Annie XII: Talking

(Chronological index: Ray as College Senior)

Annie crept along the bare belly. She held her ear to the skin and listened. The normal human noises were all present, perhaps a bit exaggerated, perhaps that was her imagination.

There wasn't anything truly different that she could tell. She moved a bit, careful to use her fists and knees, and to place them firmly. Tickling was not going to bring a pleasant response.

There was nothing new here, either. She reached one hand out to shift to yet another spot. That's when something beneath her shoved upwards. A belly quake like nothing she'd ever known roiled the surface under her.

She retreated, but the bulge seemed to follow her. It knew her, it knew where she was. She screamed and leaped away. "There's something alive in there!"

"Of course there is," Susan said, lifting the sylph up to her face. "That was the baby kicking."

"Wotta monster!" Annie said, staring down at the still-rippling flesh.

"I think he likes you."

"I think he wants to eat me." She shuddered and held out her arms.

Susan hugged her friend to her cheek. Then, just as the sylph's heart rate was normalizing, she poked her tongue between her teeth and made her cheek bulge. Annie screamed again and threw herself back.

Across the table, Thomas and Ray laughed. Susan handed the little victim to her husband. He pet the tiny back until she stopped shivering.

"So, you have any names picked out?" Ray asked.

"Well, I like efficient names," Thomas said, "but some people are resistant."

"Efficient?"

"I want to name the kid 'Knockitoff.' I figure it'll save time." He waved over at his wife as she waddled to the fridge. "Some people want more traditional names."

"Yeah, names that are actually names," she muttered.

"As a friend of a sylph named 'Poultry,'" Annie said, "let me be the first to throw my support to Susan's side."

"Hey," Thomas asked, "why didn't you ever change Annie's name to something more appropriate for a pet?"

"Tasmanian devil wouldn't fit on the tag," Ray said. Annie stuck her tongue out at him. "And by the time the Registry was opened, 'Little Bitch' was taken."

"You wouldn't have dared," she laughed. "Mom would have tied your tongue to your left ear."

"Oh, I couldn't have used it. But we'd all have known what your official name was."

"I'd have killed you in your sleep."

"Yeah," Susan said, sitting back down. Carefully. "Yeah, you'd be in even more need of therapy than you currently are."

"I don't need therapy," Annie said. "I just cut bits of hair off his sleeping head in obscene patterns so tiny only I know they're there. But they are there, and I do know it."

"That doesn't exactly rebut my point," Susan said. Thomas lowered the little minx to the table. She walked over to what was called, in this house, the Efficient Susan and sat down on it. Pumping her legs took her in slow circles between the familiar faces.

"Speaking of therapy," Thomas mused.

"What?" Ray asked.

"Well, down at the radio station, we have this weekly guest-psychiatrist. He spends an hour on call in guests, but sometimes we find studio guests for him to talk to."

"Would an hour be enough for Annie?" Ray asked.

"Hey! I thought we just established, I'm not in any need of therapy!" The humans ignored her.

"I don't know if any cures might come out of it, but it might be entertaining."

"Entertaining for who? I'm not a performing pet. They get better treats."

"Annie?" Susan asked. "Would you like to have a radio microphone for an hour, and no script?"

"Oh, now you've done it," Ray muttered.

-------

Theresa: Okay, boys and girls, it's Thursday, it's three and it's Doctor Thorton! Thorton's Three-clinic hours have begun. Welcome back to the station, Doc!

Thorton: Thanks, Theresa. Which line is my patient on?

Theresa: Oh, no phone in today, sir. We have a studio guest.

Thorton: Really? They're usually already in the chair by the time I - Oh. Hello.

Annie: Hello.

Theresa: Doctor Thorton, this is Annie. As you can see, she's a sylph.

Thorton: Yes, well, you see, I'm trained in human psychiatry and-

Theresa: Are you saying she's not human, Doc?

Thorton: The government says she's not human.

Annie: Is this coming out of my hour of therapy? Shouldn't you guys have hashed this out before ambushing him with my presence?

Thorton: I agree! Well, if you're going to be a reasonable little person, maybe I can at least talk to you.

Theresa: Thanks, Doc! We'd like-

Annie: I think we've had enough out of you.

Thorton: You're a bit more…assertive than I would expect for a sylph.

Annie: You know any sylphs?

Thorton: No.

Annie: Then it's not really surprising that you're wrong, is it?

Thorton: I'll have you know, I've read-

Annie: Second and third-hand accounts. Of sylphs that aren't me.

