November 25th: Go away

Manuel throws his arms around me and buries his head in my chest. “I told you not to go!” he sobs, pounding my back with his fists.

I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, my palms flat against his back. “I had to go, Manny. I had to go.”

Ty steps up and puts a hand on each of our shoulders. “Manuel, can you do something for me?” He tucks his cell phone into Manuel’s jacket pocket. “You keep that with you, okay? And don’t let X go anywhere.”

Manuel pulls back and looks up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“He tried to jump off the overpass,” Ty says softly.

Manny looks up at me, his eyes wide open and shining. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. But he doesn’t even blink.

“Just keep an eye on him. If he does anything stupid, or he talks about it, speed dial number one, okay? That’s Garrett’s house. Okay?”

Manuel nods, slowly, never taking his eyes off of me.

Ty pats his shoulder gently. “Okay, man. Okay.” His gaze turns to me. “Take it easy, dude, okay?”

I stare at him.

“And you can beat me up for it in the morning, but I’m praying for you.”

I manage a weak smile. He yanks open the front door and pulls it shut behind him.

Manuel shakes his head slowly. “I hate you,” he mutters, collapsing onto the couch.

I sigh, kicking the wall with my shoe, staring down at my hands. “I know.”

“Doesn’t it mean anything to you that you’re going to be a father? Are you really that selfish?” he exclaims.

I sigh, leaning against the wall. “It’s not my baby,” I whisper.

He stares at me.

“I just said it was. Alice... Was dating a bad guy. And... She asked me for help.”

Manny bites his lip. “You lied to me?” he asks softly.

I nod. “I’m sorry, I wish I’d never --”

He shakes his head, burying his head in the stained, worn couch cushions. “Go away.”

I reach over, put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re mad. You should be mad, after --“

Manuel looks up at me, his face red and streaked with tears. “Just go.”

I wish that I had jumped.

* * *

“I need to talk to you.”

This sentence would make so much sense if it were directed at Alice. Manuel, even. Ty. Garrett. Mari. Mamá. Amy.

Anyone but Henry.

He smiles to himself, rubbing the whiteboard vigorously with an eraser. “Do you now.”

“You know what it’s called when a teacher has sex with a student?” I raise my eyebrows. “It’s called illegal. And we’ve got proof that you did it, what with baby on the way, so I’d listen pretty closely to this if I were you.”

He turns around, his face suddenly serious. “You play dirty, Xavier. But your friend asked me not to contact her. So if you have a problem with it, I suggest you take it up with her.”

My head is throbbing. “Alice didn’t say that.”

“Alice did say that,” he says, shaking his head. He sits down at his desk and rifles through a stack of papers.

I watch him silently.

He looks up, his eyebrows raised. “Excuse me, is there something else I could help you with? Because I really thought you were done.”

“Look, this kid needs a father. You’re it.”

Henry laughs to himself, pulling a paper out of the stack. “That certainly wasn’t the plan. What happened? Did you and Alice have a spat?”

I slam my fist down on his desk. He looks up, still smiling. “Look,” I say in a low voice, “you can’t just get a girl pregnant and leave her. And yes, she is a girl. Not a woman. Not even a young woman. A girl. A girl who has dealt with enough shitty men in her life. A girl who doesn’t need another jerk-off fucking her up.”

“Such language,” he chuckles, shaking his head and turning back to his work. “Xavier, it really seems to me like you’re wasting my time. Alice obviously isn’t looking for me to be her knight in shining armor. I doubt she really cares one way or the other whether she ever speaks to me again.”

“She tried to kill herself,” I say quietly.

He shrugs indifferently. “That’s sad, but I don’t see...”

“You’re the father of her child!” I spit.

He laughs, underlining something with his pen. “True enough. But she’s depending on you.”

* * *

“I can’t believe he actually said that,” Ty remarks, eyebrows raised. “It’s funny, actually.”

I glare at him, sipping my coffee. “Remind me why?”

“Not funny, just... You know. Kind of weird.” He shrugs. “I guess. It’s like, he understands the situation perfectly, even though he’s hardly involved.”

“He’s kind of the father. Which in most states makes him involved,” I remark drily.

Ty sighs. “You know what I mean.”

“I guess. It just seems crazy that he can make me feel bad about not stepping up and being there for her when he’s the asshole who’s skipping out on her.” I shrug. “I mean, he fathered the child. He fathered the child. Shouldn’t he feel a little more obligated to help her out than I do?”

“No.”

