3. Background and Significance

I changed my mind and decided to visit the next day instead, calling in advance with my plans. Saga would be upset that she wouldn't have an answer straight away, but I had a month as it was, and she could stand to learn some patience. There was also the matter of working out the details with Rush, and I needed more time than a phone call on a buggy mobile would allow.

The house was pretty much the same as I had remembered it four years ago, if perhaps with fewer toys outside and signs of neglected yardwork around the place. It almost felt as though I had never left, but at the same time it was unfamiliar. The neighbours were new, as was their decor, due to the recent housing bust. The Rockfords had been lucky enough to have had the house paid in full from the start, bypassing the risk of foreclosure but putting them in a financial bind over time. I was jealous—I had hoped to have a house of my own someday, but it felt like a lifetime away with the deadline I had been given.

Mr. Rockford answered the door almost before I could knock, as though expecting me. He had patches of grey in his dark hair, trimmed shorter now to reflect his age—if not maturity. I remembered when the children were toddlers and I was just starting secondary school that he had long, wild hair, lots of energy, and a perpetual smile. The smile was still there, but buried under a mountain of hardship, a wholly different person from the one I'd first met all those years ago.

"Good morning, Pop."

"I'm glad you could come," he greeted, beckoning me inside with a flourish that was once extravagant but now seemed eccentric. It was nice that my terms of endearment were still accepted, although that didn't make the task any easier.

"So, Saga tells me it's been a lot tougher on y'all since Mrs. Rockford..." I started, figuring I'd cut to the chase.

He nodded with some sadness. "True, though I didn't imagine Saga would have told you as such."

"—in so many words."

"Heh. Yeah, it's kind of funny in a twisted way just how much we think we know when we're younger and can't do much with that knowledge, only to realise how much we don't when we're older and need it badly." He paused as though in thought, then walked to the kitchen. "Would you like to have some tea?"

"Don't mind if I do."

Mr. Rockford pulled out three cups and poured the same amount of water into each with a trained hand. Years of practice and stringent requirements must have honed his precision. I noticed the water wasn't boiling. "We've taken to white tea," he explained. "Boiling spoils the flavour. It must seem strange without the kettle."

I took a sip. "Mmm, not at all. It's delicious."

He placed the second cup on a tray with several biscuits arranged on a plate. This he took to Epic's room, careful to knock first while managing not to spill a drop. "Hey, champ, tea is on. Let me in." There was a low muttering I could barely hear. After a few moments, the door opened, and Mr. Rockford stepped inside. They spoke briefly, but I could only pick out a few words. "...Anna's here... want to say hi... know, I miss her too... be back for the dishes..."

"I remember they were quite a handful when they were little," I commented as Mr. Rockford returned for his tea. "You're really serving as primary caretaker for him?"

He nodded, taking in the relaxing quiet of the morning air. A breeze started to pick up through the open kitchen window, rustling the wind chimes outside. "Money's tight, but I have everything all worked out."

"Must've been harder with one income."

"A little." He stared out at the birds chirping in the yard. A cardinal hopped up and down and every which way to get at the ripened seeds that had grown from a rather tall patch of grass that had never gotten around to being cut. Despite the disarray of the yard, the sight was amusing to watch—and he must have agreed—but I couldn't get my mind off how sad he seemed at the same time.

"Why don't you find someone new? Yeah, 'wicked stepmothers' and all, but surely you could use the extra help?"

He shook his head. "Maybe I was a real ladies' man back in the day, but now I'm tied down, and I believe in until death do us part."

"But..." I didn't want to just blurt it out, but he wasn't exactly clear in his meaning, and I couldn't understand otherwise. "Mrs. Rockford IS dead."

He shook his head again. "She's not. She was infected, just like everyone else."

"And?"

He rubbed at his forehead. "Mine just came in this year. I'll be sixty-eight, three months, and eight days. She hadn't shown at all."

I frowned in disbelief. "Maybe she hid it?"

"We were the closest of friends since high school, even closer after I married the poor girl. Hide something like that from me? No, she's got at least as long left."

