The Needa of the Father

A short story by

Fred Parker

 

Special thanks to DixonT and all my friends in the Writer’s Club.

 

The lawyer looked at Gary from across her desk. "Let me get this straight, Mr. Armstrong," she said, confused. "You want to sue for custody of… a needa?"

Gary shifted nervously in his chair. "Yes, that’s right."

"I see…" said the lawyer. She pulled out a document and scanned it quickly. "You are not married, have no assets to speak of. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"Now, there’s one thing I’m not clear on. How can I put this delicately?"

There was a long pause as the lawyer tried to phrase her question. Finally, she spoke.

"What the hell is a needa?"

"That," said Gary, "is a long story."

The lawyer looked at her watch, then glanced at her appointment calendar. "I’m a little pressed for time," she admitted. "However, I think it would be to our advantage if you’d enlighten me on this."

"All right," Gary began. "This is what happened…."

  

I met Ross a year ago in Los Angeles. I was walking down Ventura Boulevard when I noticed my shoelace was untied. As I bent down to tie my shoe, I felt a shadow fall upon me. I looked up and there he was. He was looking straight at me. "You’re a Writer," he said, his voice full of amazement.

All I could do was stare. He did not need to say it; I could feel the truth ringing in my bones. He was like me. Another Writer! I couldn’t believe it!

It didn’t take long for us to find ourselves sitting together in a small restaurant. We started talking and did not stop for a long time.

Now, let me bring you in on one of the biggest secrets in the universe. After the Big Guy created everything, he soon realized that even He didn’t have the time needed to personally keep everything going according to His Plan. He chose several mortals to help him run things. First he made the elementals that work to keep the physical world on track. That was enough for the longest time, but as civilization grew, He knew he would also need help keeping the people in line. That’s when He made the Writers.

That’s what Ross and I were: Writers. It was our job to insert important ideas into the collective consciousness. Sometimes this meant encouraging war or inspiring peace. Sometimes it meant nudging a genius in the right direction or suppressing a line of thought. In a sense, we were closer to editors of humanity than actual writers, but no one thought that name was sexy enough to go with.

I don’t know how many of us there are. All I know is that there are few enough that Ross was the first of my kind I’d ever met.

At this point, I’d like to mention that I’d always considered myself heterosexual. However, after a series of failed relationships where I was never seemed able to find even the slightest common ground, meeting Ross was a revelation. As we began to know each other, I understood that love was a thing of the soul, not of the body. It didn’t matter that Ross was a man. He and I were so alike it was scary.

Before we knew it, we were in love.

It almost ended the night Ross first undressed me and led me into his bedroom. I couldn’t come to grips with what our bodies were doing. It was new, confusing and, yes, painful.

I ran.

I was ready to live the rest of my life in solitude to avoid this simple act of intimacy our love required. Had it been just me, that would have been it, but Ross came after me. He took me back into his room and said all the right things. I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him.

That night, for the second time, he led me to his bed. He was caring and gentle. We made love…

When we were done, we lay next to each other and talked. I was full of emotions that reached deeper than anything I had ever known. Full of dreams and hope. I looked deeply into his eyes. "Let’s make a needa," I said.

When writers fall in love and decide to spend the rest of their lives together, they create a needa. They pool their power given by the Big Guy and a new entity is born. In giving up a large part of their individual energy, the Writers now have access to a source equal to the sum of both their previous powers. Both benefit by sacrificing part of themselves.

This is exactly what we did on that first night. Our energies mingled in a kaleidoscopic display that would have put Hollywood’s top effect wizards to shame. It is customary that when Writers create a needa, they keep a small piece of their power to themselves. Just in case. However I, full of newfound dreams, put every last bit of myself into our offspring. I wanted this to be the best, most powerful neede ever to walk the Earth.

I should have known better.

Our job finished, we sat exhausted on the floor as our needa attained consciousness. It was a girl. It looked like any other newborn except for its eyes. They shone with adult intelligence, if not adult maturity. We named her Aneeda.

The months that followed were the best I had ever known. Ross and I lived our love to the fullest, sharing even the burden of our Writer’s assignments. Aneeda grew quickly and, by the time she had reached her sixth month of life, she wore the proud body of a young woman.

