We arrive in San Sequoia via the large bridge spanning the bay. I’ve never been on a bridge so big. I don’t admit it to Maia, but I’m slightly nervous, and I swear I can feel the thing swaying as we travel.
Maia says she wants to show me something before going to her father’s house. We end up at some community street market.
Maia: Remember how I told you I’d like to own and operate a food stand one day?
Wade: Yeah, you promised to cook for me.
Maia: Right. Well, this is where I dream it would be.
Does that mean she’s planning to move back here one day?
Wade: Here? It’s a long way from Brindleton Bay.
Maia: I know. I just mean that it would be nice to open something here. I’m not saying that I ever will.
Wade: Oh
I guess I can see the appeal. The market seems to attract a lot of people. If Maia’s cooking is as good as she says, she’d make a killing selling somewhere like this.
Before we continue exploring, I purchase a few bottles of freshly squeezed juice from the table beside us. Maybe we can enjoy them on the long ride back to Brindleton Bay.
We walk through the rest of the market and examine the offerings at a few tables. One vendor is selling wooden figures that seem pretty interesting.
Wade: Maybe we should get something for your dad. Do you see anything he’d like?
Maia: There’s no need to do that.
Wade: It might be nice not to arrive empty-handed.
Maia: He doesn’t expect anything. Believe me.
I take Maia’s word for it, and we leave the market.
It’s finally time to visit Maia’s dad. We ride through the city in a S-Uber, passing many incredible homes. I’m shocked when Maia tells the driver to let us out in a small neighborhood with only a few tiny, somewhat unkept homes.
Maia: This is it! This is where I grew up.
I had a feeling that Maia’s dad wasn’t rich, but I’m shocked that the homes here aren’t much larger than our living room in Henford.
Maia leads me down the street.
Maia: The neighborhood used to be way bigger, but things have changed over the years. I had a good friend who lived in that grey house. And a mean old lady used to live in the white one. She’d get mad if anyone stood in front of her house too long.
The two houses that Maia points out have for rent signs in front of them, which tells me that the people here have decided to relocate elsewhere or have died, in the case of the old lady.
Maia stops in front of the house at the end, which is in terrible condition. The paint is peeling in front, and dead rose bushes are on each side of the stairs.
Maia: This is my home. Father should be up and about by now.
I hope so because I honestly want to get this visit over and done with.
I step up on the porch and knock on the door.
Clyde: Come in!
A deep, gravelly voice answers, and I feel a lump developing in my stomach because I can imagine it coming from someone big and burly. But when Maia opens the door, I’m shocked to see a slight, thin man instead. There’s no way that voice came from this guy. I can hardly believe it when he speaks again.
Clyde: Maia girl! There you are. I’ve been waiting for you all morning.
Wade: Hi! I’m –
Maia’s father walks past me with a side eye, obviously not caring about what I have to say, and goes straight to Maia.
Maia gives her father a big hug. My eyes land on the wooden cane in his hand. After the hug, Maia beckons me over.
Maia: Father, this is my friend Wade. Wade, this is my father, Clyde.
Finally, a smile, although I wouldn’t exactly call it friendly.
Clyde: Wade! Welcome, young blood.
Wade: Thanks
Clyde turns back to Maia.
Clyde: So he’s why you were willing to come all this way without visiting your father?
Maia: I’m here, aren’t I? Thanks to Wade. He suggested we stop by before leaving.
Clyde: Is that so?
He sounds suspicious, not grateful at all. He stares at me for a bit, then clears his throat.
Clyde: No sense standing around. Have a seat!
Wade: Uh, is it okay if I use your restroom?
There’s amusement in Clyde’s eyes.
Clyde: Restroom? You mean the toilet?
Wade: Yes sir
Clyde: Head to the dining room and go through any door that’s not the kitchen. You can’t miss it.
I leave and follow his directions to the bathroom. I can hear what he says behind my back.
Clyde: *chuckles to Maia* This cat – does it look like we got a restroom?
I open one of the doors and end up in what looks like Clyde’s bedroom. The bathroom door is open, and I step inside but hesitate because it’s so old and worn that I can’t tell if it’s clean. Oh well, I can either take my chances or pee my pants.
I leave the bathroom and walk back through the dining room, eyeing the dingy walls, old furniture, and the worn kitchen counters. This house has to be at least a century old. And it looks as though Maia’s father has lived here that long.
Maia and her dad are in the middle of a conversation when I sit on the couch beside her.
Clyde: Is that right? I still don’t know how you traded in all this West Coast sun for a cold, dreary East Coast winter.
Maia: It’s not so bad, father. I miss it here, but the East has its charms.
Clyde: These bones are way too old for that type of chill. Don’t expect any visits from me until the weather warms up.
Maia: There are a few things I want to grab from my old room. Will you two excuse me for a moment?
I’m panicked. Is she thinking about leaving me here alone with her dad?
Wade: Anything I can help you with?
Maia: No, I’ve got it. Thanks
Clyde waves her off.
Clyde: Get what you need. I’ll take good care of Wade here.
Why doesn’t that sound reassuring?
Clyde sits until we can hear Maia’s bedroom door close. Then he gets up, and I sigh a breath of relief, hoping he’s about to leave the room, too.
No such luck. With a cane still in hand, this very intimidating man sits down right next to me.
Clyde: I’m a straight-to-the-point type of cat, so let’s get right down to it. Are you woohooing my daughter?
I swallow hard, glad I can tell him the truth.
Wade: No, sir.
Clyde: But you want to.
I wish he would put the cane down, but he continues talking with it in his hand, swinging it all around. If he’s trying to scare me – it’s working. How can I answer him truthfully with his cane less than a foot from my face?
I need to show this man that I’m not a punk.
Wade: I mean –
Suddenly, his voice softens, and he waves my words away as he lowers his cane.
Clyde: It’s none of my business. Maia is grown and can make her own decisions. But she can be just as fragile as she is tough. I look at you and wonder why you’re even with her. You scream, pretty boy, rich kid. That jacket could probably pay my rent. How’d you get those light eyes? You mixed?
Wade: Both my parents are.
Clyde: Figures. Listen, I ain’t one of these soft cats running around here. I’m old school, understand? I grew up tough, and I’m serious about mine. If you want to be with my daughter, you better be willing to fight for her and protect her ferociously like I would. Don’t play around with her heart. Understand?
Wade: I don’t plan to.
Clyde: You’re not a bad cat, are you, young blood? You’re looking me right in my eyes. I like that. It shows you were raised right.
Wade: No disrespect sir, but you’re not telling me anything my dad hasn’t already told me. I have no intention of hurting Maia in any way.
My words finally earn a sincere smile from Clyde.
(Generation 4 Chapter Summaries)
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