June 28, 2002 |31|

"Again! Again!" James shouted as he held Serafina's hand.

"Okay, but this is the last one," Serafina said. "Ready, Mom?"

"Yeah, but seriously, the last one." Martha tightened her grip on Serafina's other hand as the three walked through Memorial Park in Old Pasadena. "Three... Two... One..."

"Wheeeee!" all three of them cried as Martha and James swung Serafina up in front of them and then back to the ground.

"Alright... Alright..." Serafina panted. "So fun... But if we do that again, my al pastor is going to be al over the sidewalk."

"Okay. I get it," James said. "Does that mean you're too full for ice cream?"

"Ha! Good one, Dad."

The day had been uncommonly gorgeous – its clear blue sky graced with dollops of puffy clouds. It was hot, but Martha, James, and Serafina had lived through hotter.

They'd started the morning at the Rose Bowl flea market where they found a pair of Mexican sundresses for Serafina and a used violin, trumpet, and concertina with which the three of them could share and jam. Afterward, they made a stop in North Pasadena at the best taco stand this side of the Baja Peninsula. Then, to let their lunch digest, they'd decided to make the long walk down to Old Pasadena for ice cream.

This particular ice cream shop had been a favorite of Martha and her father's in all of her childhoods and somewhere she'd always imagined taking Serafina. So here we are... Just as I planned... Martha was making an effort to appreciate moments of normalcy in her new reality. It appeared to be paying off as she had gone a full thirty-six hours since her last panic attack. Amazing. Throw me a parade.

As they traveled through the park, Morton Bay Fig and Japanese Maple trees provided intermittent shade. The walkway wound around the lawn seating of the Levitt Pavilion – a restored WPA era gold bandshell stage. There was no performance scheduled so the stage was empty but for a pair of toddlers racing across its length while the lawn was scattered with people lunching or relaxing on blankets.

The park came to an end and Serafina, Martha, and James crossed the street to a commercial block where they passed a travel agency with posters of the Eiffel Tower and a tropical sunset on its window, then a record store full of mostly CDs, and then a deli with a water bowl beside its door for passing dogs.

"Hold on," Serafina said, studying the water bowl curiously. Then they heard laughter. Serafina followed the noise up to an alleyway just beyond the deli. "Oh, you son of a bitch," they said then flinched to their parents. "Sorry."

"No worries. Something wrong?" James asked cautiously as he and Martha caught up to them. Then they saw what had caught Serafina's attention – three boys halfway up the alleyway had taken the dog food bowl from the deli's doorstep and with it, were harassing someone on the ground.

"Eat it!"

"Num, num, num!"

"Gross! He probably would eat it!" the boys taunted, laughing and throwing dog food at a homeless man cowering against the building.

Serafina turned to their parents. "Wait here."

"What?" Martha asked.

"I can handle this... easily," Serafina said, raising their eyebrows.

Then Martha remembered her daughter's age. I've mastered eight and a half fighting styles and she's had ten more lives than me...

Serafina shrugged and began walking backwards, away from their parents. "And worse comes to worst, they're not gonna prosecute a sweet little girl like me." They turned back to the scene. "That's amazing!" they shouted, their voice as pitched and clear as crystal. The three boys glanced at Serafina, then returned to their sadistic task. The one holding the bowl was the largest and most enthusiastic. He wore a red shirt and had spiked blonde hair. The other two, one wearing a USC baseball hat and the other a Simpsons t-shirt, hung back, laughing and cheering on the assault. They all appeared two or three years older than Serafina.

"Maybe I'm just young," Serafina continued cheerfully. "But I've never seen a group of losers as pathetic as you three!"

The boys stopped cold.

Standing at the edge of the alley, James whispered to Martha, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

She thought back to her eighteenth life, subduing Richard Ramirez as a seven year old. "As of five days ago, I'm sure of nothing," she whispered back. "But I think we should take Sera's word for it." Martha had the sudden urge to step back and hide around the corner and she took James with her.

"What are you-" he began.

"Shh! This only works if they think she's alone."

