. Any bank would be happy to make an investment as secure as this. But it’s kind of worrying. What if Deo is buying the house to move into?”

Hanif snorted. “No way. That’s impossible. Deo won’t ever leave. There’s that lair in the third floor of the house, the cushy hardware job, the friends and Friends. And then there’s dad. Dad would never allow it,” Hanif said, competely confident.

“I hope that’s true,” Eliot said quietly. “As a selfish person. I’d like Deo to be always near for the rest of my life. But as a friend, I do want Deo to be happy. When we talked a couple of days ago… I don’t know. We will see.”

“I hate that phrase, but I suppose you’re right. No point in obsessing over Deo when there’s nothing even happening,” Hanif said. Eliot murmured in assent, pensively observing the setting sun.

A buzz on his phone terminal brought him back to the present. His receptionist was buzzing. Swiveling his chair back around, he pressed a button and a disembodied female voice floated out into air.

“Miss Naomi Rown here to see you, Mr Tanner.”

Eliot looked suddenly resigned. “Very well. Send her in but not now. In two minutes, please. Thank you, Lorna.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” Lorna replied pleasantly.

“Busy now?” Hanif asked. “If you are we can chat another time.”

“Another time,” Eliot echoed. “It’s Naomi.”

“Ah. I see. Well I’d better get going then. Thanks for listening to me, Eliot.”

“Absolutely. Goodbye, Hanif.”

“Ciao.”

Karl looked up from his newspaper. Seeing who it was, he turned back and continued reading.

“Aw come on, could you not do that, dad?” Hanif said, though she sounded pretty cheerful for someone who had just been rapidly ignored.

“Deo’s at work,” Karl muttered, flipping a page.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I’m here. I need to pick up a couple of my old textbooks. A test is coming up, so I need to do a quick revision,” Hanif replied, setting down a huge, grimy duffel bag on the antique coffee table. Karl noted it but didn’t comment. It was something for Pallas to take care of.

“And since I’m here, I thought I might as well bring some laundry to take care of too. I mean, electricity is a bitch to pay for,” she added.

“Moocher,” Karl said without expression. Hanif looked pleased.

“It’s the privilege of being someone’s kid, you know. How’s Nikolau?”

Karl, looking somewhat curious at Hanif’s interest, slowly put the newspaper down. The pair looked at the hawk at a corner of the drawing room, silent and motionless. Hanif drifted over towards it in interest.

“He doesn’t bite anyone -” Karl began and paused, as Hanif reached out a finger to stroke the bird on the perch, ” – who doesn’t touch him -” There was a loud snap and Hanif said a very bad word.

“Shit! Dad! I’m lucky I pulled back in time -”

“Tch.”

“Dad!”

“You need to listen, kid.”

“Hah. Right. Well, I’m off then. I’ll start on the laundry right now, and we can have unpleasant chats in a bit,” Hanif replied, going back to the coffee table and picking up her bag single handedly.

Karl, without a word, picked up his newspaper. Hanif bustled off, bag in tow, to the laundry room. It was a modest little room next to the kitchen, filled with the fresh smell of clean laundry and detergent. Hanif sorted her (rather interesting) garments by color, pondered a little, shrugged, and just tossed everything (duffel bag included) into the washer. After a good amount of detergent she hit the power and the machine started trundling along. Everything settled, she left the laundry room and went back into the drawing room.

“Hey,” she said to Karl, who ignored her. “Hey, it’s no fun if you don’t play along, you know.”

“Why are you avoiding Deo?” Karl asked, still reading the paper. Hanif pondered this, leaning back into the chair. She rocked sideways a little, then studied her fingernails, and finally looked at Karl and said, “What’s it to you?”

Karl did not move, clearly reconsidering the exchange.

“Twelve dollars and a compliment.”

“I’ll take it. I’m avoiding Deo because Deo’s afraid of me,” Hanif revealed with a flourish. “Now gimme my payment.”

“Take it from my wallet, it’s on the mantlepiece,” Karl said.

“And my compliment?” Hanif demanded.

“You look good in tight shirts.”

Hanif looked down at herself and beamed. “Yeah, the HRT is working pretty well, isn’t it? Still haven’t thanked you for letting me go on hormones young.”

Karl said nothing.

“I’ll give you another question for that one, how’s that?” Hanif offered.

A split second later, Karl answered. “Agreed. Why is Deo afraid of you?”

“Deo can’t reconcile my she-ness,” Hanif said, and winked. “Actually I think that Deo’s more afraid of something else, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Karl grunted. “Useless information,” he said, and turned a page. Hanif sniffed. “Whatever. You wanted to know, so I told you what I knew. Incidentally, you seem to be much more concerned about Deo that you usually are. Something up?”

