Perfect Havok
"Love implies anger. The man who is angered by nothing cares about nothing." - Edward Abbey
Coming to the conclusion that I wouldn't be talking to Charles anymore that night I trudged up to my room after downing my beer, and then a second one. Already exhausted, I sighed and reached out for the doorknob, turning it slowly trying to prolong the inevitable. Scott was sitting crosslegged in my comfy chair I had severely charred, still sipping away at his drink. Probably should've swapped the furniture from one of the unused rooms but I wasn't exactly expecting company for a while. Or ever. Why room with Scott when there were unoccupied rooms? Would you want to be alone just after your sister died? Didn't think so. I was just being a good person.
"Why are there so many holes in your wall?" The kid asked me innocently enough.
Why? I'm a street fighter who just escaped the joint with some pretty spectacular anger issues, that's why. Not to mention on of my closest (only) friend's just died a day ago. "Guess I was angry." I said instead of unleashing on him with a shrug. "You can take my bed for the night." I offered him, dodging the topic obviously enough.
He fidgeted a bit, noticing my desire to not talk about my anger. "No, that's okay. You don't have to suffer just because some brat came knocking at your door."
"Says the brat." I said playfully. I gave Scott a side glance and saw him chuckling a bit.
"You're alright, Alex. Max was right about you." He said to me with one of those painful smiles on his face. Wish the kid didn't have to wear those sunglasses all the time so I could really see how he felt. But, I got the picture.
Speaking of which, there was something I should probably bring. "How are you going to sleep without turning the rest of my furniture to charcoal?" I asked him, motioning to my eyes to give him the gist of what I was talking about.
He laughed. "The secret is to wake up without opening your eyes and to not have any nightmares. That shit will burn holes in my ceiling." He paused with a smile. "Well, your ceiling."
At that I snickered. "Yeah, same here. But I already have to patch up the walls. If you so much as scratch the paint I'll make you do all of it."
"I'd like to see you try." He threatened with a boyish smirk.
Just like his sister. I quickly jumped on him which led to us wrestling for a bit. It wasn't long before I put him in a double underhook, AKA a butterfly, and pinned him to my floor.
"Anything else you'd like to see?" I taunted as I sat on his lower back.
"Yeah, a real tough guy! You pinned down a twelve year old! How old are you? Thirty!" He spat as he struggled.
I brought my foot around and shoved it in the kids face.
"Try twenty you brat!" I said while Scott choked on my sock. After biting me a couple of times, I decided enough was enough. I released the kid and we both laughed like mad. Something about this kid reminded me of the perfect younger brother. Max was lucky. He fought back, he bickered, he never gave up, and he had heart. He wasn't some pansy little brother that got the crap kicked out of him, he held his own. Admirable. Max, her brothers, and her parents really got the pick of the draw with this punk.
Where are they from again? One of the "New" states, if I remember correctly. Had to be Jersey, right? Actually, that doesn't sound right. Somewhere more exotic? New... New Mexico! Wait a minute... this kid traveled across the country alone? What the fuck is wrong with people! I had been lost in thought for awhile and I found myself saying, "So... Scott..."
"Hmmm?" He responded without looking my way.
I cleared my throat. "You from down South, right?" I asked. It was just a general question, a not-so-subtle way to figure out what I wanted to know.
Scott looked a bit confused by my question. "Uh, yeah."
"Like... where exactly? If you don't mind me asking." I continued to press, trying to keep up the innocent act as long as I could.
"Down the Mexico way, New Mexico to be exact." He said with a twirl of a pencil he pulled out of his pocket.
"You came all this way from New Mexico by yourself?" I asked, my anger starting to flair a bit.
The kid gave me an exhausted look. Like he expected a pretty hasty reaction from me. "I hopped on buses all on my own, but I called up some of my daddy's war buddies to give me a place to stay. They'd let me in for the night and then I'd head to the nearest station the next day."
"Oh... that's- well, that's good. I guess." I had to admit, I didn't like the thought of such a young kid travelling cross country, but at least he had a place to stay every night. "So, you were adopted right? What happened to your parents?" I asked, wanting to know more about the kid while avoiding the .
"You jump right to it, don'tcha?" He laughed quietly but he didn't act like it was a sore topic. "Well, I don't technically know what happened to my parents, never met them. I was dumped in every foster you could think of until I was around 11. Mrs. Fuller- Ma was visiting the D.C. area when she saw me playing on a jungle gym. Immediately she called my dad up and I was adopted within the week. Since they both adopted me I decided to get my last name changed. I didn't attach much sentiment to it anyway. I was a Dugen-Fuller and that's the way I like it." He stopped but then he suddenly started laughing for no apparent reason.
"I can't believe I forgot that! Okay, let me explain. Max was the first one I met and she made a mighty strong impression. I was to meet the entire family so I put on my best Sunday shirt and dress pants and rang their doorbell. She answered it, Max did and do you know what the first thing out of her mouth was?" He paused and I didn't intervene. "She said, "Who's the Jehovah?" Right to my face!" He laughed. "Absolutely ridiculous! I was so scared that I nearly turned around and ran all the way back to Washington. Luckily for me Ma came up behind her and told her who I was. She still insisted that I was a Jehovah and headed back into the house like she couldn't've cared less either way. The most hilarious and terrifying thing I ever experienced."
From when he told me what she said I was laughing hysterically. That poor kid, having to put up with Max for all those years. Hell, they were probably the best years of his life. I know the short time I had with her could never be topped by anything else. Never. I knew that much even when I was only twenty years old. She was pure energy, a joker through and through. And the funniest part was, she didn't even try. That's just who she was. Fantastically ridiculous.
After three minutes of full out laughter I wiped away the tears that formed and clapped the kid on the back. "You're alright, kid. But it's getting late and I've got stuff to repair tomorrow. Unless you want to try and see if I'm bluffing." I chuckled slightly while looking at the eleven holes in my wall before turning back to him again. "You, bed. Me, floor." I insisted. I grabbed one of the thousands of pillows that decorated my bed that I had shoved all the way against the far wall. I liked sleeping next to windows. The best view I could get from my last place of residence was a guys asscrack as he pissed.
Scott laughed. "Alright, alright. You just need a pillow or you want a sheet or something?" He asked a bit jokingly. I gave him a look and ripped the comforter off the mattress with one swift motion. Then I, quite literally, wrapped myself into a cocoon. Just in case I was thrashing in the middle of the night I'd only catch the blanket on fire. Preventative measures.
"What a sight." Scott teased. Next to my head was a pair of my Chuck Taylor's so I grabbed one and chucked it at him.
"Stuff it!" I snarled. "The light switch is right above your head you shitty brat!" I said before turning away from him and forcefully telling my body to sleep.
"Night, sour puss." Scott mumbled and I froze momentarily. Only Max ever called me that. And that brought some painful feelings back to the surface. Guess those two were more alike than I realized. And from the stories I think that Max rubbed off on him in all the wrong ways. He had her humor, her need to argue, and her stubborn tendencies. It was just the slightest bit painful but talking to Scott actually distracted me from the reality that she was gone. Which was poisonous in and of itself really. Maybe if I talked to the kid long enough I'd just start thinking of him as his black haired spunky sister.
Like that could ever happen.
