by J. E. Taylor
Chapter 6
Matthew walked into the house with André in tow and pointed to the living room couch. “Have a seat,” he said and went to find his wife.
Linda stood over the kitchen stove, whipping up dinner, preferring to do it herself, rather than dictate the menu to a computer. Wonderful smells drifted through the house.
“Hi honey,” he said from the kitchen doorway. “Remember what I talked to you about last night?”
“Yes.” Linda turned her fair, freckled face toward her husband. Her pale blue eyes stared at him through a couple fallen strands of strawberry blonde hair.
“Do you have enough for three?”
“Really?” She took the pot off the stove, placing it on the cool counter surface.
Matthew glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, really. I think I’ve pretty much screwed any further advances in my career, but...” He turned back toward her, locking eyes. “He needs a home. Come on.” He led her into the living room.
André studied the pictures that graced the mantel and he turned and smiled at Matthew’s wife. “Hi.”
Linda’s eyes went wide and she turned to Matthew. “He looks so... so human.”
Matthew smiled, nodded and shrugged.
Her eyes flashed with both hope and fear.
“My name’s André,” he introduced himself, extending his hand like he saw Matthew do in the hospital.
Linda’s tight, nervous features relaxed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that...it’s just that I didn’t think Matthew was serious,” she said, embarrassed, offering a small smile. “Welcome home, André,” she said and walked over; ignoring his outstretched hand. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug.
WARMTH AND QUIET RESIGNED acceptance radiated from her, and André glanced at Matthew through a red sheen of tears. “Thank you,” he said.
Linda pulled away and put her hand on André’s face. “Why are you crying?”
He wasn’t sure he could formulate the words but he tried anyway. “I’ve never had a home,” he said, wiping his face. His parents had been on the run for so long before the emperor found them. He had no memory of anything else. They were never in one place for any length of time before word got out about the blue-eyed boy.
“Well, you do now.” Linda glanced at Matthew and back. “Are you hungry?”
André nodded. Gratitude encompassed him and he offered a forced smile, sniffling and swiping his face again. “Thank you.”
“You might not feel that way once we talk about rules,” Matthew said.
André laughed a little and he followed Linda into the kitchen.
“I’m not kidding,” Matthew said.
“Leave the boy alone, Matt.” Linda leveled a stare over her shoulder at her husband.
André sat where she indicated and waited for his food, watching the pleasant dynamics between the colonel and his wife.
Matthew sat at the table in front of his meal and looked over at André. “The rules,” he began.
“Matt,” Linda started.
Matthew held up his hand. “The rules,” he said again. “First, we need to get you enrolled in school.”
André’s jaw dropped with his fork halfway to his mouth and his eyes glued on Matthew’s.
“Second, you will come home from school and do your homework. Then you will help with whatever Linda needs you to do.” He took a bite of the food. “This is great, honey,” he deviated from the rules for a moment. “Bedtime is by nine pm,” he added. “When you make friends, and I’m sure you will, you can play only after your homework is done. Understand?”
Dumbfounded, he nodded, although he had never been to school and he was never any place long enough to make friends.
“We can tell the school that you are Matthew’s nephew—you lost your parents and are living with us now. I’ll make sure transcripts are produced so your real identity is kept under wraps,” Matthew added. “They won’t know unless you tell them.”
André looked down at his food. The prospect of being a normal kid overwhelmed him; this deviated so much from any vision he had to date and doubt began to creep in. Maybe this was real. “I don’t know,” he said, unsure of himself.
“You don’t know what?” Matthew asked.
“I’ve never been to school,” he said, putting his fork on the side of the plate and picking up his glass.
“Don’t they have schools on your planet?” Linda asked.
André nodded.
“Why didn’t you go?”
André shrugged and took a sip of his milk. “We were never in one place long enough.” He placed the glass back on the table and stared at the plate. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, afraid of the questions in her eyes.
“Why did you move around so much?” Matthew asked.
“Because...” André looked back at Linda. Her eyes were blue too. “Because my eyes are blue,” he admitted sheepishly and returned his gaze to his food, the embarrassment heating his cheeks.
“You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen,” Linda interrupted.
André shrugged a little. “I was different,” he said. “My parents died because I was different.”
When Linda took his hand, he glanced in her direction, surprised as much by the gesture as what he saw.
Her eyes reflected a deep sadness punctuated by clear tears that rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, honey,” she whispered.
André slowly withdrew his hand and finished what was on his plate.
“Can you read?” Matthew asked after he had finished his meal.
André shook his head. He couldn’t read his own language, never mind this civilization’s.
Matthew sat back in the chair and blew out a stream of air.
“I can teach you to read,” Linda offered before Matthew could comment. “It’s not hard once you learn the alphabet.”
“Alphabet?”