Processing his words was like trying to decipher the validity of a religious artifact that defied all logic. Either he was correct, or – she was immune? If the latter, Mrs. Rockford would be the most valuable person in the world! It was just a shame—

"Fine," I said, surrendering. "Maybe it's true. She's still alive. HOW?"

It was strange seeing him so serious and relaxed. Perhaps the extended period of loneliness in addition to being a full-time caretaker was taking its toll. "That's what I don't know. It was an experimental craft, they tell me, not equipped with much in the way of long-term life support and no way to catch up to the remains even with our fastest and most advanced technology. However, I do know she's a fighter. If there's a way, she found it."

I hated playing the naysayer, but it was too difficult not to do it. "But... SPACE!"

He nodded ever so calmly. "I know. All of us are so proud of her, regardless, and – miss her so very much."

I felt a wave of guilt overwhelm me. "I never should have left you all."

"No, Anna. You deserve to have a life of your own. Getting through the academy and holding a prestigious government position is a fine accomplishment. I only wish I could say the same of myself."

"Hey, I wish I beta-tested video games for a living! You were the quite envy of the schoolyard when Saga was in elementary!"

Rather than look proud, he seemed embarrassed. "...not much of one, I assure you. I can only do it because I can work from home in Epic's more stable hours."

I glanced at his room. "How is he?"

"No signs of improvement. He gets upset if he has to leave the house for any reason, and he can't stand to be very far from at least one of us, something that got worse after his mother vanished. That's why we had to adjust him to an early bedtime so Saga could do her homework and I could run errands."

"Does he sleep long?"

"Quite a bit. I think it helps him cope, and it's easier on us if he does. Maybe he knows that, to a degree."

"But he can't really just sleep for the rest of his life? At some point, he'll either need to become more socialised or learn to take care of himself somehow. It's not like you'll be around forever, and even if Saga outlives him, she's not going to enjoy being his life support."

"No, I think Saga deserves her own life, too. It's not her job to be her brother's keeper. That's why I have her college fund set up, so she can go off to whichever university she wants and not have to worry about money—"

My ears perked up at his words. "You have a college fund set up for her? Does she know—" I almost suggested that they could be using it for assistance with Epic, so Mr. Rockford could maybe get a better job, to help their lives overall. It seemed like the obvious solution, but – it would be Saga's sacrifice again.

"I had planned for it to be a surprise, a high school graduation present. It's all of her inheritance from both sides, pretty much."

"But what about..." I trailed off, conscious about how rude it was for me to be so inquisitive about their finances, not to mention feeling as though I was being condescending about his missing the obvious solution. "I mean, who's going to help you when Saga goes off to uni, especially if she goes out of state?"

He seemed resigned. "I admit I'll be lonelier, but I'll manage somehow." For a moment, he was quiet, and it made me wonder if he really had a plan for the rest of his life, much less Epic's. I started to ask when he interrupted my train of thought. "Please don't pursue the question of Mrs. Rockford, by the way."

"That wasn't..." My clarification didn't mean anything. It seemed he did have something in mind but just didn't want to say what it was. I felt hurt that he couldn't tell me but, at the same time, that he told me even as much as he had meant that I still meant something to them. I smiled as best as I could manage, considering the atmosphere. "I wanted to ask if I could take Saga to a concert, to help her cope with schoolwork, caretaking, and the lack of social life that comes with them."

He raised his eyebrows with interest. "A concert? That sounds like a lovely idea."

"Mmm. The problem is – she would like to attend one coming up next month, starring a person named Vice."

If his mood changed, it may only have been my perception of it. "Is this the same Vice who was arrested for several DUIs, drug trafficking, soliciting prostitutes, and assaulting an officer?"

"And a few things I shouldn't name," I added, scowling. My blood ran cold again at the mental tally running through my head.

He looked disappointed. "Even I wasn't so wild as that."

I had to smirk at his comment all the same. "Well, it's who she wants to see, and she's otherwise a good kid, if not overwhelmed by social cabin fever. If she doesn't get to live once in a while, I don't know what she might do—even if I wouldn't really approve of these people she wants to see. I told her it was up to you if I take her, of course."

