Picking Up The Pieces
Part 1
I'm free...after five years, three months, and eighteen days, I'm finally back in the game. It's wicked cool to look out the bus window and see the world whiz by, like I'm watching life on fast forward. I really need the change after so many years of the same old shitty routine, day in and day out. Everything looks brand new, like I've never seen it a hundred times before. I'm grinning like a spaz, but I can't help it. I never thought I'd get excited looking at cows, and trees, and motorhomes driven by old men in plaid hats!
It's funny all the things you take for granted, until everything is taken away.
Like Pop Tarts. God, I loved Pop Tarts! The blueberry kind, with the little sprinkles on top, hot out of the toaster. Closest thing to cooking I ever did. I missed munching on Pop Tarts while curled up in bed watching MTV, waitin' for the new Green Day video to play. Made me feel like a normal kid, instead of what I really was.
I was...am...a Slayer. There's nothing normal about being a Slayer. I mean, I never had a Brady Bunch childhood anyway, but getting tagged as the fucking Chosen One really killed any chance I had of being a regular teenager. Instead of sneaking smokes and hanging out behind the Quik Stop like I wanted to, I was busy slaying vampires, demons, and monsters and wondering what the hell I'd gotten myself into.
I used to think my childhood was terrible, filled with over friendly uncles, empty cupboards and empty stomachs, and a mom chugging Chivas at 8:00 in the morning. But once you slay a Ploordak demon whose just been chomping down on somebody's face like he's eating fried chicken, you start thinking that maybe an empty stomach ain't so bad.
Slaying...it's been a long time since I've done any of that. The only kind of monsters in prison are the human kind. Killing demons, good. Killing people, bad. That's where I screwed up. I got so wrapped up in slaying everything that tried to kick my ass, the line between right and wrong got really blurred. Death seemed like the easiest way to deal with *anything* that hurt me. Killing was the only thing I was ever good at, and what did that say about me?
But that was then. I'm different now. I've had five years to clear my head, and realize what's important. It took a long time, and a lot of bizarre little dreams with that mud-faced chick, for me to finally figure out what being a Slayer is really about.
I don't know how to describe Shitface; she was a total head-trip. She never told me her name, so that's what I called her. I think maybe she was a Slayer way back when people were all Clan of the Cave Bear, there wasn't any shampoo, and the closest thing to Maybelline was rubbing bird crap on her cheeks. I figured I'd drunk some bad prune-O the first time Shitface entered my dreams. Talking with her was like being on 'shrooms, everything distorted like a Nine Inch Nails video, and nothing she said made a whole lotta sense.
The first few times she started bugging me, I screamed at her to go away. Just leave me alone, so I could sit in my cell and rot to death, do penance for my whopping truckload of sins. I never went to Sunday school, but I'm pretty sure I committed four or five of the deadly ones. But Shitface kept coming back, and the dreams were so vivid, so...mystical. It was like she was trying to guide me.
In the visions, she reminded me about my responsibility. Being a Slayer ain't just about getting super powers, I've got a sacred duty to use 'em. Not to get my kicks, like I used to, but to actually make a difference. Shitface got me to face up to my gifts. I have to be the Slayer again. Not because the Geezer Council says so, but because people really need me. Buffy's gone, so the task of protecting the world lies in the hands of an ex-convict. Kinda scary, huh?
I told Angel about the dreams. Angel understands me better than anyone else on this planet, 'cause he's crossed the Evil County line, just like I have. I guess you could say he's kinda like my sponsor in the Recovering Homicidal Maniac twelve-step program. He'd visit me often, which I liked. Broke up the monotony of life in jail, helped me work stuff out, and he got to be a pretty good friend. That meant a lot, 'cause I can count the number of friends I have on one hand and still have enough fingers left to pick up a bowling ball.
I have another friend, one I've been wanting to see for over a year. Xander. If you'd told either one of us five years ago that we'd get to be tight, you'd have heard a big "yeah, right" from both of us. Not after all the shit I put him and his friends through. Not after I tried to kill him. I regret that I'll never be able to make things right for (insert dead guy's name here) family, and that I couldn't patch things up with B before she died, but at least I got to apologize to Xander. He surprised the hell out of me by actually forgiving me. I don't know if I would've done the same, if our positions had been reversed. We started writing each other, and it felt really good knowing that I was able fix a small part of all the stuff I royally fucked up.
