Table of Contents [Report This]
by Alana
Disclaimer: Do I own The Pretender ? No. Do I own any songs mentioned here? No. Do I wish I did? Yes.
‘Oh my life, is changing every day,
In every possible way...’
-Dreams- The Cranberries
Part One
“Morning MJ.” I placed my latté and chocolate-chip muffin on the table and sat down across from her. We were in a small café in the main street of Blue Cove, enjoying some breakfast before Miss Parker had to go to work. Well, I was enjoying breakfast. Miss Parker didn’t look too thrilled at the prospect of spending another day at the Centre. From what I had seen over the past few days, I couldn’t really blame her. She’s constantly fighting with her brother, her father doesn’t pay her any attention, and then there’s that Raines guy. Mr. Raines. Even the name sends shivers down my spine. Not much scares me, but he does. I’ve seen healthier corpses.
“Another glorious day in the never-ending search for Boy Wonder.” She finished her coffee and pushed the cup away.
“If you hate it so much, why do you do it?”
“Because I don’t have a choice.” I stirred two and a half sugars into my latté.
“There’s always a choice. Why aren’t you eating anything?”
“I’m not hungry.” I halved my muffin and put Miss Parker’s half next to her empty
cup.
“Eat it. And don’t tell me you’re not hungry, because I don’t believe that. You need to
eat something. Trust me,” I smiled, “I’m a doctor.”
“You’re a researcher Julia. There’s a difference.”
“Maybe so, but I still think you should eat,” She reluctantly took a bite of the muffin, “That’s better.”
“What are you going to do today?” I only spent three days each week at the Centre. Today was my first day off.
“I’m visiting a friend in DC.”
“A friend? Is it that lawyer? I can’t remember his name.”
“I wouldn’t call Kittridge a friend. He’s far too annoying.” She shrugged.
“So? That means the two of you have chemistry.”
“Well then, my dear MJ. By your logic, you and Jarod have chemistry.” She gave me one of her warning looks.
“Don’t even go there,” She took another small bite of the muffin, “I thought you said
he was cute.”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s still an egotistical bastard.”
“Such charming language Julia. Why are you so dressed up if you’re going to visit friends?”
“I wanted to look nice, and successful. I like upstaging people. We have a lot in common. How about you? What are you doing today?”
“Well, I thought I might yell at Broots, argue with Lyle for about an hour, get mad at Syd when he tries to analyse me, poison Bridgette’s coffee, follow one of Jarod’s wild goose chases, fall for one of his tricks, and be back at the Centre in time to argue with Lyle again before dinner. Just another normal day.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll think of you when I’m getting lost on one of your highways.”
“Take a plane.”
“From here to DC? That’s like taking a plane from Brisbane to Surfers’.”
“At least you wouldn’t get lost.”
“It’s not my fault you people have so many roads. It’s easier back home. Brisbane to Sydney- take the Pacific Highway! Sydney to Melbourne- Hume Highway. Sydney to Brisbane through Armidale and Tamworth- New England Highway. And at least we have nice names. I mean, Pacific Highway. Only a complete moron wouldn’t be able to guess where that was, even though you really only see the Pacific when you’re up around Coffs. Pacific Highway sounds nicer than Interstate one zillion and sixty six,” I paused, “Are you about to laugh at me?” Miss Parker started laughing.
“I’m sorry, but people usually don’t make jokes around me. It’s nice to just be normal
for a change.”
“I really was only half joking. It can be confusing as hell if you ask for directions over here.”
“Tell me about it. But at least you don’t have Rat Boy misleading you.” I couldn’t tell
if she was sad or stressed, or both.
“No. I just spend half my life locked up in a lab, trying to find something that may not even exist. But cheer up MJ. Everything will work out in the end.”
“I don’t believe in happy endings.” I put my empty cup back on the table and stood up.
“That was damn good latté. I don’t believe in happy endings either, but I like to think it may be possible. Have a good day at work, don’t be too mean to poor Broots.”
“You always said I needed a ‘release’.” I smiled at her, and then I walked out of the
café.
An hour and a half later I was driving down the Capital Beltway. There’s still two things about driving in America that I’m not quite used to yet. One of them was driving on the right-hand side of the road. Basically, I had to do the opposite of everything I had every learnt about driving. The other one was the whole miles-instead-of-kilometres thing. It feels weird saying, ‘But officer, I was only doing fifty.’
It was another beautiful autumn’s day. It looked like there was a storm brewing, so I had the top up on the car and I had the heat turned up. Santana’s Smooth was playing. I love my Santana CD. It adds a touch of summer to any day.
I took what I hoped was the right exit, and after about another fifteen minutes I was there. I had to show my temporary ID pass to the guards at the gate, and wait while they checked that I really was Dr. Julia Anne St. Croix. They gave me the card back and waved me through. I was expecting them to salute or something, but they didn’t. Guess they’re not Marines.
