How Green Becomes Wood

Occasionally Ivy would look at Tristan, but every time she did, she would quickly turn back to her mom, snuggling in for a moment, and each time, Daizi would kiss her head and speak only to her, rubbing her back with all of the affection a person could have. She took everything her baby 'said' with complete sincerity, choosing to occasionally pause their adult conversations to entertain her. Dark, too, would sometimes lean in to talk with only her, although when Xander made his comment, Dark very quickly gave him a look.

"I think fudge is too sweet for me," Daizi said, swaying from side to side, "But our friend, well, you know him, Cooger, he is basically unable to walk past a place that sells it without at least asking for a sample."
 
"Oh, yes, Cooger's sweet tooth is legendary," Tristan agreed. "Once I learned of that, I did try to keep some sort of sweet on hand as a thank you when he helped me out, but I dare say the man is insatiable!" He smiled, clearly fond of Cooger, like most folks Cooger worked with.

"Imagine that. Someone having a love for something and getting teased for it," Xander said, his voice low.

That did earn him a raised eyebrow from Tristan, but the man plowed onward. "By which I mean no ill toward him, of course. But you said fudge is too sweet for you, Doctor? What do you prefer instead? Savory?"

"Why? You want a way to bribe her, too?" Xander muttered.
 
"I think Cooger is vociferous," Dark said, turning his head slightly to the side as he fondly considered his dearest friend, "He does not do anything part-way. So he cannot simply like food, or like desserts, he must love them, as he cannot simply like anything."

Now it was Daizi's turn to address Xander: in a quiet, gentle voice she said, "It's okay, habbi. We're just talking," before telling Tristan, "It's not that I don't like desserts, I just don't like when they're... dense, I guess. Maybe I should've said rich rather than sweet, I just like desserts that are a bit... complicated, I guess. Even really fancy fudges tend to be really sugar forward, and everything else is an aftertaste, if that makes sense, but one bakery in town has this blackberry caramel tart, and the crust they use has toasted almond flower, so you get the tart berries, the sweet caramel, and the nutty crust, and I think it is lovely."
 
"I agree completely, and I think it is something to admire and perhaps even strive for," Tristan agreed with Dark. He cocked his head slightly, listening to Daizi's description attentively. "That sounds like a piece of heaven. I must remember to try that sometime! What about you two?" He addressed Alec and Xander.

"I like sugar," Alec admitted. "I haven't developed much of a refined taste yet, at least when it comes to sweets and treats. Sorry."

"That's perfectly alright," Tristan assured him. "One of the best things about growing older is learning new things about the world around you and about yourself. So often it seems that we are expected to know all of our likes and dislikes by the time we leave high school, but there is so much of the world to experience and so much growing we have left to do that I cannot see how it is possible. I used to dislike chicken with a passion, but then I learned that it was not chicken I hated but the way it was cooked. Now I enjoy trying out all sorts of new things and old things in new ways. Not everything works out, but most of the fun is in the trying."

"I didn't realize we were talking with an inspirational guru on top of everything else," Xander muttered. "Wonderful. Next you can tell me the secret to life."
 
"You are still learning," Dark told Alec, in regards to learning to appreciating more complicated desserts, "we just need add more floral extracts to frosting. You will come to appreciate it."

"Nobody can make me stop including rose and lavender extract in desserts," Daizi chuckled, "Unless someone decides to be allergic. But you wouldn't do that to Mama, would you Miss Ivy-Qadira?" After waiting for Ivy to vocalize back at her in some way, Daizi nuzzled her forehead against Ivy's and sat back, inhaling slightly at Xander's new utterance. This time, however, Dark spoke up before she had a chance to.

"Xander, you do not have to listen to his advice, but he is allowed to express an opinion and hold a conversation." Like his wife, he spoke in a low, calm tone, but he was a bit more firm.
 
"Right, yeah, and what lovely opinions he has, to," Xander snapped. "He's so fantastic, so let's all just accept him and give him access just like that! Brilliant. I can't wait until he talks you into some kind of scam and steals all your money."

