Splash

Splash - the park

 Hotel room, San Antonio, TX. Friday morning. March 21, 1997. (Eight years ago)

When Neal woke, he stretched and looked around the room. He'd been traveling with his cousin Henry for a week now, and they'd spent each night in a different place. Once it had been in their car. This was by far the most luxurious accommodation they'd had. Two beds — no need to flip a coin to see who slept on the floor.

His heart raced when he realized he was alone. Was this it? Had Henry wised up and abandoned him? He'd wondered if Henry would get tired of a kid cousin tagging along, slowing him down.

He calmed when he noticed Henry's stuff was still in the room. No way would he leave without it. Neal slid out of bed and strode toward his cousin's duffel bag. Halfway there, he paused to peek out the window beside the door. Henry's car was gone from the parking lot. That meant there was time to snoop without getting caught.

After taking a moment to pull on jeans and a t-shirt, Neal reached into the duffel bag for the envelope of photos. Henry's mom had sent them to prove that they were related. He spread them out on the carpet, seeing his mother and his aunt Noelle as young women. They were in each other's wedding photos, and in the christening photos for both Henry and Neal. He saw himself as an almost three-year-old child in holiday photos with his parents and aunts and uncles. There was even one of him with his grandparents.

Turning the photos over, he read the handwritten notes, listing dates and names. His dad was James. His mother's pre-WITSEC name was Meredith. Each time he read them, the names became a little more real.

The growl of an engine warned him that Henry's car had returned. Neal slipped the photos back into the bag. Not that there was anything wrong with looking at them. Henry said he was welcome to. It's just that Neal didn't want to appear needy. He was dependent on Henry for nearly everything, and he wanted to prove that he could pull his own weight. Especially now. They'd made a deal in the hospital. As long as Neal was still seventeen, he was a minor, and he'd do what twenty-year-old Henry said. On his eighteenth birthday — today — they'd renegotiate.

"Happy birthday, kiddo!" Henry said, holding up two bags from a fast-food restaurant. "Breakfast in bed, more or less."

The breakfast they consumed picnic-style on one of the beds wasn't a gourmet meal, but in combination with Henry's cheerful chatter it was a hell of a lot better than the pizza and beer his mom had provided to celebrate the birthday of Danny Brooks — his WITSEC identity — two weeks ago.

Neal crumpled up the wrappers and tossed them into the room's trash can. "Where're we going today?" he asked. They'd been heading south from Chicago in a zigzag pattern for the last week, but they couldn't go much farther south unless Henry planned to go to Mexico. Neal had the forgery skill to create passports for them, but since Henry's Spanish was limited to a few words he'd picked up in Tex-Mex restaurants, Mexico didn't seem like a destination his cousin would pick.

"It's a surprise," said Henry.

"Huh?" Neal looked up from stuffing his things into a bag that matched Henry's. Every morning Henry had made a big announcement about the day's destination — usually a city with highlights Neal would enjoy and rich tourists to con into buying them a couple of meals.

"It's your birthday," Henry said. "Eighteen is a big deal. We gotta celebrate."

"But. . ." The breakfast was more than Neal had expected. No one other than Ellen ever made a fuss over his birthdays.

"Yeah?"

"We don't have any money," Neal objected.

"I've got a stash," Henry said. "It's not much, but I keep a secret bank account for emergencies."