II. mimicry of birds

Xavier's legs dangled over the bench.

Scattered around the hospital's garden were other recovering patients doing whatever they could to pass the time; reading, journaling, socializing.

At the other end of the bench, his mother was dozed off, her back curved as far downward as it could be.

Xavier's hospital gown fluttered when a flock of birds flew past. With his gaze, he followed their flight in the air.

Abruptly, he shifted his chin, for there came a figure into his peripheral. Specifically, another little boy, his hair an ash blonde.

The other boy was holding a book in his hand. "Hi. What's your name?"

"Um. I'm Xavier," he sat straighter, noting that he was not wearing a hospital gown.

"I'm Archer," he introduced himself, his face rather expressionless for someone making a friend. "I'm five years old."

"I'm five, too."

Archer lifted his book. "Want to color?"

"Yeah," Xavier smiled. He got up from the bench, wheeling the monitor along as he followed behind. The unit was meant to track his recovery, and it had wires that connected to his body—an electrode on his chest, a probe on his finger, and a sensor on his forehead.

The two halted at the centerpiece of the entire garden; a massive tree. At its base, crayons were scattered all over the grass. They got comfortable in its shade, Archer on his stomach, and Xavier with his legs crossed. He was making sure his monitor wasn't on a slope when his peer spoke.

"My sister is getting a new kidney," Archer opened his book, randomly, to a drawing of an elephant. Then he grabbed brown and scribbled it across an ear.

"What is a kidney?" Xavier chose a blue.

"A body part," he stopped coloring to stare. "Did you get surgery, too?"

Xavier brought a delicate hand to the side of his head. There, a slice of his hair was gone, replaced by scarring. He nodded sheepishly, as Archer's eyes were now honed in on it.

"Oh. Okay," he said, then went back to coloring. "My daddy told me that Neo Ruhl helped people get surgeries quicker."

"Who's that?"

"He was a great man, and he helped a lot of people, but he died. That's what my daddy told me."

"What does die mean?"

"To go far away." Archer paused to squint at his peer. "You don't know a lot of things."

Xavier dropped his head, afraid this would cause him to not want to play anymore.

Rather, Archer offered him a blue crayon and slid the coloring book closer. Relieved, Xavier brought his blue to the white space above the elephant.

They were nearly done with the page when their attention was pulled. Xavier's mother had woken up, and was closing their distance.

"Who's that?"

"That's my mom," Xavier waved.

She nodded, barely. Despite being awake, her frame was in a slight bow; with a jolt, she picked her head up. What's more was the desperate movement of her fingernails against the skin on her arm.

"Mommy, this is Archer. He's five, like me."

"That's good," she breathed, still tracing patterns on her skin. "I'm heading out for a minute, okay?"

"Okay."

Had he been sitting at a different angle, Xavier would've seen the very curious look Archer made the entire time.

"Why does your mom scratch herself so much?"

"Huh?"

"She kept scratching herself. And she smells really bad."

". . .Huh?" He turned to him in slow motion. They exchanged stares that lacked understanding of the other's reaction. Needless to say, Xavier never posed such questions about his mother, nor did he ever think twice about her mannerisms.

He knew her as she was, and she had always been the way she was, for who else could she be?

Two years later, she died at his feet, all while he was blind and mute.

Since then, he'd been drowning, sinking farther from the birds.

.
.
.

"Aye, Rue's kid, you're stepping on my charger!"

"S-sorry. I'm sorry," Xavier became rigid, expecting a hit from the man.

"Maybe if you took off the blindfold, you wouldn't be tripping so goddamn always."

After squeaking another apology, he turned to leave. Unluckily, he hit his shoulder on a wall, which he could've sworn was not there before.

As he sucked his teeth in against the pain, the wall spoke. "Fuck's sake, Leroy, will it kill you to leave him alone? 'Course he won't take it off."

"Kelsey," Xavier piped quietly, recognizing her voice. Out of all the women who worked at the brothel, only she had acknowledged him after his mom died one week ago, although she made very it obvious how much she hated kids. . .

"I'm just saying," Leroy began, his voice getting closer to the boy. What followed was the drape of his hand over the latter's shoulder. "Aye man, listen, it ain't nothing but pretty ladies around here. You're a man, right? You can't be scared of some tits."

Promptly after, Leroy lost his balance and fell.

Meanwhile, a shiver had yet to leave Xavier's spine.

Kelsey sighed. "This ain't a place for no kid, Roy. As stupid as Rue was, she was right about the blindfold."

Still on the floor, Leroy slurred. "Sounds like you wanna take him in."