I raise my eyebrows, cradling my cup in my hands. “Enlighten me.”

“He doesn’t love her,” Ty says simply. “You do.”

* * *

“Hello?”

“Hey.” I take a deep breath, grip the phone tighter. “Look, I wanted to go see Alice. At the hospital. But they probably won’t let me in... They wouldn’t last night...”

Ms. Creevy sighs. “And you expect me to escort you.”

“I love your daughter, ma’am,” I say softly. “She... I need to see her.”

“Xavier, I think you fail to understand that my daughter nearly died because she had a fight with you,” she spits.

I sigh. “I know. And I’m a terrible person. But --“

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” Her voice is trembling.

“What am I going to have to do to prove to you that I love her?” I say, all in a rush, my free hand clawing desperately at the bedspread. “I’ll do anything!”

She inhales shakily. “Anything?”

“Of course. Anything. And I mean that. If you want me to go throw myself off a building... Fine.” I was going to do that anyway, I add silently.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever believe you,” she admits, almost to herself.

“Can you try?”

She sighs. “If you do one thing for me.”

“What?”

“It’ll make her angry,” she warns. “I’ve tried.”

I shake my head. “I told you anything. I meant it.”

Ms. Creevy exhales deeply. “Make her talk to you about her father. I’ll call the hospital. Tell them you can visit her. But you have to make her talk... You have to ask her about...” She laughs tiredly. “Ask her about July seventeenth.”

“What happened then?” I ask cautiously.

“She’ll tell you.”

And then she hangs up, and I’m left with my questions and silence.

* * *

I knock on the door. “Alice?”

She’s laying on her side, facing away from the door, the sheets pulled up around her neck, wrapped tight over her body. I walk slowly to the other side of the bed. She stares at me warily.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” she whispers. “I don’t know why you even care, anymore.”

I sigh, collapsing into a chair. “Does it hurt?”

She laughs, then cringes. “My back. It feels like I’m going to die.” She nods toward the IV. “That shit helps. They pump you up with enough drugs, you kind of forget that you want to claw your eyes out.”

“You should’ve called me,” I say softly. “I... Your mother called to tell us. Manny, he told me when I got home, and --“

“Got home? Where were you, out screwing some tramp?” She smiles. Bitter.

I stare at the floor. “I deserved that.”

“You bet you do.” Her voice is biting. It claws at something so deep inside of me I don’t even know what it’s called.

“But I was with Ty, actually.” I shrug, examining my hands. “Anyway, Manny, he told me and... I went crazy. I came here, but they wouldn’t let me see you.”

“I wasn’t awake till this morning, anyway,” she remarks. But I know it’s not meant to comfort me. Just a random fact. Information between acquaintances.”

I sigh. “I guess. But... I went crazy. I tried to jump off the overpass.”

“Pity you didn’t make it,” she mutters.

I shake my head. “You really don’t get it, do you? I’m trying. So hard. Do you see that? Do you realize that maybe I hate myself enough without anyone else trying to knock me down?”

She rolls her eyes. “It must be pitiful, having women throw themselves at you.”

“I was in love with you for years, Alice. And you were always with other guys. Having sex with Henry, for chrissakes.” I throw my hands up in the air. “Don’t act like you haven’t done exactly what I did. Except you got pregnant.”

“Is there a point to your being here, besides making me want to slap you across the face?” she asks harshly.

I nod slowly. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“The answer is probably no,” she informs me, rolling her eyes again.

“What happened on July seventeenth?” I say softly.

She stares at me for a second, her eyes widening. “My mother put you up to this.”

I sigh. “I just want to know, okay? I want to know everything about you. I want to know --”

She closes her eyes. Bites her lip. “Get out,” she says quietly. Firmly.

“Just tell me. Please. Just tell me!” I beg.

She bites down harder. “Just leave me alone,” she says, her voice trembling. “Please.”

I slowly rise and walk out of the room, pulling the door shut behind me. I make it all the way back to my car before I start to cry.

* * *

Ty stares bleakly into his coffee. “My father called.”

I raise my eyebrows. “And?”

“He wants to talk to me.” He sighs. “That’s good, right? Tell me that’s good.”

I shrug. “Well, if he’s talking to you, he’s not ignoring you, right? So that’s good.”

“That or he’s just telling me that I’m out. For good. Last time he said he needed to think about things. Maybe he thought. Maybe he’s still upset.” He sighs into his coffee. “This is ridiculous. It isn’t even legal. And it’s not even that, it’s... Why the hell does it matter so much to him?”

