Aftermath of a Fight

The flat was usually rather quiet this time of day with most of the adults still at work, and today was no exception, save for the sudden activity in the kitchen area. A flood of water came rushing out of the faucet with a hiss, puffs of steam rising from the scalding temperature. Nick’s hands were flushed a red hue from this, but it was relatively easy to ignore, considering the foam of bubbles from where he vigorously scrubbed a plate with a towel. After all, whatever pain he was in from turning on the water a little too hot was nothing compared to what was in store for him when his dad came home from work.

He knew how this sort of thing worked. The call that came personally from the principal, which probably interrupted some sort of meeting his mom had been in to make matters worse, would send his old man home from work a couple of hours sooner than typical in an effort to beat his son home. By some sort of divine intervention, the bus had taken the alternate route it sometimes went that landed him at the apartment building earlier than usual. This gave him approximately eight minutes to kiss-up by doing his chores diligently, as opposed to him usually waiting until later that night as per usual, and maybe even think of a good excuse.

Panic drove him to be sloppier than usual, with stray drops of water sloshing onto the counter as he transferred the mostly-cleaned dish from one sink to the next. He knew for a fact that he had gotten himself into serious trouble this year. It had been a good two years since he had gotten into his last fight and had promised he wouldn’t get mixed up in any more petty scraps, while acknowledging the consequences for if he were to break that promise. Nick knew well enough that at his ripe age of eleven, he was more than old enough to finally get the belt, and if nothing else, his dad was good on keeping his own promises.

It was that stupid Bryce kid’s fault, though! Ever since he had told that boy that it was his turn on the swings in second grade, they had hated each other’s guts. He always said the dumbest things, Bryce was so stupid. So maybe he had pushed him aside a little bit on the way out of the classroom, but the idiot wasn’t supposed to shove him back! Nick had already been in a foul mood after having little success finding what materials he needed for a project he had been stressing over, that little push had been enough to send him over the edge. The satisfaction of coming out with only a little bruising under his eye and the other boy crying had only been temporary as the grim reality of his situation sank in when his teacher pried him off the other boy.

Now he was in for it. The moment he had been dreading all day was rapidly approaching, and he had only just finished washing the dishes. Nick flicked his hands dry with a few snaps of his wrist before pulling out the dry towel to put them away. He was somewhat grateful that Cori wasn’t home yet. Her presence never seemed to deter his parents from the loud scolding to come, so her being in the room only served to further his humiliation. Though with that in mind, there was no guarantee who was going to be home first.

Nick froze, pausing to make certain he was hearing the faint scraping of a key searching for a key hole over the clattering of plates. To his dismay, it was, and he had let his mind stray instead of being able to come up with something good to say. Without another moment’s hesitation, he rolled forward to the tip of his heels to reach up and slam the cabinet door shut. He was about to make a break for his room, maybe pretend he wasn’t home yet until he was ready to face his punishment, but the sounds of the key sliding into the door knob indicated that not even the fastest person in the world would be able to tear across the room in the adequate time it would take for him to successfully conceal himself.

The door handle jiggled and without thinking, Nick crouched, flung the cabinet open just beneath sink and dove into the small enclosure, clumsily knocking various cleaning products over and tipping the trash can enough just to have some napkins tumble onto his shoulder. He turned, keeping his chin close to his chest, and hooked his fingers into the small ledge on the wooden door to pull it shut. His eyes were wide, even as the area around him blackened to the point where he could barely make out his own figure, and he tried desperately to quiet his breathing to shallow inhales in and out of his mouth.

“-row? Y’all couldn’t have told me this earlier?” The man’s gruff drawl sounded agitated, but if he was busy talking to someone, that would give him time to forget about the sudden creaking from the cabinet as he had entered. With the silence that followed the question, save for the characteristic plopping of boots on the floor, Nick was quick to deduce he was on the phone with someone, though he could have figured that out also from his dad’s louder tone that was used specially for phone calls.

He heard an angry huff. “Y’all should make sure I know ‘fore you start decidin’ it’d be wise t’send someone over. We need time t’get ready for things, y’know.”

