Wine Woods

23. Smoke Rings

The cigar breathed its toxin, Alfred standing in the wake of it. He was leaning over the window, Florida's crib beside him. She wasn't sleeping, she was standing, looking at him. He glanced over to her occasionally, ruffling her dark brown hair to make her giggle, but that was it. Pennsylvania walked into the room, her pink eyes a little wide.

"What's wrong?" he asked, immediately, standing up straight.

"I..." the seven-year-old muttered, before walking over to him slowly and steadily. Her steps were too small for her, like she was trying to spare herself having to walk up to him.

"Why is dad still gone?"

Alfred pursed his lips, glancing at his cigar before back at his daughter, "Because, he has a duty to his people. Just like I do, just like you do."

Pennsylvania looked at him with the same eyes he had seen the day she was born, the fear of everything. The skittish, little, shaky gaze that seemed like it never wanted to meet your own, like they'd be punished, just for being small in a world you had to be big in.

"Why doesn't Columbia care anymore?"

"He went through something horrible, like you did when those men attacked you when you were younger," Alfred explained, "and now he has a resentment to the people who hurt him, which causes a detachment. He's too afraid to face the ones who hurt him, but one day, he might."

"Is dad my real dad?" Pennsylvania asked, her voice almost seeming innocent, although the question was not, "I think I look more like Uncle Gilbert than dad... is that bad?"

"No, it's not," Alfred sighed, "Gilbert is your real father. I hadn't met Ivan yet before I had you."

He booped her on the nose, and she gave a heavy blink.

"Do I call Uncle Gilbert 'dad' then?"

"Do you want to?"

Pennsylvania paused, looking down at the ground. Florida added something to the conversation in baby babble, and Pennsylvania looked over to her. She noted the differences between her and her youngest sister, that they looked nothing alike, and yet their mother was the same. And that her mother had children while their father wasn't home, which Mrs. Autumn had explained was impossible while she was still alive.

And yet, she looked at her mother, and she felt a deep sense that it was wrong. Like something in her that wasn't her own thoughts was condemning her to renounce him. That even having two males in a relationship was something heavily wrong.

Her stomach twisted. Who had taught her that?

"No, dad is my dad," she said, "and you're my mom."

Alfred gave the smallest smile. He noticed the twitches, the eyebrow clenching like she had head pains, the little bit of shaking.

"What do your people think of this matter?" he asked, and she looked him straight in the eyes. Not a single shake, only pure power.

"They think that all of us, including Uncle Gilbert and Uncle Matthew and you and dad and Luna and Nesrin and Bobby-" Bobby was a dark African-American who worshiped the pagan gods of Nigeria, "and... everyone. All of us... should be killed. Starved, beaten, destroyed. That we deserve nothing."

"Is it hard to come to terms with that?" she asked, gently, "That our people hate us?"

"I'm not going to lie," he sighed, "it's horrible. You just can't let yourself embed it into you. I've seen many a nation go down because of it."

"How do I not...?" 

"You remember you are the greatest thing that your state has ever produced," he recalled being told this by England when he was younger, but it didn't matter much at this point, "they hate you only out of spite for their own creation."

"Why?"

"Because, we are them. And we're also exactly what they hate, and we are proof they hate themselves," Alfred replied, reaching out to touch the red streak in her hair, and she looked him up and down.

"That's stupid."

"I know," he smiled, turning around as Florida started to whine, picking up his daughter and cuddling with her. She always wanted to be held, only allowing for herself to be let down when he was right next to her. He guessed she must have decided he was too far away.

Pennsylvania hadn't left. She just looked at him holding Florida with that curious look that only a kid can pull off. 

"Mom, who's Florida's dad?"

"Another empire," Alfred waved a hand in a dramatic manner, "one you'll never want to meet. He's friends with Gilbert but a lot less fun. Very dramatic, likes food."

"Will I ever meet him?" 

"I hope not," Alfred mumbled, "he's not coming to my house, that's for certain. I can't stand him."

"Is he mean?"

"Only when he's drunk," Alfred giggled, watching Pennsylvania copy him with a loud crackle. He laughed once more, the sound echoing through his chest, and he pat Pennsylvania on the ack, kissing her forehead.

"Come along, little one."

"Awesome little one," Pennsylvania countered.

"Come along, awesome little one," Alfred giggled again, beckoning her forward. She ran to catch up with his strides, and he cooed to Florida as he walked.

"Hey!" Valtio called, running to catch up with him. Alfred turned around to see his brother, almost jumping at the sight of his glowing red eyes. He didn't know why they startled him now, it had been years, he did not know. He didn't exactly care enough to know, either. It was probably something political.

"Hello Florida," Valtio cooed, smiling at the little baby. She huffed and nuzzled back into her mothers chest. He pretended to be offended, making a whole show out of it, and Pennsylvania laughed from behind his leg, feeling her nuzzle against it.

"What do you need, Valtio?" he asked, his voice a little light.

"I want to know if I can take Carolina and North out for a flight. They seemed to want me to ask you," he chuckled, and Alfred smiled, "So, what's the answer, can I?"

"Go ahead," he replied, ignoring the feeling in his stomach. He was their uncle, he was family. He was fine, he wouldn't hurt them, "But if I find a hair on their head out of place, I'll beat your ass."

He didn't know why he added that.