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“Why did you bring me here?” I ask him.
It all just seems so personal, even though I want to know everything about him. This must be a lot for him to share with me within a couple of days.
“The reason why we left Rio early was because my biological father went to speak with my mother. After my father walked into our lives, she never saw Eduardo again after they married.”
Eduardo being his biological father and Paulo being his actual one.
“Why? I mean, he seemed to not care for the last nineteen years. Why now?” I ask.
“Exactly. But my mom doesn’t seem to understand that. She told me that I should try to get to know him without a biased opinion. Biased, my ass. I will not get to know the man who abused my mother and then took my childhood away from me.” His hands clench.
“Which you have every right to deny,” I tell him understandingly; not like I will ever know what it’s like for him. I can’t tell him what to do, knowing that I don’t fully comprehend what it was like to grow up like he did.
In these moments, I realize my privilege. I might have had a horrible parent relationship. But I was raised with the idea that everything would be handed to me, while Xavier had to work for everything he has received.
He seems tense and I try to think of a way to make him feel more at peace. Xavier can think about it more later, but right now I’m scared he’ll punch a wall at the way his jaw clenches.
An idea pops into my head. I hop off the couch and Xavier’s gaze follows me until I disappear into his room. From his desk, I grab the two plastic containers of paint and blank pages in disarray on his desk. Once I know I have all we need, I walk back into the living room to a curious Xavier.
“Why don’t you rebuild the childhood you lost?” I ask him.
“What do you mean?” He looks confused.
“By finger painting!” I say happily.
“What’s finger painting?”
“What do you mean? You’ve never finger-painted before?”
He shakes his head.
“Not even in kindergarten?”
“No,” he responds.
I nod, setting down the supplies on the floor between the TV and the sofa. I sit down on the floor, waving him over to follow.
He obeys, filling in the spot beside me. I set two papers in front of us and then open the paint, hoping it hasn’t dried up over time. Once I unscrew the top, I see that it has been perfectly concealed.
“What did you use the paint for?” I ask him, having assumed he used it for art.
“I paint the cars on occasion when I’m here so the paint won’t chip away.”
I smile at him.
That explains the paint being perfectly preserved.
“Okay, so you’re going to dip the tips of two of your fingers into the paint.” My fingers hit the paint and then I raise my fingers in the air. “Like so,” I tell him.
He follows my lead, doing the same and then waiting for guidance.
“You smudge them on the paper, making a shape. It can be anything. Use your imagination.”
He finally has that smile on his face I love so much.
I decide to opt for a tree since the paint is green and red. It’s perfect for an apple tree. I start and then become determined to make this what I imagine.
“This is your idea of fun?” Xavier teases.