Xander couldn't visit as often as Angel, but he never forgot me. Because of him, I always got a Christmas present, or a card for my birthday. I really dug all his letters, because they meant someone actually gave a damn about me. Just knowing that I wasn't alone in this world meant more than any gift he could possibly buy.
We wrote about anything and everything. How crappy our parents were...the best B-movies...Scooby Gang gossip...the latest monster to hit Sunnydale...all our hopes, fears and dreams. Xander explained the best way to eat Oreos in order to minimize black cookie mouth. I taught him how to steal a Honda using a screwdriver. He also wrote a lot about his wife, Anya; sometimes about their sex-related arguments, but mostly about how happy they were together. With all the darkness that surrounded our lives, I was glad that Xander had found his shining light in Anya, but I also couldn't help wondering "what if?" It's true what they say...all the good ones are married, undead, or gay.
I owe those two men everything. Angel gave me the strength to face my inner demons, and Xander gave me hope that my life could get better. I changed, all 'cause of them. I got my peace, now it's time to get down to work and prove myself. Hopefully make my guys proud.
I'm on my way back to Sunnydale, and I can't wait to see Xander. Not sure if I'm going to stay yet...I'm crossing my fingers that he wants me to. I got worried when the letters stopped six months ago. He's never gone that long without writing me, so I hope nothing's up. He doesn't know I've been released yet, so I hope he likes surprises!
***
Part 2
Ah, Sunnydale. Never thought I'd be glad to see this crummy place!
As I grab my bag and head outside the bus terminal, I can't help but be a little bummed about some of the changes. For one thing, The Bronze is all boarded up, and the neighborhood is even shadier than when I left. There's a new discount super store where the old high school used to be. Great, not only do we have the Hellmouth, but now we've got fucking Walmart to deal with. I don't know which is worse...fighting an endless stream of demonic creatures, or fighting crowds of mullet-sporting trailer trash so I can save fourteen cents on a tube of lipstick. Despite the changes, I know one thing remains the same. Sunnydale is still crawling with bloodsuckers.
It's dusk, so they'll be coming out to play soon. My skin has that electric, tingly feel I get when I'm ready to fight. Damn, I hope I'm up to it. I worked out a lot in the prison exercise yard, but I haven't actually killed anything since I went up the river. Well, it was touch and go with that skank, LaTecia, from Cell Block H. Girlfriend learned the hard way that she shouldn't mess with my stuff unless she wants to suck soup through a straw for the rest of her life.
There's the cemetery. Sure brings back memories. I remember me and B, The Chosen Two, opening up a big ol' can of whupass as we staked the latest batch of ungrateful dead. When we were still friends, we made a helluva team.
I miss her. I hate how I fucked things up between us. I never had a sister, but Buffy was about as close to one as I'll ever get. We sure fought like sisters...even over guys. She always got em, though. I'm the chick all the guys wanted to lay, but she's the one they all fell head over heels for. EVERYBODY loved Buffy: Angel...Riley...Xander. I was so jealous, I tried to take all of them for myself. Two out of three ain't bad. *grin*
So this is it. Buffy's grave. "She saved the world... a lot." Yeah, she sure did. She was a real hero, bravest person I've ever met, not that I ever admitted that to her when she was alive.
B, if you're watching from up there, please know that I'm going to work my ass off trying to be half the Slayer you were. I promise.
Someone else came here recently to visit B. There are fresh flowers on the headstone...yellow daisies. I bet it was either Xander or Riley who put them here. Wonder if they're around?
Xander told me that Soldier Boy showed up two years ago, back from his covert jungle missions and clueless about Buffy. Xander had to break the news to the poor guy. With Giles back in England, and Willow off getting her master's degree, Riley decided to stay in town to help Xander keep the locals in check. Since then, they've been Sunnydale's dynamic duo, fighting the good fight against all the creatures that go bump in the night. Dawn's still here, too, going the college thing and helping them out. I guess that kinda makes her Batgirl. Jesus, becoming friends with the X-Man sure has increased my geek IQ.
