The next morning Jess woke up before the sun rise and stared out his window into the restless silence that hovered over the dew. He mistook the sky for being colorless at first, then watched it digress into a faded grey black expanse that anticipated the dusty rose sliver of sun that would begin the day. His eyes were dark against the eggshell white of the room walls. The chiseled curves of his face were dulled by the shadows of an oak tree that stood grey and leafless outside his room and his facial features invisible in the strange half light that pervaded the room. He sat at the edge of his bed, with his feet planted on the cold wooden floor. He didn't move. His body was ridged and stiffly poised as though the only force that was keeping him upright were marionette strings he couldn't see. He took in slow silent breaths and felt the heat and rush of warm air from his lungs sweep past his nostrils. His eyes burned from the dry air but he didn't blink, he allowed the slow sting of irritation to run its course. He was willing to feel anything just to convince himself that he was still capable. A breath of morning fog filed the room and he shivered. His lips curled into a thin smile. It was cold. He enjoyed the rush. He bit down hard on his lower lip and made himself bleed. What kind of person would even think of making such a gesture on the day after his grandfather died? He wasn't supposed to feel, to smile, or laugh, today. Where was the numbness that he had experienced after the news of his friend's deaths back in Miami ? Why couldn't he avoid this sorrow for a second time? His grandfather was gone, and he was aware of every minute without him, the feeling left him raw. No matter how much he denied the fact, the pain was still there, sitting comfortably under the surface of his skin like the cold steel needle of an IV. He hated the discomfort but didn't have the energy to combat it.
He was so angry, angry at his grandfather for lying to him, angry at his family for keeping a secret like this for so long, angry at himself for being too stupid to realize that his grandfather was fighting and losing an unknown battle with cancer. His hair had been so thin when he had seen him on Monday; he had suddenly looked so much older, so much more frail, so unfamiliar. Jess remembered looking at the dark circles under his grandfather's eyes and the furrows in his face and feeling the sudden distance that time and sickness had wedged in between them. Why hadn't he realized it sooner? Or had he, but instead chose to ignore the situation? He wasn't even there for him when he needed him to be. Was he the one who had failed? He hadn't even taken the time to say a quick "I'll see you soon" or "I love you." before the game. The image of his grandfather lying in hospital, cold and motionless crossed his mind. There were no smiles, no laughs or famous puns in that room. There was a silence in that moment that was so jarring that he wouldn't soon forget it and a calm that was more unsettling than anything he'd experienced. For the first time in his life he didn't hear the quirky "Hey there Jester!" his grandfather would always saw when they greeted each other. The suddenness of his grandfather's demise had crippled him. Seeing his grandfather for the last time, his grandmother, who was the most beautiful and strong woman in his life, on her knees crying and later silent throughout the entire car ride home, and his father and mother in tears, was too much for anyone to handle. How could anyone expect him to bury the same man who he had grown up with in less than 12 hours of seeing him alive and happy for him? There was so much he wanted him to see, and so many things he had left to do and tell him that he would never have the chance to now. Jess sat there, unable to deal with the pain of losing Rodger and broke down crying. He dug his nails into his scalp and pulled his hair while tears streamed down his face. His mouth hung open as he silently screamed in his frustration and his defeat. He couldn't deal with grieving and desperately searched for some way to avoid it, and resorted to the only method that allowed him that release. He knew what was he was going to do and what was going to happen but he had too little will power to try and prevent himself from going back down the road he had a few months before.
When a few hours later he was on his way to out of the house, dressed in black polished shoes and the same suit he had worn to Alex and Dillon's service, he briefly stayed behind while his parents walked out to the car. He walked into his father's study and opened a small cabinet that his parents shouldn't have left unlocked and unattended. He opened up a silver bottle of Absolut and placed it gingerly on his lips. He hesitated then swallowed down a few gulps of the cool bitter sweet vodka he hadn't had in so long. His mother called after him from outside and he quickly took the bottle from his lips and ran into the kitchen. He picked up a water bottle his parents had offered him earlier and dumped out its contents into the sink, then replaced the spring water with his father's vodka, an old trick he had learned from Cassie a some time ago. He quickly returned the vodka to it's place then closed the cabinet and ran outside. As he walked he straightened his blazer and tie then reached into his pocket and popped a few Ice Breakers into his mouth to cover up the scent. He knew very well that what he was doing was wrong, and if anyone found out that he had returned to his former method of coping with his problems he'd be in more than serious trouble. But...Who said anyone had to know?