The Quest of One

Common Ancestors

The earthquake stops quicker than it starts.

I climb from underneath the table, crawling over broken plates and wrecked meals. From this level, I see the few other patrons finally getting to their feet. The kitchen is a mess. Water and coffee form a shallow pool on the linoleum floor.

The bathroom door opens and water slides down into the hallway to mix with the mess. Two pairs of feet splash through and stop right in front of me. Staring down are Ray and Mrs. Dufort.

"You guys alright?" I ask, crawling on my knees. "That earthquake came outta nowhere, huh?"

"Get up," Mrs. Dufort says, not skipping a beat. "We're leaving."

"Oh. Okay."

I climb onto my hands and knees and that gummy I ate back in Paradise finally hits me. The wreckage turns into art and all of a sudden it's like I'm in a Karen Carson painting. Mrs. Dufort stares daggers into my soul when I dramatically try to put my coat back on, and goes over to the bar to talk to a tall blond woman in an apron.

"Everything okay?" she asks the woman.

"Kitchen's wrecked, but other than that we're all good back here," the lady says. "Sorry about your lunch."

"You the manager?"

"Yeah."

I watch as Mrs. Dufort pulls her wallet free and retrieves a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills. She fingers through it, rolls it up, puts a rubber band on it and holds it out across the bar.

"This should pay for our lunch and hopefully it'll help you out with the damages."

"Ma'am," the manager says as she takes the roll in her hands, "I thank you, but I can't accept all this."

"Yes, you can. Think of it as a Christmas present from Mrs. Hess," Mrs...Hess, I guess, leans in so she can whisper, but I can't help when I overhear, "but it can also be an incentive to pretend you never saw us."

The manager's brow furrows in confusion, and it appears that she's about to ask why, but something in Hilde's face must tell her to let the conversation die and just accept the money.

"Thank you for the food, ma'am," Hilde says, grinning coldly. "It was very nice. Happy Christmas."

Happy Christmas? I think. That's weird.

Ray comes over to me and grabs her bag from the booth. She presses up against my side, brown eyes looking up into mine, puffy from fresh tears.

"You okay?" I ask, reaching my hand up to rub my thumb underneath her eye.

"Yeah, just got a little sad, thinking about my parents."

"I'm really sorry for mentioning them," I reply. I throw my arm over her shoulder and pull her into a hug. "I didn't realize how much it bothered you."

She snakes her way out of my arm and grabs it, pulling me out the door and into the cold. Sirens from emergency vehicles blare from the city. An ownerless Dalmatian barks angrily at us down the sidewalk, keeping its distance as it stares at us with crazed eyes. Ray places her hands on either side of my face. "You zooted?"

"I'm up there. Hey, I gotta ask you something."

"What's up?"

"It's about your grandma. Is she, like, I dunno, a veteran or something?"

"Um," Ray mutters, her eyebrows knitting together, "yeah, I guess you could say that. Why?"

"It's just that I noticed in the restaurant, when she was paying the manager, well like overpaying the manager, your grandma mentioned something about acting like we were never here. Now you don't need to tell me if something's up, but I'd rather not be in the dark if it—"