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Chapter 12 – Sandbox
It was 8 am on Saturday morning and as he prepared his morning cup of tea, Spock could not help but feel more than just nervousness. He did not shaken or startle easily- and this newfound anxiety was…unsettling. As he poured his tea and walked the expanse of his home, he found himself outside on the balcony- watching the mist settle among the trees. It was quiet now, as the rest of the world was just beginning to awaken from slumber. As he looked out, a long repressed memory began to surface in the back of his mind.
The emotions he was now feeling, he'd only felt once-before on his first day of school.
***
He was just shy of his sixth birthday and his parents were urged to enroll him in a local parochial school. Neither Sarek nor Amanda had raised their son with any religious sensitivity. The suggestion was nicely planted by the child's grandmother. His parents knew that it was not an ingenuous proposition but a mandate. Until that day Spock had received his tutelage at the hands of Sarek. He had listened intently as the man shared tales of his travels around the world. Sarek had taught his son the language of the old world. The time spent at the feet of his father was tucked away in the depths of his heart. They were a few of his favorite memories.
Amanda was unyielding in the grasp of her son's hand as they approached the stairs that led to the ornate and massive doors of the school.
"I'm frightened." The timid voice of five year old Spock relayed.
"That's a good thing honey." Amanda knelt to meet her son's eyes. "This is a new adventure; there should be a level of apprehension. They will love you just as I do, my darling boy." Amanda tweaked his nose before she closed her arms around his fragile body.
Renewed by his mother's love and sustained by her confidence, young Spock entered the classroom. He ignored the leers and jeers of his new classmates. He pretended not to hear their taunts at recess. Spock was unfamiliar with the word whore but he did not find it phonetically pleasing when expelled from another child's mouth. The word encompassed elements of hatred and did nothing to emphasize the love he had for his mother. It was necessary that he defend her honor. That he preserve the righteousness of his family's name. He only meant to push the boy. The child's body flew in the air before it plummeted to the ground. Spock watched as blood pooled from the boy's head after he landed face first into the seesaw. He was surrounded by his victim's supporters. Their fists pounded his body and he fought back. Spock clawed and kicked. He even bit two or three of his attackers. His father retrieved him from the school immediately. And he listened with a lowered head and tears in his eyes as his parents argued for the remainder of the day.
That was the first and last time he ventured to make a friend.
***
Until today…
Spock had not given McCoy and affirmative answer. He also had not declined the invitation to the football game. Still it would be untrue if he failed to admit that he possessed a small degree of excitement. For all the elation, there was a sense of despondency lodged deeply in the pit of his soul. McCoy would be in attendance, so would Jim, and there was a strong possibility that Hikaru and Pavel would be included. Nyota's oldest and dearest friend, Hikaru Sulu, caused the hair on the back of Spock's neck to stand. There was no love lost between the two. They had successfully steered clear of one another at the museum, however today they would be forced – to deal.
It felt like he was headed into the Lion's den. And being eaten alive was not high on his priority list.
Spock shifted his cuffed shirts to the side and liberated an exaggerated sigh as he struggled to find a shirt that would coordinate with the jeans on his body.
The doctor's directions for proper attire flitted across his mind as he looked through the clothes in his wardrobe. Reasonably normal, the man had said. But what did Doctor McCoy mean by reasonable or normal? His clothes were tailored to fit his body except for what he purchased off the rack at high end boutiques frequented by trendsetters. On occasion he visited thrift stores that the elite disposed of last season's forgotten goods. He twisted his hands through the strands of his immaculately styled hair. That alone would require an additional three quarters of an hour to prepare for his day with the guys.
Spock's stomach did an assault of moves reminiscent of a gymnast's floor exercise routine. He collapsed on his mattress and contemplated a cancellation of today's plans. But the vibration of his phone pried him from that train of thought.
Before Spock could say hello Nyota's voice could be heard on the other end of the line. Relief washed over him and a slow smile began to spread over his face.
"What are you going to wear?"
At the sound of her voice, Spock was that five-year-old little boy again.
"Hello-o-o-o-o-o-o-o." Nyota distended the final syllable for added affect. "Do you have on that pair of rigid jeans you swear are the best thing you ever bought? Because they're awful"
Spock glanced down and the dark, unyielding material. "How…?" Maybe she could see through the phone.
"Don't worry about how, just take them off."
He imagined her face twisted in a frown with disgust over his choice of clothing as he obeyed her instructions. He was now standing in his t-shirt and boxers, awaiting her next set of instructions. He put the phone on speaker. And soon her voice filled the room.
"In the back of your closet there should be a pair of jeans – kind of light blue rinse – relaxed fit."
He didn't know the meaning of any of those words. But he did as she said. As Spock rifled through the hangers a pang of sudden regret hit- Nyota still knew him so well. He had changed nothing since their breakup. Yes he had removed the obvious signs that they once resided in this space together, but her half of the closet was still bare. His hand clutched the jeans she had described. It was his turn to screw his face into a look of revulsion.
The ambient voice floated through to him from the phone.
"Just put them on and shut up."
"Your verbal abuse does not amuse me Nyota." Spock deadpanned but he was sure she could identify the smile in his voice as he put the pants on.
"Okay, third shelf to the right of your shoes, there will be a pile of t-shirts, some with long sleeves others with short."
He nodded his head as if she was there to watch him on the scavenger hunt.
"Grab a black short sleeved tee and a long sleeved white one. Layer them – you know how to do that."
"Are you now going to tell me the proper shoes to wear as well, Nyota?"
"That's next. Don't rush me."
"Yes mother." Those words – for a moment it was like the first day of school. He gathered his strength from what Nyota transferred throughout their conversation. She laughed in reaction to his snappy comeback.
"Finish it off with the low top Chuck Taylors."
Nyota stayed on the line while he dressed.
And when he did he looked into the mirror. Surprisingly, he did look like one of the guys.
And the, came her voice once again from the phone.
"Don't be nervous. Leo's on your side and so is Jim. Pav's neutral – Ru is excessively acrimonious when it comes to you."
Picking it up from its perch on the shelf he switched it back to manual as he began to walk out the room.
"Hikaru cherishes the closeness the two of you share. He was a companion to you when I was not. He is extremely protective and does not wish to see you harmed. I cannot fault him for that. I just want the opportunity--"
She cut him off, just as he began to ramble.
"Just be yourself Spock. Move on from the past. It's time for you to build a positive support system. This is what you need. Be transparent – none of that entitled malarkey you like to pull."
A soft smile rested on his face, "Yes mother."
Silence hung on the line between the former lovers until she said, "Amanda would be proud of you."
Nyota disconnected the call before a single tear escaped from the corner of his eye. After all this time…She still knew how to reach him.