"What? How do you-"

"Shh!" Martha repeated, then she and James peaked around the corner.

The boy holding the dog bowl stared down Serafina with hatred in his eyes. The other two appeared spooked by the interruption, nervously scanning the alley for other witnesses.

"I'll beat your ass," the first boy threatened. "Even if you're a girl, I'll beat your ass."

"Nope. Uh-uh," James said and took a step.

"Wait," Martha whispered, pulling him back. "Let her work."

"Oh, I have no doubt you would," Serafina responded. "Cowards love to attack the defenseless."

The boy with the USC hat coughed out a laugh before covering his mouth.

Serafina continued, "So here I am – defenseless." They took a step toward the boy, coming toe to toe. "Or are you all talk?"

The boy's cheeks burned red to match his shirt.

"Do it, Allen. Beat her ass!" USC hat goaded.

"Yeah, Allen. Do it," Serafina teased. Allen clenched his jaw then lunged forward and stumbled as Serafina gracefully sidestepped the attack. "Oops! So close. Try again."

Allen huffed and raised his hands like a boxer, then swung his right fist down toward Serafina's head. Again, they sidestepped as if part of a choreographed dance. "Oh dear. Don't give up, Allen. Third time's a charm!" Allen turned back to them. He was panting now from the exertion and practically glowing with rage.

"Dude, come on!"

"Shut up, Chad!" Allen grunted at the boy with the USC hat before charging at Serafina.

For the third time, they sidestepped him easily, but here Serafina snagged his wrist, wrapped it behind his back, and used his momentum to drive him into the brick wall of one of the buildings.

Allen began to yelp in pain. Martha looked up and down the main sidewalk, worried someone might hear, but foot traffic was sparse and the ambience of cars on the street and a news helicopter passing overhead appeared to drown him out.

"Get her off! Get her off!" Allen squealed as the diminutive Serafina twisted his elbow and pinned him against the wall. The boy with the Simpsons shirt turned and ran out the other side of the alley. Chad hesitated for a moment before charging at Serafina. Calmly, they took a step back and rotated, turning Allen toward his lackey, then dropped their hands. Allen yelped again, then shot forward as if from a cannon and collided with Chad. The boys tumbled over one another and crashed to the pavement.

"Yes!" James cheered, then covered his mouth and whispered, "Sorry."

Chad, whimpering now as well, staggered to his feet and scurried away. Before Allen could get up, Serafina skipped over to him cheerfully then kicked him in the stomach. He crumpled in pain, coughing and wheezing for air.

Damn! My girl doesn't play...

Standing three foot five in cowgirl boots, Serafina towered over Allen. "Open your eyes... Hey!" They bent down and flicked him on the forehead. "There you go." They pointed at the homeless man, still cowering against the building in distress. "This is Charles. He's a human being who deserves to be treated with as much respect as you or I." Allen planted his hand on the pavement to push himself up, but Serafina kicked him again.

As Allen rolled on his side, gasping for air once more, Serafina continued, "Now, I know your dad is a world class asshole. That sucks and the next ten years are going to be tough for you, but terrorizing Charles or anyone else is not the answer. Are you ready to apologize?"

Allen, still whimpering, didn't answer. Serafina swung back their leg, but he flinched and raised his hands. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Not to me, dummy," they said, then flicked his forehead again.

"I'm sorry, Charles!"

"That's better. Now, get up and go home and if I ever hear of you treating Charles or anyone else like this again, I will not be as forgiving as I have been today."

Allen lumbered upright and limped away. Serafina watched him leave then turned their attention to Charles. They squatted in front of him and began to speak too quietly for Martha and James to make out so they entered the alley and approached their daughter to better hear. Serafina continued to speak to Charles but raised a hand toward their parents so Martha and James stopped.

Serafina dropped their hand then extended it to Charles. After a moment, he slowly extended his own, shaded by cigarettes and grime and who knew what else. Serafina took it and Martha felt James squeeze her shoulder reflexively. Serafina and Charles stood, then approached Martha and James, hand in hand.

