Near On

By Ocean Strata

About the Book
Near On is about the duality of all people. We're all good and bad- even the best of us. Interwoven in the book are three main elements: 1) Loss - The author’s best friend lost his daughter at a very young age to brain cancer and he explores how we all experience grief differently throughout different points in our life. 2) Racism - As an African American man, the author wanted to look at the subtleties of racism he has experienced and give a different point of view of how we ALL wrong each other in small - not "in your face"- ways. 3) The Multiverse - He explores a fascinating topic that we know little to nothing about.
There are many times in the story where there aren't clear cut answers - much like the reality of things. This is the first of three books the author has planned in this realm. The story is unique and compelling because the characters are relatable. The writing is designed to be grounded. The dialog is in a fashion where people talk to each other in the real world and people behave in a "normal" way.

About the Author
Ocean Strata grew up in Santa Monica, California, in a not-so-great neighborhood where he was raised by a single mom. Most kids left to their own devices may have gotten into trouble, but Strata chose to go to the library and read most days. He went to USC on an academic scholarship and graduated from Marshall School of Business. Strata found joy and peace in writing and in the technology industry. As a black man in sales and corporate America, he has experienced both beautiful behavior and sub-par behavior. He feels that all of his experiences drove his passion to tell a story about the middle ground - about the grey. He met his wife in banking, and they now have twin toddlers - a boy and a girl - his hardest job to date.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Jun 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887296906

Book preview

Chapter One

Decisions Needing Cushion

What if I told you that there was a way to get rid of racism? I’m not talking theoretically or figuratively. I’m talking ENDING it along with all its ugly cousins. See it’s not just men in white sheets and burning crosses- racism has nuances-

On a morning like any other morning, there was a scream. A piercing, blood curdling, hair raising scream. What preceded that scream was an event that would impact many lives and reverberate through the universe. This day began like most others. Finlay woke up and got ready for his day at work. In such a rush that he didn’t kiss his wife, Fae goodbye as she slumbered. The day began with that moment most folks have- a blink and a realization in that moment that it’s time to begin again.

Finlay and Fae Roberts lived in a large newly built home in a relatively quiet neighborhood. They had bought this house together and it was a big accomplishment and symbol of change in their lives. Changed from status quo and changed from past mistakes and gains. A new Fae. A new Finlay. They had married 2 years before- the scream. Minutes before the scream, Finlay had left their house and departed in his auto, headed to work. When Finlay left, it was dark, damp and cold but no colder than any other day for him. The sun was not yet dominating this day. Therefore, the sinister events were free to wreak havoc with a stereotypical chill.

•••••

In a holding room. Finlay Roberts sits handcuffed and examines his surroundings and is nervous. Finlay Roberts has seen these rooms in the movies and it’s weird to him that the room looks foreign. Blank, stale walls with dim lighting. A two-way mirror covers a quarter of the room. The light flickering seems to be on purpose and not a malfunction. A detective comes in.

Okay, so clearly I am under arrest, Finlay Roberts nervously muses as he shakes his handcuffs towards the detective. But when you read me my rights you said, ‘Murder’? The Detective is Caucasian and wears a brown suit that is a bit oversized. He is in his mid-50s and has stringy brown hair. He carries a file folder in one hand, a piece of toast in the other. He sits across from Finlay Roberts and puts the file folder down on the desk while holding the toast still.

That’s right, Roberts, says the Detective. Finlay Roberts starts to tap his toe as his nervousness manifests itself. The detective puts the toast down on the desk with no napkin or plate and opens the file folder carefully. He regards the contents and speaks to Finlay without looking up from the file. Finlay eyes the toast with amusement.

This is ridiculous- who did I kill? Cause I was home all night with my wife, says Finlay. My name is Detective Shaw, scoffs the detective. We have evidence that suggests you have committed a felony, Roberts. And to your point- I never said anything about last night. If you could answer some questions- we could really get off to a good start, Okay? Finlay looks down at his hands and begins to perspire. He is becoming agitated at the implication. Suddenly his thought process takes him to a dark place, and he stands up as his chair falls behind him. Detective Shaw doesn’t move and continues looking downwards.

