Disclaimer: Actually, I'm secretly Katherine Paterson in disguise hoping for one last run...
Thanks for the reviews abeatticus, Sharkie and Caellach Tiger Eye!! Let me know what you think about the turn of events in this chapter. Sorry if it doesn't meet to your expectations.
Again, sorry this took so long. My other story was distracting me, anyway, I'll talk at the end. Read away!
Chapter 3 - A Start
"Real integrity is doing the right thing, knowing that nobody's going to know whether you did it or not."
He hadn't been running for long until Jess experienced his first contact with the outside world. A couple of drunken teenagers speeding down the highway beeping their horn at him. Jess was a little underwhelmed, he had expected his first encounter with the new world to be slightly more... memorable. Although considering he hadn't actually physically meet them, he was willing to brush it off as a misdemeanor.
Jess had to admit, after twenty minutes the "never ending" road lost a lot of its esteem. The only mildly interesting thing he'd encountered so far was a bird's nest... and even that was more of an excuse to stop and rest for a bit. Still, the new world, fresh and appealing... he just wished the journey wouldn't take as long as it seemed to be taking. Some people wouldn't go amiss either.
Jess continued his vigorous pace, hoping that something attractive and tantalizing would jump out at him. He was more confused than disappointed when he encountered Old Barker's stall. It was a complete mess. A plethora of cardboard boxes labeled in messy felt tip pen were scattered across the pavement as if they'd just landed courtesy of a hurricane. A dark material supported by an assortment of poles in all different shapes and sizes served as a makeshift roof. Jess winced at the stains on the cloth that served as scars or fragments of memory that this obviously very archaic material had acquired over the years; promising a thousand stories.
Jess moistened his lips as he looked over the stacked boxes, noticing a ragged – was that a sleeping bag? His mind quickly worked in overdrive. Old Barker... he couldn't be... living in this dump?
So distracted by the surroundings was Jess that he almost forgot about Old Barker himself. He was sitting on a battered oak chair that looked, quite literally, to be on its last legs. Old Barker was positioned right in the center of the chaos. Jess was disturbed to note that the battered possessions matched Old Barker's battered appearance. To think that someone could actually... in this wasteland.
Old Barker's eyes were open, although it appeared as if no one was home. They lacked the ardent fire that characterized Old Barker's countenance.
"This isn't the the road the bus takes," Jess thought aloud.
Old Barker jumped slightly, drowsy, he'd obviously been quite content until Jess had walked by.
"Nah, it is'nae," Old Barker slurred, not elaborating. He spoke like he was unfamiliar with the very function. Jess imagined that he probably didn't have much opportunity to make conversation away out here, so he'd probably just gotten used to silence.
"Er, why – are you here?"
Old Barker jumped again, looking at Jess, apparently surprised that he wasn't a figment of his imagination. He recovered quickly, scowling unabashed. "Damn kids an yer damn yellow menace; little girl in the back kep' throwin' things at ma stall, upset customers."
Jess blinked, having someone describe Janice Avery – he was in no doubt as in to who Old Barker was referring to; he'd suffered the bus rides as well – as a little girl was, well, it was just plain odd.
"So you moved, I guess," Jess said dumbly. Lord, he was terrible at this.
"Aye, you an' your ilk, driving me off, making life a misery. Is that how you get your kicks these days... I fight a war for the future an' it throws it in my face, huh?"
"Eh..." It was at times like these that Jess felt like he was part of a story, a very big story, with thousands watching – and thus criticizing – his everymove. Unfortunately, he had been the one who hadn't read the script, so he was left stumbling over his lines, hesitating, always missing the moment, the chance. They were like sand seeping through his fingers, there, and then gone before he had his chance to - do - something. They always alluded him in the end, it was like a constant game of cat and mouse, and he was on a losing streak that seemed infinite in length.
Just a dumb kid, that's what he was. Just a dumb kid who'd forgotten his lines.
"... See ya... then." He almost waved before he caught himself. Lord, Jesse, what was he? May Belle?
Old Barker didn't appear to hear him, too caught up in his own demons. "Dinnae you worry, am gonna make sommat o' myself. 'Course a traded in my watches – they were'ny sellin ya see. I'm gonna sell puppies the noo, hear it's a goldmine." Old Barker's eyes seemed to glaze over; he hiccuped loudly, going silent, fantasizing about 'goldmines' and proper beds with roofs that didn't fly away in the breeze.