Hmmm... sounds like a big scuffle over by the mausoleum. Party time!
I drop my bag behind a shrub and grab the freshly whittled stake from my coat pocket. My juices start pumping as I make my way towards the fray. Five really gnarly vamps have some dude surrounded at the entrance. Five against one...he's seriously outnumbered. But not for long!
"Excuse me?" Surprised, they all turn around to look at who interrupted their dinner. I wander closer. Little miss innocent.
"Aren't you the Backstreet Boys? Oh, let's see...your music sucks the life out of people, you look like kids when you're really 35, and your career died a long time ago. The vampire thing suddenly makes a whole lotta sense..."
Backstreet Boy #1 and #2 lick their lips and rush forward, while the other three laugh and hold their victim tightly, muffling his cries.
"Oh, we're not pop stars, but we know all about making pretty girls like you scream!" The first vampire lunges forward and tries to grab me. Hey, watch the leather!
With a flying kick, I knock #1 over a grave marker, and spin around to give #2 a chest full of wood. Poof! Exploding vampire! Yeah, I'm BACK! Faith the Vampire Slayer makes the world safer for...
"OOPH!"
My legs are swept out from under me and I fall flat on my ass. Crap, I got so cocky about dusting my first vampire in years, I almost forgot about the rest of 'em!
Backstreet Boy #1 grins and tries to kick me in the face. I grab his ankle and twist, and he howls seconds after hearing a nasty crack. I yank him to the ground, jump on his chest, and plunge my stake home. He wilts into nothing between my thighs.
*sigh*
Am I really losing my touch if a guy can't stay hard while *I'm* straddling hhim?
I hop up and smile as I turn to face the remaining vampires, ready to stop them from killing their hostage. As he tries to wrench himself free, the dark-haired man's eyes widen in recognition.
Oh. My. God. I know him...it's Xander! They've got Xander!
Shocked, I freeze. Dumb move! The biggest one punches me square in the face, and I go down, hard. I roll to the side when he tries to grab my hair. I pull myself up, and I can taste blood running down from my nose.
I grit my teeth and lash out at Big Guy, peppering his face with brutal jabs as I force him back. I line him up for a roundhouse kick...but DAMN if I didn't just miss! Christ, I'm rusty...
I gasp for breath as a new vampire pins me from behind, crushing the air out of my lungs and lifting me off the ground. Big Guy laughs as he leans in and cops a feel, lewdly running his tongue along his fangs. Pervert. I kick him in the nuts, but I can feel the one holding me getting ready to strike...
"NO! Faith!!!" Xander pulls out of the vampire's grasp and pounds on the back of the Backstreet Boy who's trying to give me a hickey. While he's distracted, I dig in my heels and flip the vamp over my shoulders.
"Come back here, meat!" The last vampire pounces on Xander and pins him to the ground while #3 and #4 slowly circle me. Xander struggles with his opponent, managing to knock him aside.
Before the vampires can close in, one of 'em starts going all epileptic on me, and falls to the ground, twitching painfully. Taser. Where the hell did that come from?!
Xander pulls out a stake and dusts the vampire he's been fighting. Big Guy goes rabbit on me, but before he gets away, I jump on his back and cram my stake in his heart. I tumble to the ground, breathing heavily. Shit, I forgot how tough this is. I've got a lot of catching up to do!
As I get up, I see Riley Finn finish the stunned vampire on the ground, and then he smiles at me. "Nice moves you've got there, miss."
I wipe the blood off my face. "My moves used to be a whole lot nicer...but then, you oughtta remember, Boy Scout!" I wink at him.
"Faith?!!" Riley croaks. I smirk as I check him out from head to toe...one, two, three...there it is! Watch him squirm and blush! Oh, yeah. Maybe I haven't lost my touch after all. Riley nervously rubs his hand on his fatigues before he holds it out to shake. "Um, good to see you, Faith. Xander talks a lot about you."
I shake his hand. "Ditto. Thanks for your help, by the way."
Who would've thunk it? Riley shaking hands with the slut who bagged him right under his girlfriend's nose! Buffy must be rolling in her grave!
