*.*.*.*.*.*

"It's past your curfew," he finally says, voicing my vaguely conscious concerns.

Why? Why does my dad have to place a curfew on me? I'm seventeen for God's sake, not seven. Even most seven year old's don't have curfew these days.

Despite the fact that I'm really annoyed with my dad's stupid curfew right now, I'm kind of glad Xavier doesn't find it weird. At least he's not laughing at me. Speaking of which ... I have never heard Xavier laugh. Or even seen him with a creepy toothy grin on his face. Considering how hard I find to keep a smile off my face, this boy must be superhuman to be able to not-smile all the time.

"Say something."

His request shocks me, and I have to make a deliberate effort to not make a fool of myself -- something that seems very hard around Xavier.

Oh my God, oh my God, Xavier is asking me to speak. And here I thought he probably hates that I'm such a blabber-mouth.

"I'm just thinking," I say, letting my sane side take over my tongue for a while. "How can mothers be like this? I mean ... my mom left me because she wanted to live life on the high-road and my dad wasn't ambitious enough for her. She always complained about his boring job, and how we can never afford to go to five-star restaurants and eat appetizers that cost as much as my dad's car. And then your mom ... how can she put you through all this? Doesn't she care how much her actions hurt you? It's just ... I thought moms were supposed to be the epitome of selflessness and here ..."

"It's not true," Xavier says. "I don't know about your mother, but my mom does care about me."

Wait a minute ... is this boy really saying what I think he's saying?

"I don't blame her for wanting to be happy," he continues, unaware of my disbelief. "She's only human. And she still tries ... sometimes even fighting dad for me. She can't help me, but I know she wants to. I'm her only family, and she's all I've got."

"You have me too," I blurt out, instantly wishing I hadn't.

Xavier looks at me and I realize our arms are still intertwined as we sit side by side on my porch.

How freaking romantic, oh, my God!

"I'm glad I do," he says softly.

I swallow, frozen under his grey eyes that always remind me of the stormy skies. God must have decided to paint his eyes with the same paintbrush that he used to paint grey clouds. That can be the only explanation for the striking similarity between the two, in terms of beauty and intensity.

"I should go," he says to my dismay. "It's a surprise your father didn't tell me to leave, so I should be grateful and do so myself."

Oh, yeah, my dad is definitely doing it because he's so kind and not at all because I promised to spend my entire life following his curfew as compensation for today.

I smile at Xavier, who gently pulls out his arm from mine, leaving me to feel a void where it had been.

"See you in class," he says, rising to his feet.

"Yeah," I jump up too, burying my hands in my pockets.

We stand there awkwardly -- again, how romantic! -- before Xavier finally nods and speaks a good night greeting. I awkwardly return it, and he turns around to walk away. I enter my house again, which feels as warm as an oven after being exposed to the chilly outside wind for so long. I lock the door and make my way silently upstairs, glancing towards my dad's closed door.

After I have changed into my pajamas and gotten under the comforter, I hear a gentle knock on my door. The knob turns slowly and the door opens just a crack to reveal my dad's face peeking in through the gap.

"Can I disturb my wonderful daughter?" he asks.

I roll my eyes, knowing the suspicious, fatherly inner self of his wanted to come here to see if I actually sneaked Xavier into my room without him noticing.

No, dad, Xavier probably wouldn't do that even if I asked him to.

"Sure, dad." I sit up, straightening my legs under the comforter.

"Is he okay?" dad asks, entering my room.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if you're his father and not mine," I point out, inwardly loving how my dad is so totally supportive of my friendship with Xavier. Most parents would call him bad company.

Dad doesn't mind, chuckling heartily as he perches himself at the edge of my bed.

"And what about his father?"

I hesitate, not knowing where exactly to begin.

"The man I saw was his stepdad," I tell him. "He abuses Xavier, physically and verbally. Probably emotionally too, but Xavier didn't really talk about that. His real dad died a long time ago, and his mom is addicted to drugs. All in all, Xavier's life is pretty messed up."

Dad nods solemnly. "That must be so hard on him."

I nod too, biting my lower lip and thinking.

"He told me he lets his dad beat him so he won't hurt his mom," I say in a low voice, my heart aching at the thought. "How can they do that, dad? Especially his mom? To her own son?"

My dad sighs mournfully. "Life makes us do things, Haley, things we do not want to do."

