About a Boy
Disclaimer: Neither Edward nor Suburbia belong to me. Neither does Kim. Neither does anything you might recognize. Everything else, including the lovely and talented Irish punk Shae O'Connor, belongs to ME! ME! YOU CAN'T HAVE MY SHAE, TIM BURTON, AND I CAN BORROW YOUR EDWARD! NANANANANANA!!! Wait. . .stop. . .Tim, I love you! (You get the point, right?) Also, if you see any inaccuracies in the description of anything, just review and tell me. . .I haven't seen the film since I was thirteen.
Chapter Three: In Which Shae eats Cookies and Babysits
Kim Boggs was eighty-five. She had left Suburbia when she was twenty-one, and had somehow managed to travel the world. She had been married twice, the first time at the age of twenty-six, to a man about eighteen years older than she. He was an actor--an eccentric and charismatic Frenchman, and despite tabloid rumours that she was nothing more than a plaything, they had remained blissfully committed until he died. They'd had a son, who was twelve at the time. Kim was only thirty-eight.
She had grieved by traveling, moving on to England, and Ireland. At the age of forty, she met an American tourist from Suburbia who was traveling with his son, Richard. His name was Fred Edgering. They'd been quickly married, and just as quickly divorced. Kim had returned to using her maiden name, and though her relationship with Fred was prickly until his death, she had remained something of a surrogate mother to Richard, who was Colleen's father. It was through Kim that Rory and she had met, after all.
At the age of seventy-three she had returned to Suburbia, to watch her grand-nieces and nephews grow. They called her grandma, as did Colleen and her siblings. Kim's son from her first marriage, Edward Berangèr, had a successful political career in France, with a wife and four children, but Kim had not seen them in quite some time.
Now, twelve years after she'd returned to Suburbia, she sat in her kitchen, knitting steadily as she watched the batch of cookies she had put in the oven fifteen minutes ago. She heard the front door open, and listened for the footfalls as one of her 'grandchildren' tracked through her halls. She smiled. She had expected Shae to come visit her after his brother left town. Good, he'd be the first to try her special springtime cookies. Rising, she turned the oven off and slid an oven mitt onto her hand. "Shae," she called, as the boy entered the kitchen, "you wouldn't happen to want a chocolate chip cookie, would you?"
When she turned, Shae was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. "Yeh always know, Kim." He grinned that irresistible black Irish grin of his. "How do ye know?"
"You're the only one who wears those terrible boots in this town. Everyone else wears tennis shoes or trainers."
He shrugged, and leant forward to snag up a cookie shaped like a baseball mitt. "No one knows th' genius of Docs," he bit off a finger, and munched thoughtfully.
"You've got something you want to tell me, don't you?" she regarded him carefully as she sat down and resumed her knitting.
"Aye, I have. Just not so sure how you'll take to it is all."
Her deep brown eyes, always so deep in their soulful sorrow, pierced into him. "You know I could never stay angry with you, Shae."
He sighed. "Do ya remember th' first time you told me th' story of Edward Scissorhands?"
"Yes." She chuckled. "You said you were going to go up to the castle and bring him back down to me. Well, I don't see Edward anywhere, so I suppose you didn't have the nerve."
"Well, I didn't bring 'im back, cause he's afraid o' th' townsfolk."
Kim's eyes widened. "You went up." Her voice was very quiet, very controlled, but Shae could see the pain in her eyes.
"I did."
"Why?"
"Cause I said I would. An' I had a fight wi' Rory."
"But..."
"But nothing, Kim." Shae sighed. "He's there. Looks as yeh always said he would, on'y..." Shae hesitated a moment too long.
"Only what, Shae?"
"I don't know whether you'll like it. I...I found his 'ands on the floor in a room of th' castle, and I...I finished him." Her reaction was less explosive than he thought it would be. She simply caught his eyes up in hers, and didn't let go. It was a moment before he realized she was weeping silently. "Kim," he grasped her aged hand in his. "Don't yeh know what this means? He came come DOWN now. He can be....anything he wants. He asked me tae change him, grams." He only called her 'grams' when he wanted something, or was feeling particularly happy.
Kim wiped her eyes. "I'm not crying because I'm upset, Shae." She tightened her fingers around his. "I'm very happy for him. I'm only..." she hesitated. "Things can never be as they once were between Edward and I, even though I love him...more than any other man I've ever known."