Wait, I’m not answering shit without a lawyer, says Finlay weakly. My wife is an attorney and is going to eat this for snacks. His lack of conviction is prominent. He tries to convince himself that the inevitable, awful truth isn’t imminent. He can feel the trajectory of the situation and the momentum of the Detective’s demeanor.

Sit down, Mr. Roberts, says the detective, with monotone and disinterest. He now looks up at Finlay Roberts. Is this how you want to play it, chief? Is this what we’re doing? Finlay Roberts picks up his chair but seems on the verge of a breakdown.

What’s with the toast, officer? says Finlay Roberts as he sits. I mean, could you at least use a paper towel? Finlay Roberts focuses on the toast as it is the only sensible thing in this crazy world. Yet the Detective possesses it. Detective Shaw ignores the remarks and looks back into the file folder. He is leafing through photos and papers and seems focused.

I need my phone call, says Finlay Roberts softly. He feels intoxicated now. How have things been going with her lately? asks Detective Shaw. Do you guys argue a lot? The detective continues talking without looking up. Finlay Roberts’ earlier revelation becomes a reality at that moment. He begins crying in his chair searching for an anchor as he is now lost.

I neeeeeed my wife! moans Finlay Roberts with sadness. The detective is now focused on him. This can go so much smoother if you just help me understand you guys’ issues-, says Detective Shaw in a patronizing tone. The detective’s energy shift is not without its casualties as his toast falls to the ground. Finlay Roberts just looks down at the table in anguish and pain.

Don’t you tell me that, moans Finlay Roberts. You tell me I can call her right now! Detective Shaw is in full-on pandering mode as he leans in and tries to work Finlay Roberts. Was there an argument? asks Detective Shaw. Was she sleeping around? Finlay Roberts cries and moans in his chair as his world spins.

I need to call Fae! moans Finlay Roberts. Oh nooooo- please God no! Detective Shaw now takes crime photos from the file folder. He places three of them down so Finlay Roberts can see the photos. All three photos depict Fae Roberts with two bullet holes to her head from three different angles.

There has to be a backstory for this, Mr. Roberts, says Detective Shaw, placing the photos down. Or maybe- there isn’t? Sometimes these things just happen- hell I was married, I got angry sometimes. Finlay Roberts is so distraught that he resists looking down. He finally faces the music and glances down at the photos. The nausea hits him in a flash as well as absolute heat. Finlay Roberts feels a rush of heat throughout his body as he views pictures of his wife’s fatal wounds. He pushes the photos away and continues crying and moaning. The detective is eyeing his reaction as his grief briefly turns to anger.

Oh noooooo, who did this to her? cries Finlay Roberts. Oh, baby no! Finlay moans as he is beside himself with grief. He feels short of breath and leans over to vomit. Detective Shaw gets up quickly gathering the photos. As Finlay vomits on the floor, he feels no relief and notices the toast from earlier. He is delirious with pain and now calms as if purging released all of his anxiety.

Sorry about your toast, Finlay Roberts says as he wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Hey, you want to wait for your lawyer? asks Detective Shaw. Fine. Just wanted to see if I could help your situation and trust me Roberts- it ain’t good.

•••••

Behind the two-way glass in an adjacent room, Detective Lonsdale observes. He is Caucasian and wears a frumpy, blue suit and tie. He has jet black straight hair and wears glasses. The detective smokes a cigarette as he watches. Detective Shaw enters the room as Detective Lonsdale continues observing Finlay without acknowledging Shaw.

So, this son of a bitch is playing like he didn’t do it? says Lonsdale. How cliché. Detective Shaw doesn’t respond verbally but nods and hands the file to Lonsdale who opens it and reads it aloud.

Fae Roberts, 32 years old Caucasian married to Finlay Roberts, Black and 36 years of age, reads Lonsdale. Fae was shot in the head twice- uh this morning. Finlay was seen leaving the house 4 minutes after the time of death with blood all over him. Neighbors called the police and eyewitness account places him there. We pick him up at work and he’s playing the role, huh?

