Page 40 of Five Summers

A gentle, cool breeze brushes through the air, causing the leaves on the trees to softly rustle. We move through the fading light, making our way through the tall grass until we reach a rock formation. Effortlessly, he climbs up onto a boulder and extends his hand to help me up.

I join him, sitting down and letting my legs dangle over the edge.

In the peaceful silence, I’m captivated by the breathtaking scenery.

Majestic trees line the lush, emerald-green landscape. Birds gracefully soar through the distant sky. A tranquil serenity surrounds us, only interrupted by the enchanting melody of crickets waiting for the moon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Xander nervously tapping his fingers on his thigh. Every second of silence feels like an eternity.

Finally, he speaks, his words stumbling out, unsure and hesitant.

“Do you remember when you mentioned how much you miss your dad?”

“Yeah,” I nod.

“Well, I understand how you feel,” he says, looking straight ahead, not bothering to make eye contact. I watch as he swallows over the lump in his throat. “Every single day, I miss her. My mother was truly amazing. She’s the one who passed her love for music on to me. She taught me how to play, you know. We used to sit together in the kitchen, me on the countertop strumming my guitar while she baked chocolate chip cookies. We would sing, and I cherish those precious moments. But when I was seven, she passed away.”

Unsure if he would let me, I reach out and take his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t pull away; instead, he intertwines his fingers with mine.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “How did she pass away?”

He finally turns to look at me, and I can't help but notice the sadness in his beautiful eyes.

“She passed from cancer,” he says softly.

Then he turns his gaze back to the vast landscape before us. He stays quiet for a bit.

“Before mom died, she asked my dad for forgiveness because she cheated on him. She said he might not be my biological father. After that, my father never looked at me the same. That’s when the beatings started.”

I hold his hand tighter, hoping to bring him some comfort.

“Sometimes, it was even worse when he didn’t beat me because once he did, I knew I would have a few hours of reprieve before it happened again. Instead of anxiously waiting for it, waiting for him to acknowledge my presence in the house…” he falls silent. “People think the worst part is the pain. And it does hurt, christ, it hurts so much sometimes. But the worst part is what he says to me when he’s beating me. He calls mea worthless piece of shit. He says I am nothing and will never amount to anything.” He glances back at me. “I know that sounds fucked up, because they’re just words, but sometimes they hurt even more than his physical punches. Over time, they seep into your soul, penetrating deep within you. And the look in his eyes every time he says those words... he truly despises me.” He takes a breath and swallows. “There was a time when he didn’t feel that way. Once, he loved me. I was the cherished child, with both my mom and dad by my side. But then, after my mother’s comment, everything changed. He hated me as if he wanted to…” Xander falls silent, his gaze fixed on our clasped hands.

My heart genuinely aches for him, recognizing his pain as my own. He had loved his mom and dad just like any child loves their parents, but in return, the man he believed was his father despises him. It’s only natural that after all these years, he would want to shield himself and keep hidden what has transpired in his life since his mother’s passing.

Taking a deep breath, he admits, “I believe deep down that my dad still loves my mom. He’s just angry with her for what she did. My dad has gray eyes, while my mom has blue. However, I have dark brown eyes. Interestingly enough, my dad’s best friend also has the exact same brown eyes.”

His voice tightens as he speaks. “I have no connection with my dad. I am only a constant reminder of what she did, always staring him in the face. As I grew older, I started to resemble my biological father more and more. Then the beatings became worse.”

“Xander,” I interrupt, catching his attention.

He turns to look at me, and I can’t help but notice the anguish in his eyes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You deserved to be loved. And never, ever think that you’re nothing. You’re truly something special. I can see it. And so can everyone else.”

Despite saying these words, I realize that the pain of hearing the opposite for all those years will always be a part of him. It’s ingrained in him, inseparable from his being.

As he releases my hand, a sudden thought crosses my mind - did I say something wrong?

“Every time I come here, I sneak a bottle of Jack from my dad.” Reaching into his bag, he retrieves a bottle and effortlessly twists off the cap.

‘Wanna have a good time?’ His playful expression and raised eyebrows successfully mask the vulnerable side he had shown just moments ago.

I burst into laughter. “So, our plan is just to hang out here and get wasted, huh?”

He nods and offers me the bottle. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” he replies. “Once the alcohol kicks in, you stop worrying about that kind of stuff.”

Xander watches as I bring the bottle to my lips and take a gulp, unaware that it may not be the wisest choice.

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