Page 21 of Only the Small Bones
She looked at me as though asking: Would that be such a bad thing? I lowered onto my chair, closing my eyes in embarrassment because the pitch of my voice suggested it would be a terrible thing. It revealed that there was more going on here. More going on with me. When I opened my eyes, she and Xavier were staring at me like they knew it.
Xavier’s gaze held warranted pain and anger. My mother’s gaze expressed a deep love and understanding. The only difference was she knew more about me than he did, but even still, she didn’t know enough.
Wiliam
“I’ll let you know how my talk with Mihaela goes,” I said as Xavier stepped onto the elevator, anger making me sound gruff. I was upset with him, but I was more upset with myself. He placed his hand on the doors, keeping them open.
“I know it wasn’t my place to say—”
“No, it wasn’t. You could have set him back.”
“Are you saying he was close to leaving here?”
“Why are you in such a hurry for him to leave?”
“The real question is why aren’t you?”
“I am,” I snapped, “but it needs to be when he’s ready, and not a moment sooner.”
Xavier stepped off the elevator, letting the doors close behind him. He stared into my eyes as if searching for something he’d never been able to find before. Like maybe he’d give trying to figure me out one last shot. Everything he needed to know was right there. I carried it with me, rarely able to get a moment’s rest from it. He just didn’t know what to look for, so the truth would forever be an elusive thing to him.
“What about his family, hmm? I’m sure there’s someone out there who misses him, who hasn’t stopped looking for him. Do you even care about them? Have you asked him about them?”
“I…” I couldn’t answer him. My answer would’ve been damning. I hadn’t thought much about his family. I’d only been thinking about him. “He doesn’t talk.”
“How convenient,” he drawled. “It’s been weeks. Has he even gotten any fresh air? Gotten some sunlight? Or have you kept him trapped in this beautiful prison?” He waved a hand toward the apartment door.
“Sun?” I scoffed. “Have you seen the weather the last couple of weeks?”
“You get the point I’m trying to make, William. God, just take a moment to look at yourself. Have you asked yourself what it is you’re doing here? Are you being honest with yourself?”
I set my jaw, speaking through clenched teeth. “I’m trying to help—”
“You’re trying to fix them,” he interrupted me. “You can’t fix them, William. You can’t save them all.” He drew in closer, resting his hands on my stubbled cheeks whispering, “And they can’t saveyou.”
What he didn’t realize was that I didn’t need to save them all. I only needed to saveone.
He pressed the call button, and the elevator doors opened. We watched each other until they closed, neither of us knowing what else to say.
I found my mother in the kitchen dishing food into Tupperware containers.
“I made enough to last a full week, as promised. And there’s a whole chicken in the freezer already seasoned. Thaw it and pop it into the little rotisserie oven I got you whenever you’re ready for it.”
“Thank you.” I kissed her forehead before loading the dishwasher. While we worked, she hummed the lullaby she used to sing to me when I was a kid. It always calmed me, even when I became too old for her to still be singing it to me. She hummed until my movements turned fluid, her voice putting me in a daze.
“They’re all the same, you know. The survivors who come through here,” she explained when I stopped wiping down thecounter to shoot her a questioning look. “Even the ones who don’t. They’re all the same.”
I leaned against the counter as I thought over that. “They look nothing alike.”
“No, but the way they are drawn to you, is the same.” She came around the island to stand near me. “Your mournful nature intrigues them. They see a kindred spirit when they look at you, and I think that makes you safe in their eyes.”
Ryan possibly preferred me to the alternative, to being with a group of strangers versus one, to having to face reality over being able to lock himself in his room here. But drawn to me? Kindred spirits? For once I thought she may be wrong about something. I didn’t stop to correct her, though. In truth, her words made me hopeful.
“Xavier obviously wants you to open up to him. Whatever battles he’s faced, he wants to share them with you, and he wants you to share your scars with him. He’s jealous that they get to know you in a way he doesn’t, even if the truth is that they don’t know you either. None of us do. Not really.” She cupped my cheek to soften the sting. “I think for Xavier it’s enough that you care about this part of your life more than you care about him. You wear your brokenness on your sleeve, but you keep the reasons why locked away in a place no one can reach.”
I closed my eyes, finding sanctuary in her soothing touch. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I know, baby,” she whispered back. “I know. Sometimes I still wonder if—”
