Upside Down

Page Eight

Emil and Allie were thinking that having a bisexual son was the easiest thing in the world compared to having to deal with their angry fourteen-year-old daughter. She was semi-anorexic, bordering on underweight and didn’t seem to see any problem with it. She essentially lived in her bedroom, where she had a mini fridge and everything she needed except a bathroom. She even had a secret exit from her room to the surface, which no one knew about. She was an artist...her room was filled with sketches and paintings.

Her pride as far as her work went belonged to a painting she had done of her father, whom she idolized. It had taken her two and a half years to get the painting perfect, and it now hung above her bed. And her father had never seen it.

Emil was at a huge loss regarding his daughter. He didn’t understand her, and admittedly he spent more time with the other four children, all of whom were interested in being thieves, than with his oldest daughter. He had no idea that she was showing her work at museums and was really quite talented for a young girl. Their relationship was very strained, and needed to be fixed, but Emil didn’t realize it until the day he found out some of her paintings were stolen.

The remaining members of Fagan’s Mob were training the children among them in the art of thieving. And they chose several paintings from one of the local museums as their targets, not realizing that "Liz Lapin" was actually the daughter of a thief. They didn’t know any better; if they had, they would have chosen other paintings. When Remy found out, he told Emil immediately and Emil, naturally, freaked out. He was partly angry at himself for not knowing anything about his daughter’s life, and partly angry that her hard work had been stolen.

Liz didn’t take it any better. She blamed the Guild and especially her father. She refused to make contact with him and stopped referring to him as her father. No amount of coaxing on his part could make her see that he wasn’t responsible and it broke his heart. He realized there was only one thing he could do.

He went to Remy and asked for the names of the people the Mob sold the paintings to. Then he asked for as much money as Remy could give him and he went to the surface. He went to each of the people who had purchased one of his daughter’s paintings and with a little quick-talking, he bought every single one of them back and transported them to the tunnels with Claude’s help. He owed Remy a lot of money, but at least the paintings were back where they belonged. He hung each of them up in the living room and then knocked on his daughter’s door.

"Elizabeth? I know you hate me, but I want to show you something. Could you please jus’ open your door an’ come out here for a minute?"

After thirty seconds of silence, Liz opened the door and stuck her head out. "What is it?"

Emil gestured to the walls where the paintings were hanging. "I b’lieve dese b’long to you..."

Liz was stunned. "Ohmygod..."

Unfortunately the return of her paintings didn’t do much to ease Emil’s relationship with Liz. Emil’s powers made it impossible for him to ignore his daughter’s feelings and it kept him up at night.

Liz correctly felt like all the attention, especially from her father, was lavished on her four thief siblings, while she, as an artist, was ignored. She felt like dirt in her father’s eyes, something not worth acknowledging or praising.

Emil finally said something to Allie. "I’m lost..."

"What do you mean?"

"So much anger, hatred, hurt..."

Allie sighed. "Elizabeth..."

"Oui...

"When was the last time you praised her work?" Allie asked.

Emil was bitter. He recalled an earlier conversation he’d had with his daughter. "She wouldn’ b’lieve me even if I did. I’m a t’ief remember? I can’ be trusted."

"Did you ever praise her work?" Allie pressed.

"De only time I’ve ever seen it was when I went to get de ones dat had been stolen. I didn’ t’ink to, I was jus’ so happy to have gotten her out of dat room for a minute..." Emil admitted. He had noticed just how good an artist his daughter was, but it hadn’t occurred to him to tell her he thought that.

"Now when was the last time you praised Alex or Mattie or Ollie or Pat for something they did...?"

Emil sighed in defeat, then laughed. "I hate it when you’re right."

Allie continued. "She’s sensitive to things like that, Emil. Imagine how you would feel if you spent hours working on something that you were proud of, only to have your parents ignore it."

Emil sighed again. "Dieu...I’ve done de same t’ing to her dat Theoren used to do to me..."

"I think you need to have a talk with her, Emil." Allie said. "Tell her that. Explain everything you can think of to help her understand that you do know how she feels and you’re sorry."

Emil nodded. That night before bed, he slipped a note under Liz’s bedroom door, asking her if they could talk...really talk...in the morning. He arranged with Allie so that when Liz got up, Allie and the other children wouldn’t be home. They needed privacy.

The next morning, after drinking a smoothie she made herself, Liz threw on some clothes and went out to talk to her father.

Emil was alone, sitting on the couch. Liz sat across from him and waited.

"I’m so sorry..." Emil began. "Dieu...somehow I ended up doin' somethin' unforgivable to you an' de worst t'ing is, I know exactly how it feels. My father died when I was fourteen...an' Theoren b'came my legal guardian. An' for so many years, I worked my butt off...sometimes for days at a time...to make hackin' programs for our computer work...an' no matter how much I'd worked it, or how good it was or how fast it was...it was never good enough for him. Everybody else might have praised me for it, but not him. An' he was de one person I was workin' to please, but I never could. An' now I've turned 'round somethin' similar to you an' I am so sorry..."