There's Xander...just the man I want to see! After he rises wobbily to his feet and brushes grave dirt off his clothes, I slide over and hug him so tightly he squeaks. It feels so good to actually see him, touch him, after having only memories to keep me company for all these years.
"Whoa, girl! Watch the ribs!" He hugs me, pecks me on the cheek, and rustles his fingers through my new cropped 'do. "You cut your hair!" He shoots me one of his patented goofy grins, and while I don't doubt that he's glad to see me, the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Check out the beard! I almost didn't recognize ya, Xand Man!" And it's true. Where did the sarcastic, fumbling boy with the lopsided grin and the Bambi eyes go?
He still has those gorgeous, gentle brown eyes, but he's no boy anymore. The old Xander was soft, like a big, cuddly teddy bear, but the man standing in front of me is toughened from years of hard work and fighting vampires. I touch the long, angry scar running down the left side of his neck, new since the last time I saw him over a year ago. He flinches lightly, averting his eyes. I couldn't miss the flash of pain reflected there...obviously there isn't a funny "how I got this scab" story associated with the wound.
Before I could get a question out, Xander piped up. "Hey, I didn't send you a cake with a file in it, so how'd you get sprung so early, jailbird?"
I didn't notice it before, but his speech seems kind of...slow, thick. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he'd been drinking. Nah, he's probably just tired.
"Believe it or not, good behavior. Some bitch tried to shank a guard, and I stopped it. My lawyer pulled some strings to shave a few months off my sentence, so here I am!"
"That's a girl! I'm proud of you. It's really, really good to see you. You look...beautiful, Faith." He pats my arm appreciatively.
I'm blushing! Grrr...Eyes in, girlfriend! Remember the gold ring he wears around his finger.
Riley waves a beeping gizmo around. "I've swept the perimeter, and I'm not picking up any residual preternatural energy signatures in the vicinity. The coast is clear. Let's move out."
You can take the man out of the Army, but you can't take the Army out of the man, I guess. I resist the urge to salute him.
We all walk back to the shrub where I dumped my bag, and I can't wipe the big shit-eating grin off my face. We babble about my bus ride into town, what it's like to finally be a free woman, what my plans are now that I'm out. Man, it feels so good to be outside, slaying vamps again, talking to a couple of hotties. But underneath all the small talk, both Riley and Xander seem kind of tense.
I knew as soon as he opened his mouth that Riley had a huge stick up his butt.
"Xander, you didn't wait for backup before approaching the nest. Why didn't you follow the plan and rendezvous with me at 20:00? We need to stick together, buddy, or you could have gotten yourself killed!"
Xander glared at the older man. "Chill out, Sergeant Rock! I'm fine! The vamps are toasted, the streets are safer, everything is just hunky dory."
Riley's jaw tensed, and I realized he wasn't just angry, but also genuinely concerned.
"Xander..."
"Drop it, Riley. Just...let me enjoy visiting with Faith, okay? You can lecture me tomorrow."
Something's going on between these two. Why does Riley seem so worried about him? "Everything okay, guys?"
Riley gives Xander a sideward glance, but smiles and tells both of us to run off, grab a bite to eat, and catch up on old times. He's a decent guy, but I'm glad when Riley leaves so I can spend some alone time with Xander.
He takes me to a diner on Fremont Avenue, and we chow down on what must be the best burgers I've ever had. But then, ketchup on stale crackers would taste great compared to the prison food I'm used to getting. He's unusually quiet as I ramble about how great it is to see him, how awesome it was to kick some vampire butt, and how I'm really looking forward to being a Slayer again. Xander really has changed a lot. There once was a time when I would have paid good money to get him to shut up for five minutes.
"So, what's the plan, Stan? Got a place lined up to stay tonight?" he asked.
"I figured I'd drop by the Y or something. I don't have a lot of cash on me, so until I find a job I've gotta live on the cheap. That reminds me, you're paying for dinner, moneybags."
He grins as he pulls out his wallet and drops some bills on the table. "No way, you're not staying in some run down, roach-infested old YMCA when you can crash at my run down, roach-infested old house! C'mon, you're staying with me." He stands up and grabs my bag out from under the table and we exit the restaurant.