I found a park next to a very nice Porsche Boxter, complete with personalized plates: SK 4172. Cute. I’m guessing they’re initials and birthday. If I saw SK, I’d have to tell them what a great car they have.
I checked my bag: laptop, mobile, ID, wallet, Walkman, pen, the notebook Jarod gave me, Metallica tape, sunglasses. I’m turning into such a yuppie. I doubted I would need the sunnies, but you can never be too careful. I had decided to keep the notebook with me. Miss Parker would kill me if she knew I was friends with Jarod, and well, you never know when something interesting might happen.
I was lucky to get a park so close to the entrance, so I didn’t get soaked. The lobby of the building was pretty much what I had expected. Tiled floor, lots of white and grey, a few chairs, unsmiling guards at the reception desk. It was actually more impersonal than the Centre. Of course, this place had one thing the Centre didn’t. A large CIA mosaic on the floor. I gave one of the guards at the reception desk my ID card, he checked it and gave me a clip-on one in it’s place.
“Good morning Dr. St. Croix. Psychogenic research is in Sector 31. Just go through the metal detectors, go to your right and follow the signs. You shouldn’t have any trouble.”
“Thanks. Is there anywhere I can get some coffee?”
“There’s a cafeteria on your way there. Have a nice day.” I smiled at him.
“Thanks.” I made my way through the metal detector and started down the corridor to Sector 31. I wonder how many of these people know what ‘Psychogenic Research’ is. I was trying not to be nervous about today, but it was hard. The last person I worked with here hated me, and I hated him. It wasn’t the greatest working environment. I
could sympathize with Miss Parker about working with someone you don’t like, but I couldn’t tell her about it. I hate keeping secrets from her, and I have an enormous one.
Usually when I’m nervous, I sing, but that really wouldn’t look to good in the CIA. Instead, I recited one of my favourite songs in my head. My dad was a typical cocky, which was really strange since he was such a great diplomat. He used to teach me Aussie country songs when I was a kid, and he always told me that music will always make you feel better. Ever since then, I’ve always sung By A Fire Of Gidgee Coal when I’m nervous. It’s a classic Slim Dusty song that’s been around since before I was born, and it was the first one Dad ever taught me.
' By a warm electric heater
In a softly padded chair
In a lounge room brightly lighted
By a glowing chandelier
Since my early days of drovin’
The years have taken toll
But I somehow miss my swag wrap
By a fire of Gidgee coal.'
Even though it’s about a guy reminiscing about his former life, and how much he
misses it, it still calms me. I think I can relate to the guy. Sometimes, all you want to do is go home, but for me the feeling usually passes after a while.
'When I wake from sleep each morning
And ring my bedside bell
The maid brings me my breakfast
And she fills my pipe as well
There are cakes and sweetened coffee
On a tray of sparkling gold
But I miss black tea and damper
By a fire of Gidgee coal. '
I knew that my fingers were forming the chords for the song, and that I was humming the tune, but I didn’t care. Only a couple of people had noticed, and they probably think I’m completely satisfied with my life and my job, so I didn’t stop myself. It was calming me down, thinking about home always does. So I started humming louder.
'I attend all social parties
In the rich parts of town
Drinking wine from fancy glasses
As the waiters go their rounds
But I’d rather share a bottle
With those drovin’ mates of old
In a pair of dusty moleskins
By a fire of Gidgee coal. '
“You sound happy.” A middle-aged man had fallen in step beside me. He was about
the same height as me, with greying hair and brown eyes. He reminded me of Sydney, except this guy had glasses and didn’t have a cool Belgian accent.
“I don’t know about happy, but I am nervous.”
“What’s the song?”
“An Aussie bush ballad. Always makes me feel better. Where do you work?”
“Tech labs. I make things. How about you,” he looked at my ID card, “Dr. J. St.
Croix?”
“Psychogenic Research.”
“Sounds impressive.” He was smiling.
“Fancy name. I just solve problems,” I looked at his card, “W. Dawson.”
“Just call me Walter. I hate formalities. What does the J stand for?”
“Julia. Just call me Julia. I hate formalities too.”
“We have a lot in common then Jules. If I wasn’t happily married, and you were about twenty five years younger, I’d ask you out.” I laughed.
“That’s very flattering Walter. I’m sure we’ll get along great. But I don’t think I’ll be
seeing too many people around here. I work strange hours.”
“We all do around here.” We reached Sector 31, and I remembered my coffee.
“This is where I leave you. I was going to get some coffee on my way here.”
“Don’t worry about it. The Chief got us a cappuccino machine a couple of months
ago.”
“I take it you’re in Psychogenic Research too.”
“Of course. Good old Sector 31. I’ve worked here for years.” He held the door open
for me, and we walked in.
To be continued....
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