The Assignment --- Chapter 3?
Billy entered the house, and after calling his father for a moment or two, he realized he was alone in the house. Eventually he found a note on the kitchen table from his father.
"Sorry that I'm not here Bill. There was a last minute emergency project at work. We'll catch up soon. Here's some money for dinner. Dad"
After a quick call for takeout, he sat down at the kitchen table, pulled out his laptop and wanted to write something while waiting on Chinese. After booting up the machine, he simply sat and stared at the blank screen, the sounds of the empty house suddenly weighing heavy on his ears. Remembering Jason's offer he picked up the phone and hit "2" on speed dial.
"Scott residence, hi Bill, what's up?" Jason's voice said through the receiver. Billy realized that the caller ID must have told Jason who was calling.
"Uh... Jason, do you think I might avail myself of the offer you made previously today?"
Jason smiled thinly. If Billy had reverted to his infamous "Billy-speak" he knew it wouldn't be a pleasant conversation. "Of course, would you like me to come by or did you want to come here? Either way is fine Bill."
"I have to await the arrival of a summoned meal. If you'd be willing to come over here, I could offer you the recompense for your time in the way of Mongolian Beef and Lo Mien."
"That would be more than adequate William." Jason snickered at the mental image of Billy letting his very un-Jason like answer roll around that agile mind of his.
Ever quick on the uptake, Billy actually found himself smiling at his oldest friend's attempt at humor. "The meal is due to arrive in about forty five minutes. I hope to see you before then." His smile slowly faded, "…and Jason thanks."
"Welcome. I should be there within a half hour."
"The front door will be unlocked. I'll see you then." Billy hung up the phone.
Jason smiled as he hung up. Hopefully, Billy being able to joke was a good sign. He sought out his mom, told her he'd be over at Billy's for the evening and walked over.
Billy looked down at the laptop and actually caught himself scowling. For some reason the idea of the assignment was starting to irrationally annoy him. He had tried to write the essay as requested. What he had come up with sounded like a dry play-by-play repeat of a horrible accident on the news, rather than a first hand account. While he waited for Jason to arrive, he started a new version of the damnable assignment.
"Shattered" – An essay by William Cranston
The drunk driver that robbed me of my mother lived through the accident. I've never forgiven her or God for that day. We were out for a mother and son excursion, something that we indulged in on rare weekends when father had to work. I remember well how my mother would admonish me for wanting to sit up front with her despite my small size. She always told me to sit in the back… I never understood why until that fateful day. Had I been sitting up front with her, I wouldn't be here now. The way the car crumpled, I would have been killed instantly, and my father would have had to endure the loss of his wife and only child. I think that alone would have driven him to suicide.
Sometimes I think the fact that I'm alive is all that keeps him here. Sometimes, I know that my father would be dead within six months if I gave in to the suicidal urges I feel on occasion. That is the only reason I'm still alive today. Most of my friends don't know, and dare I say could not understand how I feel sometimes… when the accident happened I was a walking emotional disaster after my release from the hospital. I saw her as she died, the way the light left her eyes as she passed beyond the veil. I barely remember that I was screaming her name, not mom or mommy as I slipped into unconsciousness. When I came to in the hospital, no one needed to tell me that she was gone…there wasn't any hope against hope that she'd somehow survived the accident. Our family doctor wondered what was wrong with me when I didn't ask for my mother or demand to know what had happened. I remembered the accident perfectly, and could not bear to see her as if she were merely sleeping instead of deceased. I had that final farewell at her funeral. I never asked how long I was out, however it must have been a substantial amount of time since the doctors and my father insisted on numerous neurological tests to ensure I hadn't suffered any long term brain damage.
I should have insisted on therapy instead of the seemingly endless CAT scans to ensure my physical well-being was intact. I refused to speak during the extended period of mourning, unless prodded to by my doctor or by father. Dad refused to leave my side during the tests, and for some time after I came home he stayed with me constantly. It was probably because he feared I might injure myself due to the injuries I had sustained in the accident or, more than likely he feared that I would try to take my own life in a fit of depression. I still refused to speak at home, unless I had to. I didn't care any more… I wanted to die, to be without the pain that I carried in my heart and soul. I wanted more than anything to have woken up and found that it had been a horrible nightmare, an illusion. Alas, that wasn't to be the case.