Nick adjusted himself finally until a fully seated position, unsure of how long this would take. He settled his back against the plastic bin, finally brushing off the crumpled napkins that had fallen on him from before, and pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and setting his chin on his knees. It was just torturing himself staying tuned into the conversation like he was, but he needed to assess how angry his dad was and if it was just directed to the person on the other line – probably a coworker.

“But if he’s gonna’ be here tomorrow, y’all done that- y’all’ve had plenty of time… Yes, I have a right t’ know.” His volume was increasing beyond the typical phone call level, clearly not bothering to conceal his anger anymore, and with each word it came closer to booming. Nick shut his eyes to it. “We’ve been raising that boy this whole time, you know!”

He hitched a breath, pale eyes staring out again. Oh man, I’m so screwed. They were talking about him? Nick had no idea what they were talking about. All he knew that it was bad because his dad was angry, and someone was coming tomorrow. There was the small sliver of a chance he was still talking about work, but he couldn’t think for the life of him what other boy his dad could be talking about, and if today had been any indication so far, he was nowhere near lucky enough for that to be the case.

“F- whatever.” Nick heard the phone clap shut and land on some surface with a clatter. More heavy footsteps followed, along with something else thumping against the counter and a deep sigh.

The only sound for him to hear was his own heartbeat drumming in his ears, and the longer he sat there, the more conscious he was about the cramped space. Suddenly, Nick felt as though his light inhales from before were not enough and the pace of his breathing picked up. He squeezed his eyelids shut in an attempt to regain control again, scooting forward and sitting up straighter just so that he was no longer touching the trash can behind him. He couldn’t remember the last time his dad had been so angry with him, or if he ever had been. His consistently easy-going nature made it hard to believe he could even get mad, so when he even so much as raised his voice, people listened. Just now, though, even though he had seemingly relented in the end, he had yelled before then, and it was about him.

Nick released his legs from the tight clamp he had held on them before and brought his hands to his face, curling closer to where they were cupped. He felt trapped where he was and it was bringing a heat over his body in flashes, yet his hands felt cool. It was only then that he realized he was shaking – unable to see, breathe, and now hold still. He swallowed his spit, attempting to wait out the moment. Seconds dragged by before he calmed somewhat, his frame falling into light shivers. Nick’s palms felt moist from where his breath had blown into them, and he lifted his head from them, wiping his hands on his jeans.

He realized he hadn’t heard anything from his dad in a while, and by some Godly miracle, he must not have noticed the boy dashing beneath the sink as he entered. Nick strained to listen for something, any sign of life but heard nothing save for the faint whisper of functioning plumbing. Did he leave? Nick hadn’t heard him leave, but at the same time, he didn’t hear anything now. After a particularly long exhale, he had calmed his nerves, and figured he was as ready to face his father’s wrath as he would ever be, before his muscles cramped up any more.

Nick flattened his palm on the door, pushing it open as slowly as he could. He squinted as the sliver of light grew and became blinding, feeling his pupils shrink painfully against it as he progressed on his way. Suddenly, the door began a ridged creaking, sounding deafening against the silence of the room. He stopped and cringed. If there was anyone left in the kitchen area, they definitely would have heard that. However, time passed, and nothing happened.

Nick released a tense breath he had not realized he had been holding. Unceremoniously, so as not to provoke the door into producing that ungodly noise again, he swung the door open the rest of the way.

He blanched at the sight of his father still standing there.

“Shit,” he breathed inaudibly, the single word falling awkwardly out of his mouth. However, there was no reaction from the man. In fact, he wasn’t even looking in the boy’s direction. He was leaning over the counter, elbows set on it and one hand rubbing along his forehead and temple, all while his eyes were shut. Nick contemplated his best course of action. A stealthy retreat to his room seemed unlikely to succeed, even if he had somehow gone unnoticed thus far, but more importantly, he didn’t think he could last another second cramming himself beneath the sink.

