Hate Me

After a shocking experience in his past, sixteen year old Christian Rothschild is left with twin babies: Clarice and Jacob - their mother Amber long out of the picture. Twenty-six year old art teacher Alex Archer is a divorcee left alone with his four year old Elijah. His life has long since been happy.
What happens when these two meet at a single parent's club? And even more, what happens with Christian goes home with Alex?
Can Alex get over his homophobia, and keep afloat with all he's got on his plate? And can Christian keep their relationship secret, when he is on the rise to fame?


9. Alexander

“So, Alexander, how’re you feeling now?” The doctor asked. I sat there in my own clothes, not in the white scrubs I’d been wearing these past two weeks. “Better than I felt when I came in.” I joked, smiling. The doctor smiled back, acknowledging my weak joke. “And you will keep up with your medication, won’t you?” He asked, moving on without so much as a comment on how good that was – which is what most doctors I’d met had done. “Of course.” I was lying when I said this. He nodded.

“Who’s picking you up?” he queried after some consideration.

“My ex-wife - she’s taking me so we can pick up Elijah together. He has to stay with her tonight again, though, but I really would rather see him today.” I explained, and he nodded, studying his pen. “Elijah is your autistic son, yes?” He didn’t look up as he asked.


“Do you think, perhaps, that he inherited autism from you?” He asked, still not looking at me. I stiffened in my seat. “You think I’m autistic?” I asked, my voice careful, questioning. He shrugged, lazily looking up at me, resting his chin on his knuckle. “Asperger’s, maybe. Or you could just be a carrier for the genetics.” He admitted, looking back down to his pen, like the pen was more interesting then talking to me. “Think about it.” He said, a hint on humour on his tongue as he spoke. I got up to leave, but he stood up, blocking the door. “Also, think about the fact psychotic illnesses are usually genetic.” He told me, smiling lightly. He leaned forward, to whisper something. “What kind of wonderful genetic gifts do you think you could have given him.” He stood straight again, looking down on me. I stared forward, filling a pit in my stomach forming. “Have a nice day, Mr. Archer.”

I wandered out into the reception, my mind spinning. What if it’s my fault Eli’s autistic? What if I fucked up his future by giving him a mental illness as well as a disability? I barely noticed Millie getting up out of her seat and begin walking towards me. “Alex,” she greeted, and I just walked up to her, and put my head on her shoulder, grumbling slightly. Resting my head on her shoulder was something I had done a lot when we were together. “Alex, what the hell are you doing?” She asked calmly, crossing her arms.  I sighed, “Just humour me.” And I put my arms around her. Reluctantly, she uncrossed her arms, and did the same – running her hand though my hair. This was a habit of hers when we were together as well. “Alex, if you’re still unstable, so help me I will get these nurses to drag you back to your room.” She threatened, and I grumbled again.

“I’m not psychotic, or depressed. Just fucking tired.” I replied, which was true. I sighed, leaning more heavily on her, she stumbled backwards. “You may be a short man, but you’re still heavy.” She told me, and I nuzzled her shoulder. “I’ve been gaining a lot of weight.”

“Your tattoos will stretch.”

“I know. Shut up.”

She paused, and she giggled slightly. “Well let’s get you in the care before you fall asleep out here.” And she broke away from me, guiding me gently out of the building.

I watched Millie drive. Her hair tumbling over her shoulder, her naturally tanned skin on her sender arms. Millie wasn’t thin, but she wasn’t fat either: she was curvy – and wonderfully so, if I remember correctly. “Why did you dye your hair?” I asked her suddenly. Her hair used to be a wonderful black and suited her so much more. She’d dyed it a few months after our divorce. She spared a sideways glance at me. “Because I wanted to look a little slutty now I wasn’t just a safe, nice housewife.” She explained, and I frowned – Millie had never been a slut by nature. She was always a nice, quirky girl. “But you’re a house-fiancée, so why are you still looking slutty?” I prodded, and she didn’t look at me this time. “Do you really dislike my hair that much?” She countered quietly, and I shrugged.