Whether he could tell that I needed to take her—Saga would never speak to me again if she found out I went without her even if he refused to let her go—he seemed to consider. "This concert is next month?"

I nodded.

"What is the absolute last day you can get tickets?"

"Whenever they sell out, I suppose. They may have already since he's still quite popular, despite my best efforts to reign him in under the law."

"I'll speak with her about this incident at school yesterday. Go ahead and get the tickets if you can, I'll reimburse you if I change my mind."

I shook my head firmly. "Oh, you don't have to do that."

"No, I couldn't make you pay for something like this."

"Pop." I put down my tea and took his hands in mine. "This is my treat – honest. If it helps her get back some of her sanity, I don't mind paying for it. I'm no longer the impoverished waif I used to be. I wouldn't have offered if I couldn't afford it."

Nevertheless, there was a look in his eyes that betrayed an intense feeling of sadness. He wanted to help others even when it hurt him. Yet I couldn't let him pay for my stakeout, especially when Rush was going to do that anyway.

He stared out the window again. "Let me tell you a story."

I gave him a look of curiosity. "What's this?"

"It's something that's been on my mind for many years now. I wanted to hear your take on it."

...okay. "Go on."

His narrative was well composed, as though having memorised it from a book, but it wasn't from any book that I had ever read—and I had read a LOT of them. The relative isolation in which their family lived must have given Mr. Rockford many idle hours in which to think. Not that watching Epic was idle time but, in my experience, it was physically taxing while leaving the mind with not a lot to do.

"Many years ago, there was a boy. He was an orphan, much like yourself, and penniless, homeless, getting by only on scraps. One day, a man came along and claimed him as his own, but the man was no guardian—no father figure to idolise, no role model to put on a pedestal. The man worked the boy tirelessly, and the boy often went days without rest.

"Little by little, however, the boy would find a penny here and there, hoarding them away in a secret place. Little by little, the boy would learn tricks and skills, hiding knowledge of them away from the man's eyes. Little by little, the boy dreamed of being an upright, productive member of society, with his own house, a family, all of the comforts of freedom. One day, the boy was ready to set off on his own, to cast off his life of servitude and fight back against his tyrannical master.

"Then something happened. Before he could act against the man, he met a girl. The girl was beautiful, smart, strong—everything he could have wanted, she was. Yet the girl was also an orphan, surviving on the pity of others because she would not believe that she was beautiful, smart, or strong.

"The boy had a dilemma. He could save himself, or he could save the girl—there was no way he could find to save them both. The world was too harsh for either of them to strike off alone, even if they were together, even if she accepted him. So he waited for an opportunity. He kept toiling away, and it was tougher for the boy, knowing his freedom was waiting for him and he just wasn't taking it, wasn't leaving that horrible life of having everything taken from him for an honest life of making everything for himself. Yet he valued the girl, believed he would regret leaving her behind, so he put his everything into doing what he could to save her without also destroying everything he had worked so long to accomplish.

"Then his opportunity came. The man was overthrown. He was no longer a threat to the boy, or to anyone else, and the boy and girl could be together. Everyone could have a happy ending.

"Except that the boy died—a sacrifice to bring peace to the world—and the girl was left alone."

I waited for Mr. Rockford to finish. I waited longer than I probably should have. "That's it?"

"That's all of it, yes."

I thought about the narrative again, substituting in people I knew or knew of in every possible combination I could find for each of the key players, but none of it made any sense at all. "This isn't a metaphor about YOU, is it?" I asked with due skepticism, hoping to confirm at least that much.

He shook his head.

"Then what is the moral?"

"That's what I have yet to figure out."

It seemed quite surreal. I put my hands on my hips in an inquisitive stance. "Well, you've told me this story for a reason. I find it tough to believe that you just made it up. Were you going to explain its significance to me?"

"You've made a point of visiting me in person to ask about the concert for a reason. I find it tough to believe that you just don't like Vice. Were you going to explain his significance to me?"