"Xander!" Alec gasped.

"Scam to steal your money?" Tristan repeated, truly lost. Where had he gotten that from?

Xander snorted. "That's what people like you do, isn't it? And then you act all innocent and say that you laid out all the information so it was no one's fault that you got someone to sing on the dotted line. Just their's. I bet the chair helps pull it off."

"Alright," Tristan said in an even tone, "I think I have heard quite enough." He backed his chair up and jerked his head toward the paved walking trail. "Let's go for a walk."

Xander hesitated. Tristan wasn't acting furious or yelling, but his clipped tone and glint in his eye said he was not going to let this slide. "I don't have to-"

"No, you do not have to do anything you do not want to," Tristan cut him off, "and I clearly cannot force you, but I think it is time you and I had a talk." He turned his chair with a quick spin of his wheels and started down the path. "Let's go."

Xander glanced once toward Dark and Daizi, vaguely hoping to be rescued.
 
Both Dark and Daizi were as horrified as Alec was. Xander had gotten upset and short like this before, but this felt extreme even for him, and while Daizi immediately tried to apologize for him, expressing, "I assure you, we do not condone or believe anything he is saying," while trying to ignore the deep unease Xander's comments about Tristan's wheelchair--twice, now, he had made a foul comment about his disability, and they had only met twice--Dark sat and stared stonily at his son.

When Xander looked at them for help, Dark crossed his arms and briefly cocked one eyebrow, the gesture clear. Go on. Did he love the idea of his son going off alone with a stranger? Not particularly. But Alec was already working there, and it'd be biased to be okay with one son being alone with him but not the other. And, clearly, Xander needed to know he was not allowed to say anything he wanted to anyone with impunity. He had always forgiven him, Daizi had always forgiven him, maybe they shouldn't have. Not that he could imagine not forgiving him, but there was one thing he always tried to keep in mind when dealing with his own mental health: It was not his fault, but it was his responsibility.

So. Xander needed to go and take responsibility.
 
Of course, he saw no salvation there. Grudgingly, he got up and followed after Tristan, hands buried in pockets and shoulders slumped. He'd done it again. He hadn't meant to, but he'd gone and done it again. Why? Why did he keep doing this? He was so stupid! And now some guy he barely knew was going to take him to task for it.

Tristan didn't say anything for a while, rolling along steadily but slowly enough that he wouldn't lose Xander. Finally, once they'd made it about a quarter of the way around the long pathway, he spoke. "You are carrying a lot of anger, Xander. A lot of anger. You seem to be using me as an outlet for your frustrations, a straw dummy for whatever it is you are actually struggling with, and I am not okay with that. No one wants to be someone else's punching bag. It is okay to be angry, but it is not okay to lash out at people like you are doing, and I think you know that."

"What would you know about it?" Xander growled defensively. "It's not like you're ever angry."

Tristan gave a short bark of humorless laughter. "Xander, I grew up in the same environment as your father and was an athlete in high school who ended up in a wheelchair. I am constantly fighting to maintain my independence while coping with sudden and irrational nerve pain. I do not have a good relationship with my family because the moment I was 'less than able,' they tossed me aside and called me a burden, blaming me for my condition despite the fact that there was nothing I could have done to stop it. I lost every friend I had from that time. Of course, I know anger!"

Xander missed a step at the vehemence in his uncle's voice and looked down at him in shock.

Tristan took his hands from his chair wheels, letting his chair glide forward naturally as he took a deep breath, fists clenched, then let it out in a whoosh, relaxing his hands as he did so. His chair had almost stopped when he dropped his hands. He pushed himself along effortlessly. "I spent the first two years of my new disability wrapped up in anger, and then, when I started to slowly - slowly - dig my way out, I realized that anger was nothing new. I had been angry most of my life. It was just different now because I had something specific to be angry about instead of something vague like 'life in general.' Even back when I thought my anger was about nothing in particular, there was something I was truly angry about, but I would not allow myself to face the reason behind my anger. I was content to be angry because anger was my shield against pain, I thought. But anger like that does not help. Anger rarely does anything to heal. Anger is like a fire. Sometimes it can be used to drive us forward to face an injustice, but many times we end up doing nothing more than burning everyone around us, including ourselves."

Xander clenched his hands in his pockets, staring down at the path under his feet as he walked. "I don't mean to. I really don't. It just... flairs."

"Like coals fanned by a breeze," Tristan agreed. "When the fire of anger seats itself deeply enough, it is not easy to get rid of. Sometimes it can 'sleep' for a long time, tricking you into thinking it is gone, but it is still waiting for the right conditions. It's not something you can will yourself into not feeling or get rid of by chanting 'everything is fine' enough times. That is just denial, which allows it to burn deeper within you until struck by a breeze that allows it to flair up."

"Yeah," Xander mumbled. That sounded about right. "Then what am I supposed to do? Get one of those old coal shovels and start digging?"

Tristan smiled slightly. "You are being facetious, but, essentially, yes."

"Huh?" Xander asked with a sideways look.

"Spontaneous combustion does not exist, meaning that fire, no matter how big or little, young or old, must come from something," Tristan pointed out. "Some cause. A little bit of anger can even be good as it helps us to see when something is wrong, but those little flairs should die out quickly. When the fire stays, then you must dig through and discover the cause of it. You have to find what it is that you are holding onto to give the fire its life and let it go. It is not easy, I will not pretend it is, and I will not pretend that it will be quick, but it is only once you can start to let go that your true healing can begin, and in healing yourself, and when you begin to heal, you stop hurting others."

"That sounds all good and well, but how? How do I find what's causing it?" Xander demanded.

"A lot of painful introspection. There is no easy way or shortcut. When you feel yourself getting angry, the first thing you can try to do is to acknowledge that you are angry. Then, remove yourself from the situation if you can. If not, try to envision putting your anger in a box. It is not supposed to stay in the box. It is just a temporary thing until you can later safely open the box. Then look at your anger. Stare it right in the face and ask yourself, what is making me angry? What is making me want to lash out? A lot of anger, especially our type, comes from pain, but sometimes it is also a way to redirect. Maybe the anger is covering up another feeling that you don't want to allow yourself to feel. Maybe something you do not want to face. Dig into it. Do not shy away, and discover what is causing the pain or fear or what else might be hiding under the anger. Once you discover the exact cause, then you can start trying to deal with it, but you will not be able to know how to deal with it until you know what it is. No one can help you deal with your pain or your anger if even you do not know the cause, but I am willing to hear you out if you ever need to talk."

Xander scowled, the anger stirring stubbornly. "If I talk to anyone, it won't be you," he snapped. Then winced.

"That is fair," Tristan agreed. "You don't have to talk to me. I just want you to know that I am available as a neutral person. You do not have to have anything to do with me if you do not want to. I will not be in your life any more than I have to be as your brother's employer. I am okay with that." He paused and turned to look at Xander squarely. "As long as you do not use me as your straw dummy. Are we clear?"

Xander looked away and nodded. "Yeah. We're clear," he murmured.

Tristan nodded, and they continued back to rejoin the group.
 
Dark watched Xander and Tristan for as long as he could, until he couldn't see them anymore, but even then, he kept a close eye, waiting for them to come back with the same, stern look. He had hoped Xander had remembered to apologize, but he knew they were still working on that personally. Daizi didn't really know what to say, feeling ashamed that her child kept making hateful remarks about someone's disability, and she didn't know what to say when she heard the wheels and footsteps reapproached the table.
 
Alec wouldn't even look at Xander when his brother returned. He'd sat huddled and waiting for their return.

Tristan pulled up and smiled at Dark and Daizi. "I should probably get back to the shop. Thank you so much for coming out and meeting us out here. Alec, I am looking forward to starting work with you!"

Alec smiled at his uncle. "I'm looking forward to it, too, sir."

Xander lingered in the background, not joining the rest of the family yet.
 