Our little family was loving and strong, but it couldn’t last. The good times ended when I walked into our small apartment after not having returned the previous night. Ross was busy trying to suppress the President’s plan to put in censoring chips in all new television and didn’t notice me. I wanted to avoid the inevitable, but I owed him the truth.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"I’m a little busy, Gary."

"Ross, I’m serious. We need to talk."

I had gotten his attention. "Damn, there goes free speech. This had better be good."

I wanted to tell him that, even though I loved him more than anything, I had needs that couldn’t be satisfied by a man. I had tried fighting my urges, but it proved to be stronger than me. I had seduced a woman, gone back to her house, and made love to her several times. I felt like the scum of creation, but my body still needed more. I wanted to explain it all but the words wouldn’t come. "Ross, honey," I said finally through my tears, "I’ve met someone – a woman. I’m sorry."

He just stared at me. "No…"

He broke down before he could get another word out. In the space of a second, I saw anger, betrayal, sadness, and grief flash across his face. Just a second, then he fell into a frighteningly neutral expression. He got up slowly and walked out of the room.

"Ross…" I pleaded.

"Screw you," I heard him say from the other room, followed by the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut and locking.

I sat there a long time and I never once heard him cry.

Eventually, he came out of the bathroom. I didn’t look up, but I could feel him standing in the doorway. "I want the needa," he said without a hint of emotion in his voice.

I wanted to tell him how sorry I was, to beg his forgiveness, but what came out was: "Over my dead body."

 

The lawyer looked at Gary from across her desk. She lit a cigarette and exhaled sharply. "Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?’

"Well…"

"No, I mean it. That was the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. And I’ve heard some wild ones in my day."

Gary didn’t meet her gaze. He just stared at the floor. "It’s the truth…"

"Look, Mr. Armstrong, I sympathize with you. I really do. If you want my advice, I recommend you get some help. Apart from that there’s nothing I can do for you."

"There must be something. Without Aneeda I’m nothing. My powers are gone; I’m just like everyone else." Gary struggled with his words. "Please, help me."

"Okay, let’s assume you’re telling the truth. Where does that leave us? There’s no legal precedent. From what you say, the needa isn’t even human. Does it have any rights? No, you have a good story, but that’s all it is: a tale, a fiction. I suggest you try to sell it to someone – a writer maybe."

Gary looked up at the lawyer with anger in his eyes. "How can you sit there and be so smug when my life is falling apart? How dare you?"

The lawyer stubbed out her cigarette. "Mr. Armstrong, I’ve had just about enough of this. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave."

Gary leaped out of his chair and leaned threateningly over the desk. "No!"

The lawyer sat calmly in her chair. "Believe me, Mr. Armstrong, you don’t want to mess with a lawyer."

Gary held his ground.

"I’m a very good lawyer," she threatened.

There was a long pause, then Gary pulled himself away from the desk. He left the office without a word.

  

It was midnight and Gary found himself walking the streets of Los Angeles, his mind a panicked blur of thoughts and emotions. This couldn’t be happening – not to him! All he’d wanted was a little piece of happiness. A home, a family, was that too much to ask for? Instead, he was now powerless and everything that mattered to him was gone. What would he do? How would he survive? The only thing he was good at was being a Writer; he had no other skills.

Before he knew it, he found himself standing in front of the apartment building where he and Ross had lived. He looked up and was surprised to see light coming from the window to their once happy home. He crossed the street to get a better look and spied the silhouette of Ross holding Aneeda in his arms – comforting her in this time of crisis, no doubt.

At that moment, something cold and hard was born in him. It quickly grew from the pit of his stomach to his heart and his mind. He knew what he would do – what had to be done.

Ross felt dirty. He sat in his car, squinting as the early morning sun tried to blind him, and for some reason his hand just wouldn’t turn the key to the ignition.

Get a hold of yourself, he thought. You did what you had to do. It was necessary.

