[13th January 2000]
The soft knock on the office door pulled Xavier from his alcohol-induced stupor. Sunlight streamed through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk where he had apparently spent the night. His neck ached from sleeping in the leather chair, and the empty Bowmore bottle stood as evidence of his attempt to numb the pain.
At some point, someone had draped a linen blanket over him, keeping him warm throughout the night. "Xavier?" came a soft voice from behind the door. "Are you in there?"
He recognised Zoe's voice immediately—softer than usual, sounding like she had been crying again, probably struggling to handle the grief at such a young age. Xavier straightened in the chair, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as he glanced at his father's desk clock. 11:30 AM. He'd slept longer than intended.
Straightening the desk, he tucked the empty glass and bottle in the drawer out of sight before answering."Come in, Zo," he called out, his voice hoarse from the whisky and sleep.
The door creaked open, and fourteen-year-old Zoe James stepped inside. Her light brown skin seemed pale in the morning light, and her usually vibrant brown eyes were rimmed red from crying. Her curly black hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she wore one of their father's old Columbia sweatshirts that hung loosely on her small frame.
"I was looking for you," she said quietly, closing the door behind her. "Grandma Amara said you might be up here."
Xavier's heart clenched at the sight of his little sister drowning in their father's clothing. She looked so fragile, unlike the girl who had declared she'd rule high school half a year ago. Unlike him, she wasn't into ball sports; she preferred dance, gymnastics, and theatre.
Dad and she would spend hours rehearsing her plays, perfecting choreography for her shows. "Hey, baby girl," he said softly, opening his arms to her as he sat up, letting the blanket fall off his shoulders. Without hesitation, Zoe rushed into his embrace, burying her face against his chest. He could feel her shoulders trembling as fresh tears began to fall, soaking his shirt.
"I miss him so much, Brother," she whispered, her voice muffled by his shirt. "I keep thinking he's going to walk through that door and tell us to pack for one of his boring camping trips."
Xavier tightened his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. The scent of her coconut shampoo, the same brand their mother had used since they were kids, brought back memories. "Hahah, remember that one year when we took the camper to Allaire and he forgot the food."
"Hic, yeah, he had his grill master 7000 all set up, but no food. Mum was so angry that he rushed us to leave, only to end up with no food." Zoe responded in a yearning tone, momentarily forgetting her sadness. "He somehow convinced the nearby campers to pool their resources with us when we only had s'mores, bananas, and crates of drinks."
"Dad could sell water to a drowning man if he really put his mind to it, but what I remember most about that trip was the over 20 fish he caught that year," Xavier responded with a light smile. "He's never caught more than one fish in all our trips over the years, but somehow he managed it."
Zoe pulled back slightly, looking at him with those expressive brown eyes that reminded him so much of their father's. "Actually, he had Mum buy 15 of those fish at the nearby fish market. You two were in a fight back then, and he wanted to spend time with you, mum told me."
"Hahha, yep, that sounds like him. I don't think there is anything he couldn't do," Xavier said. His mind drifted to the little things his father would do if he wanted them to do something. "(sigh) You know Dad loved us, right? He wouldn't want you to stay sad for too long, I mean, he did say in his will that his little princess should strive to be happy. Just remember all the happy memories and use what he taught us to chase your dreams, I'll be here to make it happen."
Zoe nodded against his chest, her breathing steadier now. "I know, but it's just so hard. Everything reminds me of him. The way he used to hum while making coffee in the morning, how he'd practice his speeches in the mirror before big meetings." She pulled back to look at him, wiping her eyes with the oversized sleeve. "What are we going to do now? Those men yesterday... they seemed so mean."
Xavier's jaw tightened at the mention of Bob and his associates. "Don't worry about them, Zo. They're hyenas, "Dad used to say." The best way to deal with those people is to let their greed devour them. They don't know what he had planned, so don't worry, we will never lose out to them." He brushed a curl from her face. "Right now, though, let's just focus on being together as a family."
A gentle knock interrupted them, followed by their mother's voice. "Kids? Lunch is ready. Your grandparents are asking for you both."
Maya James opened the door slowly, her slender 5'9" frame appearing in the doorway. Even in grief, she maintained an elegant presence, her curly black hair cascading over her shoulders in natural waves. Her Spanish-Portuguese heritage was evident in her light olive complexion that made her appear as if she were in her mid-thirties.
Xavier instantly spotted the dark circles under her eyes, betraying the sleepless nights since her husband's passing. "There you are," she said softly, her voice devoid of an accent, as she had been born in Newyork and grew up there all her life, despite how some people would tell her otherwise. "Camon kids, it's rude to keep your grandparents waiting."
"Yes, mum," Zoe exclaimed, running to give her a quick hug before exiting the office. "Go get cleaned up, baby, you look terrible." She said as she eyed her son's figure, which appeared much more burdened than it had ever been.
"Sure thing, mother, just give me a minute," he told her, pulling her into a quick hug, not forgetting to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before passing her.
~~~
Ten minutes later, Xavier made his way down the marble staircase, freshly showered and dressed in dark jeans and a navy sweater. The smell of his grandmother's cooking wafted through the house—a mixture of roasted chicken seasoned with a balance of flavours from both families' heritages. Grandma Elena from his mother's side was a Spanish woman who loved her country's culture and did her best to instil it in her family.
Amara, who is of Kenyan descent, had clashed with her on a few occasions when it came to cooking, but over the years, they had grown closer. The synergy had created quite a few enjoyable and tasty holidays for the family. The familiar aromas offered a small comfort to everyone as they busied themselves setting the table, deep in conversation.
Xavier walked down the curving stairs, taking in the atmosphere beneath the crystal chandelier that glistened in the sunlight. He paused, taking in his family. Grandpa Nathan was deep in conversation with Grandpa Willy, his paternal grandfather, recounting the game of 76. "It was pouring cats and dogs, and we were down 3 in the fourth with 30 seconds on the clock."
"I was 34 in my first college coaching opportunity, and don't get me wrong, I had an incredible year taking the Lions to the playoffs." He paused for a second for dramatic effect. "But a win here would make me a legend at the school, secure my job and do so much for my family."
"Well, what happened, Nathan? C'mon, tell me we're not getting any younger here." Grandpa Willy complained, urging him to get a move on. "I know you won since Cassius brought home a ring that year."
"Well, this 21-year-old kid tapped my shoulder during the huddle, looking completely relaxed. You know what he said?" Another suspenseful pause that nearly caused Grandpa Willy to throw a fit. " He said, 'Coach, it's just a game, it's football, not life and death.' He proceeded to carry the ball for fifty yards for a touchdown."
"After all the hubbub of the win, he pulled me aside and said 'Coach I was wrong, this shit isn't life and death, it's war, I've never been hurt like this and yet I still feel like I'm on cloud nine winning makes everything worth it.'" The two men broke into laughter following the story. "of cours we lost the next game and he once again said its just game and wnet onto focusing on his finals."
"Sounds exactly like Dad," Xavier said, announcing his presence as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Both grandfathers turned toward him, their weathered faces softening with concern and affection. Grandpa Willy, his father's father, was a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and the same intense auburn eyes that had been passed down through the James lineage.
Despite being in his sixties, he still carried himself with the dignity of the reporter he'd been for forty years. "There's our boy," Grandpa Willy said, rising from his armchair to embrace Xavier. "You look worse, those 200 thread count too soft for you to fall asleep?"
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To Be Continued...