Loveless Ages

Chapter Eight

The first thing I think about when I wake up is what Xander said last night. Josh may love you one day. Maybe. But… I love you now. Did Xander tell me that he loved me? When the hell did that happen? It doesn’t make sense. When did he decide this? I don’t even know how to react to this.

            The room I am staying in is painted a subtle pink and the bed I have slept on is queen sized with puffy white comforters. I sit up and stretch, my legs hanging over the edge of the bed and my foot slams into something hard. I step off of the bed and kneel down to examine what I bumped into. Beneath the bed is a metal box. I pull it out and lift the lid off. The box has a silver picture frame and in the photo is a younger version of Xander’s mother holding a baby. The baby is wrapped up in a pink blanket matching the color of the room and his mother is smiling. Behind her there is a balloon that says; “It’s a girl!”. I look at the next photo. It is a picture of a young boy with a large smile across his face. I assume that it is Xander. There is a knock on my door and then it opens.

“Good morning,” Xander’s mother stands in the doorframe.

“Oh,” I step away from the box guiltily. One of my flaws is my nosiness. I am always poking around in other peoples business.

“What’s that you’re looking at?” Alexandria says with a kind smile on her face.

“I just… I saw this box and I… I’m sorry,” I say quietly. She laughs lightly and closes the door behind her. She looks around at the room with a very familiar sadness in her eyes.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I haven’t stepped foot in this room in fourteen years?” She says. I look at her and watch as she sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes are focused on the wall in front of her.

“When Xander disappeared?” I ask. She smiles a little bit.

“Yes,” she nods her head.

“Xander told me you were a heroine addict,” I tell her. An expression filled with shame and regret is on her face and I feel bad for mentioning it.

“I was,” she says, “But I quit.” She doesn’t look like a heroine addict. I estimate her to be in her late forties. Her hair is neatly combed and her clothes are simple and modest. She looks like a reasonable woman. I’m suddenly angry. This woman was Xander’s mother. She was supposed to take care of him and make sure nothing bad ever happened to him. She was supposed to protect him. She failed. She let him get taken away from her and placed in the care of a group home that didn’t care for him. It was her fault that he was wandering the street at the tender age of five. And more recently, she was the reason he almost died. I’m guessing that he went was in that building trying to save her. He risked his life for a woman failed him.

“How does a mother to a five year old boy allow herself to be a heroine addict?” I ask with more venom in my voice that I mean to have. I know that I have no right to speak to her the way I am speaking to her. I don’t know her and I don’t know her story, but I resent her for letting him down. She was all he had.

“Can I tell you a story?” Alexandria asks.

“I guess so,” I respond.

“When I was twenty seven years old I had a little baby girl. Her name was Alexa… but I usually referred to her as my little angel. She was absolutely flawless,” Alexandria tells me.

“She’s the baby in the picture,” I say. 

“Yes,” Alexandria nods, “And this was once her room.”

“Where is she now?” I ask.

“She died,” she tells me, “One night, I put her down for bedtime. The next morning, she wasn’t breathing.” That must be one of the saddest things I have ever heard.