I blanched, stammering. "...what? H-he's a despicable character! I was at his last hearing to have him put in JAIL. If you pronounce it as one syllable, his alias is VICE. I can't exactly abide by the notion of supporting someone like that!"

"Does it have something to do with your scars?"

I felt those ghost pains in my hands again, shooting along each vicious mark. Yes, I thought, but I didn't have the courage to tell him. It was irrational, I knew, but how could I tell him? How could I shatter the illusions he had of me, of being just a normal kid who happened to one day not have parents anymore?

Mr. Rockford looked discouraged by my silence. "If he has that powerful a hold over you, I don't want you to subject yourself to that just at the whim of a young girl. I would sooner take her to the concert myself."

"No, really," I insisted, still not sure how to impress upon him the delicateness of the situation. "He doesn't have that power over me. I won't let him. Confronting my fear is part of that." It felt embarrassing, not being able to tell him the whole story. Say it, I thought. Say it, say it, say it—get out the awkwardness already and get past this. Yet I...

He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry about it too much. I don't even know if it will be necessary yet. I know I'm asking a lot of Saga to help with her brother's care, but it's only a little while longer. However, I can't comfortably reward bad behaviour like that."

I knew the feeling. "Why don't you tell her about her present, then? I'm sure it'll be a weight off her shoulders."

"We'll discuss it when the time comes."

"I think it's cruel keeping her in the dark for much longer."

"There's only half a quarter left in the year. I was hoping she would find her own motivation, rather than have to rely on me for support."

"Isn't that asking a lot of her, too?"

"It worked for you."

His words were both flattering and unnerving. I felt bad for lacking confidence in Saga now. "...thanks?"

The conversation hit a snag, and both of us were silent again. I sipped at my tea while it was still warm, mildly annoyed that it didn't make me feel any more relaxed. At lengths, Mr. Rockford continued, as though not yet convinced of his own words. "Everyone's flawed, Anna. There's no shame in having dark secrets if you weren't the cause of them. My secrets are my own handiwork, and I'll own them—I will pay the appropriate consequences for them when the time comes. Yours are not yours, I sense. Own your decisions, but do not blame yourself when someone else cause you hurt, because that lets him get away with it for something you could not have changed. Yes, maybe some small change you could have done would have kept him from being able to hurt you, but you couldn't have known that until it had already happened—it was NOT your fault. Nothing you can do will stop bad things from ever happening. Bad things that happen to us are opportunities to show our inner strength."

"So..." I was trying to decide whether he wanted to confess or was just lecturing me. "I can't figure out where you're going with this. Is this about me or you?"

"Both, I guess."

"And I should own up to playing the victim."

"That wouldn't hurt."

"But you're doing the same thing, kind of."

He frowned.

"I mean, really—what are you trying to prove by letting your family suffer in silence? Why not get help?"

"We're fine," he insisted, furrowing his brow. "Everything's under control." I could tell he was lying, because he had a hint of that look, the one of a chld having been caught peeking at his birthday presents.

"On a limited income? I'm having a hard time believing everything's okay."

He stayed quiet for several moments. Aha! Perhaps I broke through. "...fine, there are some things I'm not proud of having done, Anna. Nowhere near anything like that Vice character, but I certainly wish I had never been in that position."

"That's why it's important for you to have help. You shouldn't be compromising who you are just for—" We were still talking about his being a single parent, weren't we? "—what did you do them for?"

"Money, of course. Even I wouldn't do them just for jollies or endanger myself for any old reason."

"Why are you telling this to me instead of Saga?" I scolded. "I get why you haven't told Epic—"

"Oh, I've told him. Every awful detail."

I didn't have words for him. "Buh?" I blurted.

"Epic's a smart boy. He gets lots of things I don't. For being home-schooled, he knows maybe as much as Saga does. He just has a difficult time processing experiences instead of numbers, words, and pictures. Yes, though, every single adulterous nuance of my sordid life, Epic knows, but he lacks the social stigma that would make it traumatic for him like it would for Saga. He doesn't care about his mother giving him a weird 'hippie' name or that he and Saga look nothing like me or that we've never gone on vacation to big theme parks like everyone else has or lots of things that would bother other kids. I've even asked him his thoughts on everything, and he insists that 'Dad is Dad, Mom is Mom, Nan is Nan, Saga is Saga.' That's what he values."