Tears leaked from Liz’s eyes but she said nothing. Her father had been her hero, the one person she looked up to more than anything. His treatment of her had hurt deeply.

"I can' excuse what I've done...but I'm sorry. I love you, I've been hurtin' so bad b'cause of dis whole t'ing...you're so talented an' I've never acknowledged dat...which is inexcusable...I feel like I've failed you..." Emil said as he fought the tears that were threatening to fall.

Liz couldn’t speak. She got up, went back to her room, closed the door and sobbed her heart out. When she looked at the painting she did of her father, she cried even harder, and eventually curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed and fell asleep.

Emil wasn’t sure if he’d made things better with his daughter or made them worse. After several moments, he got up and went to her room. He tried the doorknob and to his surprise, she hadn’t locked it when she went in. He opened it and for the first time in years, set foot inside Liz’s bedroom.

The cluttered room was cozy to say the least. Sketches and paintings covered all the walls and there was an easel in the center of the room; a piece of cloth prevented anyone from seeing her most recent work in progress. His eyes gazed on the portrait she did of him and his heart just melted. "Mon Dieu I am so sorry..." He whispered. "She’s brilliant. I don’ know where she got it, but she’s brilliant. An’ I am de worst father in de world for not bein’ a bigger part of her life...for not...for not supportin’ her..."

He went over and picked Liz up, noting just how thin and light she was. "Aww...Lizzie..." He whispered as he sat down on the bed, cradling his little girl in his arms.

Liz slowly woke up again and whispered. "Daddy...?"

Emil nodded. "Mm-hmm."

She couldn’t help it; she started crying softly. "I love you, Daddy..."

Emil hugged her close to him, cradling her in his arms. "I love you too, baby. T’ings are gon’ change, Lizzie. I promise." He kissed the top of her head.

Liz rested against him, crying.

"Brilliant..." Emil whispered softly.

Liz looked up. "What?"

Emil gestured to her work. "It’s brilliant."

"It’s nothin’..." Liz was shocked that he actually complimented her work.

"Non it’s not. It’s brilliant. It’s obvious dat you’ve got such a passion an’ dedication for it…it shows in every piece. What do you wan’ do when you get older? Seriously, no matter how crazy or outrageous or out of reach it seems...I want to know."

After a moment, Liz responded to his question. "I just want to keep doing this...get my work in some of the more respected museums...I was gonna give it up, become a thief, just so I could get some praise from you. You just always ignored me."

Emil sighed softly. "I'm sorry for dat...an' like I said t'ings are gon' change. Don' give dis up if dis is what you wan' do. Dis is what you're driven to do, what you were put on dis planet to do...I see dat now. It's your callin'. I spent nearly all de Guild's money buyin' your work back...b'cause I saw how important it was to you...people paid big money for dem...an' I paid bigger money to get dem back. If you can produce work like dat at your age...you're an artistic genius, Lizzie."

Liz smiled at him and hugged him. "Daddy..."

Emil hugged her back, glad to be finally changing things between them. "If dis is what you wan' do, den you do it, go into it wit' all your heart an' I promise you from now on, I will support you a hundred an' ten percent. You can interrupt me when I'm doin' stuff if you wan' show me somethin' you're workin' on, I promise I won' make up an excuse to not come see it. I want to support you, you're my daughter, I love you an' I'm proud of you an' from now on I'm gon' show it."

Liz smiled and glanced up at the portrait of him. "It took me two an’ a half years to do dat..."

Emil told the truth. "Dat has me flattered...an’ unnerved...at de same time."

"You were my hero when I was little...I always looked up to you..."

"I’m sorry I let you down..." Emil said softly.

"You’ll always be my hero, Daddy." Liz said and hugged him again.

The hugs felt good. "I love you, Lizzie."

"I love you too Daddy."

Lucas was getting more than a little frustrated. He was eleven years old, less than two years away from his tilling and he was nowhere close to being ready. Needless to say, he was starting to panic. He didn’t know how to pick a lock, he couldn’t walk or run without making a sound, and he hadn’t chosen anything to specialize in.

He let his frustration show at one point after spending hours trying to pick a lock in even five minutes, let alone five seconds. He threw the lock across his bedroom, narrowly missing his older brother’s head. "I’m never gonna get it!"

Jean-Michel’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

Lucas cried in frustration. "I suck."

Jean-Michel picked up the lock and joined his brother. "No you don’."

"Yes I do." Lucas sniffled. "Grand-pere says I should know how to do it in under five seconds by now an’ I don’. I can’ even do it in five minutes. Heck, I can’ do it at all!"

Jean-Michel sat down beside him. "Yes you can. It took me awhile to learn how to do it so fast."

Lucas wasn’t convinced. "I’ve been tryin’ for years! My tilling is in two years...I’m never gon’ be ready in time...I’m never gon’ be a t’ief..."

Jean-Michel hugged his little brother. "You’ll be fine. Sometimes you just’ gotta t’ink ‘bout it in a diff’rent way..."

Lucas clung to him and looked up at him with his big brown eyes. "Help me?"

"Okay. Want me to tell you how Aunt D got me to learn how to do it so fast?"