Nick began his retreat with care – swinging his legs out to the side, ducking his head and scooting across until he could stand fully on his two feet. Resisting the powerful temptation to crack various joints and perform a series of over-the-top stretches, the boy crept along behind the man, staring carefully at him. He didn’t know what it was exactly, but something in that moment somehow made his old man look even older. Any speculating on this fact that he was about to do was stopped abruptly as his dad finally looked over at him, grounding Nick in his tracks.

They exchanged blank looks for a moment, his dad looking baffled as his eyebrows furrowed, but he soon folded his arms over the counter and turned his head away dismissively. “Nick, go to your room.”

He was more than happy to oblige. Nick took quick steps to swerve around the older man, but faltered at the nagging feeling in the back of his mind being brought forward to his attention. He was far from the most perceptive adolescent there was, but even he noticed the calmness in those words, sharply contrasting with the wrathful tempest of fury he had been expecting. If anything, his dad sounded… tired?

Nick had been keeping his head down as he shuffled by the middle-aged man, but now he slowed his footsteps and looked over his shoulder. His dad had reverted to the same position as before, if anything sinking deeper into the way his cupped hands cradled his face. He shook his head, pressing the tips of his fingers against his lids and rubbing before his hands fell away from his face and he turned to look at the boy, which made him stop in his tracks. “No, wait. Come here.”

Nick faced him fully, and though it was tempting to look away, he forced himself to look at him, eyes flickering over the man’s features in a vain attempt to read his expression. His square jaw was set strong and his dark eyes gave away nothing, just like always. Cautiously, he stepped forward, the fear that had been writhing inside him and twisting his stomach into a nervous compound of knots becoming progressively stronger the closer they were in proximity of each other. It didn’t take nearly as much time as he wanted to be craning his head up slightly to keep his gaze on the man standing before him, but with a gesture of his hand, his father made it clear it wasn’t close enough. Easily in arm’s length now, the man reached out, making Nick instinctively shut his eyes, but instead of being turned around for a quick lashing on the rump, a hand cupped over the back of his head and brought his face flush against the man’s stomach – another arm wrapping around his back.

Nick turned his head to breathe more than just the cologne on the plaid button-up shirt and opened his eyes wide as he registered what was happening. He was hugging him? Nick’s alarmed state shifted into something more befuddled and, to a lesser degree, embarrassed. He felt a gentle breath ruffle strands of hair that may have been a sigh and his frown deepened, eyebrows knitting together as he became even further perplexed. Trying to fight the heat that was blossoming beneath his already rosy cheeks, as he knew there was no one around to see the embrace, he tilted his chin up again, though still refused any attempt to encircle the man’s torso. “Aren’t…” The question was unimaginably hard to get out, and he had to take a moment before he could force it out. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

His frowned deepened. “Uh-? No, I’m not-” His dad cut off his own words, a barely perceptible shift forming on his expression as he seemingly realized what Nick was referring to. He was silent for a few moments, as though in deep thought, before he released the boy from his hold, allowing him to take a step back to where he had previously positioned himself comfortably. “I’m just… disappointed.”

Nick felt the weight of the single word crashing down on his heavier than any physical retribution he could have been subjected to. He had never quite realized it before that moment, but he now knew it was the worst thing that he could have said. He swallowed his spit, feeling beyond uncomfortable beneath his father’s unwavering gaze. Nick searched for some words to say, some course of action to take, but found nothing. He had already been forced to apologize to Bryce, so… but why disappointed? Had his dad been bragging about how well-behaved his son was just before he got the call from Mom? Maybe he had been comparing Nick to some other unruly tale of some kid with pride just to hear that the same kid had decided to beat one of his peers to a sniffling shadow of his former self? Maybe he had just been giving the rest of them some smug look as they traded war stories of having to deal with their kids, but it didn’t matter now, because he was far from that same role model that his father had been lead to believe up until that point and it disappointed him.

His heart thumped fiercely in his chest as his dad opened his mouth to speak again. “But we can talk about that later. Right now… there’s… something I need to tell you. I shoulda’ told you long ago.” This caught his attention but served nothing in the way of subduing his fright. Nick waited as his dad was beyond struggling to find words, instead simply have trouble with giving them out. “I’m not your dad and you’re not my son. Me and your… my wife agreed to take care of you until your real parents could, and they can now… and they’re comin’ to pick you up tomorrow.”