My refusal to speak despite the appearance of good physical health eventually forced my father's hand in dealing with his grief and mine. I would not respond to anyone other than him when asked questions. It was like I was a walking corpse for all intents and purposes. Things came to a head when I was summoned to the principal's office for insubordinate behavior by a substitute teacher on a power trip. He assumed my refusal to speak was a form of disrespect, or a way of acting out against a substitute teacher. My father was summoned to the school, and once he arrived he was quietly furious at the sub's insistence that I was being malicious and usurping his authority as a teacher.
I smirked at that. He was using verbiage he thought I was too young to understand and obviously wording that he thought would intimidate my father.
I think dad caught my smirk, and let the pompous fool have a piece of his mind. That smirk was the only sign of emotion or being aware of my surroundings that I had given in some time. Once dad was done cutting the man down to his proper size, we left with permission for me to stay home the rest of the week. On the way home dad said nothing, he merely kept an eye on me until we got there. He only told me to go shower, change clothes and come to the living room. I had a feeling he'd finally had enough of my silence, and being summoned to school was the final straw. I sat on the sofa next to dad, and he gently nudged me over until he had embraced me and kissed me on top of the head. Though I longer enjoyed being touched by anyone since mom's passing I allowed it. Dad spoke so quietly and with such raw feeling it broke my resolve to blame myself for her death.
"Billy, I'm not sure why you won't talk and you won't let me hug you anymore. I know you're still grieving for her, as am I. But the way you've retreated into yourself isn't healthy. You haven't spoken unless I ask you over and over several times. The whole not talking in school thing really won't fly much longer. As you saw today, you will have teachers who don't care, or who don't know that you've lost your mom. I don't know why you're blaming yourself Billy, but you have to stop it. You are not to blame. The woman who was driving the other car is to blame, not you."
Dad stopped and tipped my head up so he could look me in the eyes. I wanted to tell him it was my fault; that somehow I failed to react or something I didn't do was to blame for my mother's demise. I couldn't find the words; I just couldn't bear to say that to him when he looked at me with such unconditional love in his eyes and understanding.
Instead, I buried my head into his shirt and started sobbing… I had shed more tears in that month than I had in my short lifespan of almost ten years, and at that moment it didn't seem as if I would ever stop crying. The next thing I knew, I had been pulled into dad's lap and held while I cried my heart out.
Billy's train of thought was interrupted as Jason walked up and cleared his throat. He looked up at his old friend, and forgot for a moment why Jason was even there. He had been so wrapped up in telling his tale that he forgot about his delivery or Jason coming over.
"Billy, you ok? You didn't hear the delivery guy did you?" Jason put the food down and sat next to Billy. It worried him that Billy was so engrossed in what he was doing that he had missed the delivery and Jason ringing the doorbell several times.
"Sorry Jason, I guess I was off in my own little world. I started the essay and ran away with it. Thanks for getting the food, sorry that I spaced out on you."
"No problem Bill. I'll get the plates and cups, want to eat in here or out in the living room?" Jason navigated his way around the kitchen as if he lived there as well. He had been to the Cranston's so often, he may as well have been raised there too.
"In here is fine." Billy grabbed cutlery, chopsticks and drinks for them. He was slightly annoyed at himself for being so wrapped up that he failed to hear the doorbell or Jason entering the house. Good thing Angel Grove was a relatively safe place.
"Here you go Jase, choice of chopsticks or a fork. I hope Mountain Dew or Coke is all right."
Jason snagged a set of chopsticks, poured them some Coke and settled in… "As long as it's not coffee that you made, I'll take it." Jason tried to lighten the mood a bit as Billy seemed to be in a funk. Billy gave a halfhearted grin at Jason's attempt at humor as he picked at his food.
"Forgive my demeanor Jase. I fear writing the essay has gotten to me in ways I didn't expect." Billy poked at his food a bit more before mumbling a question and looking at his plate as if it was suddenly quite fascinating.
"Come again Bill? I didn't hear you." Jason gave Billy his full attention before he gently queried him to repeat the question. Billy looked up, smiled a little and looked down at his plate.