Thorton: Good point. This is supposed to be about you. Not my apparent failures as a predictor of sylph behavior.

Annie: Exactly.

Thorton: So. Annie. Tell us about yourself.

Annie: Um…Well, I'm 26. Five and three quarter inches tall. Brunette. I like reading, long walks on the windowsill at sunset, tunneling through chocolate cakes and watching scifi.

Thorton: And when did you sylph?

Annie: On The Day.

Thorton: How many owners have you had since then?

Annie: Just the one. He found me…shortly after I shrank. And a month later introduced me to his parents. I've been with them ever since.

Thorton: Have you had any contact with your family?

Annie: I said, I've been with them ever since. Is my microphone working?

Thorton: No, no, I heard you.

Annie: Then the deafness is internal.

Thorton: (sighs) What I meant, Annie, was your birth family. Blood relatives.

Annie: Humans have blood relatives that are humans. You pointed out, I'm not human.

Thorton: No. But you are being quite defensive. Has your owner allowed any contact with your pre-sylph family?

Annie: Yeah. Once. His parents made him take me back to my house.

Thorton: But you're still his?

Annie: My… Some people believe that my shrinking, that all shrinking, is an event whereby God reveals…something about the shrunken.

Thorton: And you believe this?

Annie: Doc, you could probably figure, it seldom matters what sylphs believe.

Thorton: So…you're saying your parents believe this?

Annie: I don't know. My father said get out. And that they didn't deserve to be cursed.

Thorton: Did that bother you?

Annie: Do people pay you for questions like that? What do you think?

Thorton: Again, this isn't about me, Annie.

Annie: (long silence) Yeah. It f(bleep)-e up for a while.

Thorton: And when you say f(bleep)-ou up…?

Annie: I mean f(bleep)-d up! You never had a patient go schitzo on your?

Thorton: You became schizophrenic? Was it diagnosed?

Annie: No, I just cried a lot and kept threatening to kill myself. My revered master was very understanding.

Thorton: How's that?

Annie: He went two whole weeks without making me do anything. No commands, no being pawed. He just kept me surrounded by brownies and waited for me to stop sobbing.

Thorton: Did you ever try to get in contact with them? A phone call or write a letter?

Annie: Would you accept a person-to-person call from Satan?

Thorton: I might.

Annie: Well, yeah, it might be a hoot. Unless, of course, you were worried about the state of your soul.

Thorton: There is that. So, you didn't want to stress them?

Annie: I said that. Not wanting to hurt them. Now I realize, I didn't want to give them a chance to hurt me again.

Thorton: You realize? Have you had actual therapy?

Annie: No, watched a lot of Phil Donahue.

Thorton: (laughs) Puts me in my place I guess.

Annie: Sorry.

Thorton: No, no. Now, you've replaced your birth family with your owner and his family?

Annie: I wouldn't put it that way. I have an owner. He has a family. They've accepted me.

Thorton: And you call his father, Dad?

Annie: Everyone in the family under four feet tall calls him Dad.

Thorton: Uh huh. You don't think of your owner as your new parent?

Annie: What? Oh, that'd be creepy.

Thorton: Why creepy?

Annie: Doc, I was a cheerleader in high school. I got picked up by a kid just starting to go through puberty. Oh, and I was naked. Not something that builds a healthy fake father-daughter relationship.

Thorton: I can see that. But a lot of pets seem to think that their owner is the mother or father.

Annie: Pets think their owner is the leader of a pack. And as long as the owner keeps returning from the hunt with food, they'll believe that.

Thorton: And you?

Annie: Oh, I'm at least as smart as my owner. I understand my position in his pack. And his position, too. No illusions.

Thorton: So would you say that you don't have a father figure active in your life?

Annie: There's Phil Donahue…

Thorton: (laughs)

Annie: (laughs)

Thorton: Seriously. You know, I don't often treat sylphs-

Annie: Often? You said you never met one.

Thorton: Okay. Ever. I've never treated a sylph. But in all the patients I've ever had, I find it important that they have a father figure, at least until they mature.

Annie: What for?

Thorton: What?

Annie: What, specifically, am I supposed to gain from a father figure? Discipline? My master has more power to discipline me than my father ever did.

Thorton: How's that?

Annie: When Poppa grounded me, he still had to let me go to school. I could get smokes there. I had a boyfriend even though he forbid it. I wore makeup even when it was forbidden.

Thorton: And now?

