Chapter 1

“What’s this?”

I was looking at the small package next to my breakfast plate.

“Happy Birthday, babe.” Daddy said.

“Ooo ... that’s right. I forgot,” I said.

“Twelve,” said Daddy. I could hear the pride in his voice.

Mom died when I was born ... she shouldn’t have. Daddy always added that to any and all conversations about where my mother was.

Generally, it was old fuddy-duddies who asked. They always wanted to know why a budding beauty was in the care of a 33 year old man ... suspicious, it was. Daddies have no business raising children alone. Daughter ... sons can look after themselves

“She died, she shouldn’t have,” he said. It was the voice of regret.

I can recall that line all the way back to babyhood.

When I say, she died when I was born ... it’s a lie. Right there on the courthouse steps, I was ripped from her dead body. Emergency surgery with a pocket knife. Mom was shot to death by a terrorist. My sibs died too. After his wounds healed he got the ‘chair.’ Was on the news recently. In Iran he was feted as a martyr ... murdered by the ‘Great Satan.’

One hot July night, when I was 10, our air conditioning broke down. I was miserable. I thought, hot tub on low. I got out of bed and headed for the tub. There was a light on in the office. Daddy. I peeked. Yup ... Daddy. Daddy was watching something on the flat screen. It was a news program ... but daddy was crying. Still, he pushed a button on the remote. A restart.

I was in the doorway ... the flat screen was behind daddy’s desk. The desk is between me and the screen. I watched.

KLRU, Austin’s PBS station is filming a demonstrating crowd in front of the court house. A pregnant woman was ascending the steps when a man in a burnoose opened up with some kind of fully automatic weapon. The pregnant woman was cut nearly in two,

“Mom!” I cried. Then I watched the pocket knife surgery ... I was born. Two small bodies were dropped on the marble steps.

I am supposed to be triplets.

It’s my fifteen minutes.

“Can I open it?”

“May I open it,” Daddy corrected.

“May I open it,” not a question ... a response.

“After the cake.”

RATS! I should have just slaughtered the wrapping. Fathers! Ugg. I don’t like cake ... unless it’s caramel chocolate.

The cake came out ... there’s just the two of us. It was a small cake ... from Walmart.

CARAMEL CHOCOLATE!

“Walmart doesn’t make caramel chocolate!” I said.

“Special ordered.”

I jumped up, ran around the table and plopped myself in papa’s lap.

“Thank you ... thank you, thank you.” I smeared cake all over his face.

He took a baggie out of his pocket, took out the wet washcloth, washed me, washed him and tossed the washrag at the kitchen sink.

“You...” I spluttered, “ ... cheated.”

“I knew you’d smear me.” Daddy grinned. “Now ... get off.” He had tears on his cheeks.

“You are too much like your mother,” he said.

“Hello, Seven.”

“Selene ... did you save any cake?” That was directed at Daddy.

I said, “No.”

Daddy said, “Yes ... in the fridge. Top shelf. Ice cream in the freezer.”

Food Orgy!

There are seven of Seven and they disincorporated.

It’s disconcerting to watch. “EWW!” I said.

“We get more cake when there’s more of us.” Seven part harmony.

“Hey!,” said Junior. “Where’s mine!”

Then they all turned to me, “Surprise!”

And sure enough ... she was there too. And twelve cousins. Grand Pa JW and Grandmother Zoe’s kids ... Cynthia and Billy McWilliams sent their kids but stayed in Fiji.

It was ... fer sure ... a Surprise ... and a party.

Seven asked, looking at the present, “Well...?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Shredded paper and tape everywhere. The box contained a Vacheron Constantin Les Cabinotiers Celestia Astronomical Grand Complication. Used.

My mother’s watch. Her mother’s watch.

“Nice,” I said.

“A million bucks new.”

I Almost dropped it.

Umh ... rephrasing that ... it didn’t hit the floor ... close but no cigar.

Seven handed me the New York City phone book ... not really ... the watch manual ... big.

“Since you haven’t had the watch ... we’re going to teach you how to use it.”

They made no mention of Mom.