“The letters that make up the words,” she explained as she stood and cleared the dishes. “I’ll show you in a few minutes.” She smiled over her shoulder, popping the dishes in the sanitizer. She walked out of the room and returned with some lined paper and the alphabet books she used in her classroom.
Matthew retreated to his upstairs office while Linda worked with André.
André wandered into the office an hour later, now able to recite the letters of the alphabet in order and recognize a few of them by sight. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, interrupting Matthew.
Matthew looked up at him and took off his reading glasses. “Doing what?”
André tilted his head and raised his eyebrow. “You know what I’m asking.”
Matthew leaned back in the chair. “Please close the door,” he said.
The door closed behind André without physical intervention.
Matthew let out a bark of a laugh. “That freaks me out a little,” he admitted.
“Why are you doing this?” André asked, sensing an underlying agenda.
Matthew sighed. “Because my wife can’t have children,” he admitted. “And adoption wasn’t in the cards either. I’m not in a line of work that allows that.” He leaned back in the chair. “You need a home; she needs to be a mother.” He shrugged. “It just made sense.”
André sat down in the chair opposite the desk and looked around the room. The walls were lined with books and he recognized some of the letters that Linda had gone through with him, which made him smile. “What do I call you and your wife?”
“What do you want to call us?” Matthew asked.
André shrugged.
“You can call us Matthew and Linda, if that’s what makes you comfortable,” he replied.
André nodded and stood up. “Thank you.” He licked his lips. “Matthew,” he said, not quite feeling right about using the man’s proper name.
Matthew stood and escorted André to the guest room. “This will be your room,” he said, flipping the light on. He pointed toward a doorway in the corner. “You have a ba
throom over there.” He turned toward André. “Another rule. No locking your bedroom door. A locked door means something is going on inside that I wouldn’t approve of,” he said sternly. “Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir,” André replied looking around the room. It was more than he ever had in his young life. “Thank you.”
“Goodnight, André,” Matthew said and messed up his hair.
“Goodnight, sir,” André said.
Matthew cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows at André.
“Goodnight, Matthew,” André corrected. He waited until the door closed behind Matthew before he let the sob escape. Gratitude and fear snaked over his skin, combining to a crippling combination, and he fell to his knees on the plush carpet with his face in his hands.
He never expected to live long enough to see a planet, never mind meet people willing to take him in, to offer food and a place to sleep, to offer kindness and make him feel safe. He didn’t trust what he saw, what he felt, and wondered if this was just another last-ditch hallucination or if it truly was real.
It was too much for him and he let the tears come, staining his shirt and pants as they fell through his fingers. Fear kept his palms to his face—afraid if he moved them away, he’d still be in that god forsaken death ship.
Chapter 7
August 2239
“What do you mean I can’t go out for the football team?” André slammed his glass down on the dinner table.
“After what happened on the soccer team last year, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Matthew said. “You nearly killed that goalie. You were so caught up in winning; you forgot just how dangerous you can be.”
André glared at his father but said nothing.
“You didn’t just kick that ball, did you?” Matthew yelled when André said nothing.
“Fine! I gave it a little push—so what? We won the championship.”
Matthew threw his napkin on the table. “You shouldn’t have won. You used the power you have and that wasn’t a level playing field. It was cheating.” He stormed out of the room and slammed the door to his study, leaving André sitting at the table with Linda.
“Your father is right, you know,” she said softly, picking at her food. “You should have never taken advantage of the situation like you did. Winning isn’t everything.”
André glanced over at her. “But Mom,” he whined, “I really want to play football.”
“I know, honey, but you don’t always get what you want. Life doesn’t work that way.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because that’s just the way it is.” She stood and paused in the doorway. “Your father cares a great deal about you, André. He’s only doing what he thinks is best.”
“Bullshit. He just wants to control me,” André snapped.
Linda turned on him; the anger flared in her eyes. “Just because you’re seventeen, doesn’t mean you can talk that way in our house.”
André looked down at the floor, his face heating with shame for pushing her to the point of anger. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you understand why your father is saying no?”
“Yeah, but—”
“—I didn’t ask for excuses. Do you understand why?”
“Yeah,” he said, still staring at the floor, unable to meet her angry gaze. “I wanted to win and I didn’t care how I did it.”
“Precisely.” She turned on her heels and left the kitchen.
MATTHEW PACED AND CURSED under his breath. Only André could push him over the edge like this. Up until the boy turned sixteen, the house had been calm and quiet and fun to live in, but at sixteen it was like a switch had been flipped, and he and André were constantly at each other’s throats. He just didn’t understand it.
Linda interrupted his thoughts, closing the door to his study behind her.
“What am I doing wrong?” he snapped.
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” she replied, validating his approach. “He is just a teenager, Matthew. They all act like that.”
“He can make me so angry.” Matthew looked out the window.
“Yeah, well, it goes both ways.”
Matthew spun toward the voice and his gaze landed on André standing in the doorway. “Your mother and I are talking.”
