A Street Over and a World Away
Chapter 4: The Slow Thaw
Isaac was in a good mood as he rode to school with Jackson one morning in late October almost three weeks after he had moved in with the Whittemores. He and Jackson had established a routine of not speaking to each other as Jackson drove them to and from school, dropping off and picking up Isaac a block away on a side street so that fewer people would see them together. However, what had started as an aggressive, hostile silence on Jackson's part and a defensive, anxious silence on Isaac's, had gradually mellowed into regular, run-of-the-mill silence. They didn't speak to each other, but Jackson no longer drove like a maniac or shot Isaac furious glares just for existing.
This morning, however, the atmosphere in the car had further improved. Sometimes Jackson would turn on a playlist from his phone, but just as often he would radio surf until he found something that caught his attention. Today he had tuned into a morning show that was having callers phone in with their most embarrassing Halloween stories for the chance to win a prize. A lot of the stories were hysterical and by the time they reached Isaac's usual drop-off spot, their snickers and quiet chuckles had turned into hardy laughter. Jackson had even started heckling the callers, and Isaac too had tentatively made a few comments that hadn't required a response. It still wasn't quite a pleasant conversation, but it was as close as they had ever gotten. Isaac was even somewhat sorry to get out of the car when Jackson pulled to a stop. That was a major first.
"Lahey," Jackson called just as Isaac was about to close the car door.
Fuck, he just has to do something to screw this up.
Isaac reluctantly turned and leaned back into the car to see what Jackson wanted.
"Your phone, dumbass." Jackson nodded at the passenger seat where Isaac had left it. His face was still lit with humor and for once his words lacked any genuine heat.
Isaac's cheeks warmed in a blush as he grabbed the device from the seat and mumbled, "Thanks."
As Jackson drove off and Isaac arranged his crutches under his arms for the short walk the rest of the way to school, he glanced at the phone in his hand. It was nice, new. The Whittemores had gotten it for him right after he had moved in. He slid it into the pocket of his pants, which were also new and also a lot nicer than anything he'd worn before he'd been taken away from his father. That morning he'd had a delicious breakfast of his choosing – hash browns, scrambled eggs, and orange juice – prepared by a frickin maid. When he got home from school today, he could count on a hug and kiss from Mrs. Whittemore, and if Mr. Whittemore made it home in time for dinner that night, he would dutifully, if a bit mechanically, ask Isaac about his day.
Isaac took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying for at least the hundredth time to mentally adjusted to his new reality. It still didn't make any sense. Why were the Whittemores going out of their way to take him in and treat him like their long-lost son? Dr. Johnson had pointed out during one of their therapy sessions that Isaac had trust issues. Gee, no shit, doc. But trust issues or not, he didn't think he was wrong to be suspicious or to wait for the other shoe to drop.
"Lydia, did Jackson tell you about Liam?" Danny asked, leaning over the table and smiling at Jackson's girlfriend with the mischievous grin he only used when he was gossiping.
Jackson rolled his eyes at his friend. "Yeah, I just couldn't wait to call her up and dish about it when I got done with practice."
Lydia swatted Jackson's arm and moved her bread plate so she could lean closer to Danny. A mirroring grin was on her face as she arched her eyebrows and lowered her voice. "What happened with Liam?"
Ethan laughed and rubbed his boyfriend's back before shaking his head at Jackson.
"I know," Jackson muttered to him.
"Sshhh!" Lydia swatted him again before returning her attention to Danny. "Sooo, what happened with Liam?"
The couples were on a double date at one of Beacon Hill's trendier restaurants. Jackson didn't think much of it. The ingredients seemed to be weird just for the sake of being weird, and drizzling colorful sauce on the plates didn't disguise the fact that the food was bland and came in laughably small portions. Jackson's three dinner companions had been eager to try the place, but Jackson would be damned if he'd ever let them talk him into coming here again.
"He has I.E.D.," Danny answered when he couldn't drag the suspense out any longer.
Lydia's jaw dropped and she blinked at him. "Oh my god! He has an improvised explosive device?!"
Jackson and Ethan burst out laughing.
"Way to be misleading, babe." Ethan draped his arm around Danny's shoulders and squeezed, briefly pressing his head against Danny's.
"So he doesn't have a bomb?" Lydia frowned at Danny and glared at Jackson and Ethan in turn.
"He does," Danny answered, before lowering his voice and whispering conspiratorially, "but it's inside of him."
"Oh stop!" Ethan gave Danny a light shove as he looked at Lydia, still snickering. "He was diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder. Basically, what it is is–"
Lydia held up a hand. "I know what it is. I read the DSM-5 last month."
Danny shrugged and gave Lydia an apologetic smirk. "It actually is kind of a big deal. He's going to be going to therapy for it."
"It makes sense though," Ethan said, setting his napkin over his empty plate. "Liam can be really nice and cool some of the time, but other times he turns into a raging prick."