"Really? You'd do that for me? Oh, I don't want to be any trouble...maybe you should call Anya and make sure she doesn't mind having an ex-lover as a houseguest...she might have a few objections to me being there, you know."
Xander stops and looks down at the ground. "Um. That's not going to be a problem," he says sadly. "Anya's...gone."
"What? Why didn't you tell me? Jesus, Xander, I'm sorry. Last time I heard from you, things were going great for you guys. What happened? When did she leave?"
As a car passes by and shines its headlights on us, I see the torment in his eyes...eyes that are supposed to be shining and laughing and full of mischief, not haunted and sad.
"She didn't divorce me, Faith. Anya's dead. She...she was killed three months ago."
***
Part 3
*ring ring*
"...unh...h'lo?" He's not quite awake yet, but I don't care. I need to talk to somebody, and since the only other person in the world who will give me the time of day is the guy I'm freaking out about, Angel's elected.
"Angel, why didn't you TELL me?" I'm trying to remain calm, but it's not working out too well.
"Faith? What are you talking about? Tell you what, exactly?" asked Angel sleepily.
"Duh! About Anya! Xander's wife! The whole being murdered thing! Shit, Angel, how could you let me come up here without telling me?" I'm upset, but I try to keep my voice down. Xander's in the shower, getting ready for work.
"I...I didn't know. I'm sorry, Faith. Xander and I don't exactly keep in touch...it's not like he sends me Christmas cards." Pause. "When?"
"Three months ago. He doesn't want to talk about it yet, but I can tell it was brutal. I think Xander's really messed up, Angel. I'm worried about him."
Messed up. That's probably a huge understatement. He tries his best to hide it from me, but I can already see that Xander is not in a very good place right now. And I mean that literally...his house is a fucking sty. It's littered with pizza boxes, trash, dirty dishes, unwashed clothes, and empty cans. I don't think he was kidding about the roach infested comment last night.
"Faith?" Angel's voice brings me back to reality again. "Do you want me to come up there?"
"No. No, I'll be fine. You two never got along, so it probably isn't a good idea for you to be in Sunnydale right now." I don't mention that Riley, co-captain of the Unofficial I Hate Angel Society, is also in town. "But can you do me a favor and try to find out the details so I know what's going on? Maybe Queen C knows something."
"No problem. I'll talk to Cordelia, and I'll try to reach Willow, too. I'll call you when I know anything." Another pause. "Xander and I aren't friends, but I am sorry for his loss. Be there for him, Faith."
"Christ, Angel, I'm no good at this kind of thing! I'm a borderline basket case myself...how can I expect to help him through this?"
"What did he do for you, when you were feeling low?"
"Well...like you, he listened. He was just there, ya know? When I was completely fucked up, he treated me like a normal person, and didn't judge me. He just let me be me. When I vented about how life sucked, he agreed with me. When I needed someone to tell me I wasn't a monster, he reminded me about the good things. I'm tweaking, Angel. I don't know if I'm capable of being the kind of friend he needs. With stuff this intense, I tend to get that old fight or flight response. I'm scared I'm going to bolt."
I don't tell him that I'm also worried about being selfish. That I'm nervous that the old Faith will rear her head and do something stupid and fuck his life up even more. He doesn't need to put up with any shit from me on top of mourning Anya. I don't want to hurt him again.
"You won't. You care about him, Faith. I don't know why, I mean, the guy can be so obnoxious, like that whole annoying Dead Boy thing..."
I interrupt his little tirade. "Bygones, Angel."
"Uh, right. Sticking to the point. You care about Xander, and he'll feel that. Just knowing that he's not alone will help him a lot, Faith. You don't have to solve his problems for him, just be there to help him pick up the pieces."
I can hear the shower shutting off, so I thank Angel for the pep talk and hang up the phone. Almost immediately, I hear a knock at the door.
I pad over to the door, avoiding the junk on the floor, clad only in Xander's old Captain America t-shirt. I usually sleep naked, but figured I'd better cover up while I'm a guest. The old Faith wouldn't have given a shit and would have answered the door completely nude, but hey, I'm trying to reform my wicked ways.
