unexpected dinner guest { closed

[MICHELLE ABIGAIL SUMMERS]

"Please remind me again why I'm doing this? Cooking is a women's job," Michael said as he stirred mashed potatoes in a large pot. He sighed heavily and lifted one of his arms to his forehead and wiped the sweat off his brow. It was warm in the kitchen because the oven was cooking a nicely-sized pink salmon; the heaters were also on moderate temperatures throughout the house because the early nighttime temperatures of March were still reaching freezing points. Except for Michelle, everyone else froze to death most of the time; she was the only one that ever really complained about being hot even when it was cold in the house. That's what menopause had done to her.

Michelle had been standing beside her husband at the stove and counters while he cooked. She had helped him chop up tomatoes and onions and lettuce and the like to make a salad. They had spent most of the time being quiet and stealing glances at each other. They did that all the time; it was one of their childish ways of expressing their strong likeness to the other. It was like they were in college again trying to tell the other how they felt. But those times had passed years ago. It had been thirty-eight years since the couple had married, and their relationship of emotional love was still as strong as it had ever been. Of course they had been attracted to each other in their youth, and that attraction had only seemed to grow over their years together. Four decades was a long time to be married, but neither of them minded. It only showed them that true love was possibly, and it set an example for their children, grandchildren, and people they came in contact with each and every day.

A small smiled passed across the woman's face as she lifted a glass of water to her husband's lips and let him drink while he stirred the mashed potatoes some more. When she removed the glass away from his mouth, she brought it to her own and sipped it. She was about to burn up hanging around the stove and the oven; she was tempted to go into the living room and help Lynn practice on the piano, but the fourteen-year-old was more interested in watching television, some stupid show. Michelle paid no attention to what her daughter watched while Michael made dinner and she helped. The only thing she heard was an occasional high-pitched laugh from her daughter's mouth.

"You cook because you know I can't cook to save my life, and you're hungry and are tired of waiting for food to be made. Not only that, but you love me and don't think I should have to cook," the woman responded simply with a humored smile on her face. She liked her 'you love me' excuse; he always seemed to agree, simply because it was true. Michael chuckled in good humor and leaned over to gently plant a kiss on his wife's lips. Then he went back to cooking his mashed potatoes and salmon.

"You could always set the table," he suggested, nodding at the cabinet that held the plates and bowls. Michelle playfully rolled her eyes and walked over to the place where everything had been kept since the moment they moved into the house. She removed three plates: one for Michael, one for Lynn, and one for her. Daniel was working and would eat while he worked, so they wouldn't need to save him a plate. What she didn't know, however, was that the family would have an unexpected but more-than-welcomed guest arrive at their house within the next few moments, hoping to have a nice dinner at the residence.

Michelle placed the plates in their appropriate places on the table. She then retrieved forks and knives from the small drawer near the sink and placed those on the table as well. She paused for a moment and thought about what else they could need. Michael had bought biscuits and put those in the oven shortly before the salmon would be done. Butter would be nice to have on the table, so Michelle took out a stick and placed it in the center of the decently-sized table where everyone would sit and eat dinner. She nodded her head once it looked like everything they needed was on the table.

"How much longer?" she asked.

"Not much, probably five more minutes," he responded with a nod of his head. He turned around so that his back was to the stove. He stepped a few steps to the side and leaned against the wooden counter and crossed his arms over his chest. He was wearing an apron with flowers on it, which made Michelle looked down and then away with a large grin upon her face. Michael looked at her with a questioning gaze and then realized that he was still wearing the apron. He shrugged it off. If his wife wanted to laugh, she could laugh. Besides, he knew that she just thought it as amusing as he did. If he were staring at himself from her placement, he'd be laughing, too.

"It smells good," Michelle complimented with a nod. "I can't wait until it's ready, because I'm about to starve."

"You're always about to starve."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. It just means that you're my little Miss Piggy." He was obviously joking with her and showing his affection in the way he said it. Not only that, but he had stepped over to her and gently brushed his finger against her nose. She couldn't help but smile as he did that. He could call her foul names, and all she'd do would be to just sit and stare. He always had his ways of hypnotizing her, regardless of what it was. She smiled faintly.

The oven sounded loudly from behind Michael. There had been a silence between the two of them that they both had jumped when the oven timer went off. Michelle stepped back a few feet and pretended to be busy fixing napkins on the table while Michael turned the oven off and started to remove the salmon from the oven. And then the kitchen door opened, and in stepped an unexpected guest.

[ALEXANDER MICHAEL SUMMERS]

Saturday. Alexander's favorite day of the week. There was no work to be done nor was there anywhere pertinent to go. And he usually got away with a free meal from 'Ma's' house. She wasn't really his mother, hell if he were to be honest with himself she almost felt more like a grandmother. In reality she was his aunt so he varied the things he called her and her husband Michael. Most of the time it was Ma and Pop. It was affectionate enough, but not sappy. And, one syllable names, tended to fall the easiest off of his tongue with out sounding terrible.

It was getting to be later in the afternoon and all he'd managed to accomplish was a paper that was due on Monday on mating habits of one insect or another. They were all pretty similar in his eyes but he loved it so the chore hadn't really seemed like one while he was doing it. Bugs where like his babies, as gross as it sounded. He named them. He loved them and he would boast about them to anyone who would listen. His family often teased asking if he was going to put pictures of them in his wallet. He had half a mind to do so but right now his stomach was screaming for food.

The drive to his aunt and uncle's house was a slow one. There wasn't any traffic but the people were out and about. Pedestrians could be so much more annoying the people in vehicles. Okay maybe not. But today other drivers were out of sight out of mind and the pedestrians were starting to cause him to road rage. Couldn't they see that this was a street and not a side walk? Actually a better question would be when the damn city would put in some sidewalks and/or cross walks. So the damn people wouldn't be walking down the middle of the street in the first place.

Red faced he paced along occasionally sticking his hand out the window to salute a passerby with the bird. One palm ever ready to blow the horn at an unsuspecting tourist. That was another thing. Tourist season was about them. Only god knew why people chose to come here while it was still mildly cold. One would think that the summer months would be better for this kind of thing but no.. they had to come on a day when he was in a fucking hurry to get some food.

