Title: Fake Fruit
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I have to be honest here. I always thought that my life would end with a bang not a trickle. I think that in some part of my brain, I use to imagine that it would occur in the field of battle so to speak, in a blaze of glory, not as a slow, life sucking process. I actually really thought that a bullet would end up killing me, not apathy. But then again, that’s why I’m back here isn’t it? I do hate myself for being here now though, back in this life after having left it twenty-two years ago. But again, I have to be honest. I thought that was what I wanted. I thought I wanted to leave this all behind so that I could have a normal life. Be a professor somewhere, own a nice house where I never had to worry if someone was listening in on my conversations, work at a job where people didn’t try to kill me on a regular basis. For all that I turned my back again on my father. I forsake seeing my mother. I left behind a man that I loved. After the fall of SD-6, I moved away to start my life. Why did I have to leave Vaughn, you might ask? Because I couldn’t accept from him the very thing that I had offered to Danny all those years ago. If I left the CIA, he would still be in it. I couldn’t love him and sit at home, waiting for him to come back from whatever operation the CIA chose to send him on. I couldn’t handle knowing that there were things he couldn’t talk to me about. But most of all, I think I hated that there were things he couldn’t involve me in. And I wanted to be involved in his whole life. I guess I just wanted to have my proverbial cake and eat it too. Speaking of cake, the fact that I find myself here, walking down this dark alleyway between building, I can thank Kendall for that. Yes, Kendall is still around and no, he hasn’t been playing with some new Rambaldi device. I guess he was just younger than he looked. Or not. He retires in three years. Anyway, it took me 22 years to be able to find my way back to the CIA and for my first assignment he sends me here. To Virginia. He sent me to the Farm where the CIA trains its agents. Kendall, it appears, either has a really sick sense of humor or he hasn’t forgiven me for walking out on him. Of all the people I walked out on, he’s the only one that can exact any revenge on me. But don’t worry too much. Though he may be my boss again, I have come up with a plan for revenge. Here’s where the cake comes in. I have a fruitcake sitting in my freezer, just for Kendall. It’s big…the biggest one I could find. I waited until the department store had it on sale and I waited as long as possible to buy it so that I could find the one that was rejected by the most number of people. The poor saleswoman even had little samples for the customers to try. I declined to eat my sample. I did however take note that it was filled with fake fruit. At least that’s what I call that horrible candied fruit that they put in fruitcake. Yuck. I’m disgusted just thinking about it. It’s funny what you remember sometimes. I remember when I was about eight; I had been begging my father for some ice cream all day. Finally to please me, or more likely, to stop my whining, he went out and bought some ice cream at the corner store. I was so excited when he brought it home. I opened it up and found that it was a vanilla, chocolate and strawberry mix. My favorite flavors at the time. I was so happy, I begged my nanny for a huge bowl of it and I dug right in. Can I tell you how crushed I was to discover the bright green and red chunks in my ice cream? I mean they looked like they should taste good. They were bright colors; they came in square chunks. I thought they would taste so good, but they completely spoiled the flavor of the ice cream. Ugh. I want to retch just thinking about it. But when I complained to my father, he just ignored me and got angry. Apparently it was pretty expensive ice cream. I really miss my father. He died ten years ago on a CIA operation. That’s all I know. That’s all they would tell me. So that’s my plan for revenge. Come Christmas, which is still several months away, Kendall is getting the vilest fruitcake I could find. I mean, fruitcake itself is pretty vile, but this one is packed with fake fruit, which is extra vile. The extra fruit is for not telling me more information about my father’s death ten years ago. The slight moldy taste is for not giving me back my security clearance when I came back three months ago. I still don’t know anything more about his death. Pretty pathetic isn’t it? I used to deal with my enemies with roundhouses and right hooks. Now I have to stoop to giving them fruitcake. Something is just not right with that. But it’s all I can do. The truth of the matter is, if I did what I really want to do to him, then I would definitely get fired. Maybe even arrested. Then not only would I be apathetic and lonely but I would also have no one left to hate but myself. I hope he chokes on it. I continue to work my way through the back alleys of the buildings. I could go around the front, but it would remind me too much of my school days. Back when I was young and full of righteousness. I always loved the feeling of putting on my knapsack and walking across the campus. Back then, I was proud of everything I did. Now, I walk down alleyways to get to my first class. It’s kind of fitting. I hesitate as I reach the building for my class. It’s actually not really a class. It’s supposed to be the opening seminar to brief the new CIA recruits on what to expect. I don’t know why Kendall insisted on me giving this seminar. I think it’s some kind of a sick joke. He actually had the audacity to think that me teaching here was a good idea. His logic was that I loved teaching. I was a professor. I was also a kick ass spy. So now I can teach others