This is pretty open and shut, says Detective Shaw. We have an eyewitness account, traffic cam footage. DNA will be back in a couple of days but I’m sure we will find lingering issues with their relationship. Detective Lonsdale grunts as if he’s seen this play out before. However, he seems so distraught, says Shaw sarcastically.

Any other suspects? asks Detective Lonsdale. Not yet but we’ll do our thing, replies Detective Shaw. Do your thing. Button it up and clear it, says Detective Lonsdale. Detective Shaw takes the folder back from Detective Lonsdale as Lonsdale puts out his cigarette. Was it rocky- the relationship? asks Detective Lonsdale.

Not sure yet, he’s been too distraught to make any sense. We’ll find out though. Finlay Roberts emits an otherworldly moan of anguish and pain. It can be heard throughout the holding area. The moans seem to be a continuous stream of agony. Finlay Roberts struggles to accept the reality that his wife is gone.

•••••

The evening was brisk and cloudy as Fae and Finlay Roberts were eating at Celestial, a swanky lobster restaurant. The restaurant had low lighting to facilitate the mood and the music was played at a low tone. The restaurant was at 50% capacity and the people were engaged in typical conversation. Finlay and Fae Roberts sat in a lounge-couch type area and had finished their food. Finlay Roberts was in his mid-30s, while Fae Roberts was in her early 30s. Fae Roberts had shoulder length blond straight hair and was very attractive but never let on that she knew. Finlay Roberts was clean shaven on his head and face and was neither thin nor overweight. He was very attractive with nice features to go with light brown eyes and charm. The couple sat intimately close and were lost within each other’s eyes. They were both nicely dressed as if for a night on the town.

So, is this the point in our marriage that I’m supposed to see other people? quipped Finlay Roberts. Hmmm. Yeah think so, said Fae Roberts. Cause I got about 4 or 5 hoes lined up, joked Finlay Roberts. Oh, is that right? asked Fae Roberts playfully. You bet yo ass that’s right, quipped Finlay Roberts. Fae Roberts put her head on her fists as she looked at her husband.

Name em, said Fae Roberts, smiling. Oh, so you want me to name dem hoes? joked Finlay Roberts. I want you to name dem hoes, baby, said Fae Roberts. Finlay Roberts playfully pretended to work on his eyebrows. He then looked at himself in a fake mirror. He then proceeded to count his hoes on his fingers for emphasis.

I got Wanda, Roberta, and Candice. Fae Roberts laughed at the mention of these names. Finlay Roberts’ sense of humor had always been his wife’s main attraction- regardless of his physical attributes. Finlay Roberts stopped admiring himself long enough to see if his wife was still in playful mode or time to go serious.

Oh, dem hoes? asked Fae Roberts. In different area codes, retorted Finlay Roberts. Fae Roberts had gotten quiet as if stricken by the reference. Babe, you really date yourself when you quote old Luda songs. Finlay Roberts paused briefly in thought. Luda is Def! exclaimed Finlay Roberts. Fae bowed her head in embarrassment.

•••••

Dinner had turned into dessert as Fae and Finlay Roberts were still engrossed in each other. They made it a point to cherish each other- even when it seemed impossible. Fae Roberts then began to eat a version of Tiramisu that she didn’t love. While Finlay Roberts ate ice cream with fudge.

Is this the crossroads? mused Finlay Roberts as he enjoyed his ice cream. Are we ready for a career change, cause I got room on my hoe squad. Fae Roberts ate hers slowly with no joy. So yeah this law thing is pretty mundane at this point, but –, said Fae Roberts.

We finish what we start, said Finlay Roberts finishing the thought. Yes, yes we do honey. Fae Roberts nodded as she put her spoon down. Finlay Roberts eyed his wife and took a moment to appreciate her beauty. Fae Roberts had considered and then finally addressed Finlay Roberts’ quip.