When I open the door, my heart stops beating.
*Buffy!*
No, not Buffy...Dawn. She's lightened her hair, and she's grown up so much, I can see why I'd mistake her for her sister. She's holding a Dunkin' Donuts bag, and when she sees me her face goes from Bouncy College Co-Ed to Frigid Ice Queen in less than 10 seconds.
"What are you doing here?" she demands icily. If looks could kill, I'd be zipped up in a body bag. But I don't blame her. I did try to off her sister and several of her friends on more than one occasion. Not everyone can forgive Recovering Homicidal Maniacs. Emphasis on "recovering."
Without waiting for an answer, she brushes past me and looks around. "You didn't kill him, did you? Old habits die hard, right Faith?"
I clench my teeth and try to play nice. I'm not very good at nice. "I figured I'd wait until tomorrow before I kill him. Jesus, kid, cut me some slack! He's in the bathroom." I look at the bag in her hand. "Breakfast delivery?" Some things don't change...Dawn always did have a soft spot for the Xand Man.
"They're not for you." She eyeballs me, obviously not happy to see me half-dressed in Xander's shirt.
"Chill. I'm good. Xander has Pop Tarts, so I won't bogart his donuts."
Xander walks out of the bathroom, bundled up in a bathrobe, his hair wet, his face and neck dotted with shaving cream where he'd trimmed his beard. He grins when he sees his new visitor.
"Dawnster! How'd it go with the Psych test?" His smile fades a little when he senses the tension in the room. "Uh, so I guess you and Faith have had a chance to catch up..."
"Xander, are you sure it's wise to harbor a criminal in your home? I don't want her to...you know...take advantage of you. " Dawn glares at me, and her meaning is clear: Hands off, slut.
"Dawn! I invited Faith to stay here. She's my friend, and she's welcome to stay as long as she needs. She's served her time, so let's try to be a little more supportive, okay?" Xander gives Dawn a warning glance, and she relaxes a little. Instead of 30 degrees below zero, she warms up to just below freezing.
"Thanks, Xan. I appreciate it." I smile at him, and I really mean it. I don't deserve his kindness, but I'll take it. Now that I'm back, I'm going to bust my ass to redeem myself. If I have to slay every last vampire in Sunnydale to prove I've changed, I'll do it, or die trying. I wander into the kitchen to give the two of them their space.
"Xander...you swore to me that you'd pick this place up. I've seen garbage dumps that were more sanitary." Dawn looks downright maternal as she gives him a stern look and hands Xander the donuts. He shrugs his shoulders guiltily.
"Well, you know, stuff came up, and there were some vampires, and there was that thing...nope. I got nothing. No excuses. I'll clean tonight, promise!" He ruffles her hair. "Thanks for the sugar boost, Dawnie. What would I do without you?"
As I watch them banter from the kitchen, I begin to think I read her wrong. She loves him, but Dawn doesn't still have a crush on Xander, she's just trying to look out for him. She has the same concerned look in her eyes that Riley had last night. She came by to make sure he's okay; to check up on him.
"See you tonight at the meeting?" asks Dawn hopefully.
Xander hesitates. I can tell he doesn't want to go. Since when does Xander NOT want to go to a Scooby Gang meeting? But he nods his head and promises Dawn that he'll be there. That we'll both be there. Dawn gives me a skeptical look before she hitches her backpack over her shoulder, says goodbye, and leaves for class.
I look at Xander as he comes into the kitchen to grab a glass of milk. When he finds no clean glasses, he chugs from the carton. Ugh. No milk for Faith today!
"Really? You want me there?"
"Yeah, Faith. You're the Slayer. Sunnydale needs a Slayer, right? We've gone without one for too long. Riley and I do our best, but we're not super people. The vampire population has exploded since Buffy died, and we need all the help we can get. Sunnydale needs a new hero, and that's you."
I don't know what to say. It feels so good to feel wanted, needed. I hug him, and he holds me for a minute, rubbing my back gently. He smells so good, I don't want to let him go. Before it gets too awkward, I break away, making the excuse that I have to pee.
