Invisible
Chapter 4-Nicotine
Authors notes: This would have been updated two weeks ago. But for some reason, it uploaded as a blank document, and I had already deleted it from my computer. Yeah, I said a lot of bad words. But yeah, anyway, this is the same chapter that would have been uploaded, just worded differently and retyped.
He glanced around. A pale yellow couch sat in front of a TV. Mia did alright for herself, Jay decided, as he glanced around, making note of the homey atmosphere Mia's house had.
He knew she'd been renting a house for a few years now, but he'd never been over here. "I'll move Bella's stuff to my room, and you can sleep in her room," Mia grunted, setting the heavy child on the couch, and pulling her socks and shoes off.
"I'll sleep on the couch Mia, really. Thank you though. I won't stay long. Just until I get on my feet," he said firmly.
Mia glanced from the spot where she was kneeling on the floor. She stared for a moment, before she finally nodded. "Alright," she said, a hand running itself through her wild brown curls.
Bella giggled on the floor, a coloring book open on the coffee table. The crayons lay beside it, battered and broken. She looked exactly like Mia. She pressed hard on the paper, with a stumpy red crayon, before turning the page to a fresh paper. Donald Duck glared back at Jay, mocking him.
Jay sighed, remembering the change in his pocket. "I'm gonna go get a pack of ciggs," he said, glancing to Mia for approval.
Her lips twisted in displeasure, "Don't smoke them in the house." Jay nodded, turning on his heel and heading out the house. He jammed his hands into his pockets as he walked. She turned to Bella, watching her color for a bit. Perhaps when Jay got back, she would be able to take a nice long bath. She hadn't done that in almost five years. The idea seemed crazy to the young mom, as she chuckled, setting Bella's shoes by the door.
Emma. The honey haired anguish creator. He sighed, frustratingly, as gravel rocks skidded under his shoes.
"You only think about yourself," she screeched as she whipped another shirt at him. "Myself?" he hollered, standing as the shirt smacked against him, cascading to the floor.
"You can't just come in and out my life when it suits you," she said, shaking her head in that way she always did, "Our lives," she corrected herself, glancing down to her growing stomach.
"Em," he said, taking a deep breath and biting his lip, in that was that he always did. It was all rather predictable.
"No," she said impatiently, "You made your choice Jay." "Emma," he said, his voice pleading with her.
She whipped another shirt at him, pressing her fingers to her temples as she lowered herself on the couch. He tears bubbled.
"Emma, I'd never have done it if upset you that much. I just, I don't know what to do. I mean, I'm not ready to be a dad," he said finally, his eyes darting about, waiting for her response.
"Jay, I'm just, mad," she admitted finally, her arms falling to her knees. The laundry was thrown about the living room, and she sighed.
"Mad? Emma, I proposed to Mel, way before you and I got together, and when we broke up, that was the end of it, I swear," he said, still shaking his head.
"Jay, I know. But, you should have just told me that you loved her," Emma said, avoiding his eyes.
"I don't love her," he spat angrily, letting his hands rise to the ceiling and fall against his legs again.
"Did you?" Emma asked, holding her breath.
"At one point, yeah," Jay admitted, exhaling for her. She shook her head, her face tearful now.
"I don't anymore though, you can love more than one person in a lifetime Emma," he barked at her, causing her sobs to grow harder.
"Jay, just stop. Knock it off," Spike yelled. She'd walked between them now, abandoning her dishes.
"No. No, Spike, you knock it the hell off. Your always butting in," he yelled, giving her a shove. She flew several feet, hitting the floor on her butt. Her hands hit to, and she grimaced. She'd hit the floor rather hard.
"Jay!" Emma shrieked, running to her mothers aide, "Get out. Just get out now!" she yelled, as Jay had already slammed the door.
He promised himself, that that was the worst moment of his life. He'd never meant to do it, he just got caught up in the moment. He grunted, wrenching open the door of the gas station.
Little by little, he seemed to become everything he hated, didn't he?
He waited in line, stewing in his own thoughts. His impatience was stretched, as he noticed he was the fourth in line. All he was craving was a cigarette.
Reaching the counter, he sighed, smacking the change onto the counter. The silver clanged against it loudly.
"A pack of Newports," he said, glancing to the little racks of random things as the cashier turned to get his cigarettes.
There were several light up pens, candy bars, but his eyes stopped on a rack of Crayola crayons. He paused, glancing down at the change. He had exactly enough for a pack of cigarettes, and that was it. Tossing the idea around a bit, he cleared his throat, picking a pack of crayons and setting it beside the change.
"Actually, just these, never mind about the ciggs," he said, wincing at his voice. The cashier raised an eyebrow, scanning the crayons and counting out the money from his change. Jay grabbed the rest of the change, throwing it into his pocket. Scooping up the crayons, he headed out the door.
His brain screamed at him, craving it's nicotine obsession. Yet, clenched in his hands were sixteen different colors of wax, encased in a cardboard box.
He wrestled with his brain to stop, as he trudged his way back to Mia's house. It had started to rain, and the gravel flew up, sticking to his damp pants legs.
He stuffed the crayons into his pocket too, so they wouldn't get wet.