Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Lori shook a sizzling pan full of potatoes and cauliflower over the gas burner as Jeff entered the kitchen, humming. “I don’t remember the last time I heard you sing.”

“It’s called humming, Mom.” Jeff sat and rested his elbows on the table, knocking over a saltshaker.

“Elbows off, please.” Lori gave him a disapproving look. “I raised you better than that. I hope you don’t do that in public.”

Jeff rolled his eyes and obliged. “Of course not. Wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m a monster.”

“Exactly!”

Sarcasm never was her strong suit. He held back a retort.

Lori turned back to the stove. “So, you had a good day then?”

“It was okay.” Jeff brushed salt granules off the table, then threw some over his shoulder for luck. What could it hurt, right? “What’s for dinner?”

“Aloo Gobi.” She added fresh chopped tomatoes, using her wooden spoon to burst them in the pan.

Jeff craned his neck to see. “Come again?”

She giggled. Jeff sometimes thought she sounded too young for her age. “I’m probably not saying it right,” she said. “It’s a new recipe someone gave me at my last Tupperware party. I hope it tastes all right.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Kevin joined them and patted his son on the back. “Wow! Smells good. What is it?”

“Mom’s new recipe. Don’t ask me how to say it. She got it from a lame Tupperware party.”

“Hey, don’t make fun! I love those parties. They’re my social outlet.” Lori wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Anyone want a glass of iced tea?”

Both raised their hand.

“Two teas, coming right up.” She turned the burner to low, letting the meal simmer.

Jeff watched his mom move throughout the room with the grace of a swan. It’s funny, I’ve never noticed how fluid she is in the kitchen. Sometimes I wonder if she comes down in the middle of the night to practice. The absurdity of the thought made him smirk.

Kevin took his seat. He’d dressed down from his polo and khakis into a regular gray t-shirt and jeans, though his hair remained fixed, and he still smelled like aftershave. He cracked his knuckles and stretched his arms overhead, then sighed. “What’s so funny?”

Jeff reset his face. “Nothing, just thinking is all.” He doubted his parents would understand the humor with which he saw them. They were both so picture-perfect, it made Jeff feel even more like an outsider at home than at school.

“So, anything interesting at school today? Did you stand up to that boy?”

Picture-perfect until it comes to defending your reputation. That seems to override optics. Or maybe it’s just a deeper part of it . . . Jeff leaned back in his chair, tipping it off the ground. “No, not really.” He almost lost his balance and set the chair legs down. “There’s a new kid in some of my classes. We ate lunch together.”

Lori set the glasses of tea on the table, almost dropping them. She clasped her hands together. “Oh, honey! That’s wonderful!” She turned to her husband. “Kevin, he made a friend! Isn’t that fantastic!”

Her excitement somehow made Jeff less enthused. “Mom.” He looked at the ceiling. “No need to start a parade. It’s not a big deal. I’ve had friends before.” He knew this was a lie.

“Well, none that I’ve ever met.” She arched an eyebrow and pressed her lips, something she did when preparing for a challenge.

Kevin reached for his beverage. “Here we go,” he said under his breath.

“What?” Lori frowned. “Can’t I be happy my son has a friend?”

Jeff plonked his head on the table with a thud.

Lori returned to minding dinner. “Oh, you two. You’ll never understand what it’s like to be a mom.”

“So, what’s your friend’s name, son?” The ice in Kevin’s glass clinked over his words as he sipped.

“Aarav,” Jeff answered.

Kevin choked and put down the glass. “A-what?”

Did I stutter? he thought, offended for reasons he didn’t quite understand. “His name is Aarav.”

“What the hell kind of name is that?”

“Language, dear.” Lori cut her eyes. “Where’s your friend from, hon, California?”

“Not too far off. He said his family moved here from Oregon.”

“Oregon, how lovely! All that green space.” She added a mixture of spices to the pan and tossed everything together.

“They have kids named Aarav in Oregon?” Kevin’s lip curled in a way that showed either disbelief or disgust, Jeff wasn’t sure.

“I guess. His family’s originally from India.”

Lori dropped the spoon in her hand and Kevin coughed out a mouthful of tea, spraying the tablecloth.

Jeff looked between them. “Are you guys okay?”