When I come out, Xander is fully dressed, scarfing down donuts. When he finishes, he runs into the bathroom to dry his hair and brush his teeth. He tells me he left a twenty by the telephone in case I need to call a cab or order a pizza, and then he's off to work.
After I've showered, gotten dressed, and eaten a whole box of Pop Tarts, I look around the house.
No one has ever accused me of being Little Miss Anal Retentive (that would be Willow) but if I'm going to stay with Xander, I've got to be able to tell what color the carpet is. I'm going to clean this house from top to bottom, even if it takes me a year. Which, based on the weird fungus I saw growing in the kitchen, may not be a bad estimate. I'll feel better knowing that I've done something to earn my keep, anyway, and it may help cheer Xander up if his home is a little brighter.
After two hours, I've made a little dent in the kitchen. The dishwasher is running (for the first time in a long time, I'll bet) and I've got all the counters scrubbed down. There's mail piled up on the dining room table, which I try to organize and pick out the junk flyers.
My eyes pop out when I see Xander's MasterCard bill. How the heck did he rack up eight thousand dollars in debt? I know it's none of my business, but I can't help looking at the statement.
When I see where he's been spending his money, I get even more confused. New York? Barcelona? Geneva? Thailand? What the fuck was Xander doing spending all his money traveling the world after Anya died? The dates on the credit card bill show he's been traveling in and out of the country for more than two months. I guess he's only been back home for a few weeks. No wonder the dishes in the sink looked so crusty. He hasn't been here.
There's something else weird. A postcard, postmarked only three days ago. It's from Egypt, a picture of the pyramids, with a brief message:
//X - The food is spectacular, wish you were here. - S.//
Who is "S?" What the hell is going on? It's driving me crazy not knowing, but I try to push aside my curiosity and concentrate on cleaning. Xander will tell me the story when he's ready, and I don't want to push him.
I'm shocked when I open the door to the master bedroom...not because it's filthy, but because it isn't. It's the only clean spot in the house, untouched, and the bed looks like it hasn't been slept in since...probably the day his wife died.
I remember Xander mumbled something last night about not being able to sleep in their bed alone, and I can tell from the pillows and matted blankets in the living room that he's been crashing on the couch for a long time. Xander let me bunk on the futon in the guest bedroom.
Looking at his bedroom, all closed off from the rest of the house, I know what it means to him. It's like a shrine. I think he keeps it this way to honor her, to remember her. I see her make-up spread out across the vanity, just as she left it. There's an empty glass on the nightstand, a faint lipstick print on the rim. There are pictures of the happy couple everywhere...their wedding photos, snapshots of past vacations, and one picture of them standing proudly in front of this house, keys in hand.
Does he come in here often, I wonder? Does he sit on the bed and think of her, and everything he's lost? Feeling ashamed, like I've completely invaded his privacy, I close off the bedroom again.
God, I'm so sorry Xander. I never knew Anya, just through your letters, but I know how much you loved her. I had no idea how much one person's life could change in six short months. I felt a little hurt that you hadn't written to me in so long. I hate that I was actually jealous, knowing that the reason you didn't have time to send me a letter was because you had your life with Anya. If I'd only known...I don't know what I could have done for you, Xander, but I hate that someone I care about is in so much pain.
After I've filled up two garbage bags with crap, I drag them to the garage, where I assume he keeps his trashcans. I flip the light switch, and see that he converted his garage into a workshop. The shop is filled with all kinds of saws and lathes and carpentry tools, and the floor is covered with a smattering of sawdust. An unfinished project sits in the middle of the shop.
I spot the trashcans in the far corner. I open the lid, and I'm not happy with what I find. Three empty vodka bottles.
Shit. He was drinking yesterday! Do Dawn and Riley know? Is that why they're so worried about him? Things are not looking good in the Harris house. Dead wife, mounds of debt, problem drinking...he pretends otherwise, but Xander is in serious trouble.
What am I going to say to him when he gets home? Consumed with worry, I deposit the trash, and head back inside. I almost exit the garage when something else hits me.
Oh, no...
I spin around to look at the piece of furniture he was working on, incomplete and sitting neglected on a workbench. When I realize what Xander was building, my heart sinks.
It's a cradle.
Continued in the next part
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