When had his life become such a freaking disaster?
A friggin' screwed up, all about Melissa disaster. He loved Melissa, he did, but he also knew that when one of them got caught up in their own emotions, the other was usually drug along for the ride. It didn't make either of them selfish, it's just the way they worked. If one of them struggled then the other did too. But what happened when both of them struggled and they're taking each other for a ride? He loved his best friend but he needed time to sort out his own feelings- hell, even thinking straight for more than five seconds would be a blessing at this point.
He doesn't know how he ended up on a park bench, much less why he's on that park bench waiting for Belinda James. Maybe it's because he needed someone to talk to, someone that he could vent to that wouldn't take offense to every little thing he said.
"You know I was surprised when you called," Belinda spoke up as she walked over to the bench and held out a paper cup. "Coffee?"
He nodded as he took the paper cup from her, "Thanks."
"No problem." She sat down beside him, setting the paper cup on the wooden bench beside her before pulling her coat tighter around her body. She looked over at him, "Jackson, what's going on?"
"I needed someone to talk to." Jackson looked over at her, squinting as the sun caught the ice and the glare hit him directly in the face. "Someone who isn't having her own problems."
"What's going on?" Belinda asked him softly, reaching for her coffee.
"Things are a screwed up mess." Jackson sighed, looking down. "This girl I'm staying with, her name is Melissa. We've been best friends since birth, our parents were best friends. Lately though, she's been struggling to overcome her problems and when one of us struggles, we tend to take the other for the ride."
"What kind of problems is she facing?" Belinda asked him quietly, looking over at him.
"Her parents are divorcing- her Mom..cheated on her Dad." Jackson sighed, his shoulders slumping forward.
Jackson was a solidly built seventeen year old. His shoulders were slowly starting to broaden and his facial features were losing their softness, his jaw was a bit more chiseled and one could see the definition in his nose and around his dark blue eyes. As far as Belinda knew he had already gone through puberty but she couldn't help but notice the subtle changes, even in a kid she saw on a daily basis. The exhaustion, though, that was the most prevalent. His eyes sagged and were almost closed and his shoulders were slumped forward, exhaustion tugging at the muscles like a heavy weight.
"What else?" Belinda questioned, taking a sip of her coffee.
"She just...she struggles with her emotions everyday because of what her Mom did." Jackson sighed as he took a sip of his coffee. "And I-"
"Don't know how to help her?" Belinda offered softly.
"That works." Jackson shrugged, leaning his elbows on his knees, his forearms forming a V shape between them, the paper cup cradled in both hands.
"Well I don't think you can help her, not if you're struggling with your own problems." Belinda advised him, leaning forward in a similar position. "And from the looks of it you are."
"I don't think I'll ever get over my parents dying." Jackson shook his head, tilting his head to look at her. "It's something I'll always deal with."
"That's not what I'm suggesting. I'm saying that trying to overcome your own grief and helping her, overcome her own emotions is too much of a challenge." Belinda told him softly, "A challenge that you don't need right now. You've got your own problems to deal with. And no you won't ever get over your parents dying."
"But I can't just leave her to deal with it alone, not after everything she did for me when my parents died." Jackson told her softly.
"I'm not saying that either," Belinda shook her head, "You aren't listening. I'm saying that this friendship should be give and take. It sounds like you've been giving and she's been taking but there hasn't been any reciprocation. Instead of helping each other, it's you helping her or her helping you. You need to help each other to help yourselves."
"So what do I do?" Jackson asked her, finishing off his coffee.
"I'm saying that it's time you had a long talk with Melissa. You get everything on the table and you sort through everything until you figure out how this friendship needs to work." Belinda told him, "You go somewhere-"
"Melissa loves horseback riding. She used to be a show jumper when we were younger, got a shelf full of trophies to prove it." Jackson told her softly.
"There are stables not to far from here. Take her horseback riding. Pack a blanket and a picnic and go horseback riding. Make a day of it and talk it out." Belinda told him, "But the way your friendship is working now, it may be alright for right now, but later when all of these bottled up emotions build up enough, you'll eventually explode and that friendship may dissolve. From what you've told me, losing each other isn't an option."
"No." Jackson shook his head.
"Then you need to talk it out. Lay everything out, get it all out in the open and then work through those emotions together. If you don't, it'll happen later when you don't want it to and the backlash may be worse than if you do it now." Belinda told him, standing up. "How long did you say you'd be gone?"
"Not long. Evan...he doesn't send out a search party though...he knows where I am. He knows when I go for a walk, not to expect me back for a while." Jackson told her, standing up and tossing his cup in the trash. He looked over at her, "Thanks Belinda."
"No problem, Jackson." Belinda smiled sweetly.
He reluctantly wrapped the woman in a hug, not expecting the floral scent of her shampoo to remind him so much of his mother. His mom had always smelt of cherry blossoms and apples. It was a crisp, clean and sweet combination on her but on Belinda it was much softer, much more toned down.