Lori handed Kevin a napkin, giving him a look before picking up the utensil and rinsing it beneath the faucet.

Kevin’s eyes narrowed as he dabbed up the liquid. “Your new friend is from India?”

Jeff’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He shifted in his seat and tried again. “Um, yeah, they just moved a couple blocks north of our house.”

His mother kept her back to them, and the air grew thick with tension. “Which community? One of the gated ones?”

“I don’t think so. I walked home with him and didn’t see a gate, but I wasn’t really paying attention. We’ve lived here so long, all these houses run together to me. Why?” Jeff studied Kevin’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“These communities are definitely not equal.” Kevin blinked away a look of determination and perhaps a little anger. “Son, I don’t want you hanging around the slums, and you can’t have a friend from India.”

“The slums? Dad, it’s just a few blocks away.” Jeff waited for a punchline, but none came. “Why can’t I have a friend from India?”

Kevin slapped the tabletop, and Lori handled the hot pan with determination, clanking it against the burner harder than usual.

“Because, son,” There was intensity in Kevin’s face. “He’s a foreigner. And in this household, we don’t associate with foreigners. They’re . . . different.”

Jeff cringed at the way he said the last word. His thoughts raced, and his chest felt tight. “You’re joking,” he said. “Right?”

Kevin’s eye twitched. “Does it look like I’m fucking joking?”

“Kevin.” Lori’s tone was hushed, but she never turned to face them.

Jeff sucked in a breath. His dad never used that word in his presence. Once Kevin had been hanging a picture in the living room, and his hammer stroke missed the nail, crushing his finger. The cursing traveled upstairs to Jeff’s room, but he was too embarrassed to mention hearing it.

I can’t believe he just said that. Jeff shifted. “I . . . I didn’t know. I . . . ”

“Well,” said Kevin. “Now you do. You’re not to associate with a foreigner. And stay away from that neighborhood. Do I make myself clear?”

Jeff’s hands shook. He slid them between his legs and the chair so Kevin wouldn’t see. “But I don’t understand . . . ”

“Is that clear?” The force with which Kevin stood caused his chair to slide into the counter. Lori stopped what she was doing but never took her eyes off the stovetop.

A dry swallow caught in Jeff’s throat. “I understand.” He eased his chair back. “May I please go to my room?” The intensity of his heartbeat made the rest of him tremble.

Kevin brought the chair back to the table. He folded his hands together and gave his son a gentle smile, which made the boy wonder if he’d imagined the outburst. “Of course,” he said. “Be down in time for dinner.”

“Fifteen minutes.” Lori was back to fussing with the food, her tone light and upbeat.

Jeff retreated to his room and closed the door. The bed sank with his weight, and he picked a spot on the wall to focus on, hoping to calm down. Suddenly, the room he’d grown up in didn’t feel as familiar as it once had. What the hell? His fingers still trembled. Dad’s never spoken like that before. I’ve never seen him so mad! Once, Mrs. Brannigan’s dog dug a hole in our yard, and Dad muttered a few ‘dammits’, but that was it.

Jeff pictured Mrs. Brannigan. She was in her sixties. Hunched over from a bad back. Gray hair and pale skin.

‘In this household, we don’t associate with foreigners. They’re different.’ His dad’s words echoed through his brain as he thought of other neighbors. ‘These communities are definitely not equal.’

There was Mr. Cooper. Forties. Tall as a skyscraper. Brown hair, blue eyes, white skin. ‘And stay away from that neighborhood.’

Alice and Daniel Loft. Younger than most of the other couples. Both blond. Both athletic. Both white.

Mr. Crawford, Mr. and Mrs. Brando, the widow Leery. White, white, white.

I’ve never realized how similar everyone is here . . . except me. Jeff touched his face. I’m just unique as mom likes to say. But my face . . . He ran his fingertips over his feelers and fangs. I am different.

A fog he hadn’t known was over his brain cleared, and his vision turned red like he’d been transported into a darkroom of developing photos. The images were becoming clear. He struggled to get a full breath while the muscles in his jaw tensed, and he ground his teeth.

How can Dad think like that? How can Mom? I’m not foreign, but I am different. Probably from anyone else in the world! A cramp spasmed in his upper arm. Aahh! Not again! He pressed his hand against his bicep and leaned forward.

They don’t even know Aarav. The spot on his arm spasmed when he touched it. They know nothing about him but his name! Beads of sweat formed across his skin as a heat filled his torso. How can they say that? I finally make a friend, and now I can’t be with him? His feelers twitched, and an odd sensation stemmed from the tips on his fangs. He brought a finger to the pointed ends, and when he drew back, there were droplets of liquid on his skin. What the hell?

Jeff ran to the mirror and raised his sleeve. The small bruise-like area he’d noticed in the school bathroom was still there. The pain increased, and he stripped off his shirt, tossing it on the bed. His eyes widened as he watched more skin on his arm turn dark. Additional tiny hairs sprouted over the area.

Holy shit! What’s going on? “Mom!” In four steps, his hand was on the doorknob, but before he turned it, the pain subsided. The relief was instantaneous. He kept his hand on the door, waiting for the pain to return, but it never did. He regulated his breathing.

Jeff’s stomach turned when he went back to the mirror. The effects had traveled down his bicep, and his arm looked worse. Darkened skin and little hairs were sensitive to the touch. It’s a bruise, he told himself. I hit it on something, and it’s just now showing up; I bumped into the wall without knowing it; it’s an allergic reaction from something—maybe one of Mom’s new spices. A knock made him jump.

“Jeff? Are you okay?” His mom tapped again. “What’s wrong?”

He froze. What if she freaks out? He touched the area.

“Jeff, what are you doing in there? Did you call me?”

The knob turned, and the door edged open, but before his mother could step through, Jeff lunged, slamming it shut.

The surprise came through in her voice. “What’s going on? Let me in.”

What if it’s something else? he thought. The way his dad said the word different stuck in his mind. He locked the door.

“Jeff?” She jostled the doorknob. “Why’d you lock the door? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Mom.” He searched the room for an excuse and landed on the closet. “I’ll be down in a second. Sorry about calling you. I just couldn’t find a shirt I wanted. Um . . . but I got it.”

“Why are you changing? You looked fine in what you were wearing.” She shook the knob again.

“Oh . . . I just wanted something different. Something a little . . . warmer.” God, just make her leave!

“Are you cold? You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“No, Mom. I’m fine. Down in a second. I promise.” He held his breath.

She was silent behind the door. “Okay,” she said after a minute. “Hurry up. Don’t let your dinner get cold.”

Once her feet hit the stairs, Jeff exhaled and entered the closet to search for an alibi—a long-sleeve shirt. What if it happens again at dinner? He threw on the first one he grabbed. What if it gets worse? I can’t hide that! A bitter taste gave him pause. What now? He’d forgotten about the droplets that oozed from his fangs. One trickled into his mouth.

“Jeff? Are you coming?” his dad called up from the kitchen.

He buttoned the shirt and stepped from the closet. I’ll figure it out later.

A horsefly buzzed its way through the open window and across the room, landing on the mirror. Jeff’s hand shot forward, capturing it in a cage of fingers. Before realizing it, he’d popped the thing into his mouth and swallowed it whole.

Mortified, he took in a shallow breath. Why the hell did I do that? The world closed in around him.

“Jeff, now!” The edge in Kevin’s voice helped him focus.

He shoved his feelings aside. I’m just stressed, he thought. I’ll deal with it later. He closed the bedroom door behind him. Everything will be fine. I just need to make it through dinner without things getting worse.

***

“Well, what do you boys think of the meal?” Lori refilled their beverages.

Kevin swallowed. “I think it’s great,” he said, wiping the corners of his mouth. “A definite keeper, just like you.” He grinned at his wife, then looked at his son. “What about you?”

Jeff poked a piece of cauliflower with his fork but avoided Kevin’s eyes. “A keeper? Do you mean me or the meal?”

Kevin’s eyes flared, but he cooled them. He turned to Lori and chuckled. “Doesn’t seem too excited about it, does he?”

Jeff looked up from his plate. “It’s good, Mom. Really, I like it.”

Lori smiled and dished out more. “Here, there’s plenty.”

Jeff nudged a tomato around the edge of the plate but didn’t take a bite.

