Rose and I planned to corner Marnie in an alley near where she volunteered at this animal shelter the following afternoon. I don't know how Rose knew this information, but I guess you need to get your kicks off somehow in the early 1980's. Rose drives right near the place and parks just beyond the other side of the alley that it's next to. We see Marnie coming out of the place and manage to grab her without anyone seeing us and haul her into the leather back seat of Rose's classic car.
Marnie was, naturally, screaming her head off as Rose manages to throw a tarp over her head and tie her hands together, all the while screaming at me to drive, drive, drive outta there. She has tossed me her keys and I slam shut the driver's door and lock it—along with all the other ones for good measure—and speed off. The plan is to get Marnie to Rose's house, calm her down, explain as much of the situation as we can, and then do some shopping.
My heart is racing as I slam on the gas and hastily manage to get us out of that godforsaken, yet conveniently-placed, alley. I am careful to drive only a mile or two over the limit, so that we save time getting back to Rose's house, but not get pulled over and fined in the process. It would be doubly bad if we were pulled over, because then I would have to present my I.D., and the cop would more than likely would bat an eye at the 2017 expiration date. Although I could hand over Rose's I.D. as well...
I decided to put it out of my mind as we got closer and closer to the freeway. I managed to get from thirty-seven miles per hour to forty on the bridge over the freeway without incident and get across quickly. We soon were flying down the street and soon arrived at Roosevelt Way, making a left at the traffic light and going straight until Fifteenth Avenue, before making a sharp right turn. We went on a second concrete bridge over a wooded area before entering a wide intersection and making a left.
We were then in University Park area proper and I could still hear Rose struggling with Marnie in the back seat. I bit my lip to stop myself from ordering silence from the two of them as we went up a hill and into the two car garage. I shut the garage behind me and managed to get out of the car and open the side door and holler for David to heave Marnie into the house. He came immediately and was going on and on about how cold Meryl Streep's performance was in Kramer vs. Kramer.
I ignored him, because I liked Meryl Streep very much and it made me ill to hear my own mother screaming for mercy. Maybe she thought that David was the Green River Killer or something, but I knew full well that Gary Ridgeway would not begin killing until four months from now—according to evidence brought forth by police.

I kept my mouth shut and walked into the house and into the living room, feeling very glad that both Rose's father was at his ad agency job and that Rose's mother was at the small candle shop that they owned. I sat in a chair and put my head between my knees and found that I began hyperventilating; I'd been diagnosed with asthma at the age of seven, and had not had an attack in quite some time. The fact that I'd also been diagnosed with anxiety at twelve didn't help much either.
David had disposed of my mother in Rose's bedroom, and it became apparent that they had decided between them to allow Rose to have the first crack at her when it came to reasoning. I heard him calling for me, but I couldn't call out to him. I could only sit on that massive chair and rock back and forth and attempt to keep breathing.

"Dav...id!" I managed to get out. "Help... Help me, I need you!"
And then he came running, and he knew just what to do. He pulled my head up and stared into my eyes and told me to breathe as he rubbed my shoulders. I know what you're thinking—you don't even have to say it. Right, just put the guy that you're madly in love with in front of you, and he tells you to breathe, and you're bound to listen, right? Either everything will be all right and you'll breathe, or you'll have a heart attack at how drop dead gorgeous he is and totally pass out. Thankfully, I'm not only some lovesick teenager—I am also sarcastic and brilliant—and I was able to calm down.
"Where's Marnie?" I whispered.
"With Rose," he replied. "She's okay, just a little shaken is all."
I nod and slowly get to my feet, stumbling a bit.

"Careful!" David cries out.

I nodded. "Thanks," I reply, and proceed down the hallway. I feel him taking my hand and I go to follow him, but walk too fast and slip a little. He catches me, and we are staring into each other's eyes, and I feel as much longing in mine as I can see in his. I know then that he wants to kiss me, but Rose hollers from down the hall that we'd better join her and quick. David looks disappointed that we must continue this later, but he merely takes me by the hand again and we walk the rest of the way to Rose's bedroom.

