^I guess it's not just a suspicion, huh?^ I took a deep breath, this time
more to calm my suddenly thunderous heartbeat than to find courage. I
straightened my spine trying to create some distance between us as I came
to grips with my revelation. My son gazed up at me at first confused then
horror dawned on his features.
He sat up abruptly spilling his covers haphazardly. "Mom.." He said beseechingly looking lost and a little terrified. I, on the other hand felt rather grateful that he was still willing to call me mom.
I gave him a small pat on the hand nearest me. "I'm going to go call the school and tell them that you won't be going today." Head down so I could see where I could place my feet. I made my way across his room in a rather zigzag sort of way.
The trip downstairs was a lot faster than the one up since I was not questioning my every step. I did realize as I hit the last stair and it gave its obligatory squeal that I was relieved Alexander wasn't Tony's son. ^That bastard didn't deserve him.^ I chuckled at myself. ^Me, bitter? Nooo.^
The phone was in the living room sitting on the sofa end. The sofa itself was older than me for sure. A disgusting orange, burnt red, and yellow combination from the late forties. It was also covered in stains of various sizes and colors that I knew for sure I didn't want to know the name of their original substances. I grabbed the phone off its end. The phone was probably the only new thing in the entire house. The last had rung its last when Tony threw it against the wall. I sat down on the sofa, which was almost as uncomfortable to sit on as it was to look at, and bent over to reach under the it for the phonebook. I flipped quickly through it and found the local school's number. Wedging the phone between my ear and my shoulder I dialed it up.
The phone was picked up almost immediately and a nasal voice full of boredom asked, "Yees?" I couldn't tell if the person on the other end was male or female.
"Yes," I said. "Well, I'm calling in sick for my son, Alexander Harris, he's terribly ill and can't make it." I didn't really have a clue what I was doing since I'd never done it before. I wondered vaguely what Alexander had done for excuses in the past. The person on the other end quickly drew my mind away from such thoughts however.
"*Of* coourse he is." The, what I now determined to be a, man drawled out sarcastically.
I frowned. "What is *that* supposed to mean?" My voice was sharp and biting, an imitation of my mother's when she was sure someone was trying to get away with something.
"Well, *Mrs.*," I almost snarled when I heard the mockery in his voice, "Harris your *son* most likely is faking it as he's a deadbeat slacker."
Anger boiled beneath my skin. "Oh, really?" I said deceptively calmly.
"Yes, really." The man said smarmily.
My smile could have melted steel. "Well, I'll just have to tell the school board about your abusive and confrontational words Mr. ...?"
"Snyder." There was a slam then the dial tone rang in my ear.
I slammed my own phone down on its receiver and glared at it. "What a troll."
"Mom?"
I twisted around to see my son standing nervously behind me. He was wearing the same white t-shirt and blue and white-stripped boxers he's worn to bed. The only new addition were the sunglasses obscuring his eyes. ^Remy used to wear glasses like that. Said it cut down on the fights.^ My heart clenched a little as I came to grips with the rough future my son was going to face. "Why don't you sit down Alexander?"
He shuffled past me and sat on the worn brown corduroy ribbed recliner the faced the sofa. As he sat he mumbled, "Xander. People call me Xander," sort of resigned as if he'd told me a hundred times and I just didn't listen.
"Al-" I began then I saw him grimace, "Xander. I saw-"
Al- ^Xander. I must remember to call him Xander.^ Xander leaned forward quickly his movements jerky and interrupted me in a rush, "Whatever you think you saw mom-," He sounded as if I was still wasted and he was gently trying to tell me that there really were no pink elephants in the bathroom.
This time I interrupted him, "Your eyes." I said quietly but firmly. I was sober and even if I wasn't sure of what I'd seen his body language was very telling.
Xander stopped mid gesture and collapsed back into the recliner and fiddled with his sunglasses. "My eyes." He said one part resigned and one part disgusted.
Now I leaned forward jerkily. "Don't you dare." I hissed. "You're different that's all. You're nothing disgusting. *You* are *not* a freak!" I'd only dated Remy for a short while but I'd heard the yells and seen the flinches. He was good at hiding it but I could tell the Remy almost believed some of them. Though I couldn't see his eyes because of the glasses. I could tell by the stillness of his head and his slightly slack jaw Xander was staring at me in shock. I looked straight at the glasses that were shielding my son's eyes. "Your father was good at hiding it but it's not true that saying that 'sticks and stone may break my bones but words will never hurt me'. Words can break you too. On the inside. I won't have you believing them. *You* *are* *not* *disgusting*." Xander kept staring at me and I felt a blush start creeping up my cheeks at my little speech. I'd sounded rather motherly. I looked down at my robe and started playing with the tie ends feeling self-conscious.
"My father? But Anthony.." I looked back up and took in my son's face. The bottom half looked rather confused and he waved his hand helplessly in front of it.