Nick was typically appreciative of the man’s bluntness after someone else had been beating around the bush in every angle they could possibly find, but now was not one of those times. He felt his eyes sting and a rush of pressure building up beneath his eyes, a flurry of terror erupting in his mind. “No, Dad, don’t! I’ll be good from now on, I promise!” he pleaded, pitch of his voice unconsciously rising until it cracked at the end. Nick couldn’t stand the blank look that was being sent down to him, nor the silence he was receiving in return. “Really this time! It won’t happen again, just please!”

“Nicholas, there isn’t nothing I can do about this.” He was so unfamiliar and so stern.

“But-!” His protests were caught off as his head was planted in the man’s stomach again. He was shaking terribly, suddenly feeling completely powerless. It all felt so surreal. Those words meant nothing. This was just punishment for breaking his promise and they were sending him away for poor behavior because they can’t stand him anymore and he was just too much trouble to keep. Instead of giving him another chance, however, he was just going to let some stranger swoop in and take him away forever.

Nick’s fingers curled into the soft fabric of the man’s cotton shirt, as though to ground him there and never let him leave, and he nuzzled his face even closer. His mouth hung open to form syllables of words that he didn’t know, but all that came out were breathless pants, no longer able to take meaningful inhalations from his plugged nose. He attempted to sniff, but the oxygen he managed to draw in was sparse, and he was force to take it in through his mouth, if only for it to come back out in a shuddering breath. He was less in control with every passing moment. Nick’s mind looped all of his mistakes, and knowing after several moments he was still recounting things from early that day alone, his eyelids finally gave way to the tears that had building beneath them. The trail that cascaded down the curvatures of his face left a cool trail, if only for them to heat up again beneath another warm tear that traveled the same path. He drew in another shaky breath, finally beginning to dampen the shirt his face was planted against, and what came out was akin to a whine.

This finally drove the man to clap his hands on his shoulders and pull the boy away a little. Nick refused to look him in the eye again, in fear of the same cold indifference from earlier. “Don’t cry,” he ordered, voice firm and even. Nick’s face twisted at this, gasping out another sob as a thumb brushed over the moisture covering his blotchy cheek. “You have to be strong for Cori.”

He won’t even call her my sister anymore. This realization made his body rack forward with another unnatural breath, but regardless, the words hit home. Nick fought to keep a straight face, cut off any weird noises his throat was trying to push out of his mouth, and ultimately stop the tears from falling. His throat burned, feeling charred, and every reminder to himself to stop crying, stop being such a wuss, only seemed to bring on a new wave of tears. Eventually, he dug the heel of his palms into his eyes, rubbing away and trying to calm his shaky breaths until there were only traces of salinity left and a noisy sucking of snot back into his head.

In spite of his strong reaction, he was still struggling to wrap his head around what had been said. He knew it wasn’t just some cruel joke, and he knew that it wasn’t really anyone’s fault, but neither of these facts fully registered into his perception of reality. At the very least… if he was… adopted… then why… hadn’t he been a son to them? That’s what they called him, so then… why…

His heart thudded against his chest, a turmoil of emotions making it painful to just be standing there. He wished he could ignore the eyes burning in the back of his head, feeling some degree a shame among all the other things as his unyielding gaze commanded him to stop his sniveling.

Finally, he gave a shallow inhale, turning his hands over to drag his fingers along his lower lids and pull the skin along from it – sections feeling raw from where he had kneaded too hard. Nick’s breath hitched once, then he was done. He dared a glance up at the man before him, red tinting the area surrounding his blue irises, and found a very confusing expression looking back down at him. Then, almost awkwardly, the older man looked away over to where the majority of dishes were dried and put away. He paused. “Were you… hiding under the sink?”

Nick considered not answering for a moment, but then nodded his head. The corner of the man’s lip twitched, then tugged into the slightest grin, snorting lightly in mirth. Nick gave a breathy laugh, but the moment nearly had him in tears again.