Chapter Seventeen

I stare into the heap of pancakes that has been set before me.

My own reflection is caught in the glaze of the syrup, distorted beyond reason. Part of me likes to believe that this is the truest reflection that I'll ever see. Everything is bloated, and clumps together, accentuating all the things about myself that I want to keep hidden.

And maybe that's why I get stuck into breakfast. Of course, I'm completely overlooking the fact that I haven't ate since yesterday evening, or the fact that aunt Rosa makes the best damn pancakes. Not that I would ever know this to begin with; when your only real thing to compare it too were burnt, and slim diner rejects, then anything would have been better.

So deep in contemplation of something so silly was I, that I almost didn't hear my aunt come through.

"Everything okay?" she asks with the same light-footed approach that I'd heard so many times over the years. The sound of her voice was enough to jostle me alive once more, turning to face her.

A small smile peered onto my face, feeling like the words biggest mask. As much as I wanted to lie and say that everything was fine, I knew that she would see right through that.

The truth was that everything was definitely not okay. My dad was an asshole. My mom was too scared to do anything. The only thing I had in the world still felt so far away. And to top it off, my body was now starting to ache; a coherent mixture of physical exertion and the fact that I was still trying to recover from yesterday's beat down.

I hated to think what would happen when I had to go back to school on Monday.

The thought glazed over my mind for a moment before quickly disappearing once more into the unknown. I would deal with that issue when I got there.

Complacently, I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't really know," I said, almost letting the words carry through their defeated tone. "I'm not sure I really know what it means to be okay."

She looked down at me with that same look she used to give all the neighborhood kids; that one that always felt like she was about to say 'silly boys' and roll her eyes mercilessly. As great as she was, I wasn't entirely sure if I could rely on her for advice. Sure, she was a fixture in my life, and she was always willing to lend a hand when necessary, but it almost felt like every time she did help, I was backing myself more into a corner. The more I relied on her, the less self-reliant I became.

And I couldn't afford to lose focus.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, crossing the kitchen and taking a seat next to me. Her eyes were so wise, so full of depth. But they were an illusion. If I fell in, then I would only be trapping myself with a false sense of security.

"Not really."

The words themselves hung in the air for a moment. Still silence floated over us, as my eyes darted away from hers.

Sensing my own hesitation, she lingered for a moment before smiling once more. It was so weak, and I could almost see right through her. She seen right through me too. I guess this was the infamous Vega gene; an understanding of other people, but no understanding of yourself. My aunt had worn this well, always trying to fix everyone else's problems but never caring enough about herself to fix her own problems.

I wondered if we were all supposed to be a family of broken people and we dealt with it in our own ways. My dad through his fists, my aunt through her words, and me through my escapisms.

"I'm gonna head upstairs for a bit," I said, picking up the plate and placing it gently in the sink.

"Garth," she replied, her compassionate voice bore for all the world to see. "Don't bottle this all in. It won't help you." Her words carried themselves with the air of experience, as if she were truly knowledgeable about what would happen. The words themselves had fallen on deaf ears though, as I was already crossing the room,

~~~~~~~~~~

There was a time where I actually had a use for a fully functioning Facebook page. It was a time where I wanted to have friends; a time where I was oblivious to most of the shit that happened in the world. Whilst I might not have been the most popular kid, it kept me tuned into the world that existed outside my own. It let me know about my peers and what their thoughts and dreams were, even if I didn't care all too much about them.

For the past few years though, the thing had sat unused as well as empty. No posts. No pictures. No trace that I had even been there in the first place.

Well maybe not entirely true. There was that one picture that held my place; the one that exclaimed that I was here. It had been taken so long ago, that I can't even remember how, or when it had been taken.

I'd have forgotten entirely about it had I not received an email, explaining simply that someone wanted to be my friend. The whole thing was laughable. Who would want to be friends with a guy like me? When I read a bit further and saw the name, my lungs stop working as lungs. Instead of breathing air in, all they can do is exhale, leaving in me an emptiness and a strange aching that just wouldn't go away.

Xavier Sutton.

In many ways, I thought I'd blown it last night. I'd crossed the line I knew it. My mind had thrown caution to the wind and just reacted. My mind was still brimming with regrets, but just seeing that message made them all erratically float to the surface.

I winced, terribly unable to put two and two together.

Why? was the only real thing I could think. When we had parted, he seemed angry as all hell. I half expected him to beat my ass the next time he seen me.

Without a hint of hesitation, I clicked to confirm.

And just like that, my heart felt a little heavier. It felt so full of so much it wanted to say, but never would. It sank into my stomach, creating this wave of feelings that I neither wanted to acknowledge or accept. Was this what it was like? To have a friend? After a few moments I confirmed that I was okay with this feeling.

The thoughts themselves dissipated when a message had popped up.

Xavier: Hey

Garth: Uh, hi?

Xavier: Why the question mark?

Garth: Why the friend request?

Xavier: Touché

Honestly, I wasn't sure what to say. Having a conversation online was a much different beast from having a conversation in person, and I was still trying to adjust to that. Out of all of the things that could have happened today, this was something that had never really occurred to me.

For a moment, I took note of his profile picture.

Unlike most other times I had seen him, he was actually smiling a honest smile. His hands were wrapped around the waist of another girl, one who's name escaped me for the time being. Truly, he looked happy, and it was a happiness that just made me feel the tiniest bit emptier.

The way he looked at her, I knew she was his girlfriend. I could also tell that he was in love with her. I knew this because I'd seen the expression a million times before whilst browsing our old family albums. It hardly even looked like the boy that I knew, but then again could I even say that I knew Xavier at all? We'd talked more in the past twenty-four hours than we ever had our high school career.

It was a few moments before another message popped up.

Xavier: Six. Why did you kiss me?

My eyes remained on this one question for a moment. I only wish he could see the frown on my face right now, or how done I felt with this conversation.

Garth: I told you.

Xavier: Yeah, I know that. Something about wanting to make me feel something, which is total BS. But that's not what I mean.

Xavier: I could have hurt you. I could have done more than just push you off me.

Xavier: Why, with regards everything that I've just told you, did you kiss me?

Because I wanted to feel something too. Because I didn't want to feel so alone. Because I wanted someone to understand what it was like to be me, if even just for a fraction of a second.

These were all very good answers. Excellent answers even. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much of myself I was going to be giving away.

Truthfully, by answering this one question, I was opening my whole world for Xavier. He didn't need to see into my life. There's an expression where you'll only truly know someone if you walk a mile in their shoes. By answering that question, I'm essentially pairing him up with a pair of hiking boots, just to go marching into the abyss.

Garth: Pass.

Xavier: That's... that's really disappointing.

Garth: It's disappointing that I don't want to answer you?

Xavier: No, what's disappointing is how easily you gave up your pass. Now I'm free to ask you anything I want, you realize that right.

A smile brimmed across my face.

Garth: Ask away then.

Xavier: I will. Seven. Are you free to hang tomorrow night?