Alright, you can probably disregard whatever notes I've made about how many chapters I'm going to post. It turns out I have many, many more scenes to complete and share, so I won't even bother putting a limit on them. There will be scenes from Aaron's adolescence, early adulthood, and later adulthood. For a quick teaser, here are the sorts of things you can look forward to: different perspectives on scenes from "Curtain Call," sweet moments with Haley, Sean's graduation, Aaron's experiences at the FBI Academy and being mentored by David Rossi, reflections on the divorce, moments with other team members... to name a few. I hope to write all these scenes; I have too many ideas. I may jump back in forth in time, an adulthood story here, a childhood story there. I'm planning to keep this post open so I can continue adding scenes every so often throughout the semester. I currently have five college classes to juggle, but as long as I have a spare moment, I plan to whip up another chapter! Your favorites, follows, and ESPECIALLY reviews are highly appreciated! I'd love to know what you think as I continue exploring this character and practicing my writing.
For now, here's an uncommonly fun chapter, at least how I see it (and once you get past the beginning). Thanks for reading!
-LTLS
—-
This morning, Mother just kept drinking. She said she was trying to drown out the bad feeling, but it never went away. By now she was spacey, unsteady, and confused.
While trying to scrounge for any breakfast scraps, Aaron quickly realized what a bad condition his mother was in. "Do you need to sit down?" he ventured to ask.
In response, Mother picked up an iron skillet and flung it at his head, swaying drunkenly as she tried to aim. Her move was too slow and predictable. Aaron ducked as the skillet crashed into a yellow ceramic flour jar. The nearly empty jar caved into several shards, just as Aaron's skull surely would have.
Mother released her hold on the pan and staggered backwards. "I'm gonna... I'll kill you... I will..."
She threw a ceramic cup at him. He didn't even bother ducking this time; her aim was off by two feet. He gazed at her bloodshot eyes and sunken, sallow face. He couldn't remember ever seeing her so weak, but now she appeared about to crumble within herself. She reached for her half-empty bottle, and Aaron rushed forward to grab it before it touched her lips.
From nowhere, Mother found the strength to smack him in the face. The blow wasn't very hard, nothing like usual. Aaron maintained his grip on the cold bottle.
"You're making yourself sick," he said, realizing he had the upper hand for once. "You've got to stop drinking."
"Leave me alone," Mother mumbled. "I just want to feel better."
She jerked the bottle upward, toward her face. Aaron didn't let it budge.
Suddenly she gripped her stomach and doubled over. "Oh, I feel terrible."
The bottle hit the countertop, and Mother grabbed Aaron's shoulder for support. "Take me... bathroom..."
She couldn't batter him if she was sick. Maybe this was a good thing. Aaron helped her to the bathroom, where she promptly dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. Aaron lifted the lid and brushed Mother's hair back from her face. Just in time. She clung to the seat, leaned over the bowl, and vomited for several minutes. Aaron stood back, holding his breath. The smell alone made him want to throw up.
When Mother's heaves receded to deep breaths and spitting, Aaron folded several squares of toilet paper to give her. She dabbed at her lips with a shaking hand. Aaron felt oddly detached, not especially concerned for his sadistic mother, but at the same time hopeful that she would recognize his support and change her attitude toward him. He wished he could genuinely care about her being sick, he tried to care, but the feeling wasn't there.
Mother flushed the toilet and then climbed back up Aaron's arm. She leaned on him and moaned. "I feel like crap. Why doesn't somebody just shoot me?"
"Mom, you're sick. You need rest. Come with me."
He led her to the couch and helped her lie down, just as she would have helped him when he was sick, back when she actually cared.
Mother sucked in a sharp breath and then sighed slowly. She put the back of her hand over her eyes. "I can't take care of Sean today. Don't make me. Don't you dare..."
"I'll watch him today." Aaron spread a quilt over his mother's shaking body. "Please don't get up."
Then he considered his new task. He couldn't miss school today; he had skipped too many classes in the past to keep people from seeing horrible wounds on his face, or simply because his legs wouldn't hold. He had no choice but to find a way to watch Sean and go to school.
Aaron found a plastic bucket in the basement and set it beside the couch. With one last look at his half-awake mother, he headed into the kitchen and poured the rest of her bottle down the sink. Then he located the large wicker bread basket on the counter beside the shattered flour jar. He shook out the plaid cloth from the basket and nibbled up every bread crumb he could find. Then he folded the cloth and placed it in the base of the rectangular basket.
Aaron carried Sean downstairs from his crib and laid him inside the basket. "You're going on a field trip today," he said.
Sean stared up at him with four fingers in his mouth and his legs curling up to his stomach. Aaron handed him a frog-shaped teether, and he placed an empty baby bottle and a couple of diapers in the side of the basket.
