Payne & Joie

Chapter 2

The day started out almost normal; breakfast, counting of the dishes in the sink, cleaning the kitchen (twice), and the collection of twenty-seven very private and personal documents of genetically engineered children. Normal.... Or not.

"-twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven..."

I run my fingers once more over the manila folders, each one with varying degrees of yellow age. Even one with an ancient coffee stain. It felt strange to feel the weight of them in my hands, to smell the scent of aged paper.

I could almost hear my father now in a long past memory, back when my eyes were level with that forbidden drawer.

"Now this is Daddy's special work thing," he would muse. "Only for grownups, alright?"

He kept those files away from even Mom, laboring over the contents late into the night, mumbling over some forgotten detail. But Mom didn't care, perhaps because she loved him. Perhaps because she loved what he could give her; money, love, the perfect child. I laugh, surprising myself.

I can still feel her presence now even though she has left. Her yellow breath stains the walls and there is alcoholic waft from the garbage can. Out of sight, out of mind. I still can't bring myself to open the folders, those private snippets of children's lives. They're older now, like me. There's not a single page that's the original pure white or sharp at the edges.

I wonder what happened to my Dad after he left. Did he regret anything he did? Or is it like Payne said, he's concocted a new batch, a group of new and improved designer babies. A Joie V2...

I wait for the golden boy now. Part of me hopes that his presence will never again grace the doorway, that it was but a dream and I can go back to my normal routine. Counting, checking, rearranging, and counting again. Always counting. Never stopping. Never resting. Always moving. Always teetering at the cliff's edge.

One, two, three, four cigarettes in the ashtray.

Check the lock.

Check it again.

Straighten the books.

Four math assignm-.

A knock on the door breaks me away from the string of commands. The same sun that cooked eggs on the sidewalk gave Payne a halo of heavenly light. I try to mimic his carefree grin as I let him inside. It probably resembles more of a grimace than a smile. A grinch face is what my mother calls it. It's almost enough to distract me from the fact I'm letting a boy who broke into my house last night waltz right through the front door. I pat him down beforehand, much to his amusement.

"Wooooooow," he stretches out as he enters, beelining towards the kitchen. "It's really clean in here! Is that what makes you special, being really good at cleaning?"

I sigh, making sure he doesn't touch anything. "I don't know what you're talking about with all this special talent stuff, but I don't have any of that."

"Really?" He raises a single eyebrow.

"Really," I say flatly. I take the opposite stool from him, staring down at the files that encapsulate all the space left on the island. I swallow hard. "There are a few things I need to get clear before we start."

"Go for it," He has propped his feet up on the kitchen island, disturbing the evenly spaced harmony of the files. "I'm surprised you let me in in the first place. I would have agreed to go somewhere else if you wanted."

"Would that really matter when I know where I live and how to get in? If you try anything," I flash the silver at my waist. "I can easily shoot you and claim self defense."