After last week's delay, the second-to-last story is here. This story was especially difficult to write, and even now, I'm not sure if I presented a very likely version of a younger Jay. But I'll let you guys be the judge!

threads

"Would you like to tell me what happened?" Jay looked down at his balled-up hands in order to avoid his mother's gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she wouldn't press the matter, instead continuing to silently wipe the grime from his skinned knee. "It's stupid," he muttered while wincing from the sudden sharp sting.

"What are you talking about, honey?" his mother gently asked, encouraging him to go on.

"Making stuff. Inventing." He glanced upward to see her reaction. Although she remained focused on the task at hand, a glimmer of understanding crossed her face. Jay sighed dramatically. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

"Have you asked your father yet?" his mother suggested.

"Ask me what?" His father walked in through the open door of their trailer with a nearly empty toolbelt in his hands.

"Jay's having trouble working out one of his inventions, dear," his mother replied while gesturing to his knee.

"Oh, I'd be glad to help you out, son. If I can just take a look at what you're working on, I—" his father began.

"You can't!" Jay immediately exclaimed before instantly regretting the way he said it. He fumbled around with his words while trying his best to correct himself. "It's just that it's something I have to find out myself. I always ask you for help, but—"

"You want to finish something all by yourself. Leave him be, Ed. Our little boy is growing up fast." She had stopped cleaning his wound while considering all of the memories of her son. A quick glance told Jay that his father was doing the same.

"Ma," Jay replied, slightly flustered from the unwanted attention.

"Now, your mother and I are very proud of you, and there's nothing wrong with that," his father added to Jay's chagrin—although he would have been lying if he denied that his parents always made him feel exceptionally loved. He couldn't stop a small smile from lighting upon his face.

His mother looked over to see a hint of her son's usual cheerfulness. "You know, sweetie, we don't have to win the mother-son skate off. It's supposed to be fun for the two of us. I don't want you stressing yourself out over it."

"It's not that—" Jay opened his mouth to object but didn't know how exactly to articulate the words. It's not that he wanted to win so badly, although his father had done so when he was nine. There would be a few more years to achieve that. There was something else that he couldn't quite express however.

His father caught on and asked, "It's about those fancy skates you've been working on, isn't it? You've been working on them for more than a month now."

"Since the last mother-son skate off," Jay glumly added. It had been a few months since the recurring first-place pair rolled into the competition with their shiny designer skates, engineered for the perfect balance of speed and stability. If he could only figure out the components that went into it. He had already attained the "maximum speed" part of it, but the "stability" part of it had produced no such luck. That day's test run resulted in one of many injuries that the project had brought him.

"What you need is to do something else. There are some things around the trailer that you can help me with. Now where did I put my sewing basket?" his mother concluded as her eyes began to wander over the corners of their trailer.

"But Ma, the skate off is in less than a month," Jay immediately protested.

"Listen to your mother, Jay. I think she's getting onto something important." His father winked as he swiped a wrench off of the nearby counter and walked outside. The door closed with an irritating screech.

Another lesson? Jay thought. How many of those are there?

…

Jay sleepily lifted his head from the only table in the trailer. He perched himself on his hands with a yawn, looking around to see what was happening. His mother was sitting behind a sewing machine that only made seasonal appearances. The needle hummed as it moved up and down, altering various pieces of clothing.

Jay got up with a start of embarrassment. He was nine already; he was way too old (or was it too young?) to be taking impromptu naps. Besides, he should be working on those roller skates. "Why didn't you wake me up, Ma?" he instinctively whined.

The machine stopped whirring for a moment. "You needed it, sweetie. And you seemed so peaceful. I couldn't wake you up." With a proud smile, she reached into her basket and pulled out a blue teddy bear with cotton bursting at several seams. "Why don't you help me patch up Mr. Cuddlywomp?" She held out a needle and off-color scraps of blue cloth.

Jay took them with a resigned sigh and began mending his favorite toy with large uneven stitches. At first, he contentedly did his work, sticking his tongue out to the side in concentration. But after a while, his brows began to furrow in impatience.

His mother shot him a worried look, but it was a while before Jay voiced his concern. "I don't get how not working on the skates is going to help me finish the skates. It feels like I'm giving up."

His mother stopped her sewing. "Impatience really does run through our family," she muttered to herself with a chuckle before addressing him.

"Well, you'll tire yourself out if you keep working at something without a break. You see how your father and I aren't out in the junkyard all the time although there's a lot to be done. Instead, we watch a funny show on the television or spend some time with you." She paused before adding, "You're our precious little gift, Jay. There's nothing you have to prove to us."

Jay looked down at the table and thought very hard. "So, you think that if I stop trying to fix the skates, I might be able to figure out what I'm doing wrong?"

"It's not giving up, sweetheart. You're just taking a break. Your father and I love that you're such a hard worker, but don't let something difficult make you stubborn. And with a bit of time, maybe inventing will make you smile again."

Looking over, she could see that he was still a little worried. "That reminds me of something a dear friend always said: 'When all hope is lost, sometimes a good laugh is all you need to stay positive.'"

Jay perked up suddenly. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was quoting someone he knew. "Who said that?"

She paused before answering. "Someone who was a lot like you when she was your age. She was always trying to show that she was enough, but along the way, she realized that she was perfect the way she was. I hope you turn out just like her." Jay could see a glint of sadness in her eyes before she went back to her sewing.

Jay nodded in understanding. Even though he didn't know a lot about whoever his mother was talking about, she sounded like a very good person, the best. He would try to be like her and learn. Maybe he would ask more about this person later. With patient stitches, he continued to patch up his teddy bear as he began taking to heart the threads that would shape who he would become.