I bite my lip. “Maybe he feels like he doesn’t know you anymore. It’s kind of a big revelation, I mean. Being gay.”

He sips his coffee, staring wearily at something over my shoulder. “I don’t know why I even care. I mean, I have a place to live. With people who love me. It’s just...”

“It’s not home,” I finish.

Ty nods. “Yeah.” He runs his finger around the rim of his mug. “It sucks, to not be wanted. You know? It just sucks.”

I think of Alice. Of Manuel. Telling me to get out. Telling me to go away. And I nod. “Yeah.” I sigh. “It does.”

* * *

I figure when you mess things up big-time, you have to apologize big-time. And so, after the coffee shop, I drive to the hospital gift shop. Walk awkwardly up to the counter, hands buried in my pockets, looking sheepish.

“Can I help you?” The woman behind the counter is tan, her bleach-blonde hair hanging in her face. She snaps her gum.

I bite my lip. “You got roses?”

“White, red, yellow, pink... Wait, we’re out of yellow. But yeah. Roses.” She raises a pierced eyebrow. “Red for the girlfriend, pink for the football buddy you want to embarrass, white for the ailing grandmother who probably won’t make it.”

“And what for the suicidal burn victim former fiancé pregnant bitch who isn’t speaking to me?”

She shrugs, bored. “Probably should’ve been yellow, but I guess you’re out of luck, aren’t you?”

I sigh. “A dozen white. For peace.”

She smacks her gum, grabbing a slip. “You buying or delivering?”

“Um, I think she would throw them at me if she saw my face.”

She laughs for the first time, harsh. “Deliver. You want a message?”

“Um... Let me think.”

She shoves a pen and cheap folded piece of gold cardboard my way. “Take your time.”

I sigh, chewing absentmindedly on the pen cap while the clerk glares at me. Finally, I scribble something and shove them back across the counter along with a crumpled twenty dollar bill. “Room 517.”

“Thanks, kid.” She stares at me for a second longer. “Look, I don’t know what you did to get in the doghouse, but I hope she comes around.”

“Yeah,” I say, shoving my hands back into my pockets, turning to leave. “I hope so, too.”

* * *

Ty paces from the couch to the fireplace and back again. Over and over and over. Eventually I stand up and grab his shoulders. “Calm down, dude.”

“But he’ll be home soon and then we’ll have to talk and then...” He takes a shaking breath. “Calm. Right.” He closes his eyes and collapses into the couch.

His mother appears in the threshold, cautiously peering at her son. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watching. Then, finally, “Tyler.”

It’s the first word she’s spoken since we got here. The first thing she’s said to her son since he arrived home. Just his name. Just a simple, emotionless recitation of the name which she must have repeated a thousand times in the past eighteen years. But still just a name.

He looks at her expectantly. Waiting for an “I love you” or an “I’ve missed you” or an “I’m sorry”. But none of that comes. And it takes him a moment to realize that it won’t. You can see that realization come. All the hope, all the life in his eyes drains. I reach over and touch his hand. Try to give him something, even the smallest thing; trying to give back even a fraction of the understanding that he’s given me.

He smiles at me weakly, and opens his mouth to speak, when the car roars into the driveway.

Ty freezes.

He tenses up a little more with every slam of a door, a trunk. I can see him counting every step his father takes. Every single agonizing step.

The door creaks open.

Mr. Graham stands there for a moment, silhouetted against the twilight, staring at Ty. His eyes are calculating, cold. His six foot, muscular frame is tense and rigid.

And then, something relaxes. “Son.”

It’s only one word. A single syllable. Three letters. And yet, to look at Ty’s face, you would think it were the greatest compliment, the most amazing thing one human being can say to another.

And maybe, for some, it is.

Ty stands up slowly as his father crosses the room. Approaches his son. They stand there for a second, just looking at each other. And then Mr. Graham’s eyes fill with a mixture of pride and tears.

“Tyler, can you ever forgive this old fool for thinking that who his son loved was more important than loving his son?”

Ty smiles, a genuine smile, the first I’ve scene on his face since Garrett was stabbed. “I think I might be able to do that,” he says gently.

There isn’t a dry eye in the room when they embrace.

* * *

“Why Alice?”

It’s a simple enough question. I can think of a thousand answers for it, myself. But I’m not looking for my own answers. I’m looking for Henry’s.

He watches me for a moment. Calm. Careful. Then he sighs. Lets his cocky smirk give way. And suddenly he looks old.

