32. Lost Boy

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WARNING: This chapter may or may not hit you right in the honey nut feelios...

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Rarely do people come watch the senior boys' basketball practices, but Alyssa insisted we hang out with each other after school while we do a little something to pass the time.

I wish I'd brought a blanket with me. The heater must've been broken. Alyssa didn't hesitate to agree with me, but we sat down anyways and shuffled close together using our body heat like penguins to keep each other warm.

"You're not coming to the dance?" Alyssa asks, grabbing another one of the crackers from her lunchbag and taking a bite.

"I can't," I tell her, wrapping my arms around my middle. "I have a concussion. The doctor told me not to go too crazy for a while. Y'know, not to make it worse."

I listen to Alyssa chew while her eyes trace the basketball players hustling around the gym. "What happened?" she asks.

Not wanting to tell her I'd been hit by a car, I pause. News isn't a big thing in this city, but a few people in our school managed to hear about it.

"Fell down the stairs. Hit my head pretty hard."

I don't want her to know the truth. I don't want her to worry about me, and I really don't want her to find out about my job.

Well, former job. My parents made me quit the club after the accident, which is another reason why I feel like absolute crap today.

"Yikes," she says. She sets her crackers back in her lunchbag. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Lie.

Not only is my mind lingering on the fact that I had to leave Shell Shock (and the undeniable fact that I am concussed,) but my brain is filled with thoughts of Xavier a few nights ago and why he wasn't in my bed the next morning.

I couldn't look at my phone, I couldn't call him, but if I could I would have at least tried. Xavier didn't once ring me. He didn't text me. He didn't come to see if I was okay. He didn't do any of those things, but I didn't care.

Was he alright? Did he get hurt? How hungover was he? What if he ran away?

Where was he?

"You missed the fight this morning," Alyssa mentions, keeping her eyes on the basketball game in front of her. "Carter Horen hit on Megan in front of Sam. He beat the kid to a pulp, then got suspended right after."

I nod my head, anxiously biting my lip and trying to listen to Alyssa's story.

"Him and Megan got into a fight before he left the school. They kinda broke up after that."

I nod my head again. "Mhm."

While Alyssa looks away from me for a split second, I look at her and frown wondering how I deserve a friend like her, wondering why she stuck by me while I didn't even question what's been going on in her life.

She probably has problems like everyone else, but not once do I ask her if she's ever okay. Not once do I wonder whether she's breaking, whether she's falling apart.

I feel guilty just sitting next to her, watching her broad smile when the basketball team gets another shot in the net.

"Hey, Delta?" she says, ignoring the team to make a little room for me. "What's wrong?"

A yawn escapes my mouth. My eyes begin to water. "Nothing. Just tired."

"Seasonal depression?"

I chuckle. "Yeah."

My head throbs. My eyes ache. The cold makes it harder to breathe. I shiver beneath my jeans and sweater, my hair is a mess and I feel like death.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yup," I lie, covering my face with my hair. "I'm fine."

__

I pay the taxi driver for dropping me off, thank him, and watch as he skids out of the neighborhood and on to the street, leaving me before a set of towering iron gates.

It's cold on the walk to the front door. Fog covers all hedges on the farthest parts of the lawn, making them appear like silhouettes in the setting sun.

I knock on the front door very quietly, desperately hoping for a familiar face to open the door. No one answers, so I knock again and take a step back, waiting for Xavier to jump out and hug me and tell me he's okay.

Instead, a man with dark hair and dull green eyes opens the door, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

He knows who I am. I know he knows who I am. He's seen me before, even though I'd been in my pajamas when we met.

I throw him a glare and step even further away from the door, clenching my fists to keep them from flying at his face. He already looks as though he's taken a hit; half his face is purply-blue.

"I'm looking for—"

"He's not here," Xavier's father mumbles quietly, staring at me with a blank face.

I sense his voice crack. He's not very good at hiding his emotions.

"Okay."

Inhale... exhale... inhale... exhale...

I try to keep my cool as I turn back around and walk down the steps of the porch, but hearing his rough voice again makes me jump in my tracks.

"Would you like to come in?"

His eyes hold guilt and anger. Anger that has yet to be released. I just hope he doesn't take it out on me.

"Sure," I say, mentally scolding myself for giving in.

I wasn't supposed to come here to have a chat with the man that was never a father to Xavier, I was only supposed to come here to check if Xavier was home. But here I am, walking into his house and sitting at a table while his dad pours me a cup of water and makes himself a cup of coffee.

I can smell the coffee from the dining room, and a hint of peppermint too. Might that be where Xavier's sent comes from?

"When you brought him here that day, I didn't expect feeling surprised at the sight of you," his father says, chuckling and watching the spoon clink in his coffee mug as he mixes the rest of the contents together.