"Would you...?"

"Sure. Aunt D made me pretend de lock was a lobster." Jean-Michel told him.

Lucas blinked. "A lobster?"

"Yep. De lock pick b'came dat t'ingy you use to get de meat out. She made me pretend dat I was tryin' to get de best part of de meat out of de lobster."

Lucas looked at the lock, to the lock pick and then back at his brother. "How?"

Jean-Michel took the lock and lock pick and slowly demonstrated on it. "You gotta fish around. It can get frustratin' sometimes, but de reward is always great."

Lucas watched intently as his brother worked on it and the lock opened. "You make dat look easy."

After he reset the lock, Jean-Michel handed it to his brother. "You give it a try."

Lucas tried and eventually got it after several minutes. He was frustrated it took so long but happy at the same time because he finally did it.

"Bon!" Jean-Michel praised. He reset the lock. "Do it ‘gain."

Lucas did it again, and shaved at least a minute off his time. A third time, he cut even more time off; he was getting better each time he did it and getting proud of himself as he went along.

When Jean-Michel handed him the lock again the fourth time, he gave Lucas an added incentive. "I promise if you can pick de lock on my door in under ten seconds, I’ll take you out for dinner an’ ice cream, just you an’ me."

"Really?" Lucas was surprised. He didn’t know why his brother was suddenly interested in spending time with him, but he liked it. It was nice. He had always admired and looked up to Jean-Michel, but could never connect with him until now.

Jean-Michel smiled. "Really, really."

So Lucas picked the practice lock over and over, getting faster each time he did it. All he really needed was incentive and someone to really believe in him. Eventually, he could pick the lock in ten seconds. It was then that he looked at his brother. "I wan’ try your door now."

"Okay." Jean-Michel led the way to his room.

Once he was in position, Lucas looked up at his brother. "Time me."

Jean-Michel pulled out a stopwatch. "Okay."

"Tell me when."

"Start...now!" Jean-Michel clicked the stopwatch.

Lucas went to work on the lock and picked it, opening the door.

Even Jean-Michel was surprised. "Six seconds."

"Whoa..." Lucas had to look at the stopwatch for confirmation.

"So..." Jean-Michel laughed. "Where do you wan’ go for dinner?"

Lucas thought for a moment and then grinned. "Pizza!"

"Pizza it is den!"

At dinner, the boys discussed Lucas’s future training and how he still needed to learn how to walk and run without making a sound. Lucas expressed his frustration at not being able to do it, and Jean-Michel offered his services to help train him.

Two days later, Jean-Michel had successfully taught Lucas how to walk and run without making a sound and helped him decide what to specialize in. They discussed that after Lucas successfully lost Jean-Michel in the training area obstacle course designed to look like New Orleans.

"You’re gon’ be a great t’ief, Lucas. Have you d’cided what you want to specialize in yet?"

"Non...no one’s talked to me ‘bout it either."

"Well, dere’s lots of t’ings you can specialize in. Emil an’ Theoren are hackers. Papa’s a safe-cracker. Aunt D is a security breach expert and now so is Travis..." Jean-Michel started.

"What’s your specialty?"

Jean-Michel blushed. "You wouldn’ b’lieve me if I told you."

"Sure I would. What is it?"

"My area is military espionage. I’ve stolen weapons, top-secret files, a tank..."

"Really?!"

"Oui."

"Wow." Lucas looked at him with even more respect than he did before. "What else is dere?"

"Claude’s an expert in art theft an’ transport. He can steal any paintin’, any statue, anywhere, an’ all wit’out damagin’ it." Jean-Michel told him. "Theo an’ Emil are a genius team. Emil can break into any computer in existence, an’ Theo can scrub de information right off de hard-drive."

"Cool."

"Mercy’s...special. She’s an information specialist. She can get you de information you need from de right person. An’ Henri’s a code-breaker."

"What’s dat mean?" Lucas wanted to know.

"If some information is encrypted in code, he can figure out what it says in less dan thirty seconds." Jean-Michel explained.

"Whoa..." Lucas was impressed. "What should I do?"

"Dat decision is entirely up to you." Jean-Michel said.

Lucas thought for a few moments. Finally he spoke, his voice thoughtful. "Is Henri ever comin’ back...?"

Jean-Michel shook his head. "Prob’ly not, no."

"Den we’ll need somebody to take his place, right?" Lucas asked.

Jean-Michel smiled. "So you t’ink you wan’ be a code-breaker, huh?"

"If we need somebody to do dat, den yes."

Jean-Michel ruffled his brother’s hair. "I t’ink you’d be good at it."

"But who’s gon’ teach me if he isn’t here?" Lucas wanted to know.

"I could. I’ve had to do some decodin’ work." Jean-Michel told him.

"Would you?" Lucas looked at him hopefully.

"Sure. I’d be glad to. We can start tomorrow." Jean-Michel said.

"Okay."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That's all I have for now folks! I do hope to actually finish the novel sometime in the future, once those particular muses stop going through burn-out. I do have quite a few more ideas and all sorts of things that need to be wrapped up. Stay tuned!

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