Alive

By: Aviantei

31 mph


After a few moments freshening myself up in the restroom, Alexander and I return to the hospital room. Dad has a stern expression on his face, while Nate still looks angry. Caleb is zoned in on his sketchbook, a pen moving fiercely against the pages, loud enough that I can hear the strokes from the doorway. I almost forgot how he manages to make being emotionally overwhelmed into a work of art, his concentration flawless.

All I ever want to do is hit things.

"She's gone," I say as a greeting, and half the tension bleeds out from the room in a space of a few seconds. Caleb continues to draw, though he adjusts from his hunched over posture a bit. He'll finish when he's finished. "Alexander helped scare her off. It was pretty impressive." I pat his arm in acknowledgement, another thanks in addition to the ones I spilled onto him in the hallway.

He rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I don't know if I call diplomacy 'scaring her off'…"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure what you did was way more passive-aggressive than it was diplomacy."

"A keeper then," Dad says, already wholly on board with our relationship from the sounds of it. If nothing else, I suppose Alexander makes a much better impression than I do—which makes me very glad that the highest authority in his life that I need to appeal to is Jan and Dew. "Well, either way, thank you for that. I just wish I could do more to apologize for bringing you into our little corner of drama over here."

Alexander shakes his head. "Like I said, I don't mind if I'm helping Kirsten out, sir."

"Bah, enough of that 'sir' stuff. I get enough of that when I'm on the clock." Dad waves a hand through the air as I prop myself against a wall to observe. "I'd say you can call me by name, but seeing as I'm Caleb, Senor, that's a bit confusing, too, isn't it? Though I'm sure C wouldn't object too much if you call him 'Junior.'" That's unfair, Dad, you know he's not gonna say anything until he's done with his art. "Would you mind if I called you 'Alex'?"

"Dad," Nate says, looking horrified, "you can't go around calling Cunningham Hume 'Alex.'"

"I don't see why not. It's his name, isn't it?"

I peek at Alexander, but he's slipped on that half poker face that's damn near impossible to decipher. I almost miss the way he used to get embarrassed whenever I called him Alexander. "I mean, I guess it's not too bad." Catching my raised eyebrow, Alexander smiles. "Don't give me that look. You've said it so many times that my given name's kind of grown on me."

Nate buries his head in his palms, a sound like a muffled scream coming from his throat. "Why is my family like this?" he asks before straightening up a bit. "Oh! You don't mind if I call you Cunningham, do you? I'm just so used to it that it'll probably slip out anyway, and if it ain't broke don't fix it and all."

Still wearing that winning smile, Alexander nods his approval. "I don't mind, since that's the name I use professionally anyways."

There's the snap of a book closing shut, and Caleb tucks his pen back in the spiral. There's still a bit of strain on his face, and I can see the faint traces of tears, but he looks much better than just a few minutes ago, even. "Oh, Kir, you're back! Are you doing okay?"

"Don't you give me that. I'm the one who's worried about you." I don't even have to give Caleb a stern look, since Dad and Nate do it for me, and Caleb ducks his head in slight embarrassment. I count myself lucky, since that means I get to go all out on being the comforting one. "You look alright for now, but I'm willing to buy you as much ice cream as you want if you need it, okay?"

Caleb gives me a hopeful look. "Actually, I just went through one of my marker fills—"

"Markers aren't ice cream, C," Nate says.

"Close enough!"

Dad's warm laugh is enough to help some of the lingering tension slip away, but, unlike our earlier talk, he doesn't dance around the real subject. "Again, though, I'm sorry you kids had to see her again. I didn't expect her to show up. We haven't even talked since we signed the divorce papers."

I take a moment to assess Dad's tone, and I can tell he isn't lying—which begs the question of what the hell did she even want? Stir up trouble? Weasel her way back into Dad's life? For all I know, she genuinely doesn't see anything wrong with checking up on her ex-husband and being a problematic bitch. If I didn't have more important things to worry about, I might have gone after her and demanded an explanation. Of course, just because I don't know doesn't mean Mariya can't find out…

No, bad Kirsten. Bad. If you're going to lecture Mariya about using her powers for evil, you can't make her turn around and do it just because you said so.

"Don't worry, Dad. None of this is your fault," Caleb says, patting Dad's arm through the blankets. "Like you always say, you can't control other people. She decided to come around on her own, even though you set your boundaries. Besides, I know that no matter what she says, you all love me, and that matters way more than what she thinks!"

Dad pats Caleb's hair before he can even think about protesting. "Smart words from a smart kid."

"Sounds to me like he learned them from a smart dad," Alexander says, somehow making the line sound one-hundred percent genuine and not at all like he's sucking up. Is that what they taught him as a kid? "Well, if Kirsten's anything to go by, there's nothing the lot of you can't handle when you're all together. Whatever happens, I'm sure it'll work out."

"Yeah, well, that's what family is," Dad says, parroting one of Mom's favorite lines. It's the first time he's quoted her and I haven't felt like the world is going to spill over into gray. "Though don't count yourself out there, Alex. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who helps take care of my kids is good enough to be family, blood or not. What do you say?"