It took him nearly a half hour to putter along and finally make it to the house. He parked on the road like he always did. There were always people coming and going from this house. It was family, like you only normally see on TV. Like the Brady's or the Parkinsons. It made him smile not that he would admit that to anyone. If he would it was a certainty that he would never hear the end of it. Especially given the front he had built around the time of his 14th birthday a year before his biological mother died. It was hard as stone in public. His psychiatrist called it a defense mechanism.

The door was always open in this house. He knew that fact well so he hadn't bothered to ring the bell or knock. Instead he turned the handle and walked in meeting the smell of salmon. The scent alone was enough to make his mouth water as he walked toward the kitchen. Everything was as it was a week ago when he'd come at around the same time. Toys scattered about. Not exactly messy but not exactly spotless either. Anyone would know this house was lived in.

His eyes met his aunt Michelle's and he smiled. "It smells great in here Ma... my compliments to the chef" He stated turning to salute Michael as he complimented the chef. He knew for damn sure that Michelle hadn't cooked. If she had the place might have been full of smoke though he had half mind to call her on it. Ask her if it was just some kind of bluff to avoid needing to cook. But he wasn't really interested in that discussion tonight.

He took a look around the room to see who else was home. It looked like it might just be him, Michelle, Michael and Lynn tonight. Good. In a family as big as this one. Less is more. As in less people meant more food for him. "I am starving."

[MICHELLE ABIGAIL SUMMERS]

It came as no surprise to Michelle to see that the person who had just entered the house was one of her family. Everyone in town knew that the door was open during the day, but most people knew that only family and friends would enter without knocking. Hearing Alexander's voice only verified who it was, which made the aging woman look up and offer a smile to her nephew. She had half-expected him to come over that evening, since it was Saturday. He knew when the family ate, since they ate around the same time each night, and he knew that he was always welcome, no matter how old he got. But she knew that he would eventually stop coming as they all continued to age. He would grow out of family visits and insist that he had other things to do; she would probably be too tired to have a lot of people over anyway. It came with getting old. But Michelle was not trying to think about that right now.

Michael had turned his body to see that his nephew had just entered the house through the kitchen door. He nodded his head in Alexander's direction as a way of saying thanks. Of course he was the chef. He had always been the chef. When Michelle and Michael had started dating, Michelle had tried to invite him over for dinner. He had arrived a bit early, when the food was still in the oven. About the time she had opened the door to let him in, smoke filtered through the doorway and out into the open air. That was probably the last time she had cooked a large meal. Cooking was just not one of her gifts, but that had never made Michael love her less. He cooked meals for the entire family and did a very good job. Sometimes Michelle helped, but she always did simple things, like cutting vegetables or microwaving things that needed to be microwaved.

From the living room, Lynn had leaned forwards on the couch to see who had just come into the house. She barely managed to get a glimpse of her cousin before he moved from a place visible through the doorway. She smiled some and hopped off the couch and came walking into the kitchen. Of course she left the television on; she had no sense of saving electricity and helping the bill stay low. It was bad enough that everyone wanted to keep the heaters on, but the television was nothing something they really needed.

"Lynn, cut the television off if you're coming in here, please," Michelle said when she heard Lynn's approaching footsteps. The fourteen-year-old stopped in mid-step and rolled her eyes as she turned around. She let a heavy sigh escape her lips as she grabbed the remote, hit the power button, and then threw it carelessly on the couch. When she entered the kitchen, she grinned at Alexander and then inhaled through her nose. She loved it when her father would cook meals like this. They always tasted delicious. She had started paying closer attention to the things he did when he cooked, because she didn't want to be like he mother and not know how to cook. Or better yet, know how to cook but no be able to cook things properly.

Only a few seconds after Alexander said he was starving, Michael announced that dinner was ready. He hadn't gotten called Miss Piggy or any other type of name relating to his hunger, whereas Michelle had. It wasn't that she minded, but sometimes she got the feeling that Michael was trying to send a message to her. Was she starting to eat like a pig? Or was she getting fat like a pig? She couldn't help but think these things sometimes; everyone got a little bit self-conscious.

Michael removed the salmon from the oven and placed it atop a potholder on the table. He then took the mashed potatoes from the stove and placed them atop a potholder, too. Michelle retriever the large bowl of salad from the refrigerator and placed that in the center of the table with everything else, alone with about a dozen dressings. Ranch. Italian. French. Blue cheese. Catalina. You name it, it was on the table. Everyone in the family preferred something different, but they all liked the same dressings. No one would ever eat the same dressing twice in a row on their salad, which meant that there needed to be a wide variety. Everyone's personal favorite, though, had always been ranch.

Michael cleaned up a little bit around the counter and the stove before he pulled a seat out for himself, at the head of the table, and lowered himself into it. Lynn followed suit and lowered herself into the seat as well. Michelle got another plate from the cabinet as well as extra eating utensils and placed them in the usually empty spot for Alexander. She smiled as she looked in his direction and then went to fetch everyone something to drink.

"A soda for you," she said to Lynn as she placed a can of soda from the fridge in front of her youngest daughter. "Iced tea for you," she told Michael as she poured him a glass from the pitcher and put two pieces of ice in it. She put the cup in front of him. "What would you like, Alexander?" she asked as she filled her glass with water and placed it in front of her spot on the table. That was the only thing about large families: they all had to have something different. "There's sodas, tea, juice, water…" She had only read the short list. She could have been more specific and named what kinds of sodas and juices they had; there was always an assortment of those, too. She waited patiently for him to respond as she stood there in front of the refrigerator with the door open, letting cool air brush against her lower body.

[ALEXANDER MICHAEL SUMMERS]

Alexander was already moving into the vacant seat when Michelle began passing out drinks. To be honest right now he wanted a beer but that didn't really seem to be on the menu. One of the draw backs of a family dinner. At least it seemed in this house was that with so many minors in and out of the house there really wasn't a whole lot of need for alcohol. So he licked his lips in thought for about thirty seconds before blurting out iced tea.

