(18+) RED (Complete)

Ch. 19: Everybody has a past

I was watching aunt Dorothy swinging about in the kitchen, cutting ingredients and stirring the pots like a professional chef, while she was humming on a tune I didn't recognize. I had offered my help several times, but she declined every time. She was just happy to have someone to cook for again, she said, and quite frankly, I didn't mind having a personal chef of her caliber. Today she'd decided for deer stew, and it smelled heavenly.

"Why so gloomy, sweetie?"

I didn't even notice that I'd been staring into the empty air, until her question woke me up from my trance. I'd gotten so used to be moping around, that being happy and joyous felt foreign to me. Not especially healthy.

"It's nothing," I said and tried to cover it up with a smile. She didn't buy it, though.

"Sometimes it helps to talk about it, you know."

As if I hadn't heard that before...

"Some things are best left unspoken," I mumbled and turned away from her. I didn't want to think about it, yet it seemed like that was all I was able to do anyway.

"I met Patrick at the store the other day," she said, as if I had any clue about who Patrick was. I half ignored her, not really sure if I was interested in what she was going to say.

"He lives at the end of our street. The blue house with the yellow mailbox. I'm sure you've seen it."

She was right. I had.

"They used to have a Rottweiler that scared the crap out of everyone, but he was a real sweetheart. Especially when you scratched his belly. His name was Frodo, by the way."

How about getting to the point?

I sent her a well camouflaged glare, that she didn't see anyway, since she was standing with her back facing me while she was slicing some broccoli.

"Anyway. Patrick told me that his son kept talking about this new girl at school, and wondered if I knew who she was?" she said, and I didn't have to see her face to know that she was smirking.

"I think someone has a crush on you," she sing-songed, and I cringed in embarrassment.

"He's a fine young man, Benji. Did you talk to him?"

I just mumbled a reply. That dude sure had a lot of nicknames. Ben, Benny, Benji and I even heard one of his friends call him Mr. B. I preferred Benjamin, though.

"You know who I'm talking about, right?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a few times."

That was an understatement, but anyway.

"He's had a troubled childhood, too. Not as bad as yours, but he took it hard when his mother left."

I still didn't say much, but auntie Dorothy caught up on my curiosity.

"He was only eight, and his sister five and a half, when Savannah chose drugs and alcohol over her family. Sad, isn't it? Patrick did his best for several years, but she wasn't at all interested in trying to deal with her addictions. Even when she came home at 4am with a new man that was just as drunk as her, he offered his help. But you know how it is. You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped."

She sighed and wiped her fingers dry with a towel.

"Eventually, he had to cut her off for the sake of himself and their children. He told her to sign the divorce papers and leave. And she never looked back once."

I followed her with my gaze when she sat down at the opposite side of the kitchen table. She was in deep thoughts, and I knew why. Children.

"Why didn't you adopt?" I asked, maybe a little too bluntly, and auntie Dorothy's eyes softened.