The look of surprise flashes across Alexander's face so quick that I'm surprised I even catch it. "Well, if you'll have me, sir."

"I don't say things that I don't mean, boy."

"If that's the case," Alexander says, the corners of his lips curving up into a smile, "I'd be honored."


The sky is dark on what feels like the longest day of my fucking life, and I'm so exhausted that not even the time zone difference can give me and edge on wanting to sleep. But I still need to eat dinner (I set the boys free with one of my bank cards and as many take out menus as they could muster), not to mention that I haven't even started on unpacking my bag.

Dad hasn't changed the guest room much, and my old furniture is still there, along with the dark red bedspread. I didn't have much use for any of the things when I took off backpacking out of high school. Now, I'm glad that none of it has changed, because it's so easy to feel comfortable and at ease when I'm here. I resist the urge to flop face first on the mattress and start pushing my suitcase towards the dresser.

Alexander maneuvers around me and pulls my luggage away. "I can take care of that. You get some rest."

While my natural instinct is to argue with him, the temptation of not doing anything aside from sleeping and stuffing my face with take out is far too much. So I watch Alexander for a few moments as he pulls open dresser drawers. "I'm not saying that I don't appreciate it, but you don't have to do everything for me while we're here, you know."

"It's the least I can do while you're stressed." He says it in a way that doesn't leave any room to argue, and I drop onto the bed ass first before flopping backwards. I'm not even under the blankets and it already feels like heaven. "I really don't mind helping out, Kirsten. And, no offense, you look like you're ready to fall asleep any second—and that's perfectly valid."

Closing my eyes against the light, I huff. "I could still break your wrist if I wanted to."

"Oddly specific, but I'm going to ask that you don't. I kind of need that for when the IG season starts up again." That's right, the only reason I've been able to monopolize so much of Alexander's time is because he's in the off season; once racing starts up again, I'm going to have to compromise. The mattress bounces in response to Alexander lying down next to me, and I open my eyes, enjoying the soothing presence of the green in his eyes. "I don't have a lot of opportunities to spoil people, and you deserve the support right now. Indulge me."

"You're the one that's indulging me," I say with half a laugh. "But I'm not going to say no to some help right now. I don't even want to think about what how today would have gone if you weren't around."

"So don't think about it." Alexander runs his palm up my arm, coming to rest on my shoulder. I scoot a bit closer, still liking the sensation of my body fitting against his, feeling the rumble of his chuckle through his chest. "Is this the part where I offer to distract you?"

"Silly. If I distract you, who's going to unpack my bag for me?" Even so, I steal a few kisses, relaxing into the sensation, content that it doesn't have to go anywhere I don't want it to. "Just for the record, you now know all of my family's messy angst. You don't get to back out for that anymore."

If Alexander's surprised by how serious I sound, he doesn't show it. "All things considered, I think you're all doing okay." He pauses, and I wonder if he's thinking about his own family—all the things that I already know, but he doesn't have any idea that I do. I make a curious noise, hoping that he'll say it himself so that I can stop feeling guilty. "Ah, come on, Kirsten, you don't want to deal with my baggage on top of yours."

"You don't know that. Maybe it'll distract me." I roll onto my back again, my arm hanging over the foot of the bed. "Tell me a story, Alexander. Only if you want to, though." He's offered me that courtesy, so I should do the same for him.

Alexander grunts as he sits up, running a hand through his hair. "How about I give you the abridged version?" I nod my approval. Exhaling, he stands up and works on unzipping one of our suitcases. "My family's pretty high class, my parents wanted to keep up our good name, and I was a smart kid. You can guess where that went for me." Well, it's more like I know already, but it's different to hear it from his mouth, instead of lines of type from Mariya's data dives. "The problem was that it wasn't a challenge for me, so I got bored. All but ran away from home when I got scouted for the IG." I lift my head to look at him, but he's too hunched over the dresser for me to get a read on his expression. "And, well, then I turned into a bored IGPX racer, and you know the rest."

I manage to get my hands on a pillow and toss it at his back. "How am I supposed to get scared off if you don't even have any dramatic fights or anything?"

"Hm, I'm not a very good storyteller. Maybe you should've kept that in mind." I can hear his smirk in that one, and I let myself ease back into the mattress. "I'll tell you more when the world's not exploding. How's that sound?"

"Kir!" Caleb's shout comes from the hallway, and my half-formed response dies in my throat. "What kind of stuff do you want on your pizza? Nate and I were thinking of ordering a couple."

I let out a groan that only eldest siblings can produce and haul myself up, my bodying protesting at the loss of a comfortable resting place as I head to the door. "You two do realize that someone's gonna have to eat all the food you guys are ordering, right?"


[Author's Notes]

Fair trade for learning angsty family secrets is divulging angsty family secrets.

Next chapter, next Saturday! Please look forward to it!

-Avi

[11.25.2019]