Beyond One Life

New York, Same Place

It was the day after your fateful encounter with Alfred F. Jones that your father learned the hard way that it was best to hold you until you developed some sense of restraint. As soon as he put you down inside the United Nations Headquarters, you barreled straight for a man with blond hair and glasses that was standing adjacent to you and rummaging through a briefcase.

"Af-ed!" you cried with mischievous glee, stopping just short of running into his legs. You had done that once before and although you couldn't remember to whom, the chiding you got was severe enough to last for a lifetime. Still, that didn't stop you from grabbing at the hem of his gray suit and tugging on it. "I wanna go to the top!"

The young man you had accosted jumped in surprise, then turned to face you. It was definitely him - same hair, same glasses, and maybe the same eyes? That funny curl in his hair was now even crazier than yesterday, but it delighted you.

"Wh-What?" he gasped.

"Let's go to the top!" you repeated loudly. Some heads turned.

He stared at you for another second longer, dumbfounded, before releasing a knowing sigh. "Oh."

Before you could reiterate your demand for a third time, you heard your father cry out your name in a mix of horror and anger. He barked your name sharply, storming up to you. "That is not how you talk to people! Let go of him right now."

You released 'Af-ed' immediately, shrinking back under the sting of your father's words.

"I am so sorry, Matthew." His tone immediately became amicable and sincere when he addressed the other person. "She's still learning her manners." He looked down at you. "That was very rude. What do we say when we're rude?"

You didn't understand much besides that your father was angry, but you wanted to appease him. "I'm sorry," you whimpered to him, and the tension in your father's shoulders relaxed.

"Not to me," he continued to reprimand. "Grabbing someone like that is wrong, so you should apologize to Matthew."

"Mattew?" You looked up at him in confusion. Wasn't that Alfred?

Your father opened his mouth to respond, but a soft voice interrupted him. "No, it's alright. Don't worry about it."

The young man in gray stooped down to one knee, facing you with a kind smile. "You must be the little one I was told about. My name is Matthew. I'm Alfred's brother. We look a lot alike, huh?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Are you sure?" you blurted.

He laughed and nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Will you take me to the top?"

Your father sighed behind you, but Matthew's expression didn't change. "Well, let's see...if you're a good girl today, then I will."

"Oh, no, Matthew, you don't have to do that," your father tried to say, but he waved him off.

"No, it's okay. She's very persuasive."

You were jumping on your heels in excitement now. The wind, the sights, the sounds, the smells were still in your memory. You couldn't wait to experience that again! "I'll be good, I'll be good!" you promised.

Matthew stood and nodded approvingly. "Then I'll see you after the meeting, okay?"

"Okay!"

After that, the day proceeded much as it had before: following your best attempt at good behavior, both Canada and America accompanied you and your parents to the top of the building, where you felt the breeze against your skin and through your hair, and their hands holding yours. Despite the cold sensation, that was yet another moment forever burned into your memory that shaped your crucial formative years. It was after that you came to know, love, and adore the others, that you came to understand your purpose in this world: