Tea Scenes: A Bready Baker Collection

Abandonded

 "Six months!!!" I screamed in her face, "Your one-man tech team has been missing for six months!" My breathing is heavy, and my hands are shaking, but the blank stare on the woman's face just infuriates me even more, "You were military! You should know the value of a team!" I keep yelling.

"She was replaceable," Boxer replies with a deadpan tone.

"Excuse me?"

Boxer takes a step towards me, and I'm suddenly aware of my 4' 2" stature, "She. Was. Replaceable. I figure you've already killed her by now."

"No! I was waiting for you all to come rescu-"

"Rescue? Why would we rescue her? If she could get caught by you of all people, then she's of no use to us."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Boxer takes another step and I'm having to crane my neck up to look at her.

A rock sits in my stomach and makes it difficult to take a deep breath before I say, "Fine then, have it your way." With those words, I stride off out of the apartment building. I can't believe I served with that woman.

The door slams shut and my coat knocks the hanger down, but I don't have time to pick it up. My footsteps echo through the underground manor, nearly drowning out a small voice greeting me home, "I told you."

I look over at the teenager and see eyes full of dread. My face softened immediately, "You're not going back."

"That's fine. I tried making something for your escapades but it didn't work- I'm sorry-"

"You're okay." I wrap my arms around the technical genius and respond softly, "You should make something you can use, like a.... a uh..."

"A crutch gun?"

"Yeah like a- what?"

The kid laughs into my chest, "A crutch gun. So that when I'm using my chair I can just reach back and bam, shotgun!"

"You scare me," I admit to him.

"Says the one who drives without her glasses on."

"Hey," I say defensively, letting him out of the hug, "I don't drive." I cross my arms at him before walking away.

I turn around to look at him and reply with pride, "And, I'll have you know I have only a -5 prescription!"

"Congratulations, you just barely don't have high nearsightedness." He replies.

"Oh-" I was not expecting him to know that.

"Uh-huh, I'm not stupid."

"Most people don't-" I go to explain.

"My mother went blind when I was 15. I've talked to quite a few eye doctors before. And I know you weren't calling me stupid." He smirks at my haste to fix a perceived mistake.

"Rude."

"When was the last time you visited the doctor? You've been on the wanted board for like 4 years, so if you went to a doctor you'd probably get turned in." He pours himself a bowl of cereal, resting all of his weight on his left crutch. I can see it digging into his skin.

"When was the last time you got fitted for new crutches? You've been working for Boxer for the same amount of time." I retorted.

"I don't work for Boxer."

"Oh I'm sorry, you've been experimenting for Boxer." My tone is venomous. He has no idea what that woman did to me.

The fridge door is slammed shut and I nearly jump out of my skin, his tone is level and full of malice, "I. Do not. Work. For. Boxer." He repeats while glaring directly into my eyes.

"Then what do you do for Boxer? Why do you help her?"

"She's my aunt. My mother died from pneumonia."

"Oh. I-"

"It's fine." He says as he slides his bowl to the edge of the counter. He walks over to the space between the counter and the table and transfers the bowl over before sitting down to eat, "I knew it was going to happen."

"Why do you hate Boxer?" I ask, sitting down at the table next to him.

"Why do you?" He asks, thinking he'll call a bluff.

"Because she shot my dog," I say deadpan.

He stops moving mid-bite and just stares. I sigh, he wants an explanation.

"I was a K9 unit in the military. I was sweeping mines with my partner and he started barking as an alert. Well apparently, unbeknownst to us, he was supposed to stay silent because of the echo in the canyon. She shot my dog in response."

The kid picks at his food some more before responding, "7 years."

"What?" I ask him, bewildered.

"It's been 7 years since my mother last took me to get fitted for crutches." He says taking another bite.

"Ha, 16 years since I went, I've gotcha beat there, kid."

He chuckles at my comment, "How do you see?"

I let the silence settle in the room, not wanting to admit to myself, or anyone else that I can't. I walk into the kitchen myself and grab a soda. Suddenly the kid sighs and says, "Between the two of us I really should have seen it sooner. Your towels are all textured and everything in this house is contrasting with each other, color-wise. You do that so you can see the difference between the blobs easier, right?"

"That's just because I don't wear my glasses." I scoff at him.

"Why don't you wear your glasses?"

"Because they hurt my head. Because I haven't been to the doctor in 16 years. Happy now?"

"Extremely. Hey, you should come to my support group one day."

"What so I can sit around with a bunch of fuckin' sidekicks and talk about how I'm going blind and it's just getting worse? No thanks."

"Your loss. They could give you tips on how to live with blindness."

"I'd like to cross that bridge when I come to it, thanks."