When Hanna was little, she used to go down to her father's room on mornings that he was home and tell him that she was awake and going potty and going to have breakfast. Generally, if Mick was in bed those mornings, it was because he had worked overtime or was catching extra shifts for someone or some shit and being awakened like that was fucking torture. She did this without fail--and he suspected she did that even on mornings when he was not there--for a couple of years despite any and all attempts to dissuade her. Just about every day, someone was up already, but Mick got up, got her the fucking cereal or whatever, and went back to bed.
After a couple of years, when her schedule included full-time school and she was limited to ruining his day on the weekends, Mick was able to change her behavior by explaining the Prime Directive. After explaining the importance of not interfering with alien civilizations, her father told Hanna that unless it was an emergency, she should not wake up her father. Somebody else was up and could be with her, or she could read in bed, or go to the bathroom without informing anyone, or whatever. Thus, the Prime Directive for Hanna was not to wake up her father on the very rare days where he got to sleep. It helped that she was getting older and establishing her own personality. At 5 she was already beginning to disassociate herself from Mick, and she could turn on the TV herself. Mick suspected she enjoyed the time alone without anyone in that house fucking with her.
When Mick woke in that dark room to sounds a giant pregnant woman bumping around, he was not for a second confused into thinking that he was home 20 or 30 years ago and that Hanna was a small child. Mick pulled on some clothes. The room was dark, and he let the neon yellow light in to finish waking him up. His head didn't hurt anymore, so that was good. On his way out of the bedroom, he passed the ancient orange Super V. It was his. That one from 1999. Hanna was fucking crazy; not only had she kept it, but she'd brought it all the way here for him. The clothes were authentic too. She'd packed him a fucking bag. Jesus.
Hanna was sitting at the table, resplendent in her shiny space beetle maternity dress lit by bright sunlight from every direction, eating something from a wok-sized bowl. Was it curry? She'd polarized the room though, Mick noticed, because there were no harsh reflections anywhere in here.
-Hi, Daddy.
Mick leaned across and pulled a handful of whatever it was out of the bowl.
-Hey!
-Hi, Nana. How are you? What the fuck is this?
-Mine. I got something for you. I slaved over it myself. You don't even like that.
She pushed a covered dish over toward him across the table. Under it was a giant cheeseburger, or whatever, on a hard roll. It would have salsa, and lettuce, tomato, pickles, onions and green pepper slices. No shit.
-No, shit. Thanks.
-That's me. Domestic fucking goddess. The first thing I had to do was genetically engineer the cow! You're welcome.
-How are you? OK?
-Yeah, I'm fine. She absentmindedly rubbed the disc on her the inside of left wrist. Wanted to see how you were doing.
-Dillon OK?
-He threw me out. I've come here to live with you so that you won't be alone. Aren't you proud?
-Fuck yeah. Dream come true. My unmarried pregnant daughter coming to live with me. My daughter the surgeon with the MD/PhD from Harvard. Yeah, that's happening.
-Not that that gets us shit here, now. But I'm cool. Tom is okay, I guess. He's having a hard time, not that he admits it.
Mick nodded. He knew how hard all this was on Dillon. Harder than anyone knew. Probably harder than even Hanna understood. Anyway.
-Anyway, I saw you sleeping earlier.
-I know.
-Huh?
-Blanket.
-Yeah.
-This fucking sucks. I never know what time it is anywhere when you go across. Fucking annoying.
-Yeah!
-Yeah!
-Those assholes shoulda thought of that shit. You're probably tired all the time, right?
-No, not really. It's kinda weird cuz nobody has a schedule, but I'm very comfortable. It's been all good so far. I was actually talking to Olivia Park and Katie Berotti about their pregnancies.
-Oh, Jesus.
-Yeah, I thought you'd love that, but Mom never had an normal, ideal, pregnancy I guess. Not with me. Not Johnny. Or the Anderson kids, so I wanted to ask them. And Olivia is a physician, so...
-Those two better watch out. They'll wind up knocked up again. Berotti's here. There. Olivia's husband'll be there soon.
-Yeah. She glanced quickly at her wrist. You know, she continued, this really helps me with the sensitivities, but I don't have to be a mind reader to know that you shouldn't be here by yourself.
-I'm fine. And the last place I want to be is there. With those assholes. But if you want to come here--
-Oh, shit--
-Well, fuck you, then, but I'm serious. Bring Dillon. Crank out the twins here.
She laughed. I don't think it'll come to that, but it's not good for you to be here by yourself. You look like hell. I'll send Connie over to live with you.
-Yeah, that'd be fucking great. What do I have to do to get away from that time?
-Are you gonna eat that?
-Yeah. Hey! This is pretty fucking good!
Nobody who knew Mick and was paying attention would have needed to ask why Hannah was spelled like that. She had taken the explanation to heart when she was a toddler. Now she was having twins. How pregnant was she? Mick still wasn't sure. Would it be different with the thing.
-What is that? he asked between bites. Is that dress made out of the same--
-Yeah! It's surprisingly comfortable. It is nice and light but feels substantial. I like it. I like to put it on after coming out of the ocean water. It smells so nice. And it's soft. You wouldn't think so looking at it, but it is.
In the sunlight streaming into the room, the shiny dress was rainbow iridescent. It was an interesting effect.
-You look like a shiny space beetle in that thing, Mick said.
-Yeah, don't fuck with me.
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