"Hell no," she answered flatly. "And get the hell out if you're not paying for a service."

"'M waiting for Sydney's fine self."

"You're going to be waiting for a while; the boss wants us in for a meeting."

"'S fine with me."

What followed was a bout of silence. Xavier felt himself stiffen at the feeling of Kelsey's eyes on him. Then came a small gust of wind from her turning.

"If you want to eat, learn the way to the kitchen."

"Thank you for the food." Xavier made a smile in the direction he thought Kelsey was. He held his lips in place as he waited for a response. "Oh," he realized. "She's not here. . ."

Like a pianist, he felt the surface of the table for a paper bag before putting his cheeseburger's wrapper inside. Here, in the most unexpected moment, everything flooded in; that is, all the reasons why the world was cruel.

His shoulders limped, and he groaned quietly. "Mommy. . ."

Xavier tucked away his sadness, though, and grabbed the paper bag. He got off of his chair and, arms extended, searched for a garbage can. Three bump-bruises later, he was. . . still searching.

"To your left."

He flinched at the unexpected voice. "Um. I don't. . . know where left is."

"I forget you're five." Kelsey sighed.

Soon, she was tapping the surface of the bin. He followed the sound before dropping the bag in. "Thank you."

Then came a discordant screech; it sounded like Kelsey was moving two chairs across the floor. "Sit down," she tapped one of them. "I've been given the honor of telling you what happens from now on."

Xavier said nothing as he lifted himself to sit.

"If your life were anything normal," Kelsey started, "You'd be starting your first day of school soon. But, things won't be like that. You won't go to school. Ever."

". . ."

"You probably know this, but the person who killed your mom is the boss," she told him. "He's decided that we're going to hide you here. Meaning, he won't let you go to school, or be adopted, because if he does, people might learn who you are, or you might tell them how your mom died, and that will be bad for him."

Xavier was sitting on the seabed.

"He's a bitch, isn't he?"

He held his lip to hush its quiver.

She rose. "That's everything. If you need anything, ask me or the other girls who work here. We won't be too mean to you."

Before she could leave, Xavier parted his lips. "Can you. . .bring me books?"

"Huh?"

"I, um, want to learn."

.
.
.

He'd always thought it was ironic, even before he learned the word to describe it. In the spare room he was given, Xavier's window looked at an electrical wire, where birds often sat in flocks.

Thirteen, he counted. What are the odds, he added, given it was his thirteenth birthday.

He caught his reflection in that mirror, and angled his head a bit. His scar had fully healed, and his hair was finally growing in.

He returned to his book—Flesh and Blood: Understanding Human Physiology—while his blindfold was tucked neatly in his pockets.

Over the years, he had been studying the human brain, in hopes that he'd find a reason for why he saw someone else's memory. Twice so far. And whose memories those were. And how they were triggered. And what they meant. And

KnockKnockKnock.

"You have three seconds to put it on."

Xavier was sliding the fabric over his lashes when the door cracked open.

Kelsey stepped in. To follow, something heavy landed on his desk. "Here's some more books. They're all about the brain, like you asked. Still can't believe we have a nerd living in a brothel."

He chuckled sheepishly. "Thank you, Kelsey. I really appreciate it."

She turned to leave. "The boss isn't here. You can go outside if you want. You know the deal, just don't do anything stupid. It's your birthday, anyway."

They seemed to follow him, the birds did.

One landed in the center of his book, atop a labeled drawing of the human brain. The winged creature chirped a lot for having such a small head. "Hi there," Xavier brushed its fuzz gently with a finger.

Not long after, the bird left, joining his friends in the sky. Xavier was watching them when it happened for the third time in his life.

-                         -                         -

This time, someone was hugging him.

He stumbled back, but returned the gesture. "Don't cry, Eve. This is what I want."

"N-no, it isn't." The person, younger, buried his head in his shirt.

"It is."

"You don't"—he hiccuped—"want to die. You... you're just lying to yourself. You're trying to, to convince yourself, but really you hate this." The one named Eve grabbed handfuls of the fabric on his back.

"I... I chose this, Eve."

"See, you're not even denying it."

"It'll help lots of people."

"This is going too far."

-                         -                         -

Although Xavier came back to reality, he was still lost in his thoughts.

"Of course. . . These are Neo Ruhl's memories."

When he blinked himself conscious, his jaw lowered in a gasp. Someone else—a boy was squatting in front of him, staring at him with a very curious expression.

A blonde.

"You alright, man? I was here for a minute, and you, like, didn't react at all. And how come I've never seen you around?"