Karl frowned. Hanif perked up upon seeing that rarity. “Deo is buying a house.”

Hanif deflated somewhat. “Ah, alright. Well that’s a good thing. Always wondered what Deo did with all that income as an engineer other than spend it on electronic toys and boyfriends.”

“That Anwen girl seems to have broken up with Deo. Yesterday.”

“Oho.”

“Boyfriends?”

“Whoops.”

Karl fell silent, suddenly looking like every bit of his seventy three years. Hanif shrugged, getting up and going over to the unlit fireplace. She reached out, picking up and opening Karl’s wallet, and took out twelve dollars.

“Bullshit. I’ve had enough of this. I’m leaving,” Anwen stormed, picking up her coat. Deo grabbed her hand pleadingly. “Please?” Deo asked, trying the puppy dog look. It failed spectacularly. Anwen pulled her hand away, drew it back, and punched Deo square on the nose. For someone with arms that skinny, it hurt quite a lot.

Perhaps it will be a good time to take a step back and describe Anwen. She is tall, with very short blond hair and piercing eyes that capture the gaze, especially when she puts on some black eyeshadow. Anwen is naturally skinny, but very boyish in character and looks, with a sharp, androgynous face and body. It’s very strange that someone like Deo is dating Anwen, because she looks like a supermodel. That may be because in fact, she is a supermodel.

They were sitting in Deo’s room, which warrants some description. Because the house had three stories but only three people left living in it, the ground floor was basically the general living area, with a drawing room, den, kitchen and dining room. The second floor had the master bedroom, where Karl and his present wife would live, and three other rooms. The third floor was slightly smaller, so it only had three rooms. Deo’s room was on the third floor, and the interesting thing about it was that the room and the one next to it were technically connected to each other by way of the bathroom.

The room next to Deo’s had been disused for a while, so on request, Karl eventually had it converted into a sort of antechamber to Deo’s room, mostly because its door could no longer be accessed due to the various pieces of computer bones and organs piled up around it. So there was now a nice sofa set and huge LCD television in the room in addition to the bed. On occasion, mostly after the inevitable distancing between him and his wife begun, Karl would go up to the guest room and sleep there instead. Back to the story -

“Sh- Ow, what was that for?” Deo asked. Anwen sniffed.

“Self defense. You were touching me against my will. I can sue you for it,” she replied.

“Anwen. Please. We can talk, right? Come on, sit, sit,” Deo patted the seat. Anwen shook her head.

“No more talk, Deo. Enough is enough. You have serious issues, and you need to work them out.  You can call me when you’re done, alright?” Anwen said. Deo stood up and very gently, with no sudden moves, went to the door and stood in front of it.

Looking more vulnerable than Anwen had ever seen, Deo quietly said, “Everybody keeps telling me I have issues, that I have some kind of problem. But I don’t know what my problems are. I’m usually so content all the time. I think I’m happy. I’m enjoying myself. So what’s wrong with me? I don’t know at all.”

Anwen raised her sculpted eyebrows, uncertain whether to buy it or not. Finally she acceded. She put her coat back down over the armchair and stood in front of Deo. She looked into Deo’s eyes with little difficulty – they were about the same height – and they remained that way for a few seconds.

“Do you know,” Deo whispered, “How hot you look right now?”

Anwen’s eyes flashed, and Deo’s face scrunched up for the punch. It was a slap instead – still a very hard one, leaving Deo’s face stinging the rest of the night – and that shocked Deo far more than a punch would have. The last bit of Anwen that Deo saw before she grabbed her coat and left, slamming the door, was her tear – filled eyes.

Deo remained on the floor, stunned, as the sounds of Anwen’s car starting up and reversing out of the lot floated up through the window.

After some time, there was a knock on the door. Deo jolted upright, hurriedly put everything in order and opened the door. Surprisingly, Pallas stood there, looking worried.

“I heard a crash, and then the door slammed, and Anwen was rushing off like that -  are you alright?” she asked concernedly. Deo was looking at her strangely, and Pallas internally began to diagnose, but stopped herself before getting too far, since this wasn’t really her business, and she wasn’t sure how far she wanted to get into Deo’s businesses either.

“I… I’m fine. Really. Thank you for asking,” Deo said softly. “Sorry to have bothered you. I think it’ll be quiet over here for – for a while.”

“Did she and you…?” Pallas asked. Deo shrugged. “I don’t think so. She will come back, once I sort things out. At least, I hope so,” Deo added, brows furrowing.

“Oh dear, this won’t do,” Pallas said, suddenly mothering. “You have to win her back. Try something romantic?”

