I have a certain image. And I have cultivated that image. As a charmer, a cool guy, a slacker, a sports guy – and as a jerk. People always tell me if I just stopped being a jerk, life would be so much easier. But there's something they don't understand (and I don't tell): Being a jerk is kinda what keeps me safe. I put a lot of work into making people believe I don't care when that couldn't be further from the truth. The thing is, I care – a lot – maybe even sometimes too much. And it is easy to be taken advantage of when you care. People don't even do it on purpose. You're just there. Available.
When Mom and Dad split, I was there. Abby wasn't. George was overwhelmed. Marti and Edwin needed me. And I'd do anything for family. So, I had to step up. Though when you step up, you get responsibility. And it gets piled on until you say "enough". I didn't know how to do that.
When you're a jerk, however, when people have to spend a lot of effort to get you to do something… you can choose that perfect moment. The moment when they're just about to capitulate. Then you jump into the breach while loudly complaining how you're only stepping up to get them off your case. You're only trying to make your own life easier after all. You would never do it just for them. And they'll be relieved enough they got through to you, but will still question if that was really worth all the effort. For me it worked perfectly.
Well, at least until Casey. As always, she throws a wrench into everything. Casey and I have a problem (well, several but it all comes back to this). We see through each other's BS (she'd be amused I didn't write that out). Casey looked at me with her inquisitive dazzling blue eyes and questioned my motives. She wanted to understand me. Which is really bad if you're pretending – a lot. All those illusions I was weaving and she was immune. She knew me. And she was proudly about to tell the whole world (at least back then).
It's ironic how my act of being a jerk turned into being an actual jerk towards her. For all her brilliance (let's hope she never reads THAT), Casey gets overwhelmed by her own emotions. It's why she's so desperate to have everything under control. She needs someone to ground her (I don't think Nora and Dad ever realized the way I meant that sentence). So, the best way to stop her from seeing through my act was by shattering her ground – to hurt her. Hurting her meant making her question if SHE did anything wrong. To stop her from knowing me. Stop making me want to open up. Opening up is dangerous.
At the beginning I was only afraid of what she would do with the power of knowing me. Of how vulnerable and at her mercy I'd be. But the longer we fought, the more I became certain of something I was even more desperate to keep a secret. Because I'd do everything for family. I couldn't go through with Operation Disengagement and I still cannot ruin the family just for my own shot at happiness. Especially because I'd mess it up anyways. If I actually was the jerk I pretend to be, I would have told her the truth years ago. I'd have stopped hurting her to keep her off balance. But I don't. So, I guess I'm a different kind of jerk.