I gawk at him, wide-eyed that he'd say such a thing. When he turns around to look at me, his smile immediately drops.

"I didn't mean it like that," he mutters. "I just—he doesn't bring girls here. Not after, erm—"

"We didn't, he doesn't do that anymore," I snap, clenching my hands around my own cup of water.

He sits down in front of me. "I know. I know."

For a few minutes, we're right where we are; sipping our drinks and staring out the dining room window. I watch as swirls of fog mend the bushes and the sky together, making it look like a painting.

Surprisingly, the silence between me and Xavier's father isn't as awkward as I'd thought it was going to be. It almost seems comforting, like we're both taking a break from the loud clash of thunder in our heads, and appreciating one day of clouds. No rain. No storms.

"I'm Lewis," he mumbles, stretching out a hand to me. "We never got a chance to properly meet."

"No, we didn't." My mind flashes back to the time he'd practically called me a slut. My jaw tightens. I take a sip of my water, leaving his hand lingering in mid air.

He lets his hand down. "What's your name?"

"Delta."

The odd name doesn't phase him. He acts as though he's heard it a million times before.

"Pretty." He takes a sip of his coffee, savouring it. "So why my son?"

The question completely flips sends me off guard. "He's not who you think he is." I grip the sides of my cup. "He's more than just a lost cause."

This is advice I should've given myself months ago.

"He slept with you—"

"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. That shouldn't matter to you. What should matter is how involved you are in his life."

My tone takes me by surprise and I gulp. I notice I'd been standing up, pointing a nasty finger at Lewis's face, knowing he could kick me out of his house if he wanted to.

I immediately sit back down, clearing my throat and taking another sip of water. Tears sting the back of my eyes and threaten to fall down my cheeks. I blink them away.

"I know," Lewis says, his voice calm and full of guilt. He rubs a tired hand over his face. "I know. You're right."

A wave of relief washes over me, but the tide of anger is still there; a current dangerously swirling in the pit of my stomach.

"He was only fourteen," Lewis begins, swirling a finger in his coffee. "Xavier was only fourteen when it happened."

A tear falls down my face. I don't wipe it away. I want Lewis to see it, I want him to see I feel what he feels.

"December eighteenth. Every year that day haunts me," he begins, voice cracking. "I can barely look at my son on that day."

"It wasn't his fault—"

"I know that. I can't look at him. I can't watch him break himself piece by piece, day by day." His eyes turn red, and warm water cascades down his cheeks. His lips dry, his face wrinkled.

He's a handsome man, I can see parts of him in Xavier. But sadness and anger have contorted his features and made his face taught with exhaustion.

"I can't look at him, but most of the time I can't even look at myself. I'm supposed to be his father."

In some ways, I've felt a little of what he's feeling, but not the full load. Never being through something like this, it warps my understanding of the situation. But for some reason I know what he's trying to say, and I accept it.

"December eighteenth—"

"He lost a brother and a mother that day. I lost a wife and a son."

This couldn't have been hard just for Xavier. It hadn't even crossed my mind it'd be hard for his father too. Of course it would be: they were family.

"I've been trying to get a hold of him for two days now," he mumbles, clenching his hands together until his knuckles turn white. "I'm his father. I'm supposed to know where he is. I'm supposed to be there for him."

The fear in his dull green eyes is hard to ignore.

"What if something happened to him? What if—what if he gets hurt? He's my son. The only one I have left. He's my fucking son."

The sudden burst of feelings from him causes a flame to ignite in my heart, evaporating all forms of anger I felt for Lewis in the pit of my stomach to nothing.

I have to find him, but where would I look? This city is small, but he could've easily taken a bus and left town. Maybe he walked right out of here. Maybe he's already on the streets. Maybe he's half way across the world now.

"I called the police. I sent search parties out. I'm trying, Delta. I'm trying to be a father."

Lewis buries his face in his hands, shaking his head in disappointment and fear. He sobs, a few of his tears fall in his coffee.

I know it's okay to cry. It's okay for him to hurt like this. It's okay for a father to learn from his mistakes.

It's okay for a father to care for his son. It doesn't make him any less of a man.

"Lewis?" I whisper, trying to grab his attention. "I'll help you look for him. I'll help you look for Xavier."

Everyone hurts, and I want to tell him that he doesn't have to be tough all the time in order to be a father. I want to tell him that he doesn't have to smile and pretend like nothing's wrong, because we will find his son and everything will be okay.

But the truth is, I'm scared to think Xavier won't forgive his father for what he's done to him. I'm scared he won't believe me when I tell him that his dad is sorry, sorry that he wasn't who he was supposed to be.

Lewis doesn't know where he'd gone, and neither do I. No one knows where he is.

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