It was difficult to wait to dig in. So of course he didn't, with in minutes he was reaching out and helping himself to the food. One hand made contact with his cousin's as he went for the salmon. And it was on. He began to push Lynn's hand while simultaneously scooping up a decent helping onto his plate, a satisfied grin on his face. Good times. Even if he loathe to admit it he loved every single one of these people and actually wouldn't have moved out if he had thought he could have stayed and still accomplished his goals.

His loft was nice sure but it took a lot of up keep. He missed having someone to keep him on track. Right now his life was in disarray, not that he would say anything. It was the real reason he had taken to showing up here every Saturday like clock work. It made him feel like he belonged somewhere. Like all was right in the world.

He really didn't fit in with any of his classmates at the college. So he in turn tended to smart off to anyone who didn't see things his way. It had recently gotten him in trouble. One black eye and near broken nose. Neither of which were completely healed, thank god for foundation make up and strong pain medicine. Otherwise he would have a lot of explaining to do.

His eyes again met Michelle's and he grinned around a mouthful of food. The smile hadn't reached his eyes though. What was meant to portray that all was good, came off more as I'm hiding something. Which he realized when he caught a glimpse of his own expression reflected in a window. He grimaced. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come out here today. Even if the food was damn good. "So uh how are things?" He asked not looking at anyone in particular.

Maybe if he was lucky he could pass off his earlier expression as familial worry. Yeah right. He could kiss any acting career goodbye. Suddenly he was preoccupied with his lump of potatoes. Eyes refusing to lift and meet anyone else. Yeah moping that was going to fend off the questions that were festering in the air. Great job trying to be Joe-Normal Alex. He thought to himself with a slight groan.

Perhaps it would be better just to get out of here now. They might be angry but at least he wouldn't have to talk about the fight. Or what it was in regards to. It was stupid to think that he could actually talk to a girl with out her over buff boyfriend taking offense. He'd attempted to be rational and explain to the brute that he was merely having polite conversation with the lady. Or maybe he wasn't that polite. He couldn't remember. Repressing bad memories tended to work.

"Everything's good with me, nothing much by way of excitement, no siree nothing at all," He began to babble when the silence in the room started to irritate him. Babbling was a nervous habit. To quiet it, copious amounts of food began mashing its way into his mouth. He figured if he couldn't talk he couldn't babble. Nor could he answer questions. Win, Win.. until the food was gone. Which would take about five minutes at this rate.

[MICHELLE ABIGAIL SUMMERS]

Nodding her head, Michelle Summers placed a cup of tea in front of her nephew and then lowered herself into her own seat. They all said grace aloud and then went about putting food onto their plates and eating. Of course Michelle sat and watched while her husband, daughter, and nephew gathered food and piled it onto her own plate. She always did this, regardless of who was having dinner with them. She made sure that everyone else got food before she did and then put a small amount on her plate. She ate a decent amount during mealtimes, but she ate it in small portions.

Moments had passed since everyone had started digging in. When everyone seemed to be satisfied with the amount they had on their plates presently, Michelle reached across the table and started to put small bits of food on her plate. She ate silently and watched her family as they ate. She was a very kind and caring mother, carefully examining them while they ate, while they slept, while they did anything. As she leaned over her plate and scooped up a small amount of mashed potatoes onto her fork, she brushed her graying strands of hair behind her ear. And then Alexander spoke, asking how everyone and everything was. She looked up at him and let her eyes meet his.

"Things are great," she said simply with a shrug of her shoulders. Anyone that saw her or heard her would have assumed that she was lying and that things were going poorly, but people that knew her well enough could tell that she was just responding as she would any other time. Things were going well in the Summers residence, but Michelle was not one to really express that with great emotion. Of course everything was going well in their household. Michelle and Michael Summers seemed to have the perfect marriage with the perfect family, at least that was how everyone perceived them.

When Alexander spoke out through the silence, Michelle looked at him. He said that things were going well and that he was just fine, but the aging woman could tell that he had more things on his mind. She could tell that he was not telling the family, or more specifically her, things that were going on with him. It seemed that there was a break in the family, or at least between Alexander and everyone else. He seemed to be distanced from everyone else. Michelle was good at sensing things, and she could sense that with Alexander. But she wasn't going to bug him about things that were going on in his life. She wasn't going to force anything out of him. He knew that she wouldn't forced him to say or do anything he didn't want to do.

Dinner lasted about half an hour or so. When everyone was done eating, they all got up from the table and left Michelle sitting there with Alexander. Michael had gotten himself a glass of iced tea and went to the master bedroom that he shared with his wife. He did this almost every evening after dinner; he had papers to grade and lessons to plan. He would do that in the bedroom where things were quiet and he had no distractions. Lynn went into the living room and either watched television or practiced piano. Michelle was not pressuring her to play piano that evening, so Lynn was watching television in the living room. When she was doing something, she was in her own world and blocked everything around her out. Michelle sighed to herself as she stood to her feet and started cleaning the table.

It was Michelle's job to clean the table after dinner. She was in charge of scraping the plates, putting leftovers in covered bowls, and washing the dishes. So she set off to do her job and said nothing to her nephew; she did not stop from giving occasional glances as she did this. Clearing her throat, she brushed some hair back from her face and then paused in the midst of filling a bowl with mashed potatoes.

"So," she started, "You never visit just to visit anymore." She knew that he had a life of his own and that he probably didn't have much time to come and visit just because he wanted to, but it would have been nice if he did. She sighed some and went back to filling the mashed potato bowl. "You just come for Saturday dinners." She laughed a bit and then pushed the top down on the bowl and put what little salmon was left inside a small, empty bowl. She topped that one and put them in the fridge. There was no salad left, mostly because Michelle had taken it upon herself to finish most of that. Once the bowls were in the refrigerator, she put the several different dressings in there as well. This was a tedious job, but she didn't mind doing it. Michael cooked, and Lynn had other chores to do, like cleaning the toilets in the bathrooms and sweeping the kitchen floor, which was a task in itself.

"I miss having you around," she admitted quietly, shaking her head, "It's expected, but Michael works after dinner, and Lynn has homework or lessons or TV. I usually help Lynn or bother Michael." She laughed. "But I miss having you around to talk to." She fell silent as she carried scraped dishes to the sink and put them inside. She turned the hot water on and let it warm as she continued carrying dishes to the sink.