And you couldn’t HANDLE me on your hoe squad, Fin. How about a house? A house? asked Finlay Roberts coyly. A ho house? Like Texas? Fae Roberts gave a quick giggle before becoming serious. Fin, I’m serious here- I need you to focus. Finlay Roberts tried to be calm and serious but stifled giggles as Fae Roberts broke into giggles as well. They both broke into full laughter and smiled lovingly at each other. Nice, Fin. Really great, giggled Fae Roberts. Love how seriously you take this. I can be serious, sear sear sear, quipped Finlay. The couple had burst into giggles again.

•••••

Fae and Finlay Roberts exited the Dramden Circle movie theater, along with several other patrons. Fae Roberts munched on popcorn as they walked arm in arm slowly towards the parking lot. The night was brisk and there was an aggressive breeze. This had caused Fae Roberts to snuggle up to her husband during the stroll. As cars slowly maneuvered through the parking lot. Finlay Roberts was mindful of their proximity as he spoke leaving nothing to chance. To some, this would come off as Finlay Roberts being distracted but his wife knew her husband was just being alert. Fae Roberts had been very intent on eating her popcorn- her sense of urgency had been high.

I just wonder if two actors who are a couple can have any genuine moments, remarked Fae Roberts. Finlay Roberts smirked as they walked and tried to get his hand into the popcorn tub but met resistance. I mean, I can see them in like a huge argument- and then the dude starts to cry. But how does she know he’s not acting?

Oh, so you think they’re faking it? said Finlay Roberts. Exactly, mused Fae Roberts. Yeah I bet it’s-, began Fae Roberts. You wanna make a bet that-, said Finlay Roberts at the same time.

Wait, what were you gonna say? asked Fae Roberts. I was just gonna say- no say what you were gonna say? asked Finlay Roberts anxiously. They arrived at the car. RIP popcorn. Fae Roberts smiled and looked up into her husband’s eyes. Okay, on the count of three we both say what we think is the determinant of a real cry between actors, said Fae Roberts.

Okay. 1, 2, 3, counted Fae Roberts. The married couple simultaneously stated their answers. Farting! exclaimed Finlay Roberts. The snot! exclaimed Fae Roberts. They both laughed in disbelief. Some pedestrians noticed them as they walked to their destinations. Finlay Roberts clapped his hands, overcome with this exchange. As Fae Roberts just looked up at the heavens as if to ask, Why?

Oh man we were in completely-, laughed Finlay Roberts. It’s like really, Fin? retorted Fae Roberts. Farting means the cry is real? It just came to me, joked Finlay Roberts.

Why would that even come to you? asked Fae Roberts. Finlay Roberts calmed down abruptly and became serious and quiet. Fae Roberts noticed and instantly calmed as well, fearing something was amiss? Finlay Roberts began reaching into his pocket nervously.

Why does anything come to me? Like take this for instance, mused Finlay Roberts. He pulled a key from his pocket and showed Fae Roberts. At first, she hadn’t registered the key because of the abruptness of Finlay Roberts’ change. Now, she saw the gold key which could only mean that Finlay Roberts really had been listening to her the whole time.

She had instantly put her hands on her head and then over her heart in ecstasy. She was stunned and speechless at first. She briefly got dizzy from sheer happiness. She regained her balance as Finlay Roberts embraced her. Finally, after a beat she began to come out of the trance. She eyed the key and then Finlay Roberts- then the key and then Finlay Roberts again.

Is that a frackin key? To a house? she asked. Or are you just torturing me? Finlay Roberts smiled at his wife and dangled the key playfully. The sight of her shock and the energy she gave off told him that he had done this the right way. As a smaller piece of victory, he was also pleased to bring her satisfaction. For he had noticed her tolerating her dessert earlier at dinner. Big picture wise, he felt a weight had lifted from both of their shoulders.

Finlay Roberts’ mom, Charlotte had owned a home and done well with her finances. All her teachings seemed to miss Finlay Roberts, though. He had struggled for years to dig himself out of financial purgatory. Until he finally had internalized adulthood and increased his credit score. The pains it took to achieve this milestone involved sacrifices. The sacrifices an adult makes, forgoing trivial purchases and paying down debts. Fae Roberts spurred these concepts along and had given him more motivation. She had been so focused and directed. This house also was a symbol of making it out of the hood as so many Black People failed to do. So many of his friends were less directed and less fortunate- but here Finlay Roberts was with a key.

Fae Roberts had always been a free spirit and never conformed to standards. She hated standards and she had been given much latitude by her parents, Fara and Stewart. They had taught her to stand up for the oppressed, but Fae Roberts had always sensed an underlying sense of hypocrisy. Very liberal on the surface, however very closed minded on a case-by-case scenario. This had always created a slight divide between her parents and her.

The catalyst had been Fae Roberts trying to figure out whatever true pride they had felt for her and her career choices. The determination and drive that had culminated in a law degree, mitigated other differences of opinion with her parents. The differences had been cushioned and swept under the proverbial rug. Finlay Roberts was the first Black guy that Fae Roberts had brought home. She had wondered often if this was one of the decisions needing cushion. For they had always said the right things on the surface and this lack of resistance unsettled Fae Roberts.

Back at the theater parking lot, the key had marked a beginning, for sure. As Finlay Roberts had held the key to their future in his hands, Fae Roberts had felt vindicated. She had chosen a man who had gotten things done. And she had accomplished this, in spite of her parent’s non-verbal rejection of her husband. Fae Roberts hugged her husband and kissed him. She took the key and had admired it. While Finlay Roberts had happily eyed his wife as she held the key seemingly with a glow.

Was just going to surprise you and was nervous how you would react, said Finlay Roberts. Oh Fin! replied Fae Roberts. You looked totally miserable when I brought it up earlier- you played me! You know sometimes I have to have my master of deception hat on. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed the commotion. He had been happy that no one had noticed- but at the same time wished everyone would have. Oh my god, Fin! exclaimed Fae Roberts. Okay I think I love you now. Now? Now you love me? joked Finlay Roberts. We’ve only been together for- wait how long have we been-, Fae Roberts hugged her husband again and kissed him.

•••••

The local jail is relatively small and looks more like a library from the outside. The entrance is easily accessible. However, once inside, large shield doors inhabit the front desk protecting the admin from harm. There are many kiosks in the lobby, which allow people to perform many functions. A door in the front leads to a corridor that is monotone, leading to a holding room where Finlay Roberts sits. He wears the same clothes from the interrogation and sits alone in a cell meant to be a transition before arraignment. Finlay Roberts looks despondent and despite the many noises in this area of the jail, he seems to be focused on the floor. His mother, Charlotte is outside of the cell and smooths down her pants as an exercise of nervousness. Charlotte wears a blue pantsuit and black low-heels with a black overcoat. She felt it was important to dress the part of a woman who wasn’t beaten- even though she feels very beaten today. Charlotte is emotional but tries her best to keep it together. This, in light of the loss of her daughter-in-law and her son’s incarceration.

Charlotte raised Finlay Roberts on her own and poured her heart and soul into him. She taught him to be independent and a free thinker- but to also stay grounded in the facts. Statistically speaking, Charlotte is intensely devastated that her Black son is in jail. She wonders where she had gone wrong and why the jail is so loud. Also, she wonders if, just if, her son had really killed Fae Roberts. She is also angry that she had worked so hard to be financially solvent- only to have it undone now. Only to have to rely on a second mortgage to bail her son out.

As Charlotte regards her son in the jail cell in front of her, he continues to look absent. As if Finlay Roberts doesn’t seem to notice her while they both cry silently. Finlay Roberts is itchy and clearly irritated by his clothes. Charlotte Roberts takes a few steps towards the cell bars to get a closer look at her son. She catches the smell of vomit and instantly feels sick.

Baby we’re going to get you a lawyer. Now, this is some bullshit, Charlotte says. Oh Fae, oh damn baby. Finlay Roberts seems to register his mom’s presence, finally. He tries to speak but can’t find the words as he clinches his fists and moans. He hits himself in the head struggling with the weight of his wife’s death. Charlotte gestures as if she wants to hug her son, unable to quench his pain. Finlay Roberts seems to be trying to speak yet still is mute. He contorts his face and cries and has a runny nose but still cannot verbalize.

Charlotte now sits in a chair that is outside the cell in the hall. The chair seems to be positioned for a guard and not a visitor. But Charlotte is mentally not in a place for asking for permission. She looks at her hands and continues to think of her daughter-in-law. She tries to recount the last time she saw her. Charlotte’s rush of tears become heavier as her pants suit looks disheveled.

Would any of her clients maybe-? asks Charlotte weakly. When Finlay speaks, Charlotte is startled to hear his voice because it is several octaves lower due to grief and anguish. She is also startled because it’s the first words he has said in the 27 minutes she’s been there.

She is in contract law, mom, says Finlay Roberts painfully. Couldn’t be more tame. Oh, dear God why would you- I need you to go. Finlay Roberts looks upward to slow the newly formed tears storming down his face. He seems to retreat inside of his tormented cell of his mind- growing despondent again. Charlotte leans in from her chair seemingly trying to cosmically reason with Finlay Roberts with a gesture. This, as opposed to verbally begging him to talk more.

She stands as if finally waving the white flag to surrender. As she gathers herself to leave, she looks back at her son. Now she remembers the last time they were all together and happy- to juxtapose it against this moment. She summons the courage to add resolve to the tone of her voice.

I’m going to get you out of here, son, says Charlotte firmly. We’ll get the bond and-Oh Fae, oh God. Finlay Roberts continues to cry and moan as he holds his head. Charlotte slowly turns towards the exit.

Outside the jail, Charlotte is dazed and in thought as she recalls Fae’s smile and laugh. Charlotte also remembers her own mother telling her not to trust White people- EVER. Perhaps Charlotte’s mom had suffered during her days and had valid reasons for the distrust. Nevertheless, the words stuck with her.

Charlotte had met many White people that she had high regard for – before Fae. White people she would call friend as well as Latinas and Asians. Her mother had been closed to those doors, but Charlotte felt that the world could be a lonely place for some ethnicities. She felt we all needed each other but especially Latinos and Blacks. She knew her mother was oversimplifying a complex issue of race. But she also had felt discriminated against. She had taught Finlay Roberts to be aware of discrimination, without it consuming his entire being. But once Charlotte had met Fae Roberts, she had been the first White person to totally disarm her. Fae Roberts had a genuine quality to her. She had a light and an energy that said, we’re all different- but that’s Okay. Now she was gone. Why? Why Fin?

Charlotte began pacing as more tears streamed down her face. She tries to regroup and recalibrate and pull herself together in order to make calls for a lawyer. As she rummages through her purse, looking for her mobile phone, she discovers the mobile phone in her hand. Suddenly she feels lightheaded and begins to get wobbly. As she begins to faint, a man passing by catches her.

Whoa, whoa, are you Okay, miss? asks the helpful man. Oh, my goodness, thank you so much, says Charlotte apologetically. Miss, are you Okay? asks the helpful man again. Charlotte pauses for a beat. Not even remotely, replies Charlotte. The man steadies Charlotte as she gathers herself and makes her way to the parking lot.

Chapter Two

Next Phase of the Panic Dance

In another place and time, the little house stood tall and on its own. However, the little house isn’t owned but rented by two responsible parents with a daughter named Jeda. Yet still the house held its head up high like its occupants. The house is traditional in its stance and strong in character with its pastel colors. The paint job looks worn but aside from aesthetics- there are good souls within. The doors look brand new, as had been requested by Jeda’s mom, Fae Clark. Before moving in, Fae Clark would not compromise. She had insisted on getting new doors to provide efficient circulation, insulation and security. The end result? Strong house, moderately worn appearance with new front and back doors.

Fae Clark is married to Finlay Clark and when they met, she had a short pixie cut with jet black hair. That was 9 years ago and Fae Clark today, has a short pixie cut with jet black hair. Fae Clark looks identical to another Fae in the universe, except for the hair difference and occupation. Fae Clark is a bar tender and aspiring artist. Her dad had left when she was young and her mother is very distant. However, Fae Clark is grounded and has held her head high even through down times. This resolve kept her focused on the art while she worked at the bar as a side piece.

