Xander opened the front door to the house and hurried inside, hoping to avoid running into his family. He tossed his jacket onto the coat rack and shouldered his bag as he walked toward the stairs. As his foot struck the first step, he heard the creak of the hardwood floors behind him.
“Welcome home,” his mother said. “Did you have a good day at school?”
“It was school,” Xander shrugged. “It’s pretty boring. I’ve got a lot to do so I’m probably just going to go upstairs and get caught up on some homework.”
“Are you feeling okay? You’re acting a little squirrely.”
Xander arched an eyebrow in surprise. “No, I’m fine. Why would you say that?”
His mother placed her hands on her hips defiantly. “You just told me you’re going upstairs at four in the afternoon to catch up on homework. You haven’t been that devoted to homework since you were in grade school. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Xander sighed. “Does something have to be going on for me to want to do the right thing and catch up on homework?”
“I guess not,” she replied in a voice that clearly showed she didn’t believe him.
His mother walked over, placed her hand on his, and gave him an affectionate squeeze. “All right. You go have fun upstairs. Dinner will be ready in an hour and a half.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Xander said as he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
As she started walking toward the kitchen, Xander took the opportunity to start rushing upstairs.
“Don’t forget to say hi to your grandfather,” his mother called after him before he could escape.
Xander froze, his foot hovering over the top step. With a groan, he spun in place, started stomping back down the stairs, and walked into the living room. The sound of Jeopardy blared on the television, far louder than what should have been healthy for anyone sitting in the assorted chairs.
The high-backed recliner was turned away from Xander as he approached. He could see the small tuffs of his grandfather’s white hair sticking up over the back of the chair and a soothing rhythm of deep breathing let him know that his grandfather had fallen asleep again watching TV. Xander looked up at the screen as they asked one of the questions in Double Jeopardy.
“What is the Battle of Chickamauga,” Xander said softly, seconds before the first contestant buzzed in with the answer.
“See, I knew you were smarter than you let on,” his grandfather muttered from his seat.
Xander jumped, caught unaware that the elder man was even awake. “God, Grandpa! I thought you were asleep.”
“I was, but I still heard you coming.”
Xander smiled and walked around to the side of the chair. “You’re so weird. You know that, don’t you?”
His grandfather arched his head up to meet Xander’s gaze. “At least now you know where you get it from.”
Xander smiled at the old man. Though he loved his parents, he had always shared a very special connection with his grandfather. Despite the man’s advanced years, his mind was incredibly sharp and he was surprisingly spry. When he wasn’t napping, Xander realized with a smirk.
“Did your mom send you in here to check on me?” his grandfather asked.
“Not to check on you. Just to make sure I told you hello before I went upstairs.”
“She can church it up however she likes, but she still wanted you to make sure I hadn’t croaked while watching Jeopardy.”
Xander laughed at the old man. He wasn’t entirely sure where his grandfather had grown up but he had a litany of odd sayings that kept conversation entertaining.
“So what are you up to?” the elder man asked.
“I was going to go upstairs and work on homework,” Xander lied again.
“Rubbish. That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard. If you were going to work on homework, you should have just stayed at school. Or at least found a pretty girl to tutor in a class, if you get my drift.”
“I get the drift, Grandpa. You’re a dirty old man.”
His grandfather laughed. The sound reminded Xander of an odd mix of mirth and a hacking cough.
“I’m going to head upstairs.” Xander kissed the man on the top of his head before turning toward the stairs.
“Be careful up there,” his grandfather said cryptically.
Xander turned to ask him what he meant, but he could already hear the repetitive breathing as his grandfather fell back asleep.
He stood in the middle of his room and stared at the bed and the plethora of posters that littered the walls. As much as he wished it weren’t true, Xander still slept in the same room he grew up in and many of the decorations hadn’t changed since his days of listening to hardcore rap.
His covers were bunched into a ball in the middle of the bed and dirty laundry was piled just beyond the footboard. The rest of the room was fairly clean, though Xander realized that was as much by accident as by design. Only his working table was cluttered with piles of artist’s sketchpads and loose-leaf paper. His hastily drawn charcoal sketches covered all the exposed surfaces. Women’s faces were piled besides blueprints for space ships. Fantasy creatures growled angrily at cartoon characters, either hand drawn or traced from Disney cells. Though Xander prided himself on his artistic ability, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe he was good enough to make it more than a hobby.
Scanning the room, his eyes fell on one of the larger posters dominating the middle of the wall above the headboard. Xander flexed his shoulders and waved his arms across his body as he stretched in anticipation.
His heart was already pounding in his chest again. His hands were closed in tight fists and he could feel the intermixed sweatiness and pain as he dug his nails into his palms.
“All right,” he whispered into the quiet room. “You can do this.”
He focused all his attention on the poster and tried to imagine the swell of power flooding his body as it had done in front of the school. His skin grew cold and clammy, but he wasn’t sure if it was from an unknown power or just the adrenaline he was intentionally pouring into his system.
“I can do this. Ready, go!”
He extended his arms and opened his hands, throwing his fingers out wide. His eyes closed involuntarily as he anticipated the violent windstorm. Slowly, he cracked one eye open and peeked at the poster. It hung unfettered on the wall, the rap trio still staring angrily at the awkward white man standing in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched.
With a huff, Xander dropped his arms. His eager anticipation turned to disappointment. The disappointment, however, was short-lived. Instead, Xander found himself fairly relieved. Whatever happened on College Street, it was just a coincidence that he witnessed that man survive what should have been a horrible car accident.
Smiling, he turned away from the poster when a swift draft flew past him. Behind him, he heard the flutter as the unpinned corner of the poster was caught up in the swirling breeze.
Xander froze. Slowly he turned, first toward his window, sure that it had been left open. When he realized it was closed, he turned instead toward the poster.
The wind was gone and the corner of the poster floated gently back into place against the wall.
“Did I just do that?” he whispered for fear of disrupting the sacred feeling in the room.
In response, a soft breeze swirled around his legs. The sheets that had unfurled from the ball of covers on his bed swayed from side to side.
Xander swallowed hard and wiped away the beading sweat forming at his hairline. He tried taking a deep breath but his mouth quivered as he tried to inhale.
“Okay.”
Reaching up, he ran his hands over both sides of his face, as though it might help him wake up from what was clearly a dream.
“Okay, okay, okay, okay,” he repeated like a mantra into the empty room. “Let’s… let’s try this again.”
Xander focused on the poster. Instead of straining as hard as he had during his first
attempt, he relaxed. If there was some other presence in the room with him—he was loathe to use the word ‘ghost’—then it would act without his prompting.
A soft whisper of wind caught his attention seconds before the edge of the poster began to dance in the breeze. Xander couldn’t decide if he should be smiling with excitement or screaming in fear. He settled on a nervous laugh that sounded like he was suffering from a horrible case of hiccups.
“More,” he said and the wind responded.
The posters beside the large one began to flutter as the breeze spread across the wall. The centermost poster, with its three rappers staring angrily ahead, flapped as the wind intensified. Xander heard the screech as the tape holding the poster to the wall tore free. The poster hung precariously to the two strips of tape on the top of it before they gave way as well. The poster shot to the ceiling, caught up in a miniature cyclone.
As quickly as it appeared, the wind died away. The poster floated back down to the floor, settling on the carpet at Xander’s feet.
Looking around, he took in the full destructive power of the wind that had materialized in his otherwise secluded room. His stacks of drawings had inadvertently been blown aside and were now strewn across the bed’s nightstand and onto the floor. A few of the other posters drooped from where their topmost tape had pulled free from the wall. They hung over each other like victims. With a soft tearing noise, another poster pulled free and fell onto his bed.
A knock on the door scared Xander horribly and he let out a stifled scream. Clutching his chest, he turned toward the bedroom door.
“Who is it?” he asked breathlessly.
“Grandpa. Everything okay in there?”
“Yeah, Grandpa. Everything’s good.”
“Then open the door, idiot!”
Xander turned the handle and found his grandfather standing impatiently in the doorframe. His grandfather looked past him at the destruction in the room beyond.
“Working on homework, huh? You live in squalor.”
“What do you need, Grandpa?” Xander asked patiently.
“Dinner’s ready. Come on downstairs.”
The rest of the family was already seated by the time he and his grandfather joined them in the dining room. Xander took his seat and ran a hand through his hair. It was tangled from the wind and slightly matted from his sweat but it didn’t bother him.
His parents had already put food on the individual plates and his father stuffed pieces of a dinner roll into his mouth without looking up. Looking at his father was like looking in a slightly aged mirror. His dark hair and equally dark eyes came from his paternal side. Xander had to assume that when his grandfather was younger, he would have shared the similar features of his son and grandson.
When his father finally did look up from his dinner, his expression was piercing and sour. His gaze passed quickly over Xander before settling onto his grandfather. The two elders shared a look that left Xander feeling uncomfortable.
“What would you like to drink?” his mother asked suddenly, pushing away from the table.
Xander broke his gaze away from the angry men and looked sympathetically to his mother. “How about a beer?”
“How about water,” she said matter-of-factly.
He smiled sheepishly. “Water’s fine, Mom. Thanks.”
As his gaze fell back to the two men, he found their irritated gaze broken and both men eating noisily. They seemed to purposely avoid each other’s occasional looks.
Xander tried to ignore his gnawing curiosity and began eating forkfuls of mashed potatoes. Before he could finish the small pile of potatoes, however, his father dropped his roll noisily onto his plate and leaned back in his chair.
“What are you going to do with your life?” he asked, staring intently at Xander.
Xander swallowed his mouthful of food and wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “I’m going to college so I can do something with my life.”
His father snorted derisively. “That’s not a real college. It’s where people go when they don’t apply themselves enough to get into any decent schools. You’re not trying on any of your assignments. You’re coasting through with a ‘C’ average. You’re a junior, for God’s sake, and you’ve changed your major more times than your underwear.”
“Where did this suddenly come from?” Xander asked, perturbed.
“Does anyone want any more to drink?” his mother asked, trying to redirect an uncomfortable conversation.
“Stay out of this, Lily,” his father interjected. “This is something he needs to hear.”
“What more do you want from me?” Xander said. “I’m going to college so I don’t have to work some crappy menial job like you do every day!”
“You watch your tone. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’d rather spend time with that sorority girlfriend of yours than focus on your schoolwork. Even Sean is living on his own and you’re still living with your parents. When are you going to grow up?”
“Leave him alone, Jack,” his grandfather said as he threw his napkin onto the table. “You need to tell him what’s really upsetting you.”
His father coughed once before scowling at the older man. “No, we don’t.”
“He has a right to know—”
“No,” his father said adamantly.
“It’s going to have to happen sooner rather than—”
“I said no!” his father demanded, slamming his hand down on the table. The bowls and glasses rattled from the impact.
“Is there something going on between the two of you?” Xander asked. “Something I need to know?”
“Yes,” his grandfather said immediately.
“No,” his father quickly corrected.
“Okay,” Xander said slowly. “Is this something you’d like to share?”
“Yes,” his grandfather added emphatically.
“No,” his father said.
“Well, at least dinner isn’t awkward or anything,” Xander said.
His father grew disturbingly calm and set his fork down next to his plate. “Then you’re excused.”
“Excuse me?”
“Take your plate with you and go upstairs to your room.”
“You’re sending me to my room? You know I’m twenty, right?”
“Go to your room and let your grandfather and me talk in private,” his father said sternly.
Xander sensed the danger in pushing his father further. In a huff, he pushed back his chair and grabbed his plate before walking out of the room. As he reached the stairs, he could hear the two men arguing in hushed tones.