"And Saga?"

"I have to admit, I have no idea what Saga values. This Vice thing is a total surprise to me. The Saga I used to know withdrew after her mother vanished into outer space. Oh, she still tries to be outgoing and such, but the specifics elude me: what she wants to do with her life, who she likes, who she's been with—things like that. She used to share with her mother more, and I think she liked the 'girls' thing, but Dad is different. Anna is different, too, I suppose, but maybe you knew that."

"Oh, did I." I got the feeling I wouldn't be changing his mind any time soon. I needed a different strategy. Even though I hated to end the conversation as we were, it was getting late. "Whoops, I lost track of time! I have to get back to work. It was good seeing you again, Pop."

"Hmm." He gave me a hug before seeing me to the door. "I hope you can come visit when Saga isn't in trouble."

I smirked. "I'll try."

I felt certain that Mr. Rockford was accurate in his unspoken assessment of his wife's spotting and NASA's unlikeliness to share nearly as much about the case with me as he had. There was the matter of Mr. Rockford himself, however... Against better judgement, I donned my nightsuit and snuck back to the house well after hours, when I was supposed to be doing a follow-up on the Riordan case. Own my choices, Pop? Okay, I'll pay the price for ignoring my job for today if it gets me some answers. Not to disrespect you or anything, just a little tired of being tiptoed around as though I couldn't handle the truth.

I watched with envy as the three ate their supper together. The only way I didn't eat alone was as part of a company dinner, which was hardly the same thing. I had to strain my eyes to tell, but it looked like Saga was mouthing something about how nice it must be to stay home all the time and never have to hear everyone make fun of you, to which Epic seemed to say that fun is fun...

Not interested in further subjecting myself to the torture of watching them directly, I imagined the rest of their conversation. Epic was smart—did Saga only teach him, or did he help her with her homework? Were they light years apart or closer to being on the same level? Those were mysteries I didn't mind not knowing for now, the ones that were a delightful discovery to a parent, not vital to rectifying the unfortunate state of their dysfunction.

At lengths, they cleared the table. Epic seemed to not only be competent but PLEASED to do the dishes. Saga went to her room, and Mr. Rockford closed the drapes. Shoot, that made things a little more problematic.

I waited a little while longer to see if anything changed... I was nearly ready to fall asleep where I was standing when the door opened. Mr. Rockford was leaving – on errands?

The family didn't have a car. I hoped he didn't walk past the lot where I'd parked my chopper—surely he would recognise it. Instead, he seemed to be headed towards town. I was in luck! I slipped behind him quietly, trailing him from a stone's throw away.

He strolled as though just taking a casual walk at night, but after several blocks he turned and looked back, as though sensing my presence. Sorry, Pop, but I've had a lot more practice than you. I had darted behind a tree by that point, peeking at him from between the fork in its trunk. If he or anyone else had seen me, it took eagle eyes to distinguish me from the shadows.

Still, I shouldn't get too careless even with a friend—perhaps ESPECIALLY with a friend. I waited with bated breath for him to decide I wasn't there. It seemed longer than it was, but I may have discounted his eyesight, or perhaps he was waiting for me to slip up and reveal myself, but – I had a LOT of practice hiding.

Mr. Rockford checked his mobile. Did he get a message? No, just checking the time. He didn't wait any longer, hurrying on his way as I followed him down the road, around a corner to—

I slapped my forehead as I saw him enter the high school. Of course—he wanted to get his GED after all this time! No wonder he didn't want to tell Saga. I figured I'd be embarrassed, too, but at the same time, I felt he ought to bite the bullet and tell her anyway. Better that than what she must think he's doing.

Speaking of, I had to hurry if I was going to backpedal and catch up on my assignment... I sighed, wondering if this had been worth the price. Didn't matter—I'd still have to pay, wouldn't I?