Chapter Ninety-Seven

John scrubbed the mirror in the bathroom that he shared with most of the other teens in the house, making sure it sparkled before he moved on to the next thing Clarissa wanted him to clean. He blew a long breath out as he looked at the toilet, knowing that the guys wouldn't have made this easy for him. He picked up the bleach bottle pouring a little of it into the toilet bowl and picking up the brush. He flipped the seat up, setting to work on the white bowl.

Clarissa smiled as she listened to John whistle while he worked, happy that he couldn't curse and complain like she knew he wanted to. "How's it coming?" She asked as she leaned on the bathroom doorframe, noticing that John had taken his shirt off as he cleaned.

John made a thumbs up sign, scrubbing a little harder at the yellow spots around the lip of the toilet bowl.

She furrowed her brow at the new objects in the room, walking inside to look at all of the mason jars screwed onto boards mounted on the walls with the toothbrushes inside of them and names written on little stickers on the outside. "Did you do this?" She asked, running her fingers over the pictures he'd taped to the mirror of the family and the few teen couples in the house.

He nodded, flushing the bleach water down the toilet as he moved on to the shower.

She shook her head, noticing that he'd put he and Claire's toothbrushes in the same jar. "Claire called at lunch time… she was pretty shaken up over your little display today."

John stopped for a moment, before he turned the water on and sprayed the tile down on the walls of the shower.

Clarissa noticed the tension in John's muscles, wondering if he needed his acupuncture therapy more than once a week. "She said you scared her. She's never seen you fight like that."

John turned the water off, turning to look at her. He grabbed the notebook he'd been keeping close to his side, jotting down what he needed to say. "I forgot who I was fighting."

Clarissa read the words, looking up at the young man before her. "Who were you fighting?"

He wrote his answer, motioning to a set of scars she hadn't seen before, the word Bender burned into his side. "My old man."

Clarissa nodded, knowing that seeing Asher had changed John somehow. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, not wanting to remember his past. He could already feel the searing of his skin just from the little memory of his name being branded on his skin. "N-o." He risked the strain on his voice this time, jumping away as she playfully smacked his side.

"Johnathan Bender. You're not supposed to talk." She chuckled, happy that the sounds needed to form words were coming easier. "Do you want to ruin your voice and be a mute for the rest of your life? Have your children never know what you sound like?"

He shook his head, thinking again about what he and Claire's kids would look like. He took the notebook back, writing the words. "What do you think they'll look like?" He asked, wondering if they'd have Claire's curled fiery hair or if they'd have his boring straight brown.

Clarissa smiled, taking a seat on the bathroom counter to rest her feet from wearing heals all day. "I think… that they'll have your skin and the boys will be seen as tall dark and handsome… and the girls will be labeled as tanned Marylin Monroe kids."

John breathed as if he was trying to laugh, his mouth forming his lopsided smile as he shook his head. He reached out, tugging on a lock of Clarissa's auburn hair as if asking about the hair color.

She looked at John, thinking of the picture of he and Dominic as babies. She remembered the letter that Beverly had sent her, telling of John's birth and his early childhood, how he'd been blue at birth. "I think, that they would have your hair type, but I think they'd have Claire's coloring."

John touched his nose, knowing that he'd gotten it from his father.

She tapped the tip with her finger, turning John so that he was looking in the mirror. "I think that they'd look like miniatures of you with Claire's hair and maybe her nose."

John tilted his head, trying to see himself as a child with Claire's hair and nose. He picked up the pen, scribbling a few words. "I don't remember myself as a kid."

She looked at him, shocked that he'd never seen himself in a school photo. "Didn't you get the school photo books they let parents buy?" She watched as he shook his head, remembering just how cruel his parents had been. "Of course not." She stood, walking to she and Thomas's room at the end of the hallway. She knelt beside the trunk at the foot of her bed, pulling a couple of baby blankets from the top along with a few other family heirlooms. She smiled as she pulled a small book from the bottom of the trunk, sitting on her bed as John watched her from the doorway. "Come here." She patted the bed beside her, flipping through a few pages of the book until she landed on the first-grade class photo of Miss Miller's class. "Now… if I remember correctly… Claire said you were the annoying boy who was always getting in fights and knocking people's teeth out. And you were standing right behind her… in the too big Led Zeppelin t-shirt and your hair wasn't brushed and you were missing your two front teeth." She pointed to the little ragamuffin behind her perfectly groomed daughter.

John smiled at the picture, looking at how ratty his hair was and how he looked like he hadn't had a bath in days. He looked at his missing front teeth remembering how he'd lost them. He wrote a few words down on his notebook, showing her the story or how he'd lost his teeth. "You know, I lost those in a fight at recess with Sam. We were madder than a couple of hornets in a Coke can."

She laughed, looking at John's teeth. "What were you fighting over?"

John shrugged, showing her the new note. "Heck if I know. I think he had M&M's with his lunch or something."

"Did you at least get them?"

John nodded writing the next words down. "Yep! I beat him up and stole his whole lunch pail and ate it all under the monkey bars."

"You were steeling food that early on?" She asked, shocked at the new peek into John's old life.

He turned the page in the photo book, smiling at the photo of Claire with her freshly combed hair. He remembered the first time he'd seen her, how her hair had been curled into ringlets and the blue dress she'd had on fanned out around her little hips. He remembered looking down at his own clothes, seeing his toes poking out of the holes in his too-small shoes, and his knobby knees showing through the holes in his jeans that Dominic had given him. He wrote a few words down, showing them to Clarissa as he smiled at the memory. "I had a crush on her from the first day of first-grade. But I don't think she knew I existed until freshman year."

Clarissa pulled him close, patting his shoulder as she turned the page to the picture of him. "I think she did." She pointed to the little hearts drawn around John's portrait, smiling at the look of shock on his face.