"Grams..." Shae wrapped his arms around her, feelings his heart palpitate. He knew her better than he'd ever known anyone, and he'd be damned if anyone knew HIM better than she did. She was one of his only friends, and the only person to whom he showed any of his true feelings. "Grams, please don't. You can be happy again. Edward loves yeh still. Didn't seem tae phase him at all when I said you were eighty-five. He's got concept o' time. He knows...I'm sure he does. After all, his creator was old. Th' first person he ever knew was old."
"It's not about my age, Shae. It's about experience. Edward is still as beautiful and pure and naïve as he was all those years ago, and I..." she sighed deeply, "I am different. He can't love a different Kim."
"But I love ye. Everyone does. You take care of everyone you know, like a mother tae everyone yeh know. An' ye've never gotten anything back. Well, it's time yeh do. Edward said he'd think about comin' down after he got used tae bein' finished. You've got tae see him. It's RIGHT."
"Time will tell."
"Ye don't HAVE time, Kim." He sighed. "You're eighty-five. Don't pretend like we don't realize that. You're older'n anyone I know. You've not GOT time."
"Damn it!" she thumped her thin fist on the table, and Shae started. He'd never heard her curse before. "Damn it," she repeated, more quietly this time. "You don't understand, do you? I LOVED him, Shae. More than anything in the world. I still do. But I've changed, while he has gone on being as beautiful as before."
"But you deserve..." he was about to continue, but the look in her eyes stopped him. "Fine." He said, and rose. "I'll wait."
Seeing that he was going to leave on a rather less than positive note, Kim grasped his forearm. "Wait, Shae. Why don't you take a batch of cookies round to Roslind's house?" Roslind was her grand-niece, the daughter of Kevin's son.
Their eyes met over the bowl of cookies. He blinked back tears, ashamed to be feeling so emotional after such a small matter. "Yeah. All right." He grasped the bowl, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Be safe, grams." He leant forward and brushed his lips over her weathered cheek. As he left the house and the smells of baking that wafted through it, he paused, and wondered what precisely it was that had nearly brought him to tears. Was it simply the idea that Kim would be delayed in her decision whether to see Edward again? Or was it because she had refused to speak of her imminent death? Shae knew she wouldn't be around forever, but the thought of it was still painful.
Shaking himself, he headed for Roslind's house a few blocks away. As he approached the pastel blue home, he steeled his nerves for what was ahead. Roslind's father, Greg, was a friendly enough man, who tried to ignore the fact that Shae wore black leather jackets and plaid pants, with heavy boots where another eighteen year old boy might be in a jean jacket and chinos with expensive Nike trainers, but his wife, Kate, didn't try to ignore a thing, and was sternly disapproving of her husband's instant acceptance of the Irish boy. As for Roslind herself, Shae wasn't quite certain what to make of her. She was an average Suburbian girl, two years younger than himself, with large brown eyes and a short auburn bobbed haircut. She was quiet enough, but he'd seen her with her friends, giggling and sighing about some boy or other. That in itself had predispositioned him to dislike her, but when he'd spoken to her, and they had gotten past the initial awkwardness, there was a connection of sorts. They both pathologically enjoyed reading, and both resented authority to varying degrees.
However, despite their casual friendship, Shae couldn't help but notice their differences every time he saw her. She was a pretty girl, with friends and a social circle, neither of which he could lay claim to. She had grown up with a mother and father, with two elder brothers who protected her despite their bickering. She'd never had to worry about financial difficulties, her next meal, or thugs on the docks waiting to beat her into a senseless pulp. She didn't have to worry about gang alliances or being shot or knifed or intimidated. She'd never slept on concrete in pouring rain, with the smell of rotting fish round her, clutching a dull switchblade in case someone decided to bother her. It was impossible to imagine what her childhood had been like, but Shae was quite certain that she felt precisely the same way about his.
Raising a hand, he rang the doorbell and waited uneasily until Greg came to the door. "Shae! Hey, come in. What can I do for you?"
"Erm..." he held out the bowl. "Cookies. From Kim. She said to bring them for Roslind."
"Oh." Greg thought for a moment. "Well, I'm about to go meet Kate at a restaurant for dinner. It's our anniversary, you know." He winked.
"Happy anniversary, sir."
"Thanks. Hey, Roslind's gonna be home alone, and I'm worried that something might happen to her." Shae nearly choked at the thought of 'something' happening in Suburbia. God forbid. "Why don't you stick around? She always says she's too old for a babysitter, but I think she wouldn't mind you hanging around."
"Erm..." Shae hesitated for a moment, wondering what the best excuse was. He was about to say that Rory was out of town and he didn't want Colleen to be alone, but Greg was a moment quicker on the draw.
