Not Even Human—Chapter Eight
"Oh, Jesus!" Bobby shouted, as he saw his sister unconscious.
Bobby Walters was nothing like what he used to be. He was only a few inches shorter than Edward now. His face was red and spotty and it was not the childish round shape it used to be, but was longer and more detailed. His voice was deeper and thicker; compared to the squeaky, boyish voice he used to have.
He was fourteen and a half now.
Bobby's face went a beautiful shade of ivory white when he saw Lucy on the ground. His mouth formed a perfect 'O' shape. He stared in confusion at the two unfamiliar men infront of him.
"I—" For once in Bobby's life, he couldn't think of one single blasphemy to say.
"She's okay, Bobby," Kennedy said, fanning the little girl, "And nice to see you too—Do you know where the smelling salts are?"
"Ken? Is that you?" Bobby the teenager exclaimed, very surprised. "Where have you been, man?"
Kennedy started rummaging through the kitchen, and he answered that he had "been around". Ken Boggs demanded to know where the smelling salts were. Bobby ignored Kennedy and focussed his attention on the stranger in the grey sweater.
"Who's this guy?" Bobby asked Kennedy, giving Edward a suspicious glare.
"Ask him yourself!" Kennedy shouted out, annoyedly, "Show some class!... Where are the damn smelling salts?"
Once again, Kennedy was ignored.
"Help me get her on the couch." Bobby said to Edward, more of a command than a request.
Edward stared. It was hard not to be a little shocked on how much Bobby Walters had grown in three years. There was not one trace of the little boy left, it had been washed away by a new, slender young man.
"Who are you anyway?" Bobby said, frowning at the stranger.
Edward couldn't find the courage to answer. It was silent for a long time.
"Okay. Never mind, then," The fourteen-year-old said, lifting his eyebrows.
By some divine miracle, Kennedy was able to find the smelling salts in a completely foreign kitchen. How he did it, we will never know. Kennedy came running out of the kitchen, smelling salts at hand, and began to wake Lucy up. The three of them gathered around the little eleven-year-old girl.
Lucy Walters sneezed, loudly, and she thus was awake as a night owl.
"Edward?" Lucy recognized him instantly. "E-Edward?"
Edward smiled a little but his eyes betrayed him; he was shocked.
"I—" Lucy's head wobbled a bit, as if she was going to faint again, "I thought you died in surgery! It was all over the news!" Lucy stared at Edward's hands, "And you have hands? But—we thought—and Kenny was almost put in jail---."
Bobby sat, his mouth gaping open again, and he frowned at Edward. "That's Edmund?"
"Edward, Bobby, Edward." Lucy corrected, strictly.
"It's all the same thing..." Bobby dismissed, casually, as stared at Edward. He was a bit disappointed that Scissorhands no longer had scissors for hands. The razors had been awesome.
"All along I though you were sent off to Tokyo and not given a proper funeral!" Lucy said, still scandalized by the idea.
"You said it would be a short time!" Molly said, rather upset by seeing the dead come alive again.
"Never ask a scientist about time, Molly! To us, a thousand years is nothing at all!" Kennedy returned, nastily.
"You could have told us Edward was alive!" A slightly older Molly shouted, outraged, "To save us all the anxiety! Oh, I should've known...This—this is just like you, Ken!"
"Tell you?" Kennedy said, coolly, "The phone could've been bugged! And I finished Edward, didn't I? Aren't you happy with that, at least?"
"No. You shouldn't have finished Edward at all." Molly said, firmly, "You've broken the law, and put Edward, your family, and yourself in danger—can't you see that?"
"Are you serious?" Ken said, "We're the farthest thing from in danger! Edward's technically deceased, and I might as well be dead too! Death is safety, honey!"
Molly shook her head, disapprovingly, and she rubbed her temples, soothing a headache bubbling inside her head.
"I don't get any appreciation, do I?" Kennedy grunted.
Edward, Bobby, and Lucy stood in the background, alarmed, as they watched the two adults quarrel. They gave each other tense glances. They watched.
"I refuse to—!"
"Please, please can we keep him, Mom!" Lucy burst out, pleadingly, as she ran over to her mother, "Edward's no trouble. I know Dad wouldn't mind Edward being here. You wouldn't even know he was here, Mom."
"No." The Mother said, sternly.