Finlay Clark worked at a bank when he met Fae. His job title was Customer Service Leader as he had worked his way up the ladder and now had 3 direct reports. Eleven years ago, when one of those direct reports, brought Fae Clark back to his area of the bank, it was a Friday. The mood was light in the bank until trouble by the name of Fae Wagner was brought in. Fae Wagner was her maiden name and she was coming in hot!

I just need someone with some fucking balls to tell me to go fuck myself, Okay? said Fae Wagner aggressively. Fae Wagner spoke in a raised voice so all could hear. One of Finlay Clark’s co-workers lead her into his office. As Fae Wagner had entered, she noticed Finlay Clark’s clean-shaven head and features and was instantly attracted. Fae Wagner had dated all ranges and types but never anyone like Finlay Clark. As he sat calmly, Fae Wagner still was on edge, now feeling inadequate and in over her head. Finlay Clark remembered this cute brunette walking into his office with a whirl of gusto and attitude. The direct report had quickly turned and exited with no regard for introducing Fae Wagner to Finlay Clark. Finlay Clark intuitively felt that a proper introduction would only have enraged this woman. As a result, he had abandoned protocols to match the energy.

Are you the one? asked Fae Wagner frustratedly. Who’s going to tell me? I need someone who’s got the balls to tell me to go fuck myself. Miss, I’m not going to tell you-, started Finlay Clark. Ok, so just tell me I’m wrong then, interrupted Fae Wagner. I need someone to have the balls to tell me that I’m wrong. Do you have the balls –?

You’re wrong, interjected Finlay Clark abruptly. As he said this, Fae Wagner had been taken by surprise and was briefly speechless. Finlay Clark smiled and gestured for Fae Wagner to sit down in a chair in front of his desk. The room in which Finlay Clark’s desk was housed, had a few bank patrons waiting for various vault services. These few patrons now perked up and listened in on the conversation-fully engaged.

Wrong about you having balls or-? said Fae Wagner. No, you asked me to tell you. Look Miss-, said Finlay Clark. Wagner. But call me Fae. Let’s start at the-, said Finlay Clark. I think your bank is full of shit, said Fae Wagner. I think you nickel and dime people and I’m sick of it. Tell me I’m wrong. Finlay Clark looked up at the ceiling and considered her words. As he looked at the woman, he was suddenly lost in her eyes.

So, I also think your bank is making a killing- just flourishing, continued Fae Clark. And it’s because of all of us dumb schmucks. Tell me I’m wrong. Finlay Clark had twiddled his fingers a bit while measuring his response. He had known she was right, but this job had been his livelihood.

Miss, um- sorry- Fae? asked Finlay Clark. Help me understand- your specific grievance. I received this notice saying that you used my overdraft savings account to cover my checking account- which I went over $71. 19, said Fae Wagner. You know, a small oversight. Okay? said Finlay Clark. However, you also charged me a fee of $15 for using the overdraft function? said Fae Wagner incredulously.

Ah. Yes, so that-, said Finlay Clark. Is bullshit, interrupted Fae Wagner. Tell me I’m wrong. Finlay Clark decided to sit this one out as she had awaited a reply. As she had spoken, she had begun shaking the notice in her hand. So, I had the presence of mind to set up the overdraft account and you ding me anyway?

Well, I can fix that, said Finlay Clark quietly and calmly. Let’s just take care of these. Fae Wagner slammed her hand on the desk and surprisingly Finlay Clark was not surprised. No. Uh uh. It’s the principle, said Fae Clark firmly. You waive this fee today, but can you waive it every time? For everyone? Cause it’s the principle. Nobody should have to be dinged-when they had the foresight to open the account in the first place.

Finlay Clark had thrown his hands up like he was at a loss and could offer no retort. So, we’re back to square one I assume, said Fae Wagner excitedly. Okay, Mr. -um Finlay? DO YOU HAVE THE BALLS to tell me to go fuck myself? Or can you make sense of this and give it to me straight? I mean I have to be wrong about you guys right? Finlay Clark looked sheepishly away from Fae Wagner.