"Thanks, Shae, I really appreciate it. Her bedtime's at eleven, so not too many movies. You can make popcorn and have some cookies, but don't let her have any hot chocolate, because it keeps her up." Greg patted Shae's shoulder. "Thanks, pal. I'll make it up to you." And he fled out the door as though he had the devil on his heels.
Shae stood in the living room for a moment, the bowl of cookies in his hands, staring like an idiot. Finally, he walked into the kitchen, put the bowl on the counter, and sat down, scratching his head. How Greg had managed to corner him into 'babysitting' Roslind was beyond him. He was about to write a note and leave when Roslind walked in behind him.
"Shae? Is that you?"
"No, it's your fairy godmother." He snapped, instantly regretting his sharp tone when she winced. "Sorry, Ros. Look, your da seems tae think ya need me as a babysitter. He left b'fore I could say anythin', but if you don't say anythin' I'm sure we can convince him that I was about an' since nothin' could happen..."
"You're leaving?" her brown eyes widened. "Why?" If Shae didn't know better, he'd have thought she was upset.
"Erm...I figure I'm about the worst person tae be round if your da doesn't want anythin' happenin' to ya."
"You don't want to hang out with me?" her tone was almost hurt.
"No, 'tisn't that." Shae shrugged. "Look, if ye want me around, I'll stay."
"Then stay." Her chin lifted stubbornly. Shae nearly grinned. Nearly. "What's in the bowl?"
"Some o' your gram's cookies. Chocolate chip."
"Ooh!" her face lit up, and she descended on the bowl hungrily. "Ohh, they're good. Thanks, Shae." This time, he smiled at the sight of her stuffing cookies into her mouth as though she hadn't eaten in weeks.
"No problem."
"So, you wanna watch TV or what?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Lemme make some popcorn."
"No need. We've cookies."
"All right. You want some hot chocolate?"
"Sure. As long as ye don't mention it to your da." He meant it as a joke, but she nodded in all seriousness.
"I won't. He gets really upset when I drink chocolate in the evening." Shae checked his watch. It was indeed about six o'clock. He hoped he could get home before Colleen worried again. Staying out late two nights in a row was something the old Shae would do. Not this one. He was on the straight-and-narrow, he was. He hoped the straight-and-narrow could make exceptions for the brief fistfight he'd been in earlier.
As he and Roslind settled back on the sofa, he turned toward her. "Ros, I've a question."
"What is it?" she slurped her cocoa.
"Does th' name Holly Laurence mean anything to you?"
Her eyes grew wide again. "Yeah! She's the head cheerleader at school. She's really popular. She's dating Billy Page. Why're you asking?"
Shae hesitated, then decided he should tell the truth. She'd hear it at school anyhow, and hearing it from his perspective was far better than from anyone else's skewed version. "Well, I ran into her an' Billy an' two of his mates...George and Donald, at th' ice cream parlour. Talked wi' them f'r a while, but it seems like I left b'fore they were quite finished wi' me. All three bloody jocks came after me with intent tae pulverize me." He grinned.
"What happened?"
"What d'you think happened? I gave much better'n I got." He displayed his bandaged knuckles.
"Oh my God!" she shrieked, grasping his hand. "Are you all right? I mean...of course you're all right. But what happened to them?"
"I put 'em down without much fuss. Didn't hurt 'em too badly...jus' fractured their pride." He grinned at her concerned expression. "Ros, don't worry about it."
"That's not going to be all, Shae." She murmured, letting go of him. "Billy doesn't like being shown up. He's going to keep coming after you, with more and more of his friends, until he teaches you a lesson."
Shae shrugged indifferently. "Then I'll jus' have tae apologize, now, won't I?"
"Apologize? To Billy?"
"Yeah. Ain't like I'm suckin' up. Jus' sayin', let's call it quits, I don't want tae have tae hurt ye no more."
"Do you think he'll...let you by with that?"
"I know lads like Billy. They like tae flex their muscles, show off a bit. If I make a show of apologizin', his pride'll be appeased an' th' game'll stop."
"Would you do that?"
"Skirmishes like that're how wars start, Ros. I've seen blood feuds go on f'r years between gangs down at th' docks. Was involved in a few of 'em. Saw how pointless it was. But quit bogartin' th' cookies. I want some calories, as well, damn it." He grinned good-naturedly and stole a pastry.
Roslind smiled back at him, and for a half moment, he was tempted to lean over and brush his lips over hers. But he knew he shouldn't. Too much excitement in a day wasn't good for a man. Instead, he chomped down on Kim's cookie and hoped Edward's hands would be fully functional by the following day.