“I know,” André began. “I screwed up, all right?” He stepped into the room and flopped down on the leather couch.
Matthew bit the response that was begging to let loose and the fact that he didn’t say what popped in his mind didn’t matter. He knew André heard it anyway.
“I know it isn’t all right, Dad,” he answered the unspoken dig. “I fuh...,” he started and checked himself before he continued. “I screwed up royally. But don’t you think I can learn from my mistakes?”
“André, you take competition to a level that’s hard to overlook. It’s like you constantly feel you have something to prove. I don’t doubt that a part of you regrets hurting that kid, but as you just so eloquently articulated, so what, your team won the championship. What the hell would you do if you were in my shoes?”
André looked at his mother and then back to his father. “Okay, I get it.” He stood and walked out of the study, leaving Matthew and Linda alone. André’s door slammed and music followed, loud enough for Matthew to feel the vibrations in the floor. He clamped his teeth together, trading a glance with Linda before he marched down the hall.
The bass beat shook the portraits on the wall in the hallway and Matthew reached for the doorknob. It didn’t budge. The fact the boy locked the door, disobeying one of his first rules, sent a fire of irritation through his muscles and he tensed against the adrenaline rush of anger.
He pounded on the wood grain. “Open this door right now, young man!”
ANDRÉ IGNORED THE POUNDING and tried to shut out the angry, ranting thoughts. He clamped his eyes tight and willed the stereo louder, drowning out even his own thoughts.
The door splintered as it sailed wide from Matthew’s booted kick and André tensed at the fury radiating from his father. He hadn’t been subjected to that kind of wrath since they sealed him in that tin can of a pod, and fear layered on top of his anger, freezing his muscles in place.
Matthew stormed across the room and ripped the power cord out of the wall, turning on André. “Look at me!”
André couldn’t move. Tonight was the first time he disobeyed outright and he lay in terror of retribution. A hand grabbed his arm, flipping him on his back, and he stared into his father’s furious eyes. Fueled by his fear, a small burst of power escaped and Matthew sailed into the far wall.
Horror freed his paralysis and his hand flew to his mouth. “I’m, I’m, I’m sorry,” he stuttered.
Matthew stood and glared at André. He walked out of the room without a word, his silence more deafening than the bellowing anger coming out of his mouth when he was pounding on his door.
André couldn’t take the silence. Silence reminded him of being locked in space. It spread a suffocating layer over him and he had to get out, to run. André bolted out of his room, past Linda and down the stairs.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked before he reached the front door.
“Out,” he said and looked at her through a red haze. Hot tears streaked his cheeks and he closed the front door behind him. André ran, with no idea where he was going and when he passed the lakeside beach a few miles from his house, he stopped.
The lake looked inviting and a glance up and down the street confirmed no one was around. André scaled the fence, ignoring the sign stating trespassers would be prosecuted. He crossed the soft sand and crouched down at the water’s edge, splashing the cool liquid on his face, washing away the hot tear streaks. He sat back on the sand, wiping his palms on his pants, still in a state of panic and self-loathing.
“I never figured you for a troublemaker.”
He jumped and turned his head toward the familiar voice, offering a small smile. “What ar
e you doing here?” he said, shifting his weight against the shock of seeing Katrina Lawrence on the same beach.
“I sneak in here all the time, especially when my dad is in one of his moods.”
André took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about your mom,” he said. “I was gonna call, but...” He trailed off and shrugged.
“But your dad wouldn’t let you,” she said and he nodded. “Still, it meant a lot to me that you came to her funeral.”
André sighed and looked out at the water, feeling the sorrow in Katrina’s heart and wished he could wipe it away. The last three years had been hard on her, and he didn’t know which was worse, watching your mother waste away with cancer or having her executed before your eyes.
Every time he saw Katrina, he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her she was the only one who made his heart skip, the only one who could render him speechless, but he had respected his father’s wishes and kept his distance.
Silence settled between them along with an undeniable electrical current.
She sat down next to him on the sand. “So, what’s up with you?” she asked, flipping her thick blonde hair back over her shoulder in the same arrogant gesture he adored.
He shook his head, glancing sideways at her. “I had a fight with my father,” he drawled in the deep Southern accent prevalent in the Texas dome.
“About what?”
“I want to try out for the football team and he said no.”
“Well, that’s just stupid,” Katrina said.
“I agree,” André said. “Speaking of our fathers, your dad wouldn’t be very happy with you, talking to me and all.”
Katrina grinned. “Yeah, well, once a troublemaker, always a troublemaker.”
“My dad would be pissed,” he replied and stretched out on the sand, looking up at the stars visible through the clear dome.
“I thought you always listened to your father?”
Before this evening, he would have said yes without hesitation but tonight he just smiled in return. He went to sit up and Katrina pushed him back onto the sand, positioning herself half over him, looking straight into his eyes. She leaned close.