"How have things been?" she asked finally. She had finished putting the dishes in the sink and was still letting the water warm. She looked at him as she stood there, her blue eyes fixed upon him. She looked tired, worn. She worked Monday through Friday for more hours than most of the other teachers. She helped students after school and had private lessons on weekends, sometimes during the weekdays as well. She tried to sleep for as many hours as she could, but lately she had turned into a sort of insomniac. She blinked a bit tiredly and averted her gaze as she turned to face the sink. The water was hot, steaming, actually. She placed her hands into the sink and put the drain guard in. Water started to fill the sink, and Michelle added dish detergent. She seemed unfazed by the scolding hot water.

[ALEXANDER MICHAEL SUMMERS]

How have things been? It was a weighted question that he would have to think about. Alexander wasn't the type to come out and be open with anyone. Not anymore. So he began cautiously mulling over the occurances thinking about what to tell and what to omit for his own sanity. Then he gave up. She would see through any half truths or outright lies he chose to tell so it didn't pay. His lips dry he licked them to wet them down. And he decided to tackle her earlier statement first. The one about about him not coming over to visit just because. That one was much easier to answer honestly with out saying something he was going to feel obligated to take back later.

"I would visit more but lately I've been swamped with papers that took research, I had to grow some blow flies from eggs and document their life cycle, they didn't like the humidity in the loft so I went through four batches before I could accurately observe them, turns out they preferred the bathroom over any other room in the house... I got an A on the paper though," He rambled a bit about his passion. Go figure he could talk animately about bugs but his personal life was a tight lipped subject. " They only live about 10 days under ideal conditions though so if they don't reproduce soon I'm going to need to purchase another batch, this is getting expensive."

The insects in his loft were like his babies and it was irritating the hell out of him that they kept dieing with out getting busy. Insects were supposed to lay millions of eggs. He'd even checked this time to make sure that there were both males and females in the batch. Which was not an easy task. Sexing anything small enough you have to handle it with tweezers carefully tended to be a tedious task. And one that didn't pay off this time. He made a fist.

"As for how things are... pretty good if you consider getting your ass kicked for trying to make a connection with a girl in class " He didn't elaborate further. Not right away. The pictures of earlier that week were still fresh in his mind. Especially now that the tylenol he'd taken earlier was starting to wear off. His nose was aching something awful. "My nose is killing me ... you got anything I can take?"

The pain was further up the bridge of his nose than he'd remembered. It was somewhere in between his eyes and his vision was blurry. Though it could be his sinus's they always kicked up during early spring and fall. His eyes watered. It sucked. He wouldn't be able to drive home unless he got something in him soon.

Alex's hand came up to rub the water from his eyes. When he pulled it away the foundation came with leaving his black eye out for Michelle to see. And he was glad she was the only one in the room. This kind of thing would be something his 'siblings' would have teased him relentlessly about.

"I was talking to a girl in my entomology class, and her boyfriend misunderstood. The lunk head got into school on sports scholarship, who knew they had those in this little town right? Anyway he has the reasoning skills of a newt and wouldn't take my explanation that I was not trying to get into his girlfriends pants I was merely complimenting her on her blow fly knowledge." He was blurting things out with out thinking now. This wasn't normal behavior for him. Not by a long shot.

[MICHELLE ABIGAIL SUMMERS]

Michelle had been more into the arts; of those arts, her favorite was music, of course. That was something she could understand and related to. She had never quite understood science or anything that related to it. Science was like a foreign language to her, one that she had never studied or understood. Most of it was a foreign language, especially when it came to making chemical compounds and studying the names of things in biology. So when Alexander started to speak about bugs and writing papers and having difficulty because they didn't live long, the woman merely nodded her head. She tried to seem interested whenever someone spoke. Years of practice had helped; she always had to seem interested when her children were talking about silly little thing that they felt mattered.

"Well," she said started, "I hope these ones reproduce so that you don't have to spend anymore money. Money is scarce nowadays, you know?" She nodded her head and turned the faucet off. She placed her hands inside the scolding hot water and started to wash the plates from the dinner table. The task wasn't complicated, at least it wouldn't be until it came time to wash the pots and pans Michael had used to cook. He always made a mess of those, regardless of what he cooked.

Though it would seem as if she were not paying attention, Michelle really was. She did a fairly good job at multitasking, especially when it came to washing dishes or playing an instrument. She could play and talk to someone at the same time without messing up. She had learned how to become a multi-tasker during her years of life. It had been a somewhat difficult task, but she had finally managed it. She had learned to multitask even better after she had her children. That really did call for some multitasking….

As she washed the dishes, she heard him say that he had tried to "connect" with a girl in his glass. Her back was to him, so she knew he wouldn't see her roll her eyes for a few moments after he had said that. She never tried to accuse or imply, but…she had a feeling that his "connection" had been more than just trying to connect on a more personal level, like trying to understand each other. Connection, to her, at least when it came to guys, was more of a girlfriend/sexual thing. Most of the time it was, anyway.

And then she heard him ask for a painkiller. She looked over her shoulder at him just as he was rubbing his eyes. When she saw a bruise revealing itself, she blinked a few times and took a second look. She immediately removed her hands from the water and dried them off, being sure to get all of the soap off. She hurried over to him and looked at the bruise around his eye.

"What hap--" She was cut off as he started to speak and explain what it was that had happened. She scratched the back of her head as he gave an explanation and finished up. Yeah, talking to a guy's girlfriend about her blow fly knowledge might do the trick… She cleared her throat and walked over to a cabinet out of the reach of any of the children, including the ones that knew better than to take painkillers. She opened the cabinet door and stretched to reach for Ibuprofen, Tylenol, Advil, and Aspirin. She carried them all over to the kitchen table and sat them down. The pills inside made noises as she did so.

"Take your pick," she told him and nodded her head. She sighed heavily and shook her head as she thought about what he had just told her. Her nephew had gotten a black eye because of some stupid misunderstanding. Unbelievable. "I still can't believe you've got a bruise around your eye. How long as it been it there?" Michelle stepped closer and gently touched the side of his face, but was careful not to touch his bruise. She examined it and sighed some. It looked like it still hurt.