“She wanted someone to use her and leave her out to dry,” he says, shuffling papers around. “Other girls, they want relationships. She just wanted to make someone mad. She was immature like that. But she knew what she was doing. I knew she wouldn’t be a commitment. I knew she’d want sex. That’s why.”

I sit down on the corner of his desk, resting my hand on top of his papers. Henry heaves a sigh and settles into his chair, defeated. I smile warily. “So you were just looking to get in her pants.”

He shakes his head. “No. Because after we started seeing each other, I felt greasy. Wrong. I told her we couldn’t do it anymore.”

“And she said?” I prompt him, raising my eyebrows.

“She got upset with me,” he says, shrugging. “Said she’d report me if I didn’t stay with her.”

“You realize I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”

He sighs. “Look, after that, I just tried to make myself enjoy it. And it’s not hard to enjoy it, if you try. I mean, she’s attractive. You know that. We had sex. It was fun. It wasn’t much more than that.”

“And then she got pregnant.”

Henry nods. “We used a condom. Every time. I swear to god. But sometimes things happen. Things don’t work out.” He exhales deeply. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been awful to you. It’s just... You’re so intense, with this girl. Overprotective. Overbearing. You’re so focused on making sure that she doesn’t get hurt. And that bothered me. Maybe because I knew that I was fucking with her. Messing her up. I knew I was the kind of guy you really hated. So I figured I might as well play that up. It’s easier to be hated for someone you’re pretending to be than the person you really are.”

I sigh. “I still don’t understand why you couldn’t have just messed with some fragile girl who wasn’t Alice. Why you couldn’t have picked someone else.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Because everybody’s got an Alice,” he says gently.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “You’d die for her, wouldn’t you?”

I stare at my hands. “Yeah,” I say after a moment. “I would.”

“Everyone has someone they would take a bullet for. And every fragile girl out there, every Alice, has some overbearing guy who would die for her.”

I bite my lip. “But you just had to pick my fragile girl.”

He nods, smiling weakly. “Guess I did.”

I sigh, grab my pack, and turn to go. But just before I close the door, he calls my name. “Xavier.”

I turn to face him. “What?”

“Make her happy,” he says softly. “Make her really mean it when she smiles.”

And for a moment, I believe that I can do it.

* * *

I rap my knuckles on the door – four short, one long, two short. “Visitor for the burn victim.”

“You’re hilarious,” she says to the wall. “Did you bring me more flowers? A teddy bear, maybe? You know, a better present would be if you would just leave me alone for the rest of my life.”

I sigh, walking over to the window, turning to face her. “Did you even read the note?”

“What note?” She stares at me, genuinely perplexed.

“I sent a note with the flowers. Didn’t you get it.”

She rolls her eyes. “No. But I don’t really want your note. I don’t really want to even think about you, actually. Why don’t you leave?”

I nod toward the vase on the table. “You kept the roses. You must --”

She closes her eyes. “I told you to get out.”

I stare out the window at the parking lot. “Maybe --”

“Do you want me to tell my mother that you’ve been harassing me?”

I sigh. “What do I have to give you to convince you that I’m sorry?”

She watches me for a moment, her green eyes taking in every detail of my face, from the lingering football scar from when I was ten to the mostly-hidden mole on my forehead.

Finally her lips part. I stare at her. Waiting.

“Space,” she says after a minute. Her eyes are glassy with tears. “Just please leave me alone, X. Please.”

“This isn’t about Amy, is it?” I ask softly.

She stares at me, a tear trickling across her nose, down her cheek, and into the mattress. “Just leave.”

“This is about your dad, isn’t it?”

Her eyes find mine. Begging.

“I still remind you of him. That’s it. You think I’m unpredictable. I bet he slept with other women, didn’t he? Besides your mother? And now you don’t know if you can even trust me, you don’t know...”

“No!” she shrieks.

I stare at her. Collapse into a chair. “Then what is it?”

“You think you know me!” she says, her voice straining, the tears flowing freely now. “You think you have me all figured out! You think this is all some deep psychological thing! But it’s not!”

I throw up my hands. “Then what the hell is it?” I repeat, exasperated.

“I’m upset with you!” she explodes, trembling. “Not because of my father or my mother or Tyler or Henry or anyone else! Because of you! Because you slept with some girl and it hurt me and I’m angry with you and I wish you would leave me alone!”

I close my eyes. Sigh. “Is that really what you want?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “It is.”

* * *

“Can I come in?”