“Not tonight…” Deo mumbled. “I’m sorry, I need some time to think. Thanks for coming up here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Well okay then. Good night, Deo,” Pallas said.

“Good night, mother.”

As Pallas closed the door, Deo shuffled over into the other room, sat at the computer, and after some deliberation, began to blog.

“The reaper?” Deo suggested over Jakov’s shoulder. Jakov shrugged carelessly. “Do you know you’re an awful poet?” he asked.

“And you could go for ‘bony fingers’. I mean, it’s the reaper we’re talking about here, the reaper, ” Deo added. Jakov sighed and covered his face with his hands.

“Will you please get the hell out of here and bother someone else?”

“I can’t, you’re the only brother I have living upstairs of Dave’s place. I’m meeting Eliot in a bit.”

Jakov eyed Deo evilly. “Don’t you have a job to be working at?” he asked.

“Certainly. As far as the company is concerned, I’m out doing valuable, hands-on research,” Deo replied airily. “I’m not the one who picked a job where I actually have to show, like, results and stuff.”

“No wonder your company’s going broke,” Jakov muttered darkly, fingers breezing over the keyboard which tacked loudly in response.

“I will have you know my company’s a top tier stock on the ‘street, and is as far from bankruptcy as can be. What about yours, Mr self-employed?” Deo’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“It offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags,” Jakov answered.

“Hamlet. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing.”

“The Merchant of Venice. You showed your teeth like apes, and fawned like hounds and bowed like bondmen.”

“Julius Caesar, of course. God and good men hate so foul a liar.”

Jakov drew himself up. “Excuse me? Richard II? Well, go thou and fill another room in hell.”

Deo laughed. “Of the same play? Really, now. I have no patience whatever with these Gorilla damnifications of humanity.” Deo said, then stood up and left.

“Carlyle on Darwin!” Jakov screamed at the closing door, and threw an empty plastic cup after it.

————————————————————————————–

“Oh, Deo. What’s the matter? You look uncharacteristically happy,” Eliot greeted Deo who was approaching the table with a smile. The restaurant was half full, with most of the customers watching football on the huge plasma screen in an entire section of the hall.

What have we here ?, a man or a fish, dead or alive ?” Deo replied. Eliot considered this for a moment.

“The Tempest?” he inquired. Deo laughed. “I’m not about to play that game any more for a while. Do you know Jakov lives right upstairs?”

“Oh, your writer brother. Ah, this reminds me of a good one – Most wicked sir, whom to call brother would even infect my mouth.”

“From The Tempest too. Yeah, I should use that one next time,” Deo said. A server appeared to take their orders. Deo and Eliot exchanged glances.

“Two beers and hotdogs please,” Eliot ordered as Deo nodded in agreement. Eliot leaned back into his seat and watched Deo.

“Yes? You have a question?” Deo asked.

“Why are you moving out? I thought you were happy where you were. Weren’t you living with Karl?” Eliot said curiously. Deo winced.

“Straight to the point, as usual. Well yes, I was happy. Key word – was. He’s gotten married, Eliot.”

“Like that’s ever a problem,” Eliot retorted snidely. The beers arrived and Deo took a couple of gulps.

“This is so much beside the point, you know,” Deo said, diverting the topic. Eliot groaned but let it be.

“Okay then, let’s talk about the loan. That’s what’s supposed to be the point, right? I know you’ve filed out the paperwork, but where exactly is this house of yours? Even I’ve never heard of that address. How far away from home is it?”

Deo sipped at the beer and looked arounds shiftily. Eliot, with mild irritation, repeated the question, “How far away is it? Answer me, Deo.” Deo sighed, put down the beer, and smiled ruefully.

“Well alright. I’ll tell you this, but only because I’ve known you since your skirt days,” Deo joked. Eliot shrugged. “Get on with it, will you?” he retorted.

“I’m planning to get a house in Fairview, Hayward. It’s close to San Francisco. California. So I suppose… A five day drive?”

Eliot nearly dropped his hot dog. “Are you mad? That’s the other side of the country you’re talking about here. Are you completely sure about this?” Eliot asked. Deo merely smiled.

“Want to start a blog?”

“Well I think it’s quite a nice idea that Deo’s brought up,” Pallas said as pleasantly as she could. Karl said nothing, munching quite contently on roast chicken. Deo watched them surreptitiously. The three sat at the head of an enormous dining table. Somehow the emptiness made the dining room look strangely lonely. Deo thought of the progression from long ago, when the table was always full. They had moved homes a few times since, but Karl always kept the table which he had made himself, out of the biggest oak in his father’s home town. When Deo was a child… And every five years or so, Deo smirked, the table grew by one seat – a new child – and shortened by one seat – an old wife, of course. And then the time came when the family stopped growing as the children grew up and left.