"Be good for me, please," said Aaron, before draping a sheet-thin white hand towel over the top of the basket, covering his brother from view. The blanket allowed some light and air through its thin knit, but now the container looked like a simple picnic basket.
With Sean hidden in this manner, Aaron lifted the basket by its woven handles and carried it to school, praying all the way that nobody would suspect a thing.
He needed to see Haley, but Jessica Brooks informed him that her sister was home with a cold.
Why did Haley have to be sick, and today of all days?
Aaron started to walk away, downcast, when Jessica stopped him with a question: "What's inside the basket?"
He looked back at her, mind scrambling for something to say. "Nothing of interest," was all he could manage.
"You would tell Haley, wouldn't you?"
Aaron shrugged. "Don't see why I would. She wouldn't be at all impressed."
Jessica gave him a look, but she let it go. The bell rang, and Aaron hurried to his first class. History. He felt a little excited, like he was responsible for some secret package that nobody else could open. Because if anybody did, they would surely call the bedridden enemy, and who knew what might happen then.
Sean was a quiet baby, used to being ignored. He never cried for attention and was used to entertaining himself for hours. Aaron had very little concern about setting the basket under his desk and trusting the baby to remain calm during the entire class. He figured if somebody saw it, and wasn't as nosy as Jessica, they would just think he had brought an extra large lunch. That'll be the day.
Several minutes into class, Aaron started holding his pencil too loosely. He drew his hand back toward the very edge of the desk and let the pencil teeter between his fingers. In seconds, the pencil flipped over and landed on the floor by his feet.
The teacher, Diane Lanessa, met his eye. Aaron gave an apologetic smile, then bent down as she turned back to the chalkboard. He reached for the pencil with one hand, and with the other he quietly lifted a corner of the white blanket. Sean was teething contentedly on his green plastic toy, and he looked up at the crack of unfiltered light in the corner. Satisfied, Aaron dropped the blanket back into place and sat up. He continued writing notes as if all he had done was retrieve a dropped pencil.
Toward the end of class, Mrs. Lanessa began describing next week's assignment. "I want two pages on the War of 1812," she said. "And if I can't read your handwriting, I can't grade the paper. You can write about anything concerning the war, but it has to be two pages, alright?"
The boy with a perm at Aaron's left let out a profanity. Several others groaned in agreement.
Aaron gave his classmate a cold look. "Why don't you watch your mouth?"
The boy at his left made a bemused expression. He was known to have a dirty mouth, and nobody had ever objected before. "What's your problem?" he demanded.
"You never know if there might be people in the room who don't need to hear that kind of thing."
The kid gave a bark-like laugh. "Well, aren't you sensitive today!"
Other kids around him started teasing, but Mrs. Lanessa soon cut them off. "Hotchner's right," she said. "There is no need for that kind of language. You're all dismissed. Get working on your papers!"
Aaron felt triumphant but tried not to gloat. He knew how easily those kids could target him, and he was extra vulnerable today with his cargo to protect. He gathered up the basket and went down a narrow hallway that everybody avoided behind the gym. There he waited until he was certain the kids had moved on.
Next Aaron went to his locker in the otherwise empty hallway and set the basket at his feet so he could put his history book away. Stacey, a generally annoying sophomore with frizzy brown hair and the latest style in pink clothes, walked over and opened the locker to Aaron's right.
A minute later, she gasped. "What in the world, Hotchner! Are you starting a daycare service?"
Aaron looked down at the basket. Sean had pulled the blanket down to his chest with his fist, and now he peeked over the top edge.
"Oh," said Aaron, trying to hide his panic. "That's my brother."
"And what the heck is he doing here?"
Aaron slammed his locker door. "Show and tell." He tried to sound casual. Not showing any emotion, he knelt to pull the sheet back over the basket.
"For what class?" Stacey screeched. "Did you ever get past grade school? Hotchner?"
"Shhh," said Aaron, smiling slyly. "Don't ruin the surprise for anyone. I'll bet I have the most unusual show and tell presentation of any class."
"What? You— What?" Stacey's face was changing colors, and she seemed caught in cyclic confusion.
"What did you bring?" Aaron asked, hiding his smirk in a straight deadpan line. "I'm sure your class will be eager to see."
When Stacey got lost in stutters, Aaron picked up his cargo and carried it down the hall like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. A quick glance over his shoulder caught Stacey looking frantically through all her class schedules and assignment sheets. Aaron ran outside to share a quick laugh with his brother behind an oak tree.
