Right Into Place

Fifty-Two

It had been weeks since Jericho and Vincent visited so Franco and I were back on schedule. I was still up by midnight, I've decided not to sleep yet since it wouldn't make much of a sense if I keep waking up anyways.

One time, he sat down on the sofa near my desk, facing me with the most stern gaze. "Ever miss dad sometimes?" He asked our randomly.

"Sometimes," I answered, keeping my eyes on the Bumblebee automatic transformer toy I've been trying to fix. "Never really knew him a lot."

"Yes, but you did have the chance to," he reminded me, but I didn't remember anything. I didn't even reply so he continued, "His journals, he left them all to you."

"Because I was the one who never got to spend time with him," I pointed out, only sounding like I'm paying more attention to the whole Bumblebee instead of him.

"Ha, yeah. His letter must have been hell of a long one," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"What letter?" I asked, looking at him with almost crossed eyebrows. I don't remember any letter at all.

"That one where he says his last wishes for you? Dad went all poetic on me, get yourself a nice wife and stick to her, never go sideways as I know you probably would." Franco laughed, yet I was stuck with confusion because I never read a letter.

I shook my head, dropping the small screwdriver I was using and stared at him. "I didn't have a letter."

"No, you did!" He said, standing his ground. "I know you did! All of us did."

"How would you know? I was the outside kid, remember?"

He laughed again, though sleepy and worn out by work, he's never been one not to stay happy. "Because I know what Vienne's letter contained. Said you were her full brother." He grinned broadly at my reaction for the sudden revelation. "You didn't know? The heck?! We all knew! You two looked too much like each other."

I didn't know which subject I should preoccupy my mind with, the letter or Vienne being my full sister. I didn't need this today.

"But don't worry about it," he said. "Your letter is probably in your journal year, 1989. Dad did it with mine. He sent me a copy of his journal from '86 and at the very end was his letter. He wrote about all of us, you know, how he reacted when we were born and such. Great dad."

I'm still trying to keep up with the information so I remained quiet. I didn't need the information and now, I don't know what I'll do with it.

"I'll ask Darwin to get your year journal. It's in the basement, yeah?" He asked and I was still trying to think of the odds and how I never noticed when I realised one thing. . .

"He can't," I said, remembering where that journal was. I never read that journal from 1989 because back then, Taylor had it. I reckon she still does. "Taylor has it."

It was Franco's turn to be silent.

Taylor was the last girl I've been with, there wasn't anyone after as I never gave anybody else the chance. Franco knows that full well so to break the tension, he came up with the most wonderful statement. . . "Well, shit."

I laughed a bit, I know I had a priceless reaction for his revelations but it turns out he wins the priceless reaction award for tonight.

"Can't we send Darwin to get it from her?" Franco asked once he finally caught up with his confused phase.

"I don't know if she still lives there. I haven't seen her, much less heard from her," I told him. The last time I've been remotely close to her was the last day I saw New York three years ago. I haven't gone back since then.