"Lucy's got a good point." Ken added, "She could help Edward adjust to his new hands. Simple tasks like picking up objects, writing, turing pages, not fidgeting, opening doors, driving a car—"
"Driving a car? Lucy's only eleven!" Molly snapped, with her arms crossed.
"Right. I'll teach him how to do that then." Ken said, sheepishly.
Molly Walters sighed while rubbing her eyes, exhausted. "You got yourself into this mess, Kennedy Boggs. You're twenty-seven, Ken, you're a big boy now—"
A cheery, chiming doorbell rang in the front door, and a few muffled voices laughed and chattered behind the pastel green door. Molly gasped and her eyes widened to the size of oranges. She had forgotten Jill and Frank were coming over for dinner tonight.
Another jolly ring came from the door. The voices became louder, and the guests were rap-tap-tapping on the door, impatiently.
Edward learned one thing about families: They quarrel—and when they quarrel, they fight with every atom, every particle in their mind, body, and soul.
Now, Frank had been pretty okay with Edward being alive, in fact, he hardly showed any shock or nausea—just a simple, confused smile. But, Aunt Jill's reaction was the precise opposite of her husband's. Jill had screamed so loud that the neighbors all stuck their heads over the Walters' garden fence. Jill had to be given cold water and aspirin before she even came close to cooling down.
Jake Walters had come home also, and he looked a little concerned about the whole affair—but he wasn't really shocked, in the sense of the word.
Of course, the family turned on Kennedy.
"Ken, I'm disappointed in you..." Jake Walters shook his head, "I know you meant well but you really put a huge burden on your family."
"Edward's not a burden, Dad." Lucy grumbled, at Edward's defence.
"And you never contacted us, Ken," Jake continued, his voice softly scolding his cousin.
"I mean..." Aunt Jill spoke, her voice worn-out and ragged from screaming, "I'm very glad Edward's back home with us, Ken. But, honey, you could have given us a clue, you know?"
"I swear to God, I won't help him." Molly said, frustrated.
"Oh, Molly!" Jillian gasped, horrified at Molly, "You don't mean that, dear! Think of poor Edward! We can't leave that sweet, innocent lamb all by himself in the world. I'll keep Edward myself! I'd be happy to do it, actually!"
"No, no, no, no...We don't need to do that." Jake said, waving his hand dismissively.
"Maybe we do," Molly said, arguing.
"Maybe we don't!" Kennedy growled back, hatred in his brown eyes.
"Be quiet, Kennedy!" Molly Walters hissed threateningly, like an angry cat.
"Be quiet yourself!" Kennedy snapped back, venomously, "Don't you dare tell me what to do!"
"Oh, you're fighting like a bunch of kids!" Aunt Jill said, as she began to set the table, "Just how about we don't talk to each other?"
Well, this no talking rule did not last long, and the whole dinner ended up being unpleasant. Molly and Kennedy would shout at each other, making offensive remarks on the draw. Jake and Jillian continued to scold Kennedy. Lucy was instructing a saddened and slightly discouraged Edward how to pick up a spoon. Bobby had, quite wisely, left the table to go to his friend's house. Frank just ate the mash potatoes, silently trying to enjoy his dinner.
"Okay! That's it!" Molly said, standing up and drawing all the attention, "Edward can stay with us as our Canadian cousin...but Kennedy will have to find a house for himself. There's no way on this earth I'm putting up with him on a daily basis."
Lucy grinned, showing her new braces, and beamed up at Edward, joyfully. Lucy Walters gave her mother a thankful nod and the little girl kept the smile stitched onto her rosy face.
Edward smiled back, tiredly.
"I'll take Ken in." Aunt Jillian offered, kindly, "He can help at the salon and earn his keep."
"Sounds good." Said Frank, hoping—praying—that the fight was finished and all would be peaceful again.
"Hesitation—sixty-four—no repeats, or hesitations—I go first, you go last---"
Lucy's girlish voice spoke fast, and her hands moved even faster. Edward tried his hardest to keep up with the little girl in this game, but she was as speedy as lightning. He was still working on how to open doors, pick up books, and not twitch his fingers.
He had adapted to writing with a pencil rather extraordinarily, but he struggled with the simple things. Once Lucy had tried to get him to cut a piece of paper with hand-held scissors, but Edward refused to go near them. He never wanted to see scissors again.
Aunt Jill would do dozens of makeovers on Edward—as she was deathly determined to get rid of his pale skin and blue lips. She had tamed Edward's tangled black hair, and he looked...normal. That's the thing, no one stared at him in the street, told their children to avoid him, laughed at him, scolded him, snapped at him. He didn't exist. No one cared about him anymore, and Edward savored every moment of it. He loved being normal.
