[REND] B3. 3.2 - Daughter Duty Calls

I didn't tell Deen what Mom looked like, turning this into a game. This was a stroke of genius on my part—a ploy to distract Deen from discussing not seeing her own mother for quite some time. She’d been on about her parents for several minutes, ranting about their communication, or lack of it.

I'd rather not open that can of worms. Or any can of worms at all. Not that worms grossed me out—I dissected a ton of them as a kid, much to the annoyance of Mom.

There was another reason I was playing this game with Deen. I wondered what her reaction would be when she’d finally see Mom. Never in a million years she'd correctly guess—okay, a million years was too much. She could point to all the people here at the airport in that timeframe. But realistically speaking, I very much doubted Deen could pick out Mom from the arriving passengers.

“Is this why you don’t have any family pictures at your condo?” Deen asked. “Were you preparing for this guessing game?”

Fuck! I shouldn’t have made Deen help me clean my place. She noticed what was off with it. I was too focused on Mom’s arrival that I forgot about that. Compared to Myra’s apartment, I didn’t have any photos at all.

“Oh, I didn’t go all out decorating my condo because I’m just renting,” I said. “It felt weird making it too homey knowing that I’m staying for only a few years.” That should be enough; explaining more would make me sound defensive.

The real reason was that I didn’t care much for my family. They were nice to me. I was nice to them. But I didn’t want to look at their faces all the time. What was I supposed to feel about family pictures? Why did other people have pictures of their loved ones? Oh… that was the thing. Loved ones. I didn’t have those, did I? A waste of time thinking about stuff that I couldn’t relate to.

“You also don’t have pictures at your place,” I added.

“We don’t have many family pictures,” Deen said. “Unless you count those we take for magazines. We don’t have the usual pictures that families take when going on a vacation or a family reunion, maybe. None of those. We don’t even take vacations or have family reunions.”

Incoming rant about Deen’s family. Time to steer her away again. I pointed down below. “More people. Maybe Mom is one of them.”  

“Hmm, let's see…” Deen perked up, twirling her finger in front of the glass window like she was about to cast a magic spell. Passengers disembarking from the planes entered the airport and passed below us. We watched them from the viewing deck above. "Who could your mom be?"

“Her flight is here,” I said, checking the display above us. “Five minutes ago. Not sure if she’s waiting for checked-in baggage. Probably all hand-carry. I'm not even sure if her plane had already started unloading people.”

The airport was surprisingly busy. Busier. Way busier than it should be at this time of the year. It looked like a mall during a mega sale. It was probably more packed than that. If someone showed me a video of the throngs of people here and told me it was the Rose Bowl, then I'd believe them. 

I had assumed that the Adumbrae attacks would cause people to stay away from La Esperanza. It did happen, to some extent.

But money calls, with the city being a financial hub for the West Coast. Those who had moved their flights after the Adumbrae attack last month were coming now. They didn’t care about this supposedly second Adumbrae attack, which was the handiwork of Myra. Add in the idiots hunting Adumbrae—content creators wanting to make Adumbrae videos, gun-toting asshats who think they could claim bounties on Adumbrae, and general weirdos whose dream in life was to see a monster. They were like storm chasers but for Adumbrae.

The city was such a mess, and I had a part in that. I was proud seeing the fruits of my shenanigans, but I also hated the number of people around me.

Lucky to have Deen around because she projected an aura that deflected people from coming too close to us. I wasn’t sure if they were intimidated by her or thought she was an actress or what. Probably, regular humans instinctively recognize a being with superior genes.

The downside was that some asshats discreetly, or sometimes not so discreetly, took pictures of us. Of Deen, to be accurate. They probably didn’t even notice me.

“I’ll remain vigilant and watch out for anyone who looks like an older you,” Deen said. “I’m quite good with faces.”

“I have only a slight resemblance to Mom,” I said. “I look more like my Aunt Jemma, if we’re talking about her side of the family. But I mostly took after Dad.”

“Is your mom already down there?” Deen asked. “If you’re not giving a clue about her appearance, at least tell me if she’s among the crowds below.”

I chuckled. “Fine, fine. I’m saying this again—you're more excited to see my mom than me.” 

“She sounds like a nice person, and I want to meet her,” Deen said. “Why aren’t you also excited? Don't you miss her?”