"We were glad to come out," Dark replied, shaking his hand, and Daizi expressed some polite sentiments about how they were likely to see each other more, and then told Ivy to say goodbye to Mr. Walsh, helping her to wave bye-bye. She was still apprehensive, but she allowed her mom to wave her hand.

When he went away, Dark silently got up to throw their trash away, and Daizi took a breath, trying to think of something to ease the tension, but only coming up with, "I am very proud you have your first job, Alec."
 
Alec smiled at his mother and Ivy. "Thanks, Mama. I get to start next Thursday! He said he wasn't in desperate need of help, so if I wanted to wait and start later, I could. I chose to start sooner before he could find someone better." He was mostly joking there. He paused and glanced toward Xander, who was scuffing the ground with his battered tennis shoe. "May I ride home with you?"
 
"Well that's very exciting." Daizi said tiredly, not knowing what else to say as Dark came back to the table and sat down, "I hope you love everything about it. And of course you can come home in our car."

Dark ran his tongue over his teeth, watching Xander, drumming one finger on the table. "Well?" He asked.

"It's probably pretty hot in the car," Daizi told Alec quickly, "Would you be willing to get it started? So it can start cooling off?"
 
"Sure," Alec agreed. He retrieved the keys and went to start the car without a backward glance at Xander. He needed some time to himself after all that.

Xander didn't look at Dark. "Guess I'll take myself home, then," he said, though he could tell that wasn't what Dark was asking.
 
"Yes, but not by me." Dark replied seriously. "I understand that you have been struggling with something. I recognize that, and I recognize you are either not ready to talk about it, or you do not know how to, and I respect that. So I have been trying to give you space. But that is not how we handle our emotions. You are always free to walk away from a situation, but you need to learn you cannot speak to someone that way, Xander. I want to help you, Daizi wants to help you, I am certain a village of people want to help you. But we cannot do that if you do not let us, and I am afraid for you, because if you do not learn to better control your temper, one day you are going to meet somebody, and you are going to care about them, and you are going to lash out at them, but they will not forgive you like I always will and Daizi always will. And I do not want that you to experience that."
 
Xander turned farther away from him. He knew Dark was right. He knew it was true. Everything he said was true, but his mind felt like a tangle of thorns. No matter which way he turned, it felt like a rose branch scraping against his skin. "I don't want to talk about it," he stated. He reached up to rub the side of his head behind his ear, feeling a growing pressure and a headache.
 
Despite wanting to tell him, Good, you do not have to talk. Listen. Dark took a slow, deep breath, and stood up, "Okay. But on the drive home, please try to think about what we can do to help make this easier for you." He looked at his wife, "Do you have anything you want to say?"

"Only that I never want to hear you making negative or accusatory comments about a person's disability again." Daizi said, not needing to think about it.
 
Xander walked away without answering. He didn't want to listen. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to think, but that was all his mind was doing! Churning, Churning, Churning! And as he walked away, an echo of those words like a breath on the wind, Love ya too, kiddo. He got in the car, breathing hard, but still managed to force himself to pay proper attention before pulling out.

He didn't go home. He didn't want to go home. Instead, he drove to the old junkyard and parked off the side of the road near the scrap of grass that tried to call itself a park. He walked to the fence and leaned on it, looking down into the yard. The dirty brick of a dog was still there and did not disappoint. It came trotting over as close as it could and growled up at Xander, glaring at him as if daring him to hope the fence. Xander just stared back. He came here often enough that the dog had stopped barking at him, but it still didn't trust him. Xander tossed him a bit of meat and bread he'd kept as a treat. Unsurprisingly, the dog didn't even look at the treats. He never did. The treats disappeared, and Xander chose to believe the dog was eating them, but he didn't know for sure. He leaned on the fence and stared down at the dog, wishing he could feed his thoughts to the dog. He gripped his arms tightly, desperately trying not to think. Not to feel.

~~

Meanwhile, Alec waited patiently in the car, fiddling with the music as he waited.
 
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