Backfire - Spander Files

stuffed it back in the can and put the can back into the cabinet. The man then
grasped his son’s upper arm firmly and dragged him to the boy’s bedroom.
He left Xander there for a moment, then came back into the room with a large
suitcase, throwing it on the bed.
“I know you don’t have much more left here. You take a little more each time you
come back. You haven’t lived here for a long time, Alexander, and you will not get
my support, financial or otherwise. I’m going out to meet the boys for the game and
by the time I get back, this room will be empty of everything that reminds me of
you. You want to be independent, that’s fine by me. But no halfway. I will not be
made a fool.”
Tony held out his hand. Xander took it without thinking. His father gave it one
quick pump, then released.
“Goodbye, son.” Xander watched the man walk away. A sadness began to bubble
up in him from his gut, but he crushed it before it took hold.
He thought briefly of his mother and what she would think of this new
development. Numbly, Xander began to pack. As he gathered the small collection
of friend photos that were stuck around the edges of his mirror, he came across one
of him when he was about twelve. He was standing between his mother and father,
and the three had their arms around each other, grinning madly. It was taken at
Yellowstone, site of their first and last camping trip together. He couldn’t remember
who had taken the picture and, oddly enough, couldn’t remember much else about
the trip either. Xander left the picture among the other pointless debris scattered
around the room, knowing that it was as forgettable as the long gone photos of his
dead grandmother.
He was at peace when he left the house.
*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*
By the time he got home (his only home, now), his body was itching all over, and
Angel pounced on him the moment the door opened.