"Hi, Marnie," he says in a kind voice.
"Hi," she says shortly. She is sitting on my bed, knees to her chest, arms curled around her ankles. Her dark eyes are looking frantically around the bedroom, and she is visibly shaking, so much so that she has to constantly continue to push her glasses into place.
"Marnie?" I say, and it is at my voice that she looks at me. "It's me, Rose. Do you remember meeting me the other day before band?"
Marnie shakes her head when she sees me, and is looking from me to Rose, obviously confused out of her mind. "I knew I met you," she says, pointing to me, "but is that your twin sister or something?"
"Not exactly," Rose says carefully, speaking for the first time since David and I have entered her bedroom. "Rose and I have the same name. You see, she was only pretending to be me for protection."
"If you're not Rodney's cousin Rose, then who the hell are you supposed to be?" Marnie demands in a frightened tone. "What I really mean is, who the hell are you and what do you want with me?!"
I hesitate for a moment before ultimately deciding to tell her the truth. "My name is Rose Radcliffe, and I'm your daughter, Marnie," I say quietly. We weren't sure whether or not to reveal this information to Marnie, but Rose said that she was fairly trustworthy. "I was born on November 19, 1996 and I am your only natural child and daughter."
Marnie is trembling again at my rather sudden declaration to her. "You're my daughter?" she whispers. "But... How is this possible? If you're my daughter, but your birthday isn't for another fourteen or so years..."
"I time travelled, Marnie," I say quietly. I reach into my pocket then, nd remove the broken necklace. "You gave this to me—well, technically Rose did but you kept us from contact. You gave me this necklace for Christmas when I was younger, when I was fourteen."
She is still confused. "Who is your father?"
"Rodney," I reply.
"I marry Rodney?!" she cried, reddening.
I nod. "Yes. Is that a problem?"
She shakes her head. "He and I have been friends for a long time, but he never seemed to notice me that way. I guess I've always loved him." She gives me an indulgent smile and cups my chin as I sit down beside her on my bed. "Well, I mean, look at you. I bet you have guys knocking down your bedroom door and I'm stopping them, right?"
I shake my head. "Not exactly, Marnie."
"What do you mean?" she asks.
I shrug then, letting out a nervous laugh. "I don't date, really. And you and D—Rodney are always at the practice and stuff."
"I'm a doctor?" she asks.
I nod again. "Yes."
She shakes her head. "But why don't you date?"
I feel David behind me, staring at my back as I lower my eyes. "Let's just say that I know how you feel, Marnie."
Marnie gives me an understanding look, and looks at David, who is chatting with Rose across the room. "David?" she asks.
I give her a small smile. "Yes."
"Rose said his last name is Caldwell?"
I nod. "That's right."
"And is he the son of Russ Caldwell and Henrietta Baxter?" she asks, a rare intelligence lurking behind her shining eyes.
I blink, amazed. "Yes. What's with all these high school sweethearts getting together?" I ask out loud.
Marnie shrugs. "Well, your father and I are hardly—according to my better knowledge—high school sweethearts."
I sigh. "Well, me and Luke will never be, unless you and Rodney—"
"Who's Luke?" she asks.
I bit my lip, fearful of letting her know too much. "Luke is a little boy from France that you and Rodney adopt on your second honeymoon."
"Why did we only have you?"
I shrug. "I was a surprise. You guys thought that you couldn't have kids, so you adopted Luke, and when he was almost three, you got pregnant with me. I was always your golden girl—until I turned five and my hair turned this color. I am so glad that I wasn't a blonde..."
"Why?" asks Marnie.
I guess they weren't familiar with those particular stereotypes in '82, I think to myself. "It's not important," I say.
Marnie sighs. "Well, I've got to make sure you're born."
"But, you barely know me," I protest.
Marnie smiles and puts her hands on my shoulders. "You are my daughter. I should have seen it from the moment I saw you on Friday. I didn't know what it was, but I felt oddly protective towards you, and I didn't know why. Now I do know, and I've got to get with your father so as we can have many adventures together."
"One question," I say.
"Yes?"
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I ask.

"But...you told me I was a doctor..."

"Are your parents insisting on it?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. They want me to do something practical."

"And what do you want todo?"
She smiles. "Honestly?"
I nod. "Yes."
"I've always wanted to have a band and be asinger."
"David's younger sister, Elizabeth, and I areplanning on forming a band," I say softly, recalling the conversation.
"Jeez, how many kids do they have?" demandsMarnie.
I shake my head. "You'll just have to wait andsee."
"Rose," Marnie says, turning to her.
Rose looks over at her. "Yes?"
"What's the plan?" she asks.
"The plan?" asks Rose.
Marnie rolls her eyes. "Oh, you know..."
"Not really..."
She grits her teeth. "Rose, don't play this gamewith me."
Rose grins. "What game? I'm not playing a game."
"Yes, you are."
"I am not! Now, what plan?"
"Operation, if you will, Marnie," I say,grinning at her.
She sighs. "Not funny..."
"What isn't funny?" David wants to know.
Marnie sighs. "Operation—get me into RodneyRadcliffe's pants sometime in the future," she says, exasperated.