Part Two:

It is the night of the Liger, but not matter how much of a man is a beast, he's still a man. So that man must groom himself and put on his best before going out.

Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, with a small kitchen and living room. The washer and dryer on the second, fourth, and sixth floor. While it wasn’t the nicest apartment, it was reasonably priced. Diane didn’t want to move and Roger was hesitant as well, so they kept the same apartment of their parents. Roger thought about it, how this was one of the few things he and his sister didn’t fight over. He loved how close the apartment was to some of his favorite places to eat and to the bus line. Granted, he could learn how to drive if he wanted to, his dad left his car.

That is something he thought about as well, everything his parents left behind. Most of it was knowledge. Roger and David had long conversations every afternoon after school about all the important adult stuff. Sometimes the conversations were annoying, other times it was something he could enjoy. His dad was serious but never harsh. How he explained it, “Every parent that’s worth something realizes their kid is going to be their own person.” Roger thought about it, kid, as in singular.

Roger took his bag from Diane’s closet, avoiding her dresses and outdoors clothes she never wore. She believed she could roam outside if she had a mutant’s smell on her. She talked about Roger like he was a dog that was happy to help their human. If Roger said something about it and made some reasonable demand, she’d scream and cry. Scream and cry about the promise he made when he was young after their parents died. Used his childhood words against him, and Roger couldn’t shake it off.  The room made his skin crawl, he can’t explain it, but the walls feel like they’re touching him when they aren’t.

If he extended out his arms, he could touch the walls pretty easily with a little lean to the left or the right. He walked out of the room and took a look at Diane and saw how she tossed and turned without him. Guilt came to the forefront of his mind, but he then walked into the living room and let out a tired sigh. That apartment looks unlived in, it was a time capsule of his childhood. He opened his bag and took out a change of clothes; tan cargo pants, long sleeve shirt, and black socks.

“I need a shower and a snack before I go out, that’s if there is food in the f*****g fridge,” Roger talked to himself.

He went into his parent’s old room. He can’t complain about Diane’s room when he left his parent’s room untouched. Was a time capsule of happier times, or maybe it was him trying to capture ghosts. The mattress is worn, but it was big enough for him to lay on and stretch out. His mom insisted upon it, that was one of the few arguments between mom and dad. His mom complained about how she felt like a caged animal, the only place that didn’t feel restrictive was the bedroom. This was the part that his dad would say something flirtatious about her and the bedroom.  Roger comically gagged at the sight of them kissing and giggling.

Roger walked into their bathroom. He made it a habit to clean the room weekly. He’s a lot more focused on keeping a clean space than most people his age. His friends, Aurora and Jamie, visited and jokingly asked if he was moving. That was before Diane freaked out about “her space.” That was a devastating argument about whose space it was, and she shut down in her room and refused to eat. This was one of the many boundaries she had that she used as a noose around his neck. Roger didn’t invite friends over anymore, and decided he'd slip out whenever he could to meet them. From what he could guess, she was uncomfortable with Jamie and Aurora being mutants. 

Entering the bathroom, he thinks about the picture of him as a baby and how he was larger than a dog. His mom struggled to bathe him with how energetic of a child he was. Roger thought about time, especially how much time he lost. Time was a river that moved leaves down stream. For a moment he looked at the tub how he didn’t remember but through a series of photos he had of him as a baby where his mom struggled to wash him. He at least had his parent’s memories.

The photos showed his stripes came in later. They weren’t too prominent on his body, and looked more like strange tan lines from his head down to his feet. People could miss them if they were walking past him, but most couldn’t look past his height, a towering man at 7’1. Roger was all too aware of his body and how much space it took. He wasn’t someone with bad proportions, either. Aurora teased him more than a few times about how he hid behind baggy clothes. She loved to poke at Roger, claiming it's hybrid solidarity. Roger thought about those compliments and jokes, he’s sure they were his fourth favorite thing in the world.

A hot shower is his third favorite thing, underneath loaded baked potatoes and large dog breeds. Roger does his trick of listing all of his favorite things to help him loosen up. He learned through trial and error that when you're on the bigger side, restraint saves your life.  Hot showers before he leaves and hot showers when he gets back, even if it’s bad for his skin.