"I asked if you would mind reading the essay and giving me your opinion on what I have so far."
"Of course I'd do it Bill. Why the shy act all of a sudden? It's not like I'll be harsh and mean."
Billy looked at Jason levelly before answering. "Because I'm afraid I'll open myself up too much with this essay. You know me better than anyone, dare I say even better than I know myself sometimes. This is intensely personal and difficult for me. I didn't think it would this difficult to do, I didn't think it would affect me so deeply."
Jason pushed his plate to the side and tipped Billy's chin up so that he could stare deeply into his best friend's eyes. "William Cranston… I love you, for all of your flaws both real and imagined. I know how difficult this is for you… scratch that. I can imagine how difficult this is for you; I have no real idea just how hard it will be to do this assignment. I do know you pretty well, and I don't think you should ever be afraid of me- or what I will say to you. You are my best friend, my bro' and no one can ever understand what you mean to me. The fact that you opened up to me when you were in so much emotional pain means a lot to me, I am honored to call you friend, teammate and "little bro".
Jason sat back and took up his chopsticks again while he let Billy process what he had said. He figured that Billy wouldn't react for a bit, if at all. Billy to his credit smiled, and cleared his throat. He didn't know what to say in response to Jason's declaration of love for him. He gets up to get more soda, to avoid the tears that threatened to fall. When he realized that the Coke was still on the table, his voice was suspiciously thick as he asked Jason to pass it to him.
"Can you, um pass me the soda Jason?" He received the bottle with no response other than a smile. Jason knew better than to make a big deal of his reaction… he merely pulled the laptop toward him and asked if it was ok to begin reading the essay.
"May I?"
Billy nodded and managed to sound reasonably normal with his, "Please. I'll be in the living room. I don't want to stare at you while you read Jase." Billy squeezed Jason's shoulder as he passed by as his way of thanking Jase for being there for him.
Jason turned to read the essay. He knew Billy to be an excellent writer, science not being his only strong academic subject; he just hadn't realized how well his blue-clad friend could paint a picture with words. Toward the end he found himself near tears. He knew how much his friend missed his mom. Many of their casual acquaintances thought that Billy didn't miss his mother that much because he never talked about her. Jason along with Kim, Trini, and Zach understood otherwise. He didn't talk about his mom because he missed her so much that it was too painful to discuss.
Billy shifted nervously on the couch... he wondered what was taking Jason so long to finish off his writing... it wasn't that long of an essay.
Finally, getting his own emotions under enough control that he felt safe to discuss what he'd read, Jason made his way to the living room where Billy was waiting.
Billy looked up at the sound of Jason's footsteps. "I was getting worried...is it ok?"
"I think it's really well written, Bill." He leaned against the door way. "It hits home pretty hard. I knew you'd been hurting when we met. I knew you were lonely, but I no idea it was that serious." Jason literally forced himself not to pull the Blue Ranger in his arms. He knew that might be more than Billy could handle just. He could bide his time. Wait for the right moment. Wait for what he'd said to sink in.
Thank you... I trust your opinion Jase; I know you'd be honest with me. I wanted it to let the reader know how I felt at the time... but I also didn't want to reveal too much
Billy stood up, stretched and granted Jason one of his rare brilliant smiles. "Thank you Jason... I know how much it meant for you to open up to me as well.
You did a good job, Billy. This assignment wasn't meant to make you relive what happened. It wasn't meant to open old wounds. That's why Ms. Appleby gave you an exemption." The Red Ranger shook his head. "I don't know if I'd be strong enough to not take the exemption if I were in your shoes. You managed to walk a fine line between getting out your emotions and wallowing in them." He smiled sadly, "You did it with a great deal of grace."
Billy blushed and smiled at Jason's praise... he swallowed, kept himself in check lest he hug Jase so hard he'd leave a mark. "Th... thank you." Billy stood there with a half grin on his face, still preening under Jason's praise. Instead of walking off to the kitchen, he hugged Jason fiercely, and whispered in his ear... "Me too, Jase... me too." before leaving a very confused Jason Scott Lee in the doorway to his living room.