He had learned to eat with utensils, thanks to the strict supervision of Lucy. He made the rest of the family look like barbarians, as he skillfully exercised his table etiquette.
When Lucy was away at school and the rest of the family was busy, Edward would sneak out of the house and walk around the block. Fresh air funneled into his nostrils as he curiously observed the people. They were interesting; always mowing the lawn, waxing the car, washing the dog, going to soccer games, and watching TV. Some even smiled and waved to Edward.
The air smelled like grilled meat. Barbecue.
Kids were playing football in the park, tumbling and tripping over each other. Pastel houses lined up adjacent to each other, making a nice line of soft colors. Roses, bushes, and trees swayed in the gentle wind. Edward almost raised his hand to snip off a bush's stray twig, but he stopped, realizing he had hands.
Edward would walk through grass, gravel, and pavement all the way back to the Walters' home. He loved his walks through Suburbia.
Now, surprisingly, Edward won the approval of Molly Walters by learning how to cook for her. He had promised himself never to make Molly angry, because he knew she would scream at him like she had screamed at Kennedy.
But Molly Walters turned out to be as lovey-dovey as Aunt Jill, Edward discovered. All you had to do was be polite and obedient, and she liked you immediately.
"Oh, Edward, you're so adorable I think I could just eat you up." Molly would say to him whenever he did something slightly creative.
"Eat...me up?" Edward asked, startled and disgusted.
"Not literally, dear."
"It's a figure of speech?" He asked, remembering what Bill Boggs had told him years ago.
"Yes, dear."
Edward nodded his head, snapped the stiff pasta into two, and let it drop into the boiling hot water. Steam floated up from the pan, warmed the kitchen, and made it smell of spices.
For Edward
The cardboard box was titled, in green cursive. Kim's cursive. Edward had seen her writing before.
Edward carefully tore off the tape and opened the box. It smelled like old flowers.
The box was filled with journals, pink and blue notebooks, paintings, sketchbooks, Avon products, a gold locket heart necklace, and a vanilla white dress. Edward reached in and pulled out the dress first, he didn't know why exactly. The dress was silky smooth with small buttons lining up the front. It was perfectly white, except for the brownish spot near the shoulder—blood had been there once. He knew that dress.
Edward held the dress, remembering everything about that night. He remembered sculpting, accidentally cutting Kim's hand, running away from the police, holding her, saving Kevin, running away again, Kim following him, Jim beating him, Jim slapping Kim...killing Jim...and Kim kissing him good-bye. It ended abruptly.
Edward looked at the dress, sighed softly, and folded it on the floor.
He took out a bottle of Avon perfume. The bottle was yellow with a blue ribbon tied around it. It smelled like Kim. He reverently put the bottle next to her dress, and continued to look inside the box.
Edward decided not to read the journals, for Kim's privacy, but then it dawned on him that if Kim said it was for him, he might be allowed to read it. With care, he opened it to the first page, and read the journal. Then he consumed another and another. It was like she was talking again, spilling out everything inside her head.
She mentioned him in one of her later journals, and they weren't very nice. It hurt Edward by the way she wrote about him. But, gradually, Kim grew fonder and fonder of him, until she wrote constantly about how she didn't love Jim and how pretty Edward's sculptures were. Her last entry was when she met this man named Mark Walters in college---
Edward looked at Kim's sketchbooks. They had grey outlines of hands, eyes, noses, arms, legs, ears—some were sketches of Peg, Bill, Jim, and Kevin. They were very beautiful. He flipped through the book finding numerous crossed out 'Mrs. Jim Higgins' or 'Mrs. Kim Higgins'. He saw a picture of himself. He flipped the page. A drawing of his scissorhands was carefully drawn.
Edward closed the book. He stared at the box for a long, long time.
"Edward!" yelled Lucy, from the livingroom, "We're watching West Side Story! Do you want to watch?"
Whatever 'West Side Story' was, Edward wasn't all that enticed to partake in watching it. But he got up anyway, as not to disappoint Lucy, and left the room.
School's starting!!! No! I curse the human who thought of the school system! Die, kill, burn!!!! Graarrrrr!!!!!.....Okay, sorry, my little spaz is over with... (smiles, sheepishly)
Anyway, I love and adore ALL of my beautiful reviewers.