"Charles," Serafina began. "This is my mother and father. Mom and Dad, this is Charles. He's having a rough day and I told him we'd help him out."

Despite the heat, Charles wore a weathered green bomber jacket with at least two t-shirts underneath. He had a beard but was balding and the top of his head had a speckled tan from years of sun damage. His eyes darted nervously across the alley pavement.

James stepped forward and said, "It's nice to meet you, Charles. I'm-"

But Charles recoiled. Serafina held up their free hand. "Actually, Dad, Charles has had some bad experiences with strange adults. Even considering today's events, he's a lot more comfortable around children, so you're going to have to give him a little space." They turned to Charles. "Except for all the nice people at the Union, right Charles? You don't mind them, do you?"

Charles mumbled something Martha couldn't understand outside of, "...mashed potatoes..."

"Yeah, their mashed potatoes are delicious!" Serafina agreed. "And their beds are so soft and warm..."

Charles laughed, scratched his beard, and repeated, "Mashed potatoes."

Serafina turned back to their parents. "There's a homeless shelter a few blocks down Raymond. I'd like us to walk him there."

"Sounds like a great idea," Martha said. "Do you want to lead the way?"

"You bet," Serafina said. "Come on, Charles. Come on, they're okay." Martha and James stepped to the side to give them more space as they passed. Martha tried not to wince when the smell stabbed the back of her nose. "You're safe. You're okay," Serafina reassured.

Once they were far enough in front of them, Martha and James followed at a steady pace. They took one another's hand just as Serafina continued to hold Charles'. It's okay. Not going to freak out. If he tries anything, she'll drop him like a sack of un-mashed potatoes. Another couple walking in the opposite direction also took note – their faces scrunched at the sight of the mis-matched pair – but continued on without a word.

Serafina reached the corner of Colorado and Raymond Ave and waited for the light to change. "Almost... Just need that little guy to light up..." they said to Charles, pointing at the pedestrian signal. "There he is. Now we can cross."

Charles half mumbled, half giggled and all Martha could make out was "...Tinkerbell..."

They crossed the street, now heading south on Raymond. Serafina pointed to passing cars, storefront windows, and birds flying overhead, calmly narrating all they saw and Charles nodded along.

"She must have known him – worked with him in previous lives, I mean, " James said to Martha.

"Yeah... She must know all of Pasadena by now."

Though Martha didn't know Charles, she did know the Union Station Adult Center – a homeless shelter where she'd volunteered in various lives for various reasons. The building had a gray concrete facade in a contemporary style of clean rectangular shapes. There was a courtyard in front, surrounded by a black, wrought iron fence. Serafina reached its gate, opened it, and led Charles in. Martha and James followed.

They passed a modest garden of orange and yellow California poppies on their left and a pair of picnic tables on their right. One was empty while at the other, four men sat smoking cigarettes. The front door of the building was propped open and Serafina led Charles inside.

"Charlie!" a middle-aged woman at the front desk greeted. "Oh, Charlie. What happened?"

"This man was saying some really silly stuff," Serafina offered, now in character. "Super silly! I don't know what he was trying to say but he... but he did say something about losing all his pills and that you guys would know what to do for him and how to... how to find his pills so here we are!"

"Why..." the woman stumbled, taken aback by the five year old's assessment. "Why, aren't you a helpful little girl? Aren't you... Aren't you an angel to help Charlie like that?" She noticed Martha and James. "Are you this young lady's parents?"

"We are. And we're very proud," James said, in character and in truth.

Serafina leaned over and waved to Charles to get his attention. "Okay, Charles. I'm going to go now. Good luck!" Then, to the woman, "Have a nice day!"

"You too. You too, little miss angel," the woman said, beaming from the charity. "You all have a wonderful day." She stood and walked around her desk to receive Charles. "Now let's get you taken care of, Charlie." She beckoned him toward her and he followed her down the hall. "Are you hungry? We'll get you fed and then a change of clothes and then I can call down one of the nurses..."

