I must have fallen asleep, because I open my eyes and hear muted voices close by. I carefully get up, padding silently to the living room, where the conversation is being held. I hover at the doorway, listening in.
". . . what to do! I don't know enough about teenage boys, so I can't tell if this is just some phase he's going through, or if it's because of the cancer. . ." Pepper says quietly, and I bite my lip. I really wish she would quit worrying about me.
"Boys his age can get that way." Bianca! What is she doing here? "But I think also that Xavier-" she says my name X-Avey-arr, which I've always found funny, "has more troubles than most boys his age. I think that you just need talk to him and ask why he is so angry."
Pepper sighs, "Yes, I've thought of that. But I'm afraid that he'll lash out at me again, and I don't want him to hate me. He's the closest thing I have to a family anymore."
Now it's Bianca's turn to sigh. "Miss Pepper, you have nothing to fear from Xavier. Did you know he said he hate me? He said it many times, but because he needs me, like he needs you, he always apologize. And without hate there is no love. To have one, you need the other. It is a part of life to have hate, and with boys Xavier's age, it is common. I was there when his brother was just a little older. I know these tings. You must not be afraid, Miss Pepper."
I hear a quiet choking sound, and I realize that my aunt, the infallible Pepper, is crying. Guilt seems to radiate from the center of my chest, and I shake my head to clear it, gritting my teeth. I peek around the corner to see Bianca hugging my aunt comfortingly, murmuring kindly to her as she cries. She catches sight of me and nods, unsmiling, then gestures for me to come in. I do so as quietly as I can, wondering what I should do. Bianca points commandingly at the seat beside Pepper, and I understand. I sit, then carefully touch my aunt's shoulder. She sniffs, then turns, tears streaking down her cheeks. I whisper, "I'm sorry."
That seems to be all the explanation she needs; she puts her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder, and whispers back in a teary voice, "It's okay. I'm sorry, too."
Instead of releasing the witty comment I had planned-"What are you sorry for? Existing?"-I give her a short, awkward, one-armed hug. Then, she pulls away, leaving me to greet Bianca. "When did you get here, Bianca?"
"After I got off work. Pepper invite me over to talk, so I come as soon as I can." she explains, smiling appraisingly at me. "Why is your hair black only over your eyes, Xavier? Can you see?"
"Yeah, I can see fine. The black just looks cool. It was Tony's idea." I reply, smoothing a hand over my black-and-blond skater bowl. I'd always been jealous of guys who had this haircut before, but now I finally have enough hair to try it myself.
Bianca nods. "I see. Whatever you say. I think it is silly, but I cannot stop you. I learn that a long time ago. Which remind me, I have photo you might like to have, Xavier. Is of you when you were eight years old."
She presses the picture into my hands; it is indeed me, wearing a disagreeable expression and a baseball cap, under which I have no hair. I don't have hair in a lot of pictures. Bianca points to it and says, "That was when your mother came home to visit. She brought her friends from work for a barbecue-" barb-ee-coo, "-and kept you in the house. You came out, though, and Jared took your picture while you were talking to your mother."
I nod. "Yeah, I remember that. I was pissed."
"That you were. Mothers should not lock children in the house while they have a party. Children need to be where the fun is." she huffs flippantly, then glances at her watch. "I should be getting home. It is late. Goodbye, Miss Pepper, Xavier."
She shows herself hurriedly to the door, and I see that it is dark out. Wow, I slept a long time. When Bianca reaches the end of the walk, she turns back and waves, and I return the gesture with my good arm.
Damn, I missed that woman.
". . . what to do! I don't know enough about teenage boys, so I can't tell if this is just some phase he's going through, or if it's because of the cancer. . ." Pepper says quietly, and I bite my lip. I really wish she would quit worrying about me.
"Boys his age can get that way." Bianca! What is she doing here? "But I think also that Xavier-" she says my name X-Avey-arr, which I've always found funny, "has more troubles than most boys his age. I think that you just need talk to him and ask why he is so angry."
Pepper sighs, "Yes, I've thought of that. But I'm afraid that he'll lash out at me again, and I don't want him to hate me. He's the closest thing I have to a family anymore."
Now it's Bianca's turn to sigh. "Miss Pepper, you have nothing to fear from Xavier. Did you know he said he hate me? He said it many times, but because he needs me, like he needs you, he always apologize. And without hate there is no love. To have one, you need the other. It is a part of life to have hate, and with boys Xavier's age, it is common. I was there when his brother was just a little older. I know these tings. You must not be afraid, Miss Pepper."
I hear a quiet choking sound, and I realize that my aunt, the infallible Pepper, is crying. Guilt seems to radiate from the center of my chest, and I shake my head to clear it, gritting my teeth. I peek around the corner to see Bianca hugging my aunt comfortingly, murmuring kindly to her as she cries. She catches sight of me and nods, unsmiling, then gestures for me to come in. I do so as quietly as I can, wondering what I should do. Bianca points commandingly at the seat beside Pepper, and I understand. I sit, then carefully touch my aunt's shoulder. She sniffs, then turns, tears streaking down her cheeks. I whisper, "I'm sorry."
That seems to be all the explanation she needs; she puts her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder, and whispers back in a teary voice, "It's okay. I'm sorry, too."
Instead of releasing the witty comment I had planned-"What are you sorry for? Existing?"-I give her a short, awkward, one-armed hug. Then, she pulls away, leaving me to greet Bianca. "When did you get here, Bianca?"
"After I got off work. Pepper invite me over to talk, so I come as soon as I can." she explains, smiling appraisingly at me. "Why is your hair black only over your eyes, Xavier? Can you see?"
"Yeah, I can see fine. The black just looks cool. It was Tony's idea." I reply, smoothing a hand over my black-and-blond skater bowl. I'd always been jealous of guys who had this haircut before, but now I finally have enough hair to try it myself.
Bianca nods. "I see. Whatever you say. I think it is silly, but I cannot stop you. I learn that a long time ago. Which remind me, I have photo you might like to have, Xavier. Is of you when you were eight years old."
She presses the picture into my hands; it is indeed me, wearing a disagreeable expression and a baseball cap, under which I have no hair. I don't have hair in a lot of pictures. Bianca points to it and says, "That was when your mother came home to visit. She brought her friends from work for a barbecue-" barb-ee-coo, "-and kept you in the house. You came out, though, and Jared took your picture while you were talking to your mother."
I nod. "Yeah, I remember that. I was pissed."
"That you were. Mothers should not lock children in the house while they have a party. Children need to be where the fun is." she huffs flippantly, then glances at her watch. "I should be getting home. It is late. Goodbye, Miss Pepper, Xavier."
She shows herself hurriedly to the door, and I see that it is dark out. Wow, I slept a long time. When Bianca reaches the end of the walk, she turns back and waves, and I return the gesture with my good arm.
Damn, I missed that woman.