[ALEXANDER MICHAEL SUMMERS]

Alexander entomology hadn't seemed to enthrall his audience much. He had a hard time understanding how anyone couldn't be fascinated by his multi-legged friends. But to each his own. He had no interest in her music either. Not really but he'd been known to sit and listen when she was playing. Had even consented to trying violin lessons in his youth. But it hadn't taken. At every available moment he was drawn to bugs and other many legged creatures.

When he'd first come to live with them, he'd scrounge every available jar or plastic container to house his new friends. The memory brought a smile to his face. Once he'd found a prime roach specimen in a dumpster behind some restaurant and it had freed itself from its butter container prison. That one hadn't gone over well with his aunt or younger cousin. Lynn's face had been truely something to capture, but he hadn't had a camera so it was something he had to rely on his memory to recapture. It made him laugh.

The trip down memory lane was cut short by her obvious distaste for the bruise on his face and the offering of pain reliever. The aspirin was snagged up and downed dry. "Its Saturday so... about three days ago... still hurts pretty damn bad though."

The look on her face was enough to assume she'd taken more out of his comment about the girl than was necessary. It was amusing that she was uncomfortable with something so benign as a scientific interest so he was laughing slightly. Glad that she hadn't noticed the crease in the bridge of his nose which if he'd shown up yesterday would have still been swollen.

"She was my lab partner, we were working on the days assignment which was sexing flies. Fruit flies to be exact which is such a meaningless task in such large quantities, anyway I'm getting away from the topic. She brought up how similar all species of winged insects are similar and it got us in a discussion that lasted until after the class.... Her bulky he-man came in and assumed I was hitting on her. I told him to fuck off and he punched me quite hard twice. I was in the ER for 3 hours just so they could tell me I had a shiner and mild trauma to my nose... The medical staff at the local hospital really needs to be taught efficiency."

He couldn't be sure why he'd felt the need to elaborate on his earlier explanation to the black eye. It was something about being alone with someone who honestly cared about his well being that made it so easy to say things that he would normally keep private. Right now he was glad he hadn't mentioned just how attractive he'd found the girl. Or that under different circumstances he would have flirted shamelessly and tried to bed the young woman. It was true what they said about scientists/nerds. They were sex enthusiasts. And they knew their stuff in theory. It was the practice that rarely got put into play.

Alexander cringed when a sound from the living room hit his ears. It sounded like someone had accidently dropped something onto the keys of the piano. Or perhaps someone had stepped on one of the many cats in the house. The a rough rendition of Mary had a little lamb came through the air and he realized Lynn was practicing the piano with out prompting. It probably had more to do with his irritation at the sound than the actual ambition to practice. The two were almost always at odds about something. Usually something stupid that could easily be avoided. It truly was as if they were siblings.

[MICHELLE ABIGAIL SUMMERS]

It seemed that Alexander found something funny, something random. There was a small silence between the two, but it was broken by her nephew's sudden laugh. She looked at him with her deep blue gaze. "What are you laughing at?" she asked with a crooked smile.

"Three days ago? Why didn’t you tell me?" Even though she understood why he probably hadn't told her, Michelle couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed at the fact that her nephew had not shared such information with her. She always liked to think that the two of them had a fairly decent relationship, at least for an aunt and a nephew. She looked down at her hands and sighed to herself. She tried not to let it bother her too much, but it was obvious that it had. But, instead of letting herself seem too upset she focused her attention on what he said about the situation.

The things that Alexander had said about what had happened in class about three days ago caused Michelle to laugh. She found it funny that the students had been "sexing" the tiny six-legged creatures when some guy on steroids accused Alexander of "hitting on" his girlfriend. Michelle was sixty, but she understood a lot of the new coined phrases and terms. Even though it really wasn't funny, the entire situation as a whole, that small piece of it was. Michelle couldn't help but grin as she spoke.

"Lexie, maybe the guy beat the shit out of you because you told him to fuck off. I'm sure I would have done something similar, had you said that to me. It's not very polite." She shook her head and randomly grabbed the rag from the sink filled with water and dirty dishes and wiped off the table. Sometimes her family could be messy when they ate. Sometimes it was accidental; sometimes it was purposeful. There had been many food-fights in that kitchen. Actually, if you looked on the wall somewhere near the refrigerator very carefully, you could probably see ketchup from a hamburger-and-hotdog fight they had had about nine or ten years ago. As her mind had traveled down its own path, down memory lane, Michelle let herself laugh aloud, just as Alexander had done moments before.

The woman took the rag in her hand and tossed it back into the hot water. Steam was rising from the water in the sink, which had been disturbed only moments ago by the rag that had been tossed inside of it. She smiled to herself and turned so that she was leaning against the counter. The backside of her dress got a bit wet from the water that was settling on the edge of the sink. She pulled away somewhat quickly, almost immediately, and made an attempt to look over her shoulder. She sighed some, shook her head, and ignored it. A little water never hurt anybody. She returned to her previous position and looked at her nephew with her arms still crossed over her chest. She finally spoke. "Sweetheart, I could have told you that the doctors in town don't know much of anything. That's why I never really go there for important stuff, just regular check-ups."

A silence had fallen between them. Michelle let her gaze remain upon her nephew, but she suddenly winced as a sound came from the other room. It had actually caused Michelle, who was not easily startled by abrupt noises, to jump slightly in surprise. She carried herself across the room in a fast-paced sort of manner and stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. She watched for a moment as Lynn was apparently hitting random keys to play 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'. Something told the aging woman that her daughter was doing this on purpose, because Michelle had heard her play much better than that - much, much better.

"Lynn, what the hell are you playing?" Michelle asked. Her voice had this tone to it that made it apparent that she was not pleased. The woman's gaze was almost deadly as she stood there with one of her hands resting on the doorframe.

"Um…" Lynn had said with a grin on her face. Yep, she was joking. There was no doubt about it. "Sorry, Mom." The girl got up from the piano bench and walked down the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom. Michelle remained in the doorway for a moment, obviously a bit shocked that her daughter had been acting crazy. She shook her head, trying to see if the reasoning behind it would find its way into her head. But that didn't happen. She turned back into the kitchen and looked at Alexander. "She's been acting strangely lately. I think it's the hormones kicking in, her rebellious side, you know?" She was asking a rhetorical question, but she also wanted to be reassured that it wasn't just her imagining things. If Alexander reassured her, she would feel better.