"So then what's Aiden's excuse?" Jackson asked, tilting his head innocently. Ethan flipped him off on behalf of his brother but snickered.
"I'm glad Liam's getting help," Lydia said, ignoring their antics.
Jackson grumbled. "I just hope he doesn't get better until after playoffs."
The other three people at the table glared at Jackson with varying degrees of surprise on their faces.
"What?" Jackson asked, sitting back in his seat defensively. "We need that fire out on the field. He can learn to control himself during off season."
"Oh of course. Liam should suffer so that it doesn't inconvenience you," Lydia said, her arms folded as she slid away from Jackson in the booth. "Like Isaac."
"What?" Danny asked, looking between them.
"He's still pissed off that Isaac moved in with him, instead of living in an abusive home." Lydia's scowl deepened, and Jackson cursed himself for ever telling her anything about the situation with Isaac. Now Danny was giving Jackson a disappointed look too. Great, this was all Jackson needed, his girlfriend and his best friend ganging up on him.
"Wait, Isaac was being abused?" Ethan asked. His face flashed with realization. "Is that how his arm and leg got broken?"
"And is that why his dad got arrested?" Danny asked.
"Yes, okay?! That's what happened." Jackson glared back at them. He didn't need to sit here and get judged. It's not like he was the one abusing Isaac. Jackson and his family didn't owe Isaac shit.
"Fuck. That really sucks. I had no idea," Ethan said.
"Me either," Lydia said. "No wonder he's so shy and has trouble making friends."
Right, everyone knows personality is the first thing to get beaten out of someone.
"Hey, instead of going out to the movies, let's go back to Jackson's and watch something there. That way we can get Isaac to join us," Danny said, his fucking obnoxious dimples on full display to get what he wanted.
"That's a great idea!" Ethan pressed a kiss to Danny's still grinning lips.
"I agree, that's exactly what we're going to do," Lydia said, giving Jackson a challenging look.
"Oh no. No way. Not happening."
"Come on, Jackson. I'll make it worth your while tonight after the movie's over." She winked at him and leaned over to rub his thigh, causing her blouse to hang open and reveal more of her cleavage. Jackson knew it wasn't an accident.
Danny and Ethan howled and catcalled.
Jackson wanted to put up more resistance but then Lydia's hand slid higher and–
"I hate you all," Jackson said, waving the waiter over for the check. He might as well get this over with.
...
...
"He's not even going to want to do this," Jackson said a little while later when they were in Danny's car on the way back to Jackson's house. "He's completely antisocial."
"Everyone wants friends," Danny insisted.
"Yeah, it's probably just hard for him to trust people," Ethan said.
"He's seriously not even a very nice person," Jackson answered.
"Well, you'd be the expert on that," Lydia remarked sweetly. She kissed Jackson's cheek when he pouted.
Once they got back to Jackson's house, Lydia and Danny went upstairs to convince Isaac to join them while Jackson and Ethan went to the entertainment room. Ethan's phone beeped as they were setting things up, and he laughed out loud when he checked the message.
"What?" Jackson asked.
"Hmm? Oh, just something Aiden said. It wouldn't make much sense out of context. He's doing this thing where he narrates what Malia's doing, National Geographic style, because he says she's like a wild predator stalking her prey."
Jackson snickered and rolled his eyes before something occurred to him. "That's cool that you guys make fun of his girlfriend together." He hardened his voice. "Do you do that with Danny too?"
"Whoa, whoa." Ethan raised his hands. "Retract your claws, dude. Aiden's crazy about Malia. He's not doing it in a mean way. It's just a stupid twin thing. And no, we don't do that about Danny."
Jackson frowned, embarrassed that he had gotten overprotective of Danny – Ugh, what if Ethan tells him? – and also pretty damn tired of 'stupid twin things.' He had lost another lacrosse skirmish to Ethan and Aiden thanks to their damn uncanny ability to predict each other's moves. It worked to the team's advantage during real games, but Jackson was sick of being shown up at practice.
"Do you guys have that twin telepathy thing?"
Ethan laughed and looked at Jackson like he was an idiot – which admittedly, Jackson knew that had been a dumb question.
"Yeah, man, I dunno why Aiden even bothered texting me. He shoulda just thought real hard about his comment and I woulda gotten it."
Jackson grunted and rolled his eyes. He didn't appreciate the sarcasm.
"It's not magic," Ethan continued. "We just know each other really well and are on the same wavelength. Being a twin is really cool."
Jackson started to ask another question, still curious, but let the conversation end as Lydia's and Danny's voices drifted down the hallway. Based on the overly cheerful, slightly stilted way they were speaking, Isaac was probably with them. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. At least he and Isaac had gotten good at ignoring each other, and considering that Isaac would undoubtedly be way more uncomfortable than him, it might even be fun to watch.