"You call me." Belinda whispered, "If you need anything. And remember what I told you."
"I know. Thanks Belinda." Jackson nodded as he pulled away and started out of the park.
He stopped just at the edge of the playground and kneeled down, sifting some of the sand through his fingers before looking back up at the playground equipment. He had so many good memories of that playground. Before everything had been screwed up. Before his whole world had been flipped upside down.
"-Go eat, dirty boy-"
"-I love you-"
The memories swim in his mind like a blurry black and white movie. The ones he used to watch with his Dad on Sunday mornings while his Mom cooked breakfast. The ones with the quality so bad, it only served to make the movie more authentic. The picture may have been a little blurry and the sound distorted, but a color picture had nothing on a good old black and white. His Dad loved those old film projectors. He supposed that's where he got his love of old film.
"-Keep your finger on the string and press down a little harder, until you feel the wood; now strum-"
His love of music. He remembered his Dad teaching him to play guitar under the tree on top of a hill that they had spent so many fourth of July's on. A path had been worn from little feet running up and down the hill continuously. He remembered his Dad plucking intricate melodies from a battered guitar that seemed as if it was on it's last leg. He remembered how entranced him and Melissa had been each and every time his Dad brought out the smooth black case.
"-Have a good night son, we'll be back soon-"
The memories flashed, swimming in a stream of black and white images and broken voices ringing in his head. He had been so caught up in helping Melissa with her problems that his own grief and frustration had taken a back burner. The grief that had at one time been so much a part of him, it nearly drove him insane, had taken a back burner and now, here in the park, the memories and the grief were threatening to overwhelm him.
"What else is wrong, honey?" Belinda's voice broke the stream of memories as she dropped down next to him.
"My Mom used to pack us a picnic and bring us to the park. My Dad would bring his guitar and after he had run off all of my energy in a game of baseball, he'd play for me. Sometimes me and Bella." Jackson admitted, looking down the sand. "He taught me how to play. I don't play; never have really but he always said that if it was good to have a hobby, something that I'd never stop learning. He told me that if I took up music, I'd always learn, I'd never get bored with it."
"You should play." Belinda told him softly, "My husband, Patrick, he plays sometimes. It's crazy really, how beautiful six strings can sound when they're plucked right."
"Patrick?"
"He's my husband. He has black hair and dark eyes, a mix of blue and green I think." Belinda told him, "I met him in high school, we've been attached at the hip ever since. We were the odd couple."
"Odd couple?" Jackson looked over inquisitively.
Belinda laughed as she looked down, "I was a bit of a freak. I wasn't the coolest girl to be around. Patrick was...he was the coolest and the sweetest. He was my best friend."
"He sounds cool." Jackson told her, "Sounds like my Dad."
"I know you miss your parents a lot Jackson." Belinda told him softly, reaching over and resting a gentle, motherly hand on his shoulder. "But I also know that you're stronger than most seventeen year olds are."
"I don't know about that." Jackson shook his head.
"I do." Belinda nodded, "Jackson, we may not be the closest but I can see that you're a very strong person. It takes a strong person to put his own feelings on a back burner for his best friend. I also know that being that foster care facility is wearing you down."
"It's not exactly the funnest place to live." Jackson laughed softly as he stood up.
Belinda chuckled as she stood up, "I'll have to talk to Patrick about this but I've been thinking, why don't you come live with me?"
"Live with you?" Jackson looked at her with a certain amount of reluctance, not quite sure what to make of her offer.
"We live in a place with more than enough room. It's certainly big enough and it'd make seeing your best friend a lot easier." Belinda told him softly, "I'll have to talk it over with Patrick but I don't see the problem. Plus the day you turn eighteen, you're on your own, this way you have a place to live."
"I'll have to think about it." Jackson whispered into the cold air, his breath a rush of warmth creating a stir of white fog.
"Take all the time you need," Belinda told him. "I have to get back to work now."
"Okay," Jackson shoved his hands in his pockets. "Bye Belinda."
"Bye Jackson."
As she walked away, he couldn't help but wonder what would posess her to want to take him in. He was a foster kid; a nobody with a best friend who was dealing with more issues than even she knew what to do with. He walked out of the park, ignoring the crunch of the frosty, dried up leaves under his shoes and wondered if maybe Belinda James had been his mother's way of saying that she was still there. His eyes lit up as he remembered a song that had come out a few years ago, with the same basic premise. With a deep breath, he let an experimental note slip from his mouth before singing the only line of the song he could remember; "...Now that she's back in the atmosphere with drops of Jupiter in her hair..."
The whole Drops of Jupiter thing wasn't planned but it seemed to fit what with Belinda reminding Jackson of his mother and her husband's name being Patrick. Somehow I managed to tie the two together. Haha! I'm a dork and a sucker for all things Train related. Anywho, Dally2, this one's for you! I hope you like it! I know you wanted to see more of Jackson's side of this whole mess, here it is! Leave me some love, Dolls!
Love ya,
RobertDowneyJrLove