"Isn't a mutant?" I finished when it was obvious that he couldn't. He looked a little shocked then choppily nodded. I was struck by how like his father that movement was, graceful yet no wasted motion. I took another deep breath, I was taking them a lot lately and I wasn't even inhaling something, "Well, that's because Anthony Harris isn't your father
He sat up abruptly spilling his covers haphazardly. "Mom.." He said beseechingly looking lost and a little terrified. I, on the other hand felt rather grateful that he was still willing to call me mom.
I gave him a small pat on the hand nearest me. "I'm going to go call the school and tell them that you won't be going today." Head down so I could see where I could place my feet. I made my way across his room in a rather zigzag sort of way.
The trip downstairs was a lot faster than the one up since I was not questioning my every step. I did realize as I hit the last stair and it gave its obligatory squeal that I was relieved Alexander wasn't Tony's son. ^That bastard didn't deserve him.^ I chuckled at myself. ^Me, bitter? Nooo.^
The phone was in the living room sitting on the sofa end. The sofa itself was older than me for sure. A disgusting orange, burnt red, and yellow combination from the late forties. It was also covered in stains of various sizes and colors that I knew for sure I didn't want to know the name of their original substances. I grabbed the phone off its end. The phone was probably the only new thing in the entire house. The last had rung its last when Tony threw it against the wall. I sat down on the sofa, which was almost as uncomfortable to sit on as it was to look at, and bent over to reach under the it for the phonebook. I flipped quickly through it and found the local school's number. Wedging the phone between my ear and my shoulder I dialed it up.
The phone was picked up almost immediately and a nasal voice full of boredom asked, "Yees?" I couldn't tell if the person on the other end was male or female.
"Yes," I said. "Well, I'm calling in sick for my son, Alexander Harris, he's terribly ill and can't make it." I didn't really have a clue what I was doing since I'd never done it before. I wondered vaguely what Alexander had done for excuses in the past. The person on the other end quickly drew my mind away from such thoughts however.
"*Of* coourse he is." The, what I now determined to be a, man drawled out sarcastically.
I frowned. "What is *that* supposed to mean?" My voice was sharp and biting, an imitation of my mother's when she was sure someone was trying to get away with something.
"Well, *Mrs.*," I almost snarled when I heard the mockery in his voice, "Harris your *son* most likely is faking it as he's a deadbeat slacker."
Anger boiled beneath my skin. "Oh, really?" I said deceptively calmly.
"Yes, really." The man said smarmily.
My smile could have melted steel. "Well, I'll just have to tell the school board about your abusive and confrontational words Mr. ...?"
"Snyder." There was a slam then the dial tone rang in my ear.
I slammed my own phone down on its receiver and glared at it. "What a troll."
"Mom?"
I twisted around to see my son standing nervously behind me. He was wearing the same white t-shirt and blue and white-stripped boxers he's worn to bed. The only new addition were the sunglasses obscuring his eyes. ^Remy used to wear glasses like that. Said it cut down on the fights.^ My heart clenched a little as I came to grips with the rough future my son was going to face. "Why don't you sit down Alexander?"
He shuffled past me and sat on the worn brown corduroy ribbed recliner the faced the sofa. As he sat he mumbled, "Xander. People call me Xander," sort of resigned as if he'd told me a hundred times and I just didn't listen.
"Al-" I began then I saw him grimace, "Xander. I saw-"
Al- ^Xander. I must remember to call him Xander.^ Xander leaned forward quickly his movements jerky and interrupted me in a rush, "Whatever you think you saw mom-," He sounded as if I was still wasted and he was gently trying to tell me that there really were no pink elephants in the bathroom.
This time I interrupted him, "Your eyes." I said quietly but firmly. I was sober and even if I wasn't sure of what I'd seen his body language was very telling.
Xander stopped mid gesture and collapsed back into the recliner and fiddled with his sunglasses. "My eyes." He said one part resigned and one part disgusted.
Now I leaned forward jerkily. "Don't you dare." I hissed. "You're different that's all. You're nothing disgusting. *You* are *not* a freak!" I'd only dated Remy for a short while but I'd heard the yells and seen the flinches. He was good at hiding it but I could tell the Remy almost believed some of them. Though I couldn't see his eyes because of the glasses. I could tell by the stillness of his head and his slightly slack jaw Xander was staring at me in shock. I looked straight at the glasses that were shielding my son's eyes. "Your father was good at hiding it but it's not true that saying that 'sticks and stone may break my bones but words will never hurt me'. Words can break you too. On the inside. I won't have you believing them. *You* *are* *not* *disgusting*." Xander kept staring at me and I felt a blush start creeping up my cheeks at my little speech. I'd sounded rather motherly. I looked down at my robe and started playing with the tie ends feeling self-conscious.
"My father? But Anthony.." I looked back up and took in my son's face. The bottom half looked rather confused and he waved his hand helplessly in front of it.
"Isn't a mutant?" I finished when it was obvious that he couldn't. He looked a little shocked then choppily nodded. I was struck by how like his father that movement was, graceful yet no wasted motion. I took another deep breath, I was taking them a lot lately and I wasn't even inhaling something, "Well, that's because Anthony Harris isn't your father