"That's no excuse," I argue. "How can Xavier still put up with it? I don't understand why he won't just leave them, or report them, or just ... run away. God, I want to help him, I want to ... I don't know what I want to do."

"Well, what are you going to do?" dad asks.

"What can I do?" I ask dad instead. "How am I supposed to do anything, dad? I'm just a teenage girl."

"A teenage girl who got a very broken boy to open up about his very troubled life," dad points out with a smile. "Never underestimate the power of good-will, darling. It can do miracles."

No words leave my lips at what dad says. I know he's right, to some extent, but Xavier opening up has just as much to do with my dad's kindness as it does with my persistence. Maybe even more. If dad hadn't let Xavier stay over that first night, or supported me every time I wanted to bring Xavier closer, or been so compassionate and welcoming, I doubt Xavier would even speak to me.

"Haley?"

I blink, brought out of my reverie. Dad raises his eyebrows questioningly, clearly asking me what's on my mind.

"I just realized," I answer his unasked question. "What I would do if I didn't have you in my life."

A look of surprise crosses over my dad's face, making his eyes widen and lips part.

"I mean." I look down at my own hands as I speak. "Xavier told me his life was perfect before his dad died, but everything fell apart afterward. That got me thinking ... where would I be, dad, if I didn't have you? Mom only cared about herself. Her desires, her wishes, her ... life. She left me, and you, and this house. And I can't help but think ... if I lost you, would I be the same as Xavier?"

Tears well up in my eyes as I say it, my heart tearing to bits at the mere thought of losing my father.

"Haley ..."

"You have been my mother and my father for as long as I can remember," I continue, blinking quickly to keep my tears from flowing. "You have been my family, my best friend, my supporter, my ... everything, dad. What would I do if I lost you? I would be just like Xavier. Alone, and broken, and rejected --"

A dry sob breaks out of my throat and before I know it, my dad has pulled me into his warm embrace. I close my eyes as I break down in my father's arms, my head placed on his chest as his strong arms wrap my body in a cocoon of love.

"I'm not going anywhere, my love. Do you hear me? I will never leave you," my dad whispers reassurances. "And if I do -- when I do, I know my princess will be strong enough to handle it."

"I'll never be strong enough to live without you, dad, you are my strength," I sob.

"And you are mine, my dearest Haley." He plants a gentle kiss on the crown of my head, his hands drawing circles on my back to comfort me.

"I love you, dad."

"I know, my darling. I love you too."

His voice is thick as he says it, and I know that he is forcing himself to stay composed for my sake. He has always been strong, for as long as I can remember. Even the night mom packed up her suitcases and left.

I had been awake that night, I remember, but pretended to be asleep. I had woken up because of all the noise. Mom and dad had been fighting a lot those days, and I was always on the edge of what would set mom off next. She was always the one to start.

That night too, mom had shouted at dad and called him a loser for not wanting to progress in life. She should never have married him, she had said, it was the biggest mistake of her life.

I remember dad telling her to keep her voice down as to not disturb my sleep, but mom had merely scoffed.

'Keep her, you weak man, and raise her to be a weakling like yourself,' she had said before she stalked out of the house.

I had heard the door of her car slam shut before the engine roared to life.

My dad had spent that night of the living room couch, and I still wonder what had compelled him to do so. Had he expected her to come back? Or had he cried himself to sleep like I had done in my own bed those ten years ago.

I remember him waking me up for school the next morning, helping me get dressed and driving me to school.

I remember him smiling and hugging me when he dropped me off, even though his hair was disheveled and eyes red and swollen.

I remember him telling me he loved me.

And now, as I sit here, wrapped in his protective embrace, I still disagree with my mother just as much as I had done that cold night ten years ago. She had called my father weak, but he is the strongest man I know. And perhaps Xavier is the second.

I suddenly begin to cry harder, realizing that I had just thought just like my mom. She had thought my dad was weak for being compassionate, and I was just wondering why Xavier is putting up with his parents. Was I perhaps unconsciously considering him weak for not standing up for himself? I hate myself if I was.

Because I'm wrong, and so was my mom. Being kind, compassionate, and tolerant, putting family before your own selfish needs, and sacrificing for the sake of your loved ones is not weakness.

And if it is ...

If Xavier is really weak ...

If my dad is really weak ...

I'm proud to be a weak daughter of a weak man.

And I am proud to be the weak friend of a weak boy.

*.*.*.*.*.*