“Baby back ribs and a cold cola, sunsets and beers with your friends, cats that like to cuddle, and music nights at the Valley View Bar,” Roger listed all of the joys in his life as the bathroom steamed up. The water was hot enough to just sting for a bit.

Roger stepped out of the shower and wiped the steam from the mirror. He saw his dad’s curly auburn hair and his brown eyes. He had his mother’s skin tone and nose, a somewhat long hooked nose. He once hated it, and told his mother he hated it. She looked at him and asked, “Does that mean I look ugly?” Roger never talked about his features like that again. It was one of the few gifts that no one could take from him. He told himself he'd grow his hair out to see if it looked good. Aurora ran her hand through his hair and said he looked cute with short hair, so he never followed through. He couldn’t change it, he thought as he changed into his fresh clothes.

He needed to eat something before he walked to the bar, it wasn't a long walk, but no matter how much he loved that place it robbed him blind. Roger picked up his favorite steel toed boots from his parent’s closet. They were heavy and served him well, while Diana would wake up from any noise, so Roger learned how to be light footed.

“Ok, big money, big money,” he whispered before he opened the fridge to find take-out from a week ago.

“F**k….” he groaned.

  He thought about it and realized that it shouldn’t be a surprise. Diane doesn’t cook and is too anxious most days to leave the apartment.

“Valley View Bar’s load baked potato and chicken salad it is,” Roger groaned as last he checked he only had thirty dollars. Some part of him wanted to leave with only his wallet and key, leaving his phone. He looked at it for a moment and relented that he should prepare to answer the phone in case Diane has a panic attack. 

Roger stepped out of his apartment, looked down the hall towards the elevator. He hated that elevator  but he walked towards it. The mild fear of it falling was worth him avoiding walking down flights of stairs. He felt clumsy as he walked, like his stride was a bit too large. It didn't help when he looked away from that get close. His mom told him too much eye contact was asking for trouble, that could be a mutant thing.  He lucked out with good night vision but without the cat-like slits like most mutants. Maybe that was helpful for him…he couldn’t tell if he should be happy about how subdued his mutant features were. He went back and forth about it, especially since his painful growth spurts as a teen.

He walked down the hall, he walked for years. He thought about how old and unsafe the elevator was. There were two people waiting for the elevator, a woman, and a man. Instinctively, Roger walked past them and looked at his feet. He groaned as he looked for the stairs. The memories that surfaced about how his dad could relate a little bit. He was alive before the “zero event.” He had another painfully awkward conversation with Roger.  This time Roger’s mom sat with them too as it was a “mutant thing.”

“Roger, you’re a mutant. You’ll be seen as a threat first, a person second…there isn't a framework with this,” his mom put bluntly.

“Safra,” his dad protested. They both went into the next room and Roger could just hear it all. Of course, he did, his gift of hearing was possibly one of his favorite gifts from his mom.

“I…I can’t fathom how hard it is for your people, this isn’t…” Roger’s dad stumbled over his words.

“David, it’s ok…it’s a lot of new things for everyone. Maybe we should both go back and forth. Not like we can pull up a bunch of movies about discrimination and racism or speciesism?” Safra struggled herself.

“It’s not like this is a race thing, is it? It’s new…truly new. Ha, those alien movies are all allegorical anyway. Aliens. Orcs. Most of the time, they are just humans with a fantasy or sci-fi coat of paint,” David joked.

“You lead ok? But please please…don’t act like our son is stupid,” she pleaded.

They came back to the table and sat down to have the hard conversation. David was not prepared for this type of conversation. He was white, and before the mutants showed up was a considered a “bigger guy” at 5 '11 and 200 pounds. Before mutants, he was privileged in the power dynamic before mutants.  Safra was a nonmutant woman before the zero event, she was 5’ 4 and 110 pounds, after the “zero event” she turned 6' 8 and 230 pounds which was average for mutants men and women.  Roger being a mutant hybrid boy, 5’10 and 190 pounds, he was going to be larger than the average mutant too. Roger thought about the conversation every time he had to avoid humans at night or in confined spaces. His mom and dad thought, to get the point across, they should tell him how they met. 