Lying back on his bed, Xander tossed a softball into the air. He deftly caught it as it fell before shifting its weight in his hand. Scowling, he threw it back into the air with enough force that it struck the ceiling with a loud thud. Xander caught it again as it fell before tossing it angrily toward the corner of his room.
A soft knock on his door startled Xander. He propped himself up on an elbow and stared at the closed door.
“Who is it?” he asked, dreading the possible answer.
“It’s your mother. Can you open the door, please?”
Xander sighed and slid his legs over the side of the bed. He strode across the room and unlocked the door. Without bothering to open it for her, he stormed back to his bad and laid back down.
His mother opened the door softly and stepped into the room.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he replied sarcastically. “Dad sent me to my room like I was a child. He does know I’m twenty, right? He does know that I’m going to graduate from college soon, right?”
His mother stood stoically, her hands crossed in front of her lap. She listened to him complain, nodding appropriately as he spoke.
“I can’t wait to move out,” he continued. “Get my own place and not have to put up with him anymore.”
“Don’t be too hard on your father,” she offered. “He really does have
your best interests at heart.”
Xander turned sharply toward his mother. He knew his anger was misdirected but he felt it was necessary to stop her before she continued.
“Don’t do that, Mom,” he said flatly. “You don’t have to play mediator between me and him every time he decides to be a jerk.”
She walked over and patted his legs, encouraging him to move over on the bed. Xander swung his legs over the side and scooted toward the headboard, giving space for his mother to sit beside him.
“Your father can come across a little rough around the edges—“
Xander huffed at the understatement.
“—but he means well,” she continued as though oblivious to his derision. “You may not fully understand it or even appreciate it right now but he really does have your best interest at heart. He’s just trying to protect you.”
“He treats me like a child.”
His mother smiled and placed her hand on his. “That’s only because you’re our child.”
Xander couldn’t suppress his smile. “You’re so corny. You know that, right?”
“That’s exactly why you love me,” she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “Now forgive your father so I don’t have to listen to the two of you ruin another dinner.”
“That’s the ulterior motive for this entire conversation?” Xander joked, feeling his frustration bleeding away. “You just wanted a civil dinner conversation?”
His mother shrugged. “I’m pretty simple like that.”
She stood and walked toward the bedroom door. “Get some sleep tonight, dear.”
Xander found himself smiling at the diminutive woman. She seemed such a gentle counterpoint to his father’s abrasiveness. “Goodnight, Mom.”
She pulled the door closed softly behind her as she left. Xander collapsed back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
The next morning, Xander grabbed his backpack and cursed again at the time on the clock. He didn’t intend to oversleep but he felt ridiculously drained after the excitement of the day before. Hopping on one foot, he pulled on his second shoe. The loaded backpack threatened to pull him over and he had to cling to his drawing table to keep from collapsing onto his bedroom floor.
He threw open the door and rushed down the stairs, his tennis shoes slapping loudly against the wooden staircase. He wasn’t too worried about making a lot of noise, since both his mother and father had already left for work. Only his grandfather would still be home but he was usually in bed until late morning.
As he reached the foyer, Xander had to slide to a halt as his grandfather stepped around the corner from the living room. Xander clutched his chest again, growing steadily more angry at the series of surprises that seemed to encompass his life over the past couple days.
“You scared me half to death,” Xander huffed.
“We need to talk,” his grandfather said, ignoring Xander’s irritation.
“I can’t right now, Grandpa. I’m already running late for class.”
Xander stepped gracefully around the old man and reached out for the door. “Maybe we can talk when I get back tonight.”
“It’s…” his grandfather began before sighing heavily. “Fine. Go. Just promise me you’ll be careful today.”
Xander smiled, though he was genuinely confused by the conversation. “I’m careful every day, Grandpa.”
With a quick wave, Xander opened the door and rushed out to his car.
Wind Warrior Page 2