how to be kick ass spies. I think I’m going to add some extra fake fruit to the top of his fruitcake. I open the door to the auditorium and there are about twenty students sitting in the first few rows. I briefly debate doing a one-eighty and hightailing it out of there but the students notice me. They start to quiet down and I know that I’ve lost my chance. Somehow I find the courage to put one foot in front of the other. Before I even know it, I have laid my briefcase down by the podium and walked up to the first row. The class is completely silent now and I suppose I should say something. I settle for giving them half a smile that I’m sure doesn’t reach my eyes. “So all you guys want to learn about being spies huh?” I cringe. That wasn’t want I’d planned to say. There’s far too much skepticism in my voice. I know that it’s not their fault that I’m here, but I realize that I’m going to take it out on them. I look at the faces in the class. They’re all looking at me, except for a few guys in the back. One of them, a dark-haired fellow with his hair in a ponytail laughs. “Sure, are you gonna teach us? I wanna learn how to beat the truth serum!” the ponytail guy shouts out. The class breaks out in laughter. As I look over at the wise ass, the class quiets down again. I cross my arms in front of my chest. “I assume that you are talking about Sodium Pentothal, or thiopental sodium, which is its correct name, but I realize that they usually don’t call it that in movies.” The class laughs at my jab, but I’m not done yet. “Ironically the truth about ‘Truth Serum’ is that it can’t force you to tell the truth if you don’t want to. It’s a barbiturate. It slows your heart rate, lowers your blood pressure and depresses your central nervous system, like any other sedative. It may make you loose your inhibitions and make you more communicative but you won’t lose your self-control. As I said, it won’t make you tell the truth if you don’t want to. But that’s not to say that someone can’t make you want to. And that’s the stuff they don’t really show you on TV.” I look around at the class. They are completely silent and even the smart-ass at the back is paying attention. I look around the front of the auditorium and I see a table to my right with a projector set up. I push the projector aside and sit on the table. I look at their innocent faces and it just about breaks my heart. These kids have no idea what they are getting themselves into. “There’s a lot of things about being a spy that they don’t show you on TV or in the movies. Things that you are all going to learn about here. I’m supposed to be giving you an introduction to your training but you can all read the company handout that I will give you at the end. I think that maybe we should all just talk.” I take a deep breath. I’m not sure I know what I’m getting myself into… “My name is Sydney Bristow. When I was twenty, I found myself in somewhat the same position that all of you are currently in. Wondering if I was good enough to serve my country. Wondering if I was strong enough and smart enough to be what the government needed me to be. Excited at the possibility of trying to be the best that I could be. That was almost thirty years ago…Needless to say I’ve learned a few things about life and myself since then.” The class looks a little in awe. Whether it’s at my old age or my bitterness, I’m not sure. I look at the faces starting back at me and I notice that one of the young guys has a stack of books by his feet. I turn my head sideways so that I can read the titles on the spines and I smile as recognize them. At the bottom is an old physics textbook. I go over to him and ask him if I can see it. He looks at me a little surprised but he reaches down to pick it up and he hands it to me. I take it and go back to sit on my table. I flip through it while the class watches me. I can feel their eyes on me. I find the page that I’m looking for and look back up at them. “Any one here studied physics?” A few of the students put up their hands. I know that most of them probably have arts or social science degrees; scientists don’t usually become field agents. “The reason I asked is because three of the most important rules that you will ever learn, come from this subject.” The look at me expectantly. I wonder for a second if I really do know what I’m talking about. “Newton’s Laws of Motion form the premise for all mechanical problems. You can use them to figure out how to set up a pulley system or what gauge of cables you will need to traverse two building. But they can also tell you a lot about human behavior as well.” The class is looking at me blankly. I try to suppress my sigh as I continue. “Take for example Newton’s First Law of Motion. It states that any object in a uniform state of motion, will remain in that state of motion, unless acted upon by an outside force. It’s the law of inertia, which all of you feel everyday of your lives. You can also look at it from a different point of view. People, like objects will always do what they have always done, unless there is some reason for change. People are really creatures of habit. This can help you in two ways. You can know this about yourself and therefore force yourself to change and you can know this about other people and use it to your own advantage.” “This is dumb. I really don’t see how is physics going to help us become spies”. It’s the pony-tale guy again. “Well Mr. Pony-tale, Newton’s Second Law of Motion states that a Force applied to an object equals its mass times its acceleration. Physicists claim that this is the most important rule because it allows them to derive all sorts of different equations but I say it’s pretty darn important too, just from a practical point of view. Especially when you are hanging from a ceiling rafter, thirty feet in