Annie: When my revered master has had enough of my s(blip), he throws me in the cage.

Thorton: He actually uses a cage?

Annie: Technically.

Thorton: What does that mean?

Annie: The door doesn't really lock me in, not any more. Not for several years.

Thorton: So why does he use it?

Annie: Control. Punishment. If he says, 'go to your cage' I do. And I stay in there for at least an hour.

Thorton: Is that a rule?

Annie: It's his temper. After an hour he's human again. Anyway, if he picks me up and puts me in my cage, I stay in there until he actually picks me up to take me out.

Thorton: Temper again?

Annie: Yeah. As long as he thinks he's punishing me, what with being restricted to the cage, then it's venting off some of his steam.

Thorton: So, your father used to ground you and your owner cages you.

Annie: That sounds like kind of a superficial sort of positive comparison, Doctor, but you would know. You've been a psychiatrist for years and you've known me for all of twenty minutes.

Thorton: Phil?

Annie: Oprah.

Thorton: So what do you think you 'get' from your owner?

Annie: All the basics. Food, clothing, shelter, chocolate, cuddles-

Thorton: Wouldn't chocolate be covered under food?

Annie: Food keeps you alive. Chocolate is one of those things that make life worthwhile.

Thorton: I see. Cuddles?

Annie: Same column as the chocolate.

Thorton: Wouldn't you prefer…cuddles…with someone your own size?

Annie: Sizist.

Thorton: What?

Annie: If a patient of yours was black, with a white boyfriend, would you ask if they'd prefer cuddles from someone their own color?

Thorton: Well, no, but the mechanics of intimacy-

Annie: Are not as important as the emotions involved, wouldn't you say?

Thorton: Mmmmmaybe.

Annie: So, if my owner wuvs me, or at least makes me feel as if he wuvs me, and hugs me close against his cheek, and I feel warm and gooey inside, then it's all good, no?

Thorton: Does he love you?

Annie: He puts up with my s(bleep).

Thorton: Fair enough. But what about sex? Do you miss it?

Annie: Who says I'm not having sex?

Thorton: Your…owner and you…

Annie: No. I have had…assignations with 'others of my order' as Swift put it.

Thorton: What does your owner think about that?

Annie: Well, if he was against it, he'd make damned sure the cage door locked, I guess. (laughs)

Thorton: (laughs a bit less enthusiastically) Okay. Okay. Does your owner have sex?

Annie: Yep. Ooops! Unless Mom and Dad are listening. Then he's being a good boy while he's away at college.

Thorton: How do you feel about that?

Annie: Is this suppose to be couples counseling?

Thorton: No.

Annie: He has a life. I'm part of it. He is also a healthy male in his early twenties. What he can't get from me, he'll probably try to get from…someone else.

Thorton: Interesting. What does he get from you?

Annie: Grief. But only deserved grief when he legitimately screws up.

Thorton: Is that how he sees it?

Annie: Back to the couples thing?

Thorton: No. No, not at all. What is your impression of what you provide to your owner, what do you think is what he thinks he gets from your relationship?

Annie: Babes. I'm a certified babe magnet.

Thorton: Really?

Annie: Oh, there's nothing like giving orders to your sylph to make the girls come over. Ray has a dolly and every doll-face wants to play with her. Except for the ones that want to yell at him for enslaving a fellow sapient being.

Thorton: Get a lot of those?

Annie: No, usually I wear a mouse-fur coat, and the SFA can't get past PETA.

Thorton: Uh-huh. But he can get that from any sylph, right?

Annie: Well, technically. I suppose.

Thorton: So. What does Ray get from Annie? What do you provide him that comes from Annie, not from just being a sylph?

Annie: (long silence) At first he had an action figure that responded to voice commands. And a rare look into the mysteries female. Then someone that had actually been to a dance. And knew how.

Thorton: You taught him how to dance?

Annie: Yeah. To Love Will Keep us Together. And Bohemian Rhapsody. Dust on the Wind. A few others.

Thorton: How did you manage to teach him?

Annie: From way, way back, let me tell you.

Thorton: (laughs, then in a lower tone) And what do you do for him now?

Annie: I'm a canary. But instead of telling the miners that there's toxic gas? I tell him when his girlfriend is toxic.

Thorton: Do you reject all of his girlfriends?

Annie: I don't reject anyone. I tell him what I think.

Thorton: He encourages you to be frank with him?

Annie: Of course.

Thorton: And when you tell him about his women…?

Annie: He's come to trust my judgement.