Serafina turned back to their parents, smiled, then walked to a hand sanitizer dispenser next to the door. They pumped a healthy portion into their hands, rubbed them together, then shook them dry. Then they pumped another healthy portion into their hands and repeated the process a second time. "Safe to say there was a fair amount of human waste on Charles' hand."

"The thought had crossed my mind," James said as the three of them left the Center.

"Sorry, that was gross," Serafina said. "Why'd I say that? Probably ruined your appetite."

"My appetite for ice cream?" James asked rhetorically. "Ha! Good one, Ser-Bear."

They left the courtyard and headed toward the ice cream shop. "I needed his trust and offering my hand was the quickest way to earn it," Serafina said, now holding their parents' hands. "Chances are, his recent interactions with other people have been disdainful at best and abusive at worst, as we saw firsthand. For his recovery to stick, he needs to feel connected to other people who care for his well-being. That, and the Clozapine."

"Schizophrenia?" Martha asked.

"Mm-hmm. He struggles with it most of his life." They paused at an intersection until the light turned, then continued on. "And... And I'm sorry for the violence."

"What, back there in the alley?" James asked.

"Yeah. I shouldn't have kicked him. That was excessive."

"After what he did to Charles?" James said. "I think you're being awfully generous."

"But he's just a kid. And in the ways that matter most, I am not," Serafina said. "Maybe it's because I know what he's capable of. I've seen the monster he's grown into in other lives. And I think maybe I was punishing him for those crimes. But in this life, at present, all he's guilty of is trying to process his own trauma by mimicking his father's abusive behavior. Stopping the assault was the right thing to do, but punishing Allen for his past futures was not."

"Oh that ethical chestnut," Martha said, grinning at James.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," Serafina repeated and Martha heard their voice waver as if they were about to cry.

She stopped and bent down to Serafina. "Oh, sweetie. It's okay. Neither of us are upset with you."

"I know," they said, sniffling. "And I don't mean to be over-dramatic, but shame makes the Ghost want to cry and it's best to just let it."

Then recognition hit Martha in the throat and all she could do was hug her daughter who hugged her back as their body pulsed from their sobs. Martha rubbed their back until the fit subsided. Not at the whim of a childlike Ghost, she cleared her throat to keep her composure and said, "I'm so proud of you, Sera. I'm proud of who you've become. I'm proud of what you did back in the alley... back at the Center... You can't expect to do everything perfectly. It's not fair and it's not possible-"

"But you did," Serafina interrupted.

"What?" Martha said.

"Before Dad knew that you'd come back, you had to do everything perfectly and you did."

"I... I..." Martha didn't know what to say. No, she hadn't technically been perfect, but her fourth childhood had been exhaustingly meticulous in the hopes of replicating her first as closely as possible. But while she struggled to find the perfect response for her daughter, another thought consumed her: Serafina was the first person, outside of James, to know her story. Well, there was that couple we met in Brazil. But Paolo and Mariana were far too drunk to remember it the next morning, let alone the next life.

"How about I give it a shot?" James interjected after a few painfully silent moments.

"Oh good," Serafina said, still sniffling. "We have a man to 'splain it to us." James tilted his head and kept his expression flat. "Kidding, Dad. Kidding. Go ahead, let's hear it."

"How about... there's no such thing as perfection, with two major exceptions – to me, at least."

"So you're saying that, in your eyes, everything I do is perfect?" Serafina asked.

"I am."

"Aww. Thanks!" they said and gave their father a hug. Then, loud enough for him to hear, they whispered to their mother, "Sounds like Dad wants to raise a narcissist."

Martha laughed.

James sighed. "Dad wants ice cream."

Serafina grabbed his hand enthusiastically. "So does the Ghost, Daddy!"

"Best to get the Ghost what it wants," Martha said, grabbing her daughter's free hand. Then the three left for the promised ice cream, with room enough now in their stomachs.

Author's note:

That was fun for me. It's an opportunity the new status quo affords – the immortal child able to show off their talents for their parents with full transparency – something Martha and James were never able to do with theirs.

What do you think about Serafina's guilty conscience? Do bully's deserve sympathy?

Thank you for reading!! Look for part 2 tomorrow!