In the cafeteria near the end of lunch break, Aaron spent his small handful of spare change on a half-pint carton of milk. Firmly holding the basket under one arm, he made his way slowly around the mostly abandoned tables, picking up any scraps of food he could find for his lunch. He was amazed at how many kids left their vegetables behind on their trays, but he couldn't complain to have something to eat. Even though it was processed. And soggy. And in some cases partially chewed.
Aaron sat at a table in the corner with his back to the few students who lingered with their lunches. Glancing every now and then over his shoulder, he poured the half-pint of milk into the baby bottle and screwed on the lid. By then, the janitor was doing his rounds in the cafeteria, and Aaron knew he had to clear out.
He went to the boy's bathroom and locked himself in the stall at the end. In the cramped space, he set the basket on the floor, lifted the baby out, and cradled him on his lap. Aaron held a finger to his lips to emphasize the need to be quiet, then brought the bottle of milk to Sean's mouth. Sean drank in near silence, save for the occasional sucking noises. Aaron wondered if he would ever tell his brother about these bizarre circumstances they lived through together.
Moments later, Aaron heard the outer restroom door open and a conversation move near the sinks. Two voices, low scheming tones.
"Well, I saw him carrying around a bread basket like some kind of sissy!"
"Why? For bread?"
"Who brings that much bread to school? I think he's hiding something. A dog, maybe."
"Whatever it is, I want to find out."
"You grab him, I'll grab the basket. Deal?"
"Let's do it."
Sean finished the bottle, so Aaron leaned down to drop it back into the basket. He held Sean to his shoulder for a minute, listening until the voices went away. He wasn't surprised, but he was a little worried. He had to be on guard against anyone who might attack him and his brother.
"Nobody's gonna touch you," he whispered.
Sean waved his arm and cooed. He tried to bounce in Aaron's arms, but Aaron shushed him, changed his diaper with some difficulty, and laid him him back in the basket. "Nap time," he whispered, before stretching the white blanket over the basket again.
Aaron came into math class a few minutes late and sat in the middle row. Since the teacher, Mrs. Gillansy, was droning on about finding that eternally missing x, Aaron knew nobody would raise any questions about the basket he set under his desk.
Last time he checked, Sean was dozing off. He needed plenty of peace and quiet for his nap. Sean wasn't usually bothered by a lack of attention or by loud noises, but that changed when he was sleeping. He would still wake up crying if there was too much noise, usually if his brother was getting beaten especially hard nearby. If ever there was a baby who needed a calm atmosphere to sleep, it was Sean.
So Aaron was acutely aware of the whispered conversation going on between a boy and a girl in the row behind him. Those two often spent math class in quiet conversation, and Aaron often didn't mind. He knew how much he and Haley couldn't resist sharing their whispered commentary during biology.
But this time the hushed voices sounded louder than usual. This time they were grating. Aaron tapped his fingers on his desk and sighed.
Finally he turned around and hissed, "Shut up!"
The two students gave him somewhat mortified expressions. Aaron faced forward again and saw Mrs. Gillansy gazing in their direction. In fact, everybody in the room was staring at him.
Aaron shrugged. "We're okay," he said softly. "Sorry about that."
After that, every time the students behind him tried to resume their conversation, all Aaron had to do was give them a dirty look, and they fell silent.
He tried to focus on the equation on the board. Mrs. Gillansy's steady drone wasn't likely to disrupt Sean's slumber, so it didn't bother Aaron. He worked through the calculations and raised his hand.
Mrs. Gillansy pointed. "You know the answer, Hotchner?"
"57.4," whispered Aaron.
"What? I can't hear you."
Aaron cleared his throat and whispered only a little louder: "57.4."
Mrs. Gillansy frowned at him. She usually did. "That is correct, but please speak up. We are not babies here."
Students chuckled at that, and Aaron thought he would burst if he couldn't cover all of their mouths. His fists clenched on his desk, but he didn't move.
Mrs. Gillansy continued the lecture. She worked another equation and pointed to the first raised hand.
"83.9!" shouted the student in front of Aaron.
Aaron leaned forward. "Shhh!"
He only got a glare in reply.
The next student shouted the next answer. Aaron shushed her too.
Mrs. Gillansy put her hands on her hips. "Is something wrong, Hotchner?"
Aaron hated being the center of attention. He shook his head. "I have a headache," he said quietly. He really wanted to tell everybody it was naptime, and if they didn't let his brother sleep, he would never make it through the next class. And he had come so far!
Mrs. Gillansy rolled her eyes. "Class, try to be mindful of Hotchner's head. He must be thinking too hard about something, and I doubt it's math."
Somehow Aaron felt that by covering his ears he could block the sound of laughter from reaching Sean. Don't. Wake. Up.
Aaron felt like he and Sean had won the Olympics by the time they emerged from class without further incident. His hands and forehead were slick with sweat, but he held tightly to the basket and walked down the hall as casually as possible.