[ALEXANDER MICHAEL SUMMERS]

Another laugh escaped the young mans lips at the accusation being set toward Lynn. At least someone else had noticed the girls obvious malicious intent to break their ear drums. Alex couldn't deny that the hormones were probably at least in part effecting her negatively, no matter how they all wanted her to remain young and innocent forever she was growing up. Rebellion was a big part of the teenage experience so he had half a mind to avoid the place until his cousin moved out. Though he couldn't do that to Michelle. Michael might not care so much and Lynn sure as hell wouldn't care if he stopped dropping by but Michelle, though she hid it well, cared more than a little that her family was separating. "Maybe... or it could just be her acting out for attention, shes might be getting younger instead of older I thought two year old's did that."

It was dark outside now and the faint glow from the nearly full moon was drifting in through the living room window. It felt wonderful, and looked almost ethereal as it filtered around them. It would have been eerie if it hadn't been expected. Being close to the ocean tended to bring in the salt air and fog. It was nice to have decent natural light at this hour for once.

"You still got my old telescope?" He asked thoughtfully. Spending the night wouldn't be too bad. Just the trip back into town to the school would be bad. He'd have to get up earlier. But what the hell. It'd be worth it to further his astrological knowledge. Science was fascinating. Truly fascinating. "I might spend the night... if thats okay. "

It wasn't really a question. To ask a question it's usually customary to wait for an answer, which he never did. Instead the answer was assumed as a yes. He could spend the night. And he was fairly certain she had kept his old telescope. It was one of those cherished possessions, a memory. The family tended to be sentimental like any family. Especially as the kids grew up. Now the only question was where. His room? The garage? The attic? Every possible place in the house that things could be stored, his things, spiraled through his head. But the young man still hadn't moved.

Nostalgia washed over Alex with a need to spend more time in his childhood home. So he stood for a moment in the living room looking about things. Then with out a word he walked off to his room. When he got there he had to smile. It was exactly how he left it, in a chaotic disarray. Moving out had been a hectic thing as he pulled through items deciding what to take and what to leave. In the end most of the stuff had stayed in favor of purchasing new furnishings with the money he'd saved working part time. The nest egg had been nothing to sneeze at.

He was still actually working at the same part time job. But making a fair bit more as the part time job turned into a part time management position. It was more than enough for his bills and his little off kilter-ed research projects. His body flung itself onto the bed the springs whining loudly. He was quite a bit heavier than the last time he'd done this. Bulked up with muscles.

Before he'd had a chance to look for the telescope, exhaustion over took him and threw him into sleep. Snoring softly.

[MICHELLE ABIGAIL SUMMERS]

"It's the teenage hormones," Michelle said surely, finally, without any second thought; a nod of her head made her answer final. She did not think that her daughter was acting to gain attention. Actually, she knew that it was not an attempt to gain attention. Lynn hated playing piano and did not want to play it; therefore, she acted out and tried to get out of having to do it. Though it killed Michelle deep inside and cut her to her heart, she knew that her children would not like the same things she did. They would not follow in her footsteps. They would not necessarily be their mother's children. The woman looked down some with a saddened and broken expression on her face. She knew that she and her children were growing apart, and it killed her. But she tried not to let it get to her, because she knew it was inevitable. She knew that this day would someday come, and here it was.

He had asked about his telescope. She looked at him and tilted her head to the side, and her mouth was slightly open as she did so. She nodded her head in response to him and closed her mouth, licking her lips and swallowing. For a moment her entire mouth had gone dry, for whatever reason.

"It's where you left it," the woman responded quietly and wondered what he wanted to telescope for. Well, of course he wanted to look at the stars or the moon. What had brought about a sudden want to look into the sky? Michelle glanced out the window above the sink and then let herself get distracted by it. She stared up at the stars and blinked a few times. They were shining brightly tonight for the first time in a while. Was it because Alexander was there and had said he wanted to stay? Was it because of something special, something within Michelle that she had yet to share? The woman sighed and turned to look at her nephew, but he was no longer there. She stared at the place where he had been standing only moments before and sighed to herself. He probably went to look for his telescope, so she commenced with washing dishes.

After she had finished, she checked the time. It was still early, but there was nothing wrong with that. It seemed that everyone had settled down. Daniel was not home; he was probably out with a friend or two. Lynn had surprisingly gone to bed after she had been told by Michelle to stop playing so poorly. If Lynn no longer wanted piano lessons from her mother, Michelle would no longer give them. There was no point in trying to ask something of Lynn that she did not want to do, and there was no point in trying to make her children enjoy something she enjoyed. In the end nothing would change, and Michelle would be broken inside more than she already was. The woman had closed her door and then poked her head into Alexander's room. He was asleep, too. She smiled gently and sighed to herself and closed his door as well.

She had stepped into her bedroom, and Michael had fallen asleep reading and grading the papers. The aging woman stood there in the doorway with a small smile on her face. Her head rested against the doorframe as she watched him sleep there with his glasses crooked on his face and his work lying all around him. It was peaceful to watch people sleep. She loved to know that they were at peace in their rest. She continued to watch him silently for a moment and then stepped across the room. She changed into her gown and started to remove her husband's glasses and situate his papers. At the moment she finished, he stirred and situated himself comfortably. She slid into bed beside him, and the two snuggled closely together. And it was then that Michelle had fallen asleep.

But her sleep was not exactly she sleep. She spent a lot of time trying to remain asleep but found herself tossing and turning. Michael slept like a rock. Lucky him. Michelle had entirely too much on her mind, too much that was bothering her. She had spent hours of sleeplessness just lying there staring at the ceiling or all the walls or the clock or Michael. And finally she threw the covers back and slid out of bed. She didn't want to just lie there trying to kid herself. She needed to get up, think about it some. Maybe something would come to mind, or at least she hoped it did. As she got up and slipped her robe over her gown, she saw from the corner of her eye that the closet door was open. She walked over and opened it and stared inside. Something had beckoned her, at least that was the vibe she got. She was about to close the closest door when a picture slipped from the shelf above and gently glided down and landed on the floor. She knelt down and looked at it using the dim light from outside. It was a picture of her and Michael when they married.