Silence for a moment. Then a sigh. “The door’s unlocked.”

I open it cautiously. Manuel is sitting cross-legged on the bed, reading Sports Illustrated. He doesn’t look at me when I walk in.

“We should talk.”

He turns a page. Groans. “I don’t have anything to talk about.”

I sigh. “You’re mad.” I shut the door softly. Lean against it. “That’s cool. You should be mad. I would be mad at me, if I were you. I am mad at me. I think everyone is mad at me. And everyone should be mad at me, because I’m a dickhole.”

I can tell he’s fighting back a smile. So I go on.

“And I’ve already been accused of over complicating everything today, so it can’t hurt to risk it again. I mean, I get why you’re hurt that I lied to you. Especially hurt. Because it’s like, your entire life, people have lied to you. And that wasn’t cool, and that wasn’t right. And maybe you empathize with this kid because it’s like, the kind of unwanted child of two teenagers who don’t know what they’re doing. Except in this case both of the people aren’t teenagers but....” I sigh, pausing. “Well, I guess it sucks. What people have done to you. Brady was selfish to kill himself. And I was selfish to try to do the same. And we were all selfish to lie to you, and I was especially selfish to do it again, about a different kid’s roots.”

He bites his lip. Turns the page.

“And a lot of it is probably that you’re mad because your big brother is a dickhead who messes everything up. And you know, you’re right about that, too. I screw up everything. I have to stick my nose in everybody’s business, and I almost always just make the situation worse.” I shrug. “And maybe that’s not good. Maybe you just wish I would pack it in and go away. But then, it sucks when your big brother tries to jump off the overpass, too, because you don’t really want him to go away, you just want him to not fuck things up anymore. Am I right so far?”

Manuel nods. Barely.

“So here’s the part where I admit that I’m human. And here’s the part where I say I’m going to try harder, but we both know I’m going to end up screwing things up again. This is the part where I tell you that I’m trying to win back Alice. That I’m trying to be a father to this kid, even if it’s not mine, even if she doesn’t want me to be. That I’m trying.” I sigh, lean a little heavier into the door. “And I know people have told you a lot of things in your life. And a lot of those things have been one hundred percent bullshit. A lot of those things have torn you up so bad you don’t even recognize yourself. Have made you do things that you hate because you don’t know what else to do.” I bite my lip. “But I really am trying. That’s not shit. That’s just... Truth.”

He turns his head. Stares at me with big brown eyes, wide and young and scared. “I raped that girl, X,” he says softly.

I nod. Slowly. Wearily. “And that sucks, man. And that wasn’t right. But....” I sigh. “Everyone fucks up. Sometimes big, sometimes small. You fucked up big. I’m not going to lie to you. That was a big screw-up. And that girl is going to cry herself to sleep at night for years, thinking of what you did to her.” I take a deep breath. “But it wasn’t just you, was it?”

He shakes his head.

“And you didn’t really want to do it, did you?’

He shakes it again.

“And they were threatening you. Threatening your mother. Your family.”

He nods.

“And you still weren’t right. You still fucked up. But sometimes, no matter what you do... You’re wrong.”

He stares at me.

“I’m not mad at you,” I say quietly. “Or disappointed in you. Because either choice would’ve been wrong. Either way, you would’ve hurt somebody. And I’m not proud of what you did. I’m not going to high five you and pat you on the back and tell you good job. Because you messed up bad, little man. You did something disgusting. Something despicable. But you don’t need me to tell you that. You know that. And I’m not disappointed in you for doing what you felt you had to do.”

He bites his lip. Closes the magazine. “That’s stupid. That there isn’t a right choice. That you’re screwed either way.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “It sucks. But... It’s how life is, I guess. You learn to roll with the punches.”

“Are you and Alice ever going to fix things?” he asks slowly.

I stare at him, then look down at my hands. “I don’t know. I hurt her pretty bad.”

“But you love her. That counts for something, right?”

I sigh. “That’s what people keep telling me.”

“But?”

“But sometimes it takes more than that to make things work,” I say, shrugging.

He smiles.

“What?”

“It’s just that every time you talk about her, you get this look on your face.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Look?”

“You know. That look you get when you want something so bad you’d do anything for it.”

I shrug. “Well, that’s kind of how things are.”

“So you’d do anything to get her back?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine.

“Yeah.” I nod. “Of course. I just don’t know what’s going to work.”

“Then do everything,” he says, shrugging.

I stare at him. “It’s not that simple.”

But maybe it is.