the air. In that case, it’s very important to you. Because the force with which you are going to hit the ground beneath you, should you choose to let go, is going to be your weight times your deceleration from whatever speed you achieved while falling, to zero as you hit the ground. The human body can only take so much force before bones fracture and skin ruptures.” The class is quiet again. Maybe my description of skin rupturing was a tad excessive but I don’t think so. I’ve seen what happens to a human body if it tries to fly. Newton wins every time. “Newton’s Third law of Motion is probably the most important however.” The class looks at me blankly again. “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” As a whole the class still looks pretty confused which causes me to sigh. They’re just so innocent. “Basically what that means is that every time you hurt someone else, you hurt yourself too. When your fist connects with someone’s face, sure you break their nose, but at the same time their nose has connected with your fist. And it hurts. Trust me. When you get tossed down a flight of stairs, sure your back hits the stairs, but those stairs hit you back. And that really hurts. In a metaphysical sense, when you lie to someone, you get lied to return. Even if it’s unintentional, the truths that they speak to you are tainted by your own lies about who you are and what you do. When you steal, even if it’s for the good of your country, your honesty is stolen from you in return. When you kill someone, even to protect yourself, you die a little bit yourself every time. It’s not like in the movies, trust me. In real life, blood tastes metallic when you feel yourself spitting it out, bruises hurt, even if you can cover them up and pain does gnaw at you, even if you know how to compartmentalize it. In real life, as opposed to TV or in the movies, there are consequences to all your actions and inaction; all the time. Like Newton’s laws, they are unbreakable and unavoidable. They are cold, hard facts.” They’re looking at me intensely. They suddenly don’t look so innocent anymore and perhaps that breaks my heart even more. I wave my hand to brush aside my words and force a smile onto my face. Perhaps these aren’t words they need to hear quiet yet. “But these are things you will figure out for yourself as you go through life, in any job I suppose. I just want you all to appreciate the decision that you have made to start this kind of life. And I hope for all your sakes that the decision wasn’t based on some idolized fantasy from the big screen.” I glance at my watch and I’m shocked to see that my time is almost up. I make up some closing remarks; I’m not even really sure what I’m saying except that I remember telling them to grab their training packages on the way out. The class starts to file out, their conversation and laughter filling the room once again. I hop off the table and start to reach for my briefcase when I notice a student approaching me. He was the one that lent me the physics textbook. I pick it up off the table and hold it out for him. He takes it and puts it under his arm, but he doesn’t turn to leave. “Ms. Bristow?” “Yes,” I reply, inviting him to speak. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.” I can feel my eyebrow raise in curiosity. My name is not so well known that a new CIA recruit would know who I was enough to make meeting me an honor. “My father told me a lot about you.” I get this horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know I’m going to regret this. “What’s your name?” “David Vaughn, ma’am.” I was right, I do regret it. My stomach just dropped half a foot and I think it’s currently residing in my hips. I think I manage to nod my head and I think that the smile is still plastered to my face. “Agent Kendall hinted that you might be here when I last spoke to him, but I have to be honest, I didn’t really believe him. The famous Sydney Bristow…” That’s it. I had started to forgive him for this assignment, I had started to maybe reconsider putting the extra fake fruit on top of the fruitcake. Now, I’m going to put razor blades inside of it instead. “My dad spoke of you often, especially when I told him that I wanted to join the CIA just like him. Somehow I find my voice. “Your dad spoke of me?” I find this hard to believe. I find it even harder to believe that his wife didn’t kill him for speaking about an ex-girlfriend to their son. The boy nods. “Yeah. My mom died eight years ago and my father took it pretty hard. When I told him that I wanted to join the CIA he got really angry and told me he was tired of losing everybody that he loved. I asked him what he meant by that but he wouldn’t answer. It took me a few years and some arm-twisting but he finally told me.” I can’t help myself. “What did he tell you?” My voice is barely a whisper. “He told me about your involvement with SD-6, and how the two of you worked together to bring them down. He told me about your father working with him as well. He also told me that he had loved you very much.” I try to contain my laughter as I look at him skeptically. “He told you all this?” The boy blushes and looks down. “Ok, maybe he didn’t tell me the last part in so many words but it’s still true. I know he loved my mother and they were happy but I have never seen my father’s eyes shine like they did when he talked about you. Or hurt so much after he stopped talking about you. It was like seeing him relive my mother’s death. I think that that means he loves you.” I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized that I had been holding. “Is that all?” The boy shakes his head. “No, he said one more thing but it didn’t make any sense. He said that you had left him for the fake fruit and that he prayed that you had found a liking for them after all.” I think