She took it in her hands and sighed before removing the very thick album from the shelf. She opened it and flipped through a few pages. Maybe this would ease her mind. She closed it and walked across the room and down the hall. When she reached the kitchen, she lowered herself at the table and got situated. And it was then that she opened the book and started flipping through the hundreds of pictures she and Michael had used to document their lives together. Pictures of them, their children, and their grandchildren had been kept within. And as she flipped through the pictures and some hours passed, going steadily and quickly into midnight, Michelle felt tears trailing down her face. She was quiet, only sniffling occasionally, and her tears were because of the nostalgic feeling she had as she reminisced. All of the babies in the pictures were no longer babies. They were adults. Michelle touched the baby pictures gently and brushed tears from her cheeks every now and then. Her babies were growing up; she knew they were. But she just couldn't bring herself to face it. She just couldn't bring herself to admit the inevitable. She didn't want to. She didn't think she could; she wasn't strong enough to do that.

[ALEXANDER MICHAEL SUMMERS]

It had only been a few short hours since Alex had laid his head down on the pillow and already the tea he'd had with his dinner was catching up with him. He'd made a mental note not to drink so much before he decided to pass out in the future. True he hadn't anticipated such an early bedtime, even with the exhaustion he placed on his body on a daily basis he never fell asleep before 11. And when sleep finally found him it was never this peaceful. Not since leaving home, this home, not the home where his family died and deserted him. That hadn't been home for a long time.

Tonight he'd dreamt about when his mother died. Her pale complexion still vivid in his blue eyes. She looked warm even up at the end, he was thankful for that. If his damned step father hadn't died, in the service he might still have the one person who'd really shown him affection. At least before he came here. Being a Mammas boy with out a mamma was pretty hard, then he'd gotten Michelle. Who was awesome. He wouldn't say otherwise. But he still missed his mother.

As the young man rose he noticed that the pressure on his bladder was almost intolerable. It was late enough where he should be able to use the master bath with out disturbing anyone. Padding comfortably on the plush stained carpeting he made his way into Michael and Michelle's room following through to the master bathroom. Only on his way out after he'd finished his business did he realize that Michelle wasn't in bed.Michael was passed out working. That man was over worked. Underpaid. And happy as hell. Damn Alex envied that. Most of America should envy this guys ethics.

The only place Michelle could be would be the kitchen. He'd walked through the living room on his way here. And she hadn't been in the bathroom or bedroom. So by process of elimination he found himself in the kitchen looking at her. "Can't sleep either?" He asked her knowing full well that he could probably sleep if he'd gone back to bed.

He watched her in the midst of looking through a photo album. And god he hoped there were no embarrassing pictures of him in there. For some reason the camera always found him while he was doing something idiotic. Like taking his shirt off on a hot day or acting childish. Or his bug collection. Though the bugs themselves weren't a cause for blushing. It was the fact that they often escaped and he needed to climb under things to re-catch them. "Hey I remember that... I was looking for Fritz my roach.. my hissing roach to be exact... found him under the fridge a week after I got here... you ever find him?" He smiled at the answering look he got and laughed.

It was a joke. But the laughter he was using hadn't reached his eyes. The chair opposite where she was working was pulled out and he took a seat. It was long past time to have one of those heart to hearts. Or maybe just time for him to pick up one of her likes for a while. Make her feel like she's reaching one of them. The chords of the piano seemed easy enough.

"Sounds like Lynns had enough piano though... so maybe you could teach me I hear music helps you get chicks..." He'd used the chicks as an aversion technique. Michelle didn't need to know that he was doing it to make her feel better. Nor did she need to know exactly what he'd done with his violin which was currently holding up a lopsided end to his desk at home. It was a good thing she hadn't visited his place yet.

[MICHELLE ABIGAIL SUMMERS]

The silence in the entire house was interrupted when Alexander entered the kitchen and spoke quietly through the darkness. Michelle looked up at him with a tired and broken expression but nodded her head sadly to answer his question. She sighed after a moment and looked back down at the pictures situated neatly inside the album. She remembered putting each and everyone one of those pictures in the album; she remembered the days on which she had taken the pictures even more. She had dedicated her life to making people better people and to having a family. She had tried to document her life through photographs, and it had worked for the most part. The only problem was that some of the pictures were fading, and so were the memories. What was going to happen if she got Alzheimer's? Would she be saddened that she couldn't remember anything? The thought caused a sigh to escape through her lips; she lifted a hand and used the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks and away from her eyes.

"I guess not," she said quietly, sniffling after she spoke. "It seems to be a habit now. Michael sleeps like a rock, but I can't sleep at all. I guess I've just had a lot on my mind lately." She was not really open to admitting such things to her nephew, but she knew that he would not judge her for her feelings. On a certain level, he understood what she was going through and how she was feeling, oftentimes better than Michael did. That bothered Michelle that Michael seemed unconcerned with the same things. He was more concerned about grading his papers and making sure his students did well than his children growing up and moving on. Michelle was worried about her papers, too, but she was clinging onto her family tightly; they just seemed to be slipping through her fingers quickly, much quicker than she wanted.

As she flipped the page in the album, a picture of Alexander presented itself. Michelle looked at it, and Alexander was peering over her shoulder. She had not expected him to say anything for some odd reason, but he had. He had said that he could remember when she took the picture, and she jumped as he spoke. She let out a breath and allowed a faint laugh to escape her lips. "No, I never found it," she said quietly, shaking her head, "And I'm very glad I didn't. God, I hated your bug collections. That's one thing I don't miss." It was true. Michelle hated most buys, except things like butterflies and maybe mothers. But roaches and crickets and the like - she hated those. Clearing her throat, she turned the page again. There was a picture of her and Lynn, smiling and having a good time. That was probably about four years ago, when Lynn was ten. That was before Lynn realized that she should rebel, before she realized she needed to create a name for herself and get rid of her parents' reputation. Michelle breathed and glanced up at Alexander after he sat down across the table from her. She closed the album and slid it away from her and to another section of the table. She didn't want to look at that anymore. It was too much for her, especially when that was what she had been thinking about in the first place. She thought it would make her feel better, but it didn't. It had only made things worse.