This first encounter between the Clarks was always a prominent anecdote at friends and family gatherings. Fae Clark was usually the most aggressive orator of the Fae and Fin beginning saga. As the story ended with the two running into each other at the bank a few times after. Finlay Clark then happening upon Fae Wagner’s bar one night. Then a coffee, then a movie and then Jeda.

Jeda has cocoa complexion and brown hair- 6 years of age and is coming out of an awkward shy phase. However, she is now entering into an uneven intelligence phase. Uneven because she is, at present, reading scientific journals and periodicals about brain matter and relative theory. Before her age of 6, she seemed to be on a normal trajectory for her toddler years, but her conversations have grown to the point where she told her father on a Wednesday. You know, we can sit in silence Daddy. You don’t have to fill the void. But if you must speak, I acquiesce.

Finlay Clark was in shock at the self -awareness she displayed. But also in the words since he had no earthly clue as to what she was talking about. The embarrassment Finlay felt was palpable. He had to secretly search the internet for the definition of words Jeda uttered- on an hourly basis.

Jeda’s parents never discuss this elephant- not yet anyway. But it is becoming increasingly difficult to whisper without Jeda hearing the discussion. At night, Fae Clark has stared up at her ceiling trying not to panic. She wondered about the catalyst of her daughter’s newfound, expert rocket scientist dialect. Was she bit by a radioactive spider? Or maybe, this just came to be. Like most things, this new Jeda came upon them in an instant. There was no gradual. One-minute Jeda was playing with a Barbie doll- an hour later she was looking online for a 3D printer and memorizing the periodic table.

Jeda had come before their vows. From a societal standpoint, Fae Clark had never cow towed to pressure and perception. Somehow, she was the last person on Earth who truly had no problem being disliked. She was fully prepared to state her case if she believed it- and state that case with passion and resolve. Finlay Clark’s mom and dad live across the state but had taught him to be passionate about his values and belief system. Like most people, Finlay and Fae Clark had experienced the roller coaster of the financial hardship realm, relationship realm and career realm.

As Jeda progressed more towards genius, the Clarks tried to instill a sense of love for herself. They didn’t feel the need to go heavy on the racism discussion. Jeda knew people were all different and the parents kept things simple. That would now be near impossible, considering this new version of Jeda that was eerily brilliant.

On this day, the little house is quieter than normal. Finlay Clark peeks in to Jeda’s room and his daughter holds a doll. Finlay Clark rubs his shaven head, strokes his beard and goattie as he considers the doll. Based on the intellect Jeda has displayed of late- the doll didn’t track. Finlay Clark joins his wife on the couch as Fae Clark drinks tea and flips through a magazine. Finlay Clark picks up his Xbox controller.

In the adjacent room, Jeda’s doll is wrapped in peculiar clothes with unique patterns. The look is familiar as Jeda’s clothes share the same particular pattern. As Jeda speaks to her parents from the other room, she projects her voice.

Daddy, I prefer to deliberate with you in here, says Jeda. Weird to talk myself. Fae Clark looks worriedly at Finlay Clark as he shakes his head. She leans towards him.

What kind of a kid is weirded out by talking to herself? whispers Fae Clark. What kind of a kid uses the word deliberate? asks Finlay Clark jokingly. Fae Clark smiles as her husband’s humor penetrates through a dark thought she was having. The thought revolves around a past encounter where a woman had seemingly given her and Jeda dirty looks. The look could’ve meant anything or maybe it wasn’t a look at all.

Maybe Fae Clark was being hypersensitive. However, it had felt like the stranger disapproved of Jeda’s skin color and Fae Clark’s choices. Fae Clark knew that she had been inferring quite a bit, but she couldn’t dismiss the premise out of hand. In the grand scheme of things, women such as these, meant little to nothing. Yet here Fae Clark was- thinking about this small encounter.

Next, the small encounter morphed into another thought. She would hate for those types of people to have their stupidity validated. The validation upheld by her daughter being deemed weird or off-brand. Even if weird isn’t