“Of course, I do. But I’m a strong and independent woman trying to find her destiny in the big city. Cue in pop music to start the romcom movie.” Both of us giggled. 

I was somewhat relieved that I could still relax around Deen despite her knowing that I was an Adumbrae. I had previously thought that our dynamics would change. I hated change. This was the main reason I didn’t want to reveal to her that I was an Adumbrae—not including trust issues, of course. Deen was my anchor for normalcy, and she continued her role quite nicely.

“Romantic comedy? Does that mean you're going to find yourself a guy here?”

“No way.” I snorted while shaking my head. “I was just joking. With everything that’s going on, finding a boyfriend is the last thing I want to do. Actually, even if all that… stuff… didn’t happen, law school already keeps my plate full.”  

“That’s good to hear. Do you watch romcoms? You don't look like the type.”

“I don't. I'm more of a horror movie type of girl.”

Recalling the few romcom movies I had watched, they were supposed to evoke certain feelings that I wasn’t capable of having. I couldn’t even laugh at the jokes because I couldn’t relate to them. As for horror movies, I had difficulties getting scared, but I could still feel fear. I chased the things that triggered emotions in me, like the happiness provided by sugar.

“I see…” Deen gave me a sidelong glance with an impish glint. “I’ve read that watching horror movies during a date would bring the couple together. Fear-induced adrenaline is mistaken for romantic arousal.”

“Romantic arousal?” Maybe I shouldn’t have chosen Deen as a normalcy anchor.

“I’m merely repeating the studies I’ve read. You should try it and see if it’s real. Cultivating attraction by watching horror movies. Ignore that arousal part.”

“I seriously doubt that a guy would fall for an Adum—”

Deen’s hand flew to my mouth. With wide eyes, she hissed at me, “There are so many people here!”

“I know,” I mumbled behind her palm. Pulling her hand away, I continued, “That's why they won't hear me. I can barely hear you.”

“It's too risky, nonetheless. You should be more careful.”

I sighed. “I'll be careful… Mom.”

Deen’s stern face cracked, and she smirked at me. She opened her mouth, about to reply. But then, her head snapped to the window beside us, spotting something below that got her attention. “Is that her? The one with the green suitcase?” She pointed at another wrong guess. 

Our game continued for several more minutes. Deen wouldn’t stop pointing at every short woman with black hair. And then, finally, I spotted a familiar head. “Mom’s here.”

“Where? Where?” Deen almost pressed her face against the glass. 

“Hey, you’re supposed to guess. By the way, is Gabe warning you about something?”

“No.” Concern flashed on Deen’s face. “Why? Will your mom be mad that I’m here?”

“She knows that you’re with me. Why would she be mad? I’ll explain later.” As I expected. We’d be safe, or Gabe would’ve alerted Deen to stay away minutes ago. I nudged my head towards the window. “You’re going to miss Mom.”

“Is that her over there? The woman with the animal print pants?” 

“Mom wouldn’t wear something as gaudy as that. Three more guesses.”

“Don’t retroactively change the rules. There was no limit before. You’re prejudicing my rights to endlessly guess until I get it right.”  

“You can’t point at everyone. And we have to go down soon. Five guesses. Go on.” Deen didn't choose correctly, and Mom had already walked out of view. We hurried to the escalator to join the crowds waiting for their loved ones. I had to admit that some part of me did love Mom—an approximation of it. But not enough to have her photo in my room. 

“Deen, remember what I told you, okay?” I said after we extracted ourselves from the sardine can that was the escalator.

“About what?” she asked. I tapped the side of my eye. She nodded. “Your glasses. Right"

“Don't forget that Mom doesn't know that I’ve started wearing glasses. My eyesight deteriorated last semester, and I kept it a secret from her. She's big on protecting eyesight.” That was already a clue for our guessing game.

“But you’re healed now because of…” Deen whispered, trailing her sentence. She waved her hand in front of my face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Really? Two. Now, four. One. Cut that out! You know that my eyesight is completely fine now.”

“I was making sure.” 

I started wearing glasses—fake glasses—for my law school face. Mom had no idea about this. When it came to Deen, she assumed that I had bad eyesight that was cured by melding with a Core. Later on, Deen realized that my seeding supposedly ‘cured’ it. None of which was true. Funny how becoming an Adumbrae fixed the discrepancy of the faces I presented to Deen and Mom. 