Thorton: Interesting. So, has he tried to call your parents?

Annie: What?

Thorton: It sounds like he cares for you. Has he tried to heal your relationship with your father, your mother? For your peace of mind, if nothing else.

Annie: I don't have a relationship with my parents, Doc.

Thorton: Don't you think you should?

Annie: I died. In the eyes of the government, in the eyes of my old church, and most importantly in the eyes of my parents. No one is expected to have a healthy relationship with the dead.

Thorton: It seems to me, Annie-

Annie: Based on 40 minutes of interview.

Thorton: Shut up. It seems readily apparent to me, Annie, that there is a hole in your heart.

Annie: Vena cava, aorta, pulmonary-

Thorton: You're overcompensating for a number of things. You're abrasive and cynical. You keep people at a distance. I'm guessing at least part of it is from how the universe screwed you over on The Day. And part is how your parents screwed you over some time after that.

Annie: I'm no more abrasive, Doc, than I was when I was an Honor Student. And while the universe did (bleep) me over, I'm far luckier than many people my size. I'm not climbing through crawlspaces to kill vermin with a sharp stick. I don't spend the nights at a restaurant, hoping someone orders a Passion Cake. I'm okay. I'm happy. And my parents screwed themselves over, not me. They cut themselves off from knowing the wonderful woman I turned into.

Thorton: I think you're in denial.

Annie: I think it's your job to say that. Lord knows, a shrink can't tell a patient that they're coping well and they don't need attention.

Thorton: Further denial.

Annie: As I said.

Thorton: Listen, you little-

Theresa: And that's all the time we have today. Be with us next week when Doctor Thorton's Three-Clinic examines a disc-jockey's need to be the center of attention. Were we class clowns out of need? Or was it just practice? Thank you, Doctor Thorton, and thank you, Sylph Annie. We, uh, have a few minutes left before Dangerous Dan's show starts, so here's a song for Annie and her owner: Bohemian Rhapsody.

-----

Annie fumed and paced along the dashboard. Ray let her stew for a bit. "Can you believe that guy?"

"Who?

"Doctor Thor! Saying I'm overcompensating?! What the hell do I have to compensate for?" Ray tapped the brakes. Annie stumbled and rolled across the dashboard, fetching up against the window right beside a defrost vent. She glared up at her master.

"Funny, fuckwit, very funny."

"Oh. I believe that word is on the proscribed list, little pet."

"BITE ME!"

Ray's brow furrowed. He pulled over and parked by the curb. He held out his hand. She sulked for a second, then stomped over and climbed aboard.

"What's wrong, Annie? If you thought he was an idiot, you'd shrug and forget him." He held her close and stroked her back. She sat stiffly for a moment. He moved his hand and pressed her against his beating heart.

The steady throbbing was her safe place. Between body heat and the pulse, she knew she could relax. But when her muscles softened, so did her defenses. She felt tears running down her cheeks.

He watched his little friend turn and grind her face into his shirt. She started sobbing. He stopped stroking just long enough to turn off the engine. Then he sat and waited, patiently hugging and stroking.

"They… They never called!" she sobbed.

"Your parents? No. No, they never did. Maybe they didn't know where to find you."

"Mia's parents found me!" she cried.

"Who is Mia?" There was no answer so he let the question go, rather than pry. "Well, you are in the Registry. Maybe they're afraid to contact the government about you. Maybe… Aw, hell, Annie, I have no idea. Maybe they're waiting for you. Do you want to call them?"

The silence stretched. He looked out the window, letting her have her privacy. It was an odd gesture, as he held her in his cupped hands, but it seemed to work. He wasn't looking at her, she took a moment to try to straighten herself out.

"Could we?"

"If it's what you want, of course we could." He didn't miss the pronoun she used. If there was a problem for Annie, it was a problem for them both.

"I… I don't know. Let me think about it, okay?"

"Of course, Annie." He started the car and drove home. It was a little awkward, driving with his hand held in place against his chest. But he never considered moving it.

----

A week later, a registered letter was delivered to a small but well-kept house in Jacksonville. The recipient read four lines of the letter, cursed and crumpled it up.

The recipient's spouse returned home a few hours later to find them locked in the bedroom, crying.

When he finally understood the problem, he found the letter and tore it into small pieces. Then he talked his way into the bedroom where they commiserated for a long time.

Dinner was late that night, but the third resident of the house didn't mind. She had a long time alone to spend putting the letter back together. And a longer time to spend thinking about the contents.

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