Kevin studied him, then cleared his throat. “Son,” he said, setting down his fork. “I want to apologize about earlier.” Jeff looked at his dad for the first time since dinner. “I shouldn’t have used that language with you, and I’m sorry.”

Jeff chose his next words carefully. “And what you said about being around people different from us? Did you mean that?”

Kevin ran a hand across his smooth chin. “Of course. That hasn’t changed.” His face hardened. “No son of mine will be caught dead with a foreigner.”

“But, Dad, if you only met him . . . ”

Kevin’s jaw set. “No. That’s enough on the subject. Eat your dinner.”

Jeff sighed. “Dad, please listen to me.”

“Enough!” Kevin hammered his fist on the table, sending forks and spoons into the air.

“But why?” Jeff scooted his chair back, and Kevin did the same. The bitter droplets once again trickled from Jeff’s fangs into his mouth. He wiped them away before anyone saw. The room spun, and he felt short of breath.

“Jeff! Sit down!” His father’s face turned scarlet as his chest heaved.

Lori reached for him. “Kevin, honey . . . ”

“Stay out of this, Lori!”

Lori retracted her hand, then pursed her lips and looked away.

Kevin glared. “Now, you listen to me boy . . . ”

“No!” Jeff ignored the sudden pain overtaking his body, this time in his other arm. “You listen!”

“Jeff!” Lori fumbled the gold necklace over her chest. “Don’t talk to your father that way.”

He ignored her. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m different! Do you want to stop being around me?”

Lori’s jaw dropped with a gasp. “Honey, you’re unique—special. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

The muscles in Kevin’s neck tensed, but he kept quiet.

Jeff almost laughed. “Are you serious? Look at me! I’m not like anybody else. Has that even crossed your mind?”

Kevin re-situated the chair, bringing himself to the edge of the table. “Go to your room, Jeff. Dinner’s over.”

Jeff threw his arms in the air. “I don’t care about dinner!” He fought through the excruciating pain. “You’re unique, Jeff. You’re special, Jeff. Do you even hear yourselves?” The struggle to stand through the pain was overwhelming. “I have the face of a fucking spider!”

Kevin bolted from his chair and flipped over the table. Glass, drinks, and food covered the floor. Lori shrieked and covered her face. Kevin stood panting and spoke through gritted teeth. “Upstairs. Now.” He flexed his fists.

Jeff scoffed. “What? Are you going to hit me now? Like you told me to hit Preston? Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re a coward, would we, Dad?”

Kevin reached across the table, but Jeff dodged and headed toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. He slammed his bedroom door, making sure it locked.

“And don’t come out of your room!” Kevin shouted from below.

Angry red spots filled his vision, and he fought to control his breathing. He removed his shirt and confirmed his suspicions.

Both upper arms were now the same—discolored and covered in wispy hairs. Jeff re-dressed and opened the bedroom window wide enough to crawl through.

I can’t be here right now.

The lattice mounted to the house provided escape. Mindful of noise, he crept down, then dropped to the ground.

Pakora, Aarav’s cat, sprang from the hedges below and sauntered up.

“Hey girl, now’s not a good time. Sorry.” He reached to pet the cat on the head, but it hissed and arched its back. “What’s the matter? You know me.” He moved closer, but this time Pakora sprang forward, sinking her teeth into his finger.

“Ow!” Jeff shoved the finger in his mouth and sucked the drop of blood that surfaced. “What’s wrong with you?” The cat hissed again and backed away. “Dumb cat!” Jeff left in the other direction, keeping a low profile as he traipsed through the yard.

Scared and confused, he started walking, putting as much distance between him and his parents as possible. The chill of fall surrounded him, but his skin stayed heated from the argument. Wandering the neighborhood, he noticed something he’d never paid much attention to before. Every house was light red brick with columns. Each lawn was professionally manicured; two-car garages flanked every home; stained fences surrounded the back yards.

Except for a few minor details, all the houses are identical. Just the way Dad and Mom like it, right?

He thrust his hands in his pockets, and something brushed his fingers. When he pulled it out, he found it was Aarav’s drawing he’d taken from the garbage earlier that morning. He unfolded it and looked at the spider’s face. Something about the sketch made him feel closer to Aarav, like he’d known him much longer than just a day. He longed to know more about the boy, and it wasn’t long before he began walking north.