If It Wasn't A Dream-Chapter 1 Pt.3
“Soup? You made soup?” the man looks like a piece of weathered leather. He must be Abuelo. “Look at this boy, just look at him! Nothing but skin stretched over bones.”
Nix looks down at himself, plate still in hand. He knows he’s skinny but he never thought much about it. Underneath the scrutinous gaze of Abuelo through, he’s suddenly far too aware of his veins, stark blue against paper white skin, his collarbone sticking out, and elbows prominent under his sweater.
“Sit, child, you look like you saw a ghost. Although the way I’m treated here, it won’t take long for me to become one.” he casts an affectionate scowl at his son, and ruffles Oliver's hair as he comes into the dining room balancing his bowl. “Levi, what’s the boy’s name again?”
“I think you can ask him that, Dad. He can talk.” Levi turns to help Oliver onto his chair before his soup spills everywhere.
“Not much.” the kid quips.
“Hush, Ollie.”
“My name is Nix.” he flinches at how small his voice sounds next to the others around him. “May I sit?”
“You don’t need to ask, Nix.” Levi tells him. “We’re a 24 hour open diner around.”
“That accent-Brooklyn?” Abuelo reaches for his cane to stand, but sits back down at Levi’s shake of his head.”
“Yeah, I lived there for a few years when I was kid.” Nix replies, stirring the soup with his spoon, counting beans and pieces of carrot in an effort to stay focused. Nine beans. Six carrots.
Abuelo opens his mouth to reply, but a slamming door and various hellos from the kitchen drown him out. Oliver tumbles from his chair in excitement, his napkin fluttering to the ground and spoon tossed into the soup sending droplets flying. Levi sighs but laughs, meeting Nix’s eyes across the table. He cracks a smile in response.
“Uncle Zeke!” Oliver shrieks, little legs hurtling him at the tall figure who comes through the doorway of the dining room.
“Olliebear!” the man booms, swinging him up into his arms and over his shoulder.
“Dad brought a new kid home!” the boy says from his upside down position, thumping his fist against his uncle’s back. “He doesn’t talk much.”
“With you around, that might be a blessing.” Zeke looks around and finds Nix at the table.
He puts Oliver down and crosses over to Nix, clapping him on the back. “I’m Zeke, Levi’s big brother. You must be Nix.”
“Yeah.” Nix flinches at the contact.
“You’re just in time to say grace, Zeke. Now sit down, the soup is getting cold.” Abuelo waves his cane at his son. “Michael, Kai! Get in here, I’m hungry!”
“Dad, Mike has a date.” Levi tells him.
“A date? Hm.” Abuelo eyeballs his soup. “I hope he and King are eating something more filling than this.”
“Let’s pray.” Zeke takes Oliver’s hand in one of his and Kai’s as he sits down with the other.
The group bows their heads and Nix follows suit, the steam from the soup heating his face. He sees the rest of this new foster family all holding hands, and almost reaches for theirs, but draws back, remembering nail marks on his hands, bloody moons on his palms. The soup is burning his face now.
“Amen.” Levi finishes, and everyone sits up.
“You’re not wearing shoes.” Oliver blurts out.
“Oliver!” his foster father scolds. “Did you have your eyes open while we were praying again?”
“Dad, he’s not wearing-”
“Oliver.”
Nix’s bare feet are forgotten. “I can pray with my eyes open!
“We’ve talked about this Ollie-”
The words fade as Nix glances down at his feet. Only a pair of old socks covers them. He taps them against the floor, satisfied not to hear noise at their movement. How many times did shoes earn him a new bruise or slap across the cheek at home?
He forgot to take his shoes off when he got home from school at age 9. His homework folder was full and he had a permission slip that needed signing. A field trip to the aquarium was a worthy reason to bound across the wooden floor to his mother's room. The door opened before he could knock, and she leaned out, face enraged, body clad in only a blanket. From behind her Nix could see a man in the bed, grumbling at her to ‘ignore the kid’.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, her breath heavy and bad smelling.
“I-there's a...a field tr-trip.”
“That's your excuse for all the noise you're making?” she wrenched the door closed behind her, hand raised.
“Mommy no, no I'm really sorry!” he cowered back,tripping over her shoes which she had left discarded on the floor.
She snatches one up, raising it above her head. “Stop saying sorry and learn.”
Nix’s spoon clatters to the table.
“Nix!” Levi leaves his seat to hurry to him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Levi’s footsteps stomp against the floor. Nix sees his mother coming after him. Abuelo’s cane falls to the ground. Nix hears the clatter of the kitchen stool as he falls onto it, the bruises already forming on his temple. Zeke is talking urgently. Nix hears his mother’s yelling, and then he hears his sobbing. But that isn’t a memory anymore. That’s now.
The ghost of the pain is fading, and his vision clears, the room coming back into focus, but Nix is still shaking, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, his throat burning. He clutches the arm of the chair in his hand, staring straight into the soup. The smell of salt and tomato and garlic is nauseating. The rest of the family is utterly silent as Levi reaches for Nix’s hand to try and pry it from the wood.
“Leave me alone!” Nix pants, pushing him away.
“Okay, okay. Breathe.” Levi steps back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
There are too many eyes on him. Nix stumbles off his chair, starts walking.He makes it to the bathroom, the door slamming behind him before he sinks onto the tiled floor and lifts the toilet seat. His body lurches forward, the few contents of his stomach emptying into the bowl. Nix’s throat burns from the bile, and his head is already pounding. He leans his head back against the wall and just tries to breathe.
And that's part 3, and the last part of Chapter 1. I hope to roll out part 1 of Chapter 2 by next week! Leave your thoughts in the comments or on my Instagram page- @thepageflippers. See ya later!
Comments
Post a Comment