that I must have just stood there for a few minutes because the next time I look around the classroom has emptied except for Vaughn’s son standing in front of me. I’m completely floored. I think I just sat down, but I’m not really sure. The kid looks at me with a worried expression on his face but I just ignore him. Was that what I had been doing? Wanting a life that looked good on the outside but left a bad taste in my mouth? I had just wanted normality. Was it wrong to want to be like the people I saw out on the streets? Families that were happy together, friends that trusted each other. A job that didn’t require me to lie and cheat and risk death for every day. I just wanted what everybody else did, didn’t I? But I’m lost in a daze and it takes me some time to realize that though I had a safe, normal job for the last 22 years, I didn’t have a family that was happy together because I had never found another man that I could love that completely. And I had turned my back against the family that I did have because they weren’t normal enough for me. I didn’t have friends that I could trust entirely because I had left those behind as well. And except for the people trying to kill me because of my job, had I really found what I wanted? And if so, why had I come back here after all these years? I feel like crying and screaming at all once but out of the corner of my eye I see the boy leaving the classroom. I guess I was just too quiet for too long or maybe he thinks that he’s upset me. But he hasn’t. I think I did this all to myself. Before I can think anymore, I grab my briefcase and dash after him. I finally catch up just outside the building. “David, wait!” I call out. He stops and turns around. I can tell he’s unsure about what to do. The truth is, so am I. But I know it’s up to me now. “Does your dad know that I’m back with the agency?” David shakes his head. “No. Director Kendall asked me not to say anything to him until I spoke to you. I get the impression that my father took it kind of badly when you left.” I can only nod in understanding. I currently feel like someone is driving a knife into my chest. The thought of seeing Vaughn again after all these years is just too much. “Would it…I mean, could I come over and see him sometime?” I feel ridiculous asking that question to him but I don’t know how else to ask it. But I think the boy understands my meaning. He nods and looks at his watch. “Me and my dad actually live in town, not to far from here. I was planning on going home to see him this weekend. I think he would really like it if you came with me.” I manage to nod and smile; I can feel my heart hammering wildly in my chest. “I would like that too.” He explains to me how to contact him on Friday and then he has to rush off to get to another seminar. I’m left standing outside the building, looking across the campus, wondering what the hell I have done with my life. What did I trade away for some idolized fantasy from the big screen? I turn towards the back of the building to retrace my footsteps back to my office but the dark alleyway is uninviting. I turn back around again and look across the campus. The sun is warm on my face and I feel like laughing and crying. I decide against going back to my office and instead head to the parking lot where my car is parked. I know where I want to go. I make my way to my new home just off of the campus and I let myself in. I maneuver myself around all the boxes that I haven’t gotten around to unpacking yet until I make it to my freezer. I open it up and take out the only thing inside. The fruitcake is wrapped in some ugly red cellophane so reach into a drawer and grab a small knife. It doesn’t take me long to unwrap the monstrosity. I wrinkle my nose at the smell; it really is a tad moldy, but there is nothing I can do about that. Besides, he still deserves it. I’m still giving him this fruitcake. I see some fake fruit sticking out of the sides though so I pick it out using my hands. This leaves some pits in the side of the cake, but at least it’s a start. I’m tired of having fake fruit in my life. As I look down at the small pile of red and green cubes that I’ve collected on my counter, I smile at myself a little. Of all the people that I could have expected to help me see this about myself, Kendall is certainly not the person I would have picked. I use the knife to cut the cake up into smaller chunks so that I can start picking the fake fruit out of the inside. It takes me some time, but before the sun sets through my window, I have a huge pile of fake fruit beside me and the cake is cut up into about fifty pieces. But I think I got all of them. I carefully place the pieces of cake back into the center of the red cellophane and I try and rewrap what’s left of it. By the time I’m done, the fruitcake package is slightly lumpy but significantly lighter. I smile at myself as I place it back in the freezer. If things work out well, I may just give it to him the next time I see him. I think Kendall will understand. I make a mental note to cross the razor blades off my shopping list. I look at the pile of candied fruit on my counter and with a quick sweep of my hand I collect them and throw them in the trash. There are still lots of things that I haven’t figured out yet and I have no idea what is going to happen when I see Vaughn again this weekend but my earlier apathy is gone. My melancholy has lifted and for the first time in almost thirty years I don’t feel like I’m chasing a false hope. My life is not quiet done yet and suddenly, like the fruitcake I just put back in my freezer, I feel a whole lot lighter. I may be full of holes as well, but at least I’ve stopped trying to fill those holes with fake fruit. Now I’m only going to aim for the real stuff.
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