He caught sight of two boys around the corner who started walking intentionally toward him. The scheming boys from the restroom, most likely. Aaron turned away and picked up a brisk pace. Just ahead, he saw Stacey, the annoying sophomore, storming through the crowd in his direction with a fiery expression. Sandwiched between two advancing forces of opposition, Aaron froze in place, pondering every option.
"Hotchner, you are in so much trouble!" Stacey yelled.
Good observation, he thought. He glanced back and saw the boys rapidly approaching. They were faster than Stacey. One boy with long blond hair and a paisley shirt grabbed Aaron from behind. The other, with a mohawk and leather jacket, came up beside Aaron and smirked.
Aaron could imagine the shout when they found out: You brought a BABY to school?! Not only would every teacher come running, but the principal too, and the questions would be more than he could handle. One phonecall to his mother would make her furious, even though she had asked him to babysit. Regardless of her being sick, she would spend the rest of her time on the couch devising new ways to torture him for embarrassing her and risking a social worker investigation.
"What's up, guys?" asked Aaron, not at all fazed.
"Tell us what's in the basket," ordered the mohawk boy.
Stacey was pushing her way through several layers of the crowd, looking uptight with anger. Aaron held the basket closer to his chest and faced the boy at his side.
"Do you normally pick through everybody's lunch vessels?" he asked indignantly.
"Do you normally bring a banquet to school? I don't think so."
The blond boy holding Aaron's arms snickered. "I don't think he ever brings lunch, do you, Hotchner? I think he's smuggling something. Something illegal."
"Well, there's nothing to hide about bread," Aaron sighed. "You could do with being less pushy about it though."
"What do you mean?" Mohawk sneered.
"I'll show you what's inside," said Aaron, "if you have your friend let go of me and come beside you."
"Really?" The boy's expression fell. He had clearly expected more resistance, and he didn't look excited to see a load of bread.
The blond boy released Aaron and joined Mohawk. Aaron gripped a corner of the blanket and prepared to fold it back. His heart pounded.
"Hotchner!" Stacey's voice shrieked from behind several seniors. "I ought to sock you in the nose!"
She finally broke free from the crowd of high schoolers and marched straight for Aaron. Not moving his head, Aaron gripped the basket tightly to his side and stuck out his leg. Stacey tripped over his foot and fell into Mohawk's arms.
Aaron pulled back. "Boys, have you met Stacey? I think she's looking for a homecoming date."
Stacey looked startled as she realized what had happened and who she was facing. The boys looked just as startled. By the time they looked up, Aaron was halfway down the hall and didn't slow down until he had darted around the corner.
Breathing hard, Aaron snuck into the gym and collected himself underneath the bleachers. Sean had stirred, but he was still asleep. Grateful for his narrow escape, Aaron carried the basket out to the front hallway just as the last bell rang.
Aaron calmly joined the flood of students rushing for the door. He saw his history teacher, Mrs. Lanessa, watching from the sidelines with her arms crossed. Suddenly she stepped forward and stopped him before he made it to the door. "Aaron, I'm curious. What's inside the basket?"
Aaron searched the woman's eyes. A mass of teenagers swarmed by just behind him, all talking loudly. He couldn't be sure if any were listening. He leaned a little closer to his teacher. Then, dead-serious, he told her: "A baby."
She stared at him, trying to understand. Aaron stared back, eyes dancing with amusement. His thinly pressed lips curved upward as his teacher looked more and more bewildered.
Then Aaron started laughing, and Mrs. Lanessa hesitantly joined in. It sounded like a good joke, and Aaron savored the laugh for a minute. His teacher wiped her eyes while her student recovered from his mirth.
"I've never known you to be a comedian," she said.
"I'm full of surprises. See you next week, Mrs. Lanessa," Aaron said. Then he turned and walked out the door.
"No, really." The teacher held out a hand. "What's in the basket? Aaron?"
He pretended not to hear but just kept walking. With all the noisy conversations at every side, his feigned deafness came across quite believably. He knew she wouldn't follow him once he reached the street, so he just kept walking. He walked all the way home, silently congratulating himself and his brother for pulling off the charade all day.
Once he reached his neighborhood, he pulled back the blanket and smiled at the waking baby. "You know what?" said Aaron. "I feel just like my namesake from the Bible, and you behaved perfectly as a baby Moses. From the Exodus story, remember? We should do this again sometime."
He approached the front door and took a deep breath.
"Now let's keep that Egyptian princess from plucking you out of your basket."
So Aaron went inside, feeling just like a Hebrew slave in brutal captivity. He would be delivered someday, he was sure. Hopefully someday soon.