"So, how long until your casts are removed?" Dr. Johnson asked as Isaac sat down to start his therapy session. She usually made small talk like this before easing into things. Isaac appreciated that.
"About two more weeks for my hand. Maybe three for my leg."
"I'm sure that'll be a relief. It must be tough to keep up with homework and other activities in the meantime."
Isaac shrugged and sat further back in the leather chair he was sitting in. "The Whittemores have the school making all these special arrangements for me."
"How nice."
Isaac's cheeks heated in a blush. "It's kind of embarrassing."
"Because it calls extra attention to you and you'd rather blend into the background?"
"Yeah, exactly." Isaac hesitated for a few seconds before continuing with a related train of thought. "Last night I had to hang out with some people from school. They were being nice but...it was awkward and I wish they had just ignored me and left me alone."
Isaac spent the next few minutes relating the events of the night before. There wasn't that much to tell. He had just been sitting in his room when Lydia Martin and Danny Mahealani had shown up and pretty much politely forced him to go downstairs and watch a movie with them and Jackson and Ethan. It wouldn't have been too bad if they had just watched it straight through and let Isaac go back to his room, but they kept trying to make conversation with him before and after the movie, and during a couple of breaks the group took.
"Do you think you might like to be friends with them?" Dr. Johnson asked.
Isaac laughed out loud. "Yeah, that's gonna happen. They're the popular clique. Plus Jackson would kill me...I'm kinda worried he's going to be pissed about last night."
"I thought you said last time that the two of you were getting along better?"
"We are, or were. We're like, ignoring each other in a less hostile way now. But he's not going to be cool with me hanging out with his friends."
"Why not?"
Isaac thought it over before answering. "Well, I can't even really blame him. I mean, I moved into his house out of nowhere, and his parents started spending all this money on me and giving me all this attention. Now suddenly his friends are paying attention to me too? It probably seems like I'm trying to take over his life or something."
"That's very insightful, Isaac," she said with a faint smile. "Have you considered trying to become friends with him? That way he wouldn't see you as a threat and might even enjoy your company."
Isaac laughed again. "I don't think Jackson Whittemore sees me as a threat, and he definitely doesn't want to be my friend. I'm just lucky – and kind of amazed – that he hasn't outright assaulted me. I guess because his parents would be pissed."
"So you're starting to trust your foster parents more?"
Isaac chewed his lip, unsure of the answer. "No? But sort of? I trust that they aren't going to suddenly start abu-...hurting me, and yeah, they're weird people but...I actually really like them. I just still don't, like, trust their motives or whatever."
"You think they have an ulterior motive for helping you?"
"Yeah, probably." Does that make me sound paranoid?
"What do you think it is?"
Isaac shrugged. "I have no clue."
"Did you bring up your concerns to Ms. Newcastle when she visited?"
Isaac shook his head. The CPS caseworker had dropped by the Whittemore home late one afternoon the previous week. "Nah, like I said, I don't feel like I'm in danger or anything."
...
...
Once his therapy session ended, he found Mrs. Whittemore in the lobby waiting for him, just like after every session. He didn't understand why she did that. She could have just had Grant take him to and from therapy.
When she saw him, she stood and flounced over to him with her usual exuberant flourish. "How was therapy, sweetie?"
Isaac tentatively wrapped an arm around her back as she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek, like she always did when she greeted him. That was weird too. He had only been gone an hour. It hardly called for such an enthusiastic greeting. Still, Isaac had grown to really like her over the past few weeks and now that he was somewhat more comfortable around her, he could accept that she was a hugger.
"It was fine," he answered.
"Good." She smiled and squeezed his arm before changing the subject. "Let's go to lunch! I'm dying for a cocktail."
Isaac frowned. Her drinking wasn't any of his business but he knew that once she got started she basically wouldn't stop until she passed out that night, and it wasn't even 11:00am yet. It would have been better if she had at least waited a little bit later in the day to get started.
Predictably, one cocktail turned into three and lunch turned into shopping for more new clothes for Isaac, which he didn't even want or need. Nevertheless, he had been almost relieved when she had suggested shopping because it meant she would have to stop drinking while they were in the stores...or so he thought.
When Grant showed up to take over the driving duties he discreetly handed her a silver flask – and holy fuck! Did society women drink from a flask in high-end stores? That seemed so unclassy, not to mention illegal.
Isaac grew more and more concerned as the day wore on and he eventually had to help her though the stores, supporting almost all her weight with his good arm. There was no way the store clerks didn't know what was going on, but evidently they didn't care as long as she kept spending money and didn't become belligerent, which Isaac had to hand it to her, she didn't. He had never known someone to drink so much and not get hostile or abusive – of course Isaac's sample size really only consisted of one very memorable subject – but her fundamental personality didn't change very much. She only got sloppier and more effusive.