“It’s your hair, but personally I think it does nothing for you.” I said, taking my shoes and leaning my socked feet against the dashboard of her car. She shrugged. “Luke doesn’t dislike it.”  She commented, and I nodded, picking at a hole on the knees of my jeans. “I don’t think Luke’s the kind to comment on your hair.” I told her, pulling out a long threat from the fabric around the hole. She frowned, “how do you know what kind of guy Luke is?” She asked, and I smirked.

“The man was in our marital home quite a lot towards the end of our marriage. I got to know him pretty well over a number of breakfasts together.” I told her, and she smiled.

“Our marriage was pretty unconventional towards the end.” She laughed, and I nodded, leaning my elbows on my knees. “Do you think we would still be together? If I hadn’t…done what I did?” I queried. Millie was everything to me for so long of my life. And now she was betrothed to another. She smiled sadly, “Alex…if you think we divorced because of what you did, you’re a bigger idiot than I give you credit for. We fell out of love. The divorce was a mutual decision.” She reminded me, I nodded, and looked down. I had never told her that I agreed to the divorce more because she needed it. I knew she hadn’t loved me – she hadn’t loved me since Elijah was born. I moved out of our bedroom, into another room in the house. I let her have her affair with Luke, because it was what she wanted. For about a year after the divorce, I had used one-night stands with women I couldn’t remember the names of, and a worsening drug-addiction to get over her. I divorced her because I couldn’t stand to see her so upset over being married to me. It had taken me a little longer to let Millie go. “You’re a good mother,” I remarked, “Eli’s lucky to have you.” She shrugged off my compliment like I’d told her some useless fact she didn’t care about – I’d always done that when we were together. “He loves you way more. He kept asking me when he could see you again.” She told me, and for a moment, I actually felt a bit of regret for my decision to die.

We stood in the playground of Elijah’s school. Many of the other parents were already there, too. I saw Emma notice me through the crowd, and she shuffled towards us. “Alex!” She cried, hugging me tightly. “I didn’t know you were back!” I smiled,

“I wanted to surprise Elijah and let him know I was back.” I explained, folding my arms around her waist. “Is he going home with you then?” She asked, pulling out of the hug.

“No, he’s staying at Millie’s tonight, and then I’m picking him up on Saturday.” I answered, and she nodded. “Well, if it’s fine with you, I think I’d quite like to cook you a welcome home dinner.” She said, and I grinned. “Would you really do that for me?” I asked her, absolutely astounded. The bell rang, and some children began to trickle out. “’course! Swing by about seven-thirty!” she called, running off to find Tamara. I stood next to Millie watching the children totter out of their classrooms. I noticed Eli’s small figure with longish light brown hair in the crowd. I jogged forward, calling out his name. He looked up at me blankly, but I didn’t care about his lack of emotion. I ran to him, picking him up and holding him close to me. “I missed you.” I whispered quietly, kissing him softly on the forehead, resting my head on his. “I missed you.” He echoed, but I thought I felt him pull closer to me. I didn’t let him go until we got to the car.


It was about ten O’clock as I sat next to Emma on her settee. I probably should have left a whole ago, but I stayed, not wanting to be alone. “It’s been lonely without you.” She remarked, and I nodded, moving closer to her. “Gunna get any closer there, Alex?” she asked, looking down at me as I leaned on her shoulder. I glanced at her, “do you want me to stop?” I countered, and she stared at me.

“Just what are you implying, Alexander?” She teased, smirking at me, watching my lips. I swallowed,

“That I really don’t want to go home right now.” I whispered into her ear, softly, sexually. I began to kiss her neck, and she laughed. I stopped, and looked up at her. “Don’t tease me, Emma – if you want me to stop, push me away.” I told her, locking my eyes with her as I began kissing her neck again. She ran a hand through my hair. “I never said stop.” She told me, and before I knew it, I was kissing her lips.

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