“Safra was bleeding out in the street.” David started.

 “The news was and is filled with grifters who moved from demonizing immigrants and minorities to mutants,” Safra sounded wounded, the scars were still fresh.

 “Most people couldn’t pass up peace for mankind by hunting the “other” and I was part of the other,” she had a somber smile on her face when she spoke.

 She explained how she was a painfully average person that worked an office job and was vegetarian. David laughed about the ironic twist of fate. When she turned into a mutant she sent an email to her boss about working from home. She was lucky, hiding in her apartment spending more money on food since she needed an all meat diet. Yet, mutants weren't human anymore; she wasn't human anymore. If human rights are protected under the law, what if the person isn't human. People quickly used that logic to conclude mutants didn't have human rights. Her landlord noticed her food delivery consisted of only meat and was quick to hire five armed men to kill her. It was a service now, like she was a f*****g rat. Safra lifted her shirt, showing the bullet scar over where her kidney would be.

“David, should we?” Safra asked him with fear in her eyes.

“Yes,” David said.

“It was life or death. The animal instincts in me kicked in. I’m a carnivore, an apex predator, so… I had to rip my way through the men.”

“Jesus Christ my apartment was this boring beige place with inspirational posters everywhere…then just red on the walls, floor… I turned my home into a slaughterhouse.” 

“I don’t know if I should be proud of this,” Safra wondered out loud.

“Before the zero event being a smaller woman. Men scared the s**t out of me, but after the zero event, men were scared of me. I did what I had to do, you have to have it in you to do what you have to do,” Safra looked guilty as she talked, a smile snuck onto her face. She drooled as the memories of torn flesh and blood flooded her mind. She noticed and covered her mouth as her eyes looked down in shame.

“Sorry,” Safra got up and walked to the kitchen to wipe her mouth.

“Roger, that was just the beginning, your mother was hunted everyday just for protecting herself moving from city to city, forest to forest, and even sometimes getting help from humans but.” David paused to think of the best words.

“One day she and a group of other mutants were in a camp, people from the Valley View Bar, a great place, helped organize aid and hire lawyers,” David smiled.

“One day people raided the bar and the police did nothing, found this ledger of the camp and hunted everyone down. I was outside smoking a cigarette…this was when I was with Diane’s mother and…I have my own scars from that.” David pulled up his right sleeve and sighed. Safra sat beside him and comforted him.

“I was bleeding out in the street, half dead, until this guy found me…the rest of the story.” Safra looked into David’s eyes and kissed him as he was tearing up.

“We’ll talk about that part later, Roger, but right now it’s our job to teach you how to survive this world.” David was stiff as he saw what fear looked like in the eyes of an apex predator. That was 8 years ago, 3 years before his mom was gunned down in the street.

“F**k me,” Roger said as he walked down the stairs. He took a seat when he’s on the second floor so he could think for a moment.

“What the f**k am I supposed to do?” Roger wondered out loud, but then he heard his ringtone for Jamie, the song was Sammy Davis Jr.’s “I’ve Gotta Be Me.”  He answered his phone, knowing it was going to be Jamie.

“Hey,” Roger answered the phone with a smile.

“Sup, you're done playing nanny?” Jamie always spoke with confidence and a bit of sarcasm.

“Yeah, slipping out now, why?” Roger responds, he heard how tired his voice was.

“Gooood Shiitttttt, ok I’m driving to the bar, I am the  designated driver,” three people screamed in the background and Roger smiled.

“Ok Valley View is like a 15-minute walk, I’ll meet you there,” Roger stands up and lets the past memories come but not linger.

“Great! I’ll drive you back if you get drunk and s**t your pants, byeeeee,” Jamie hung up while people screamed in the background. Roger smiled and walked down the last flight of stairs.

Author's Note

I really wish to see some thoughts on Roger and his emotional state and what could be gleamed from it.