Three left? Was that really what it had all come to? “Pass the salt please,” Deo murmured. Karl spared Deo a glance, and passed the wooden salt shaker.

“If you’re not sure how to use the computer, I’m sure Deo could teach you,” Pallas added. Deo sipped some water in preparation and warmly started to speak.

“Mother, he’s been using computers for fifty years. You should know by now that he’s the man who programmed and implemented the Library systems for over thirty years. I don’t need to teach him. I learned from him.”

Pallas looked understandably miffed. Karl looked at Deo again, still with the barest of expression. He was wondering what Deo was trying to pull this time. Merely trying to be a bitch, Deo thought.

“That’s wonderful. So there’s no reason not to start a blog now, is there?” Pallas asked Karl, who shot a glance at the wall on his right where behind it, a hawk snoozed.

“Nikolau -” he began, and paused, expecting the interruption.

“Oh, you have plenty of free time apart from caring for the bird,” Pallas said airily. Karl sort of sighed, deep inside.

“Very well,” he said heavily, and forked up some peas.

And that was that.

“Are you sure?” Deo quietly asked, a little later in the drawing room as Karl placidly turned through the newspaper for what must be the third time of the day while puffing at his pipe. Pallas was somewhere, cleaning.

“Certainly,” Karl replied. “What she says is true.” His eyes met Deo’s. “What your Mother says is right,” he repeated, and smiled. Deo suddenly felt like breaking something but resisted. Sitting back – sinking back – into the very fluffy and cushion filled sofa Deo sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The most fleeting of touches brushed past Deo’s knee.

“Do you want me to?” Karl asked, his voice as ethereal as the green smoke dissipating into the filigreed ceiling. Deo nodded, not knowing if Karl saw, but completely certain that he understood.

“When I am old, will I be like you?” Deo wondered aloud.

“A little too late to start on the children, but apart from that, yes, I think so.” Deo noted that this was the longest sentence Karl had probably said all day, and smiled.

“Eww,” Deo replied. Karl blew a smoke ring.

A loud beeping came from the vicinity of Deo’s pocket. Karl’s brow furrowed in a rare show of annoyance. Deo grinned at that and left the room to pick up the call.

“Ah, Eliot, what’s going on?” Deo inquired pleasantly.

“My bank approves of you,” a husky voice mirthfully said. “Two hundred thousand dollars on six percent over twelve years. How about that?”

Deo smiled broadly. “You’re an angel, Eliot. That’s great news. Thank you very much.”

“Perfectly welcome. You should thank yourself and your lovely credit history, my friend. Good job.”

“You know what, I really have to treat you to lunch. Any free days over the next week?” Deo asked.

“Hey, that sounds like an illegal liaison, you sure about that? The big bad banking goons might catch us in the act,” Eliot replied, sounding amused.

“Oh, come on, you’ve known me for over twenty years. We’re meeting as friends, yes?”

“Fine, fine. How’s Friday? One p.m. at Dave’s?” Eliot asked. “I can make it a business meeting and take off for the rest of the day. Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect, so I’ll see you there then,” Deo said.

“Cheers, bud.”

Deo was mildly surprised to see Pallas sitting by Karl upon returning to the drawing room. That woman must be some kind of elder spirit, to be able to ghost through the house like that. Deo sat down on the same fluffy sofa and breathed a sigh of pure economical bliss. Momentarily Deo considered telling them. Realizing this would be very fun to watch, a decision was instantly made to the affirmative.

“Guess what, folks. I’m buying a house,” Deo said cheerfully.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Pallas said cheerily at the same time Karl let out a choked cough.

Karl regained his composure disappointingly quickly. “And you have the details in order? What about the home loan?” he asked.

“Mostly, yes. It’s in the range of two hundred k over twelve years at six percent.”

Pallas nodded in approval. “And the rest? Where’s the house?” she asked.

Deo shrugged, smirking. “It’s a surprise,” Deo said, and winked. That would piss Karl off for sure. But for some strange reason he didn’t rise to the bait. Deo’s spirits sank slightly.

“I see,” Pallas said. “I hope you take us to see it soon,” she said. Something clicked in Deo’s mind.

“Huh. Unbelievable,” Deo muttered quietly. Looking at Pallas, Deo said happily, ” Of course. When everything is finalized. I’ll take you there. You too, Karl. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have a ton of office work I’ve procrastinated at for a time just like this. Good night.”

“Deo – ” Karl began, but Deo was gone. Karl sighed, and sank back into his chair.