She normally nursed her buzz all afternoon and evening, not passing out until after dinner. Today, however, she was gone by the time they got home. Isaac and Grant managed to wrangle her into the house and onto a sofa in the front room, but then she was out cold.
"Do you want me to carry her upstairs to bed?" Grant asked uncertainly, clearly not enthusiastic about the proposition.
"Uhh..." Isaac really shouldn't have been the one to make that call. He checked the time on his phone. It was Sunday, but Mr. Whittemore wouldn't be home for several more hours, and Isaac was quite sure this wasn't something he would consider worthy of an interruption while he was at the office. He sighed as he realized his only other option. "I'll go ask Jackson what he thinks we should do."
Isaac really wanted to tell Grant to go ask Jackson himself, but he had been carefully avoiding getting into the habit of telling Grant and Vicky what to do.
A little while later as Isaac was walking down the hallway he shared with Jackson, he couldn't help but wonder how much of a shitty person it would make him if he just turned and went through his own door instead of knocking on Jackson's. It was tempting, but he didn't want to leave Grant in the lurch, and he also wanted to make sure Mrs. Whittemore was taken care of.
He knocked lightly on Jackson's bedroom door, his stomach roiling with nerves.
"Come in," Jackson called, annoyance already plain in his voice, and he didn't even know Isaac was the person disturbing him yet. Jackson usually spent Sunday afternoon studying – because apparently a perfect GPA still wasn't good enough for Mr. All American – and evidently he didn't like being interrupted. That was absolutely no surprise.
"Hey," Isaac said softly as he stuck his head into the room.
Jackson was sitting at his desk, books opened around him. His eyes widened in obvious surprise that Isaac was daring to speak to him, then narrowed again in a glare. "What do you want?"
"Uhm your mom...uh she's downstairs."
One corner of Jackson's mouth pulled up and his eyebrows drew together, like he was genuinely confused and appalled by Isaac's stupidity. "Thanks for the update."
"She's uh, you know, not awake."
Now Jackson did look mildly concerned, and he sat up straighter. "Is she okay?"
"She's been...drinking a–a few drinks." Isaac was aware that he was waving his hand and nodding like an idiot, and that the tone of his voice made it sound like what had happened was a complete mystery. "And now she's not awake."
"She passed out." Jackson explained it like he was talking to a small child.
"That must be it," Isaac agreed with another nod. Okay maybe the way Jackson always looked at him wasn't completely unwarranted.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Come look?" Isaac didn't like the pleading tone in his voice, but he couldn't help it.
Jackson huffed but surprised Isaac by standing up and muttering, "Fine."
Jackson outpaced Isaac going downstairs since Isaac had to navigate the stairs on his crutches. He was already talking to Grant by the time Isaac joined them.
"Do you want me to carry her upstairs, sir?" Grant asked.
Jackson shook his head and frowned at his unconscious mother. "No, she'd be embarrassed when she wakes up if you do that. Let's just leave her here to sober up."
"We should get her a pillow and blanket and make sure she stays on her side. And maybe take off her shoes so she's more comfortable," Isaac said. This wasn't exactly the first time he'd had to take care of a passed out drunk. In retrospect he probably should have just handled this himself all along without involving Jackson or even Grant.
"I'll go get those things," Grant said before leaving the room.
Jackson sighed and surprised Isaac again with his response. "I'll take off her shoes."
"I'll sit with her so she doesn't roll over," Isaac said.
"Wooo, go team," Jackson muttered under his breath as he sat on the edge of the sofa.
Isaac laughed and gave Jackson a small smile when he looked back in Isaac's direction.
When Jackson finished his task, Isaac coughed and cleared his throat. He felt responsible for the situation since he had been with her when it was happening. "Should I have done something? Like tried to get her to stop or slow down?"
"It's...not really your fault," Jackson answered, sounding as awkward as Isaac had ever heard him. "This is just what she does."
"Why?" Isaac asked softly, not meeting Jackson's eyes. He knew it was none of his business but...he cared about why it was happening, and he wanted to do something if he could.
"I don't fucking know!" Jackson snapped, startling Isaac. "Ask her when she wakes up if you want to know so bad."
"Sorry," Isaac mumbled, still not looking up.
"This seriously has nothing to do with you," Jackson said sharply before striding out of the room.
Jackson's tone had been hostile and he was obviously pissed off at Isaac, but Isaac couldn't help feeling relieved. His father had always told him that his drinking was all Isaac's fault, that the 'discipline' he had to perform on Isaac was all his fault, that pretty much everything wrong in their lives was all Isaac's fault. Isaac hadn't believed him of course...except that he kind of totally had. Regardless, it was a relief being told the opposite, even in an angry tone: this wasn't Isaac's fault and it didn't have anything to do with him.
-000–
End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Feedback is always greatly appreciated!