Deen shouldn’t mention that my eyes ever had a problem, or Mom would be suspicious. We wouldn’t want her to bring me to the doctor. By becoming my accomplice in covering up my secret that never was, Deen and I strengthened our bonds. Killing two birds, probably more, with one stone.

Deen elbowed me. “Look at the tall woman. The one with mirrored sunglasses. White hair? Did she bleach it?”

“Maybe,” I offhandedly replied. 

The woman that Deen was pointing at took off her sunglasses. Deen gasped and said, “Her eyes are glowing blue!” 

“Hi, Mom!” I waved at the woman who gave birth to me and continued to sustain my parasitic existence even though I was already twenty-three years old. At least, I acknowledged that I was a leech. A strong and independent leech.  

“She’s your mom?” Deen asked. “She doesn’t look like—wait a minute. Her eyes. Bionic eyes?”

I had told Deen that people with bionic eyes, like my gangster minion, Overdrive, and all BID agents, could detect her artificial Core if they scanned her. Her Core was always activated because her Guardian Angel was constantly around.

Deen gripped my arm. “Why didn’t you give me a heads up?”

“Because you would know which person is Mom, and I would’ve lost our game.”

“What kind of reason—?”    

“Don’t worry,” I muttered. “Mom’s not going to scan you. And your Guardian Angel—we’ll talk later.”

“I’m so happy to finally see with my own eyes that you’re safe,” Mom loudly said as she marched towards us. Her commanding voice and her peculiar appearance made heads turn.

“How was the flight?” I hugged Mom, suppressing my hatred of physical contact with every bit of will. A daughter’s gotta do what a daughter’s gotta do.

Mom had to bend down to return the gesture because she wore high heels even though she was as tall as Deen without them. Next to her, I was a dwarf. A cute and lovable dwarf. Mom had explained that she wanted to be as tall as possible to project an authoritative air and subliminally command respect, given that bio-augments used to be a male-dominated industry. Probably still is.

“Such a hassle, dear,” Mom replied, heaving an annoyed sigh. “My flight was delayed for an hour. When we arrived, we needed to wait again because our plane had no place to land. Poor you that you had to wait so long.”

“The good thing is that you’re now here. Deen and I were chatting while waiting.” Deen stood to the side, avoiding Mom’s line of sight. She had a concerned look, probably unsure if she wanted me to introduce her, given Mom’s eyes. I pulled away from Mom’s arms. “By the way, this is Amber Deen Leska.”

I nodded at Deen, signaling that there was nothing to be concerned about. Mom wasn’t in the habit of scanning everything. She was always on about keeping her bionic eyes functioning as normally as possible.  

“Deen dearie, how are you?” Mom greeted my best friend as if they’d known each other for ages. “You do look like your mother. I’ve seen Mrs. Leska in a couple of gatherings a few years ago. Although we haven’t personally talked.” 

“I'm fine, Mrs. Hartwell.” Deen didn’t address Mom’s statement about her own mother. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“I can’t believe that Erind has a supermodel for a friend.”

“Mom, if we’re talking about a supermodel body, then I’m much closer to it than Deen,” I said, grinning at my best friend. “I mean, add a foot to my height, and we’re good to go. Deen’s too curvy for the job.”

“What do you mean by that?” Deen shifted behind me, using me as cover.

“Models are supposed to be super thin like me,” I said, fake giggling so that Mom would think we were two besties just bantering with each other. “Unfortunately, I didn’t inherit Mom’s tall genes, and I won't make it to the runway even if I wore stilettos.”

But I could become very tall if I turned into a giant werewolf. How amusing that Mom had no idea her daughter was already a monster.

(Author’s Notes: At long last, Erind’s mom is here. Thankfully, she doesn’t see the need to scan Erind and Deen. I had thought of removing her bionic eyes, changing them to some other augmentation, but eventually decided against it. Bionic eyes are more striking and also iconic compared to a machine arm, for example. This is how it was in the Prior Cycle, and Erind’s mom never bothered to scan Erind there. Maybe we can do something with this in the future. Since parts of this chapter came from the Prior Cycle, I’ll try to squeeze an additional advanced chapter for this week. Thank you for your support!)