Still, he felt dirty. Worse, all he wanted to do was stay with his needa and protect her. It didn’t matter that a college student in San Francisco needed to be reminded to look at his test tube at precisely the right moment. It didn’t matter that the cure for cancer was at stake. And it didn’t matter that Ross had to be there personally since most of his power was locked away in Aneeda where he couldn’t get at it without Gary. All that mattered was the needa.

Ross sighed. He was a Writer and he would do his job. He hated it, but that’s the way things were.

Slowly, laboriously, Ross turned the key to the ignition and drove off.

 

Gary couldn’t believe Ross hadn’t changed the lock. He had been ready to break the door down if necessary, but all that had been required was a simple turn of the key. It was almost too good to be true.

He found Aneeda in the living room watching television. She didn’t look away from the screen, but she knew he was there. "Hello, Daddy."

"Hello, Aneeda," he said, noticing her lack of surprise at which of her fathers had spoken. "You’d better pack your things, honey. We’re going."

"I know," she answered, her voice showing no joy. "My stuff’s all ready."

Aneeda turned of the television and went to her room. Seconds later, she returned with a large suitcase. "Does it really have to be like this? Can’t you guys work it out?"

Gary wouldn’t meet the needa’s gaze. "I’m sorry," he said. "There’s no other way."

With that they left the apartment, never to return.

 

As he drove down the highway to Mexico with Aneeda sitting in the passenger seat, Gary kept trying to tap into his lost reserve of power. Endless miles of highway flew by and he tried every trick he knew to no avail. Maybe the old knowledge was right. Maybe the only way to access the needa’s energies was in conjunction with its co-creator.

No, that was unacceptable. There had to be a way. If it took years to find it, so be it. I will be a Writer again, he vowed.

They arrived at the border. Many cars were waiting to be passed through, but he was pretty certain it wouldn’t take long. "We’re almost there, Aneeda. This will all be over soon."

Aneeda looked worried. Small beads of perspiration began forming on her forehead. "I want to go home, Daddy. Something’s going to happen."

"Nothing’s going to happen, Aneeda. Everything is going to be just fine."

Aneeda didn’t say another word. She just sat and frowned. Her skin was turning pale, but she did not complain.

It took twenty minutes for the last of the cars to be passed through, then it was their turn. A surly looking border guard looked the car over and checked their identification.

"Destination?" the guard asked.

"Mexico City."

"Daddy, my head hurts," Aneeda said softly.

"Purpose of your trip?"

"We’re taking a vacation."

"It hurts!"

"Just wait a minute, Aneeda. I’ll find the aspirin when we’re through."

"Is she okay, sir?" asked the guard. He looked curiously into the car at Aneeda.

"She just has a headache. She’ll be okay." Gary suddenly noticed the shocked expression on the guard’s face. "What…?"

The guard backed away from the car. "Santa Maria!" he repeated over and over.

"Daddy!!!"

Slowly, Gary turned towards Aneeda.

Her eyes were bleeding. She was clutching her head and the blood was dripping – no, pouring all over her face. "Daddy, I can’t stop it! I can’t keep it in any longer…"

Gary was too stunned to react. He just stared, trying to understand what was happening. "What the hell…?"

In one swift motion, Aneeda’s hand leaped out and struck him in the throat. He tried calling out her name, but nothing would come out except a white burning pain. That’s when he saw the blood splattered all over the inside of the car and he knew he would die. Why?

"I’m sorry," cried Aneeda, then she struck again, and again, and again…

 

Ross’ body convulsed as the entirety of his power returned to him in one concentrated burst. He trashed uncontrollably on the floor of the kitchen and, when it was over, he knew Aneeda was dead. Her memories flooded into him and he saw the small cell where, guilt-ridden she had taken her life. He felt her thoughts as they turned inward and simply stopped.

It was all his fault, of course. It was he who had planted the command deep in Aneeda’s mind just in case Gary tried to take her. She had resisted but, in the end, she had no choice.

He had known what would happen and he had done it anyway. Now, the two people he cared for the most were gone forever and he was responsible.

Ross sat on the cold floor of the kitchen and cried. He did not get up for a long time.

 

© 1997, by Fred Parker

 

Back to the Writers Club