Cal:
"Why him?" I ask raising an eyebrow.
"I think he's cool."
"Please tell me that's not the only reason." I groan, smiling.
"Daaaaaaddd."
"Fine." I say throwing my hands up in the air. "I give up."
"Great." Sukie grins.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." Sukie groans, she looks up at the ceiling in hopelessness.
"Fine fine. I'll get him." I say slapping my thighs before standing up from my chair.
"Dad?" Sukie says right before I make it out the door.
"Yeah?" I say turning around, I smile softly to myself. Sukie looks so much better, still pale, but her eyes are brighter and her personality is shining through again.
"What's his name?"
I feel a warmth behind me suddenly, and the soft feel of his breath on the back of my neck.
"Cheating is looked down upon, you know."
I look behind me, a bad choice, and he's too close. He must realize it too, and he steps back, then quickly slides around me.
"If you really must know" he says trying to cover up quickly, "then you should tell me what you're scheming."
Sukie smirks up at him, and for once I feel a twinge of jealousy. Why is it that he manages to make Sukie smile like that when it feels like I'm trying. It used to just be unconscious, this click between father and daughter.
"Fine. Tell me your name first."
Xavier raises an eyebrow, but he leans against the counter instead, his eyes averted as I watch him skeptically.
"I won't argue." He says.
"Smart man." Sukie agrees.
"It's Xavier." I pipe in. Sukie glances at me, and her eyes are angered and disappointed. For once I wish I didn't open my mouth, but sometimes I feel like I'm a teenager again, scared yet curious about my child, and wishing that my child will love me...even if I had her by accident. I still love her to death.
"Xavier." Xavier whispers, but he's smiling and I notice that he's watching me now.
He glances as Sukie again, "Scheming." He says.
"I nominated you to be my caretaker."
"Caretaker?" Xavier says glancing at me.
"Sukie wanted to leave early...and because she might be prone to another cardiac arrest we thought it'd be best to have a caretaker with her for this week."
Xavier has his eyes on me, and his attention is zoned on it's target. Me.
"And this is okay with you?" He says cooly, seriously.
"Why wouldn't it?" I ask stiffening.
Xavier shrugs, but I know he's already got an answer gearing in his head. What would my answer be? Would it be the same?
It's not until Xavier steps into my house that it hits me.
It's because he scares me.
——————
It's weird.
Everything is still the same. Sukie and I are watching old movies on the couch and eating dinner. Nothing has changed.
Except for the fact that Xavier cooked the meal.
It was simplistic too. Mac and cheese.
"This is it..." Sukie sighs quietly.
"What is?" I ask, and I resist glancing behind me to see where Xavier is.
"Being home. Having a classic meal."
"I wouldn't call it classic." I say, keeping my voice fairly low.
Sukie lets her fork drop into her bowl, and she fixes me with a stare from her place on the couch.
"What's going on?" She asks
"What do you mean?" I question
Sukie doesn't hesitate, She never does. She speaks her mind, and she's not afraid to debate. She likes a challenge.
"If you're not okay with Xavier being my caretaker than you could've told me beforehand. It's a bit too late for that now don't you think? And I know you're not the dad that thinks every male person around his daughter will try and pull a move on her. So what's wrong?"
"Do you want another blanket?" I ask setting my bowl down and standing up.
"No. I just want to know why you're so offended by mac and cheese for dinner!"
Xavier decides to pop up right then and there. He glances at Sukie before fixing his eyes on me.
"I can't cook much. I've always sorta lived off of other's cooking since I spent so much time studying or working." He admits to me. His gaze slowly turns to Sukie, and he gives off a grimace. "Might want to reconsider your caretaker now."
"Nonsense." Sukie says.
Xavier looks back at me, and his eyes give off a silent plea. Let's talk.
I look away, quickly collecting my bowl and heading to the kitchen. Xavier follows me, and he doesn't say anything, just watches me put the bowl in the sink and let the water run so that it can soak.
I steal a glance behind me. Xavier leans on the counter at the far end, and his eyes are cast at the shelves full of Sukie's childhood projects, framed photos, and old to-do lists.
I walk past Xavier, and I stand behind Sukie's leaning over her to turn off the TV.
"Hey!" She protests.
"Bed. Sleep." I command, urging her up.
"Some father you are." She says, but she stands up nicely, but I can't tell she's tired by the way she leans her full body weight on me as we go up the stairs. She flops onto her bed, and I tuck her in nicely before giving her some sleeping pills. She hasn't been sleeping well ever since Sandy left us.
"Goodnight." I say kissing her head. "I can take off work, you know. Anything you need you tell me. I'm on the run."
"Dad." Sukie murmurs back. "I told you. There's no point in having Xavier over if you're staying here. Why don't you like him? Is it because he can't cook a real meal? Since when have I ever been a healthy eater?"
"It's not that." I say defensively.
"Fine. Whatever. Be stubborn. I know you sent me up to have a one-on-one talk with him. Going to have that man-to-man quality time I see."
I rolls me eyes, quickly walking to the door and turning her light off.
"Night." I repeat. Then go downstairs.
Xavier is still where I last saw him, but he's holding a picture frame, and his eyes are trained and serious.
He spots me, and then he quickly puts the photo back exactly where it was before. You wouldn't have even known that he touched it. He's just that quite. That precise. That careful.
"Sorry." Is all he says.
I pull up a stool from the ones next to the bar counter. I take a seat, shrugging in response. "I never said that you couldn't touch anything."
Xavier nods, pressing his lips together. His eyes slide over me quickly, and then they focus back on the photo.
"May I ask why you're so infatuated with the picture?" I ask eyeing him wearily.
"I'm just looking at the family photo." He comments quietly.
"Wow. Not creepy at all." I say drumming a small rhythm on the counter, trying to keep my hands busy, prevent myself from shaking. I can feel the tension between us, something fragile, and I don't know why.
"I like family photos." Xavier says still looking at the shelf. He pauses, debating whether he should elaborate, and when I don't say anything he goes on. "I've never had one."
"Why's that?" I ask trying to keep conversation.
Xavier turns slightly, and I expect him to give back a snarky remark like how this isn't a therapist session, but he cuts to the chase.
"You don't like me." He states.
"No family photo? Want to take ours? You seem to take a liking to my daughter." I say coldly. I close my eyes, and look away, wishing that I didn't let that come out so cruel, wishing that I didn't have to see those pale eyes. They're not lifeless, they're so vulnerable yet guarded, curious yet cautious...they're so raw, they're so truthful...so calm and collected. He knows what to say, doesn't do the small talk, and he doesn't waste his time. He knows his next steps, knows what's going to happen and how to play. He's not afraid to lose.
He's everything that I'm not and it scares me.
"I'm not attracted to your daughter in that way. She's a great person, though. I can see how you two are related." He looks back at the photo, planning his next words, always being prepared. "She's got a good family. Something every child should have—no—deserve. I admire parenting like that. Friend first, parent second. You don't hold her back, open up every door for her, yet warn her about the bad ones, the protective father side of you comes out." He stops quickly, obviously believing that he's said too much. He sighs.
"Um. Yeah." I say staring at my hands, I glance back up, and he's facing me now.
He shifts his stance. "Your daughter has told me about your wife..." he says quietly.
I immediately heat up, and I want to do something, but his voice is so dull, and his eyes are scanned at his converse shoes, and he's in a different world.
"Sandy." He says quietly.
"Sandy." I repeat, though my voice is thick and strained.
"Just think." He says then, "your Sandy and my Sandy."