"It's just a phase," Michelle said in a confident way. She knew that it was more than a phase. Lynn hated the piano, and she hated her mother's occupation. She hated the fact that Michelle was talented in music and she was not; Lynn was more talented in languages and actual theoretical work. She could do anything that consisted of reading, but she could not play a piano or violin of flute or anything. Obviously she had not gotten either of her parents' musically inclined genes. She was different from the rest in that manner. Sometimes Michelle jokingly wondered if she had gotten the wrong kid at the hospital. After seventeen hours of labor, though, how could Michelle have the wrong child and not realize? Oh, she had the right kid. But this kid was just different, that was all.

Michelle lifted her arms and ran her hands through her hair. The poor woman looked tired, worn, aged. She was sixty, so this could be expected, but she had never quite looked like this. Teaching was part of the reason why she looked the way she did and felt the way she did, but she couldn't retire yet. Well, she could, but she didn't want to. She was happy with her job, and she wasn't sure she could just leave something she had been a part of for years. It wasn't as easy as some people thought it was. Sure, retirement would have been nice, but she needed teaching in her life. It was a very large part of her. She was mostly tired because she hadn't been sleeping well for the past week, and bags had formed around her eyes. And worn, well, that was just because she was busy dealing with Lynn. They had gotten into a fair amount of arguments over the past few months, more than Michelle had ever had with her other six kids and Alexander. Michelle shook her head, which ultimately shook thoughts from her mind, for now anyway.

Hearing Alexander mention that he wanted to learn piano because it attracted the girls caused the woman to sit back against her seat and looked at him in a disappointed manner. She was glad that he wanted to learn piano, or at least he seemed to want to learn it, but it was discouraging to know that he wanted to learn it for the ladies. It was a good reason, perhaps, but Michelle wanted her children to learn to play because they had a passion or because they wanted to be like their parents. Maybe her children had not taken an interest because it had been Michelle who taught them and not Michael. The woman sighed and closed her deep blue eyes, an attribute that had been given to almost all of her children. Even though she was somewhat hesitant to reply, she did. "If you want to learn, I'll teach you, Lexie." She reached across the table and gently took his hands and examined them for a moment. She ran her somewhat rough fingers and worn fingers over his and tilted her head. "Even though you don't have piano hands. But neither do I, so I suppose that's okay." She let out a small laugh, trying to make things seem better than they really were. "We can't start tonight, either, since Michael and Lynn are sleeping, not like it matters."

[ALEXANDER MICHAEL SUMMERS]

They couldn't start tonight. Now that didn't sound like the can do spirit Michelle always encouraged as they were growing up. Besides he owed Lynn one for her earlier rendition of Mary had a little lamb and Alexander always paid his dues. Especially when it was as much fun as waking the teenager from sleep. Though if memory served teenagers acted a lot more like animals when woken up before they felt they should get up. The home movies of himself were enough to convince him of that, and what with the female hormones Lynn was bound to be worse if anything could shake her from the dead like sleep she was prone to. Probably not the best idea. Actually scratch that it was definitely not a good idea which made his male testosterone fused mind more apt to try it. "They both sleep like the dead whats the harm in a little auntie nephew bonding?" He added a charming smile to his words. Something that normally worked on female conquests. The fact ended up having a nauseating effect on him but Alex held his cookies down and the smile to boot.

Given the answer of no, never really sueded him, it was more of an incentive to try harder. The young man was as stubborn as a mule and three times as cunning. At least that was what his biology professor kept insisting. Yet he'd never managed to win an argument with the woman. Which for Alex was just making him strive to be twice as stubborn and four times as cunning. Right now was good practice as he made his way over to the piano.

As if some evil devilish pixie of music decided to pounce the tune to 'Ebony and Ivory' decided to stick itself to his neurons. It was catchy and would pop in from time to time every since he'd seen the movie Racing Stripes. 'Damn it' He thought as he started to hum the melody.

"Please ma... pretty please.. I wanna learn and if you give it till tomorrow I might change my time."

Already sleep was beginning to over take Alex. He was reluctant to allow it to detour his nights goal. One hands spiny fingers lingered over the keys. They lingered but did not touch especially not with the looks he could feel on the back of his head coming from them. The rebel screamed to push down hard then take off for his room, while the good son in him was screaming at the rebel to be a gentile man. So he settled on middle ground. Barely touching the keys.

[MICHELLE ABIGAIL SUMMERS]

Michelle looked at her nephew and blinked a few times through the darkness. Her nephew must have really wanted to learn the piano, because he was insisting that she start teaching him that night, at that very moment. She cleared her throat slightly and shifted her position in her seat. The woman could not help but give her nephew a sympathetic smile as she rose from her seat and walked into the living room only a few short moments after him. She stood there in the center, a few feet from the piano, and watched as his fingers ran gently along the keys. He did not push down to make a noise, but his fingers were touching them enough to possibly create a noise. Michelle tilted her head and sighed a little bit, her breaths shaky.

"You remind me of a four-year-old," she said with a breathed laugh. "Begging me to get something you want." Michelle had grandchildren around that age, and they begged 'nana' or 'grandma' about things that they wanted. It made the woman smile faintly to herself before finally seating herself on the bench beside the piano. One of the cats was resting atop the piano. Michelle reached over and pet the cat, which looked at her and let out a small meow and continued on with its purring and sleeping. Michelle placed her hands atop the keys and let her fingers touch them gently.

"Sit down," she said, brushing her hair back over her shoulders as she patted the empty half of the bench. If she had a hair bow, she would braid her unruly tresses of hair and let them keep out of her face. She was in no mood to look for a hair bow, though. It was early in the morning, after all. "What do you want to learn?" she asked him, looking up through the pale moonlight leaking in through the window. There were so many things to know about the piano and playing it; she just wasn't sure what he wanted to know exactly. If he specified what he wanted to know, she could possibly teach him better. Or maybe he had just said he wanted to learn to get her at the piano so he could talk her into playing? She tilted her head and looked at him with her same aged and tired gaze.