"... Yeah... okay," Jess said, unconvinced about the prospect of a 'goldmine' in Lark Creek.
Jess practically ran from the creepy old man, deflated. His first encounter with the new world had brought to the stage all his glaring faults and weaknesses, Jess cursed himself angrily. He needed to stop acting like this. He needed to win for once. All the while, as he told himself this, he tried to convince himself that Old Barker hadn't been nursing a bottle of whiskey in his hands, and that the cardboard boxes didn't only contain whiskey bottles... Empty whiskey bottles.
First the worst, second the best. Jess repeated the mantra in his head, it seemingly had an energizing effect on him. He hadn't forgotten what he'd promised himself. He was going to show them all.
He ran threw the trees, ignoring the strange man's calls. He wanted to get off this road. Deciding that it was best to go back to the bus stop and find a road that wasn't so deserted, he cut through the fields that Ellie had taken him through when he was just a baby, when she actually tolerated him because he could play dressup. The only problem was it had changed a lot in the last 10 years. The wildlife was now overgrown, reaching Jesse's sternum, he couldn't figure out which way to go. The flies seemed to be everywhere, he swiped them away – tripped on a log, he needed to get out. He flung his arms wildly, trying to run in one consistent direction. Hadn't he seen that rock just a moment ago? He shook his head. Deep breaths, Jesse, just stay calm. Problem was, that was impossible. His heart seemed to want to escape the confines of his chest.
He kept running, running, not sure if he was actually going anywhere, but too afraid to stop and think.
He followed the noise of what seemed like a car, that had to be the road. Jess lowered his head to avoid the flies and stepped back onto the welcoming pavement.
As if on cue, a dot appeared over the horizon. It was a long clear road so Jess watched it travel wearily along, long before it got anywhere near him. He felt like the 4th July was currently taking place inside his stomach as he watched the man approach. Finally... the new world had arrived!
The man - he was close enough to decipher now - was walking blindly, with what looked like a map covering his face. The map was huge, dominating the man's outline, it certainly looked the worse for wear, as if the man had torn it in frustration. The mysterious man was holding it directly in front of him, arms outstretched to keep a hold of it. Jess was amazed the man could walk straight with the map obscuring his vision. Occasionally the wind would blow the massive map from the man's grasp, much to his displeasure.
He was obviously uncomfortable with using maps, Jess assesed as he watched him continually turn the map over as if he wasn't sure which way was right. The man continued walking at a sedated pass as they drew closer together. He was unlike anything Jess had ever seen before. He stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. He was suited and booted with, from what Jess could see over the domineering map, matted and trimmed black hair with round glasses. Despite his gait, he looked very business like... not something someone would expect to find in Lark Creek, particularly in this heat. He didn't seem atall comfortable in the suit, either, although that could have well been because of the temperature.
As their paths crossed, Jess kept his eyes looking straight ahead, feeling shy. He wondered if the man had even seen him over the map. He was a little disappointed, they simply walked past each other... nothing spectacular there, and from what he could gather, there was very little life on this "endless road". It was completely different from the road to school, which was full of vegetation and passing cars. This road was narrow, bare and now somewhat ominous. What was that noise? Something falling. Jess turned round to see the man looking directly at him as he picked the map up from the ground.
"Salut," he smiled innocently.
Jess stiffened at the voice. Lord, wait a minute, he hadn't traveled that far... had he?
In case you hadn't noticed some people, actually most people, are idiots. Complete tools! Utter muppets. You know that bugs me, the use of muppets as an insult. I'll have you know that the muppets are a very intelligent creature. I mean who didn't love Kermit the Frog? That little green... frog. The haters are just jealous. Did you co-host ABC? Did you host Larry King? Have you got a goddamn TV star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame? Then again, I think Britney Spears is on there... although I thought I was supposed to leave her alone...
So you're still listening, hhhmmm, that's interesting. Usually people just give me a wide birth after a few lines. You know, it's amusing that throughout this whole goddamn diatribe, I haven't even reveled my goddamn name.
Yo, I'm Mark Smith. Pleased to meet you, except I haven't actually met you yet, but I'm working on it.
Another thing that bothers me: nicknames. Must people label everything they encounter with some butchered 'pet' name? I've even heard some goddamn girls name their tits, although that's not nearly as disturbing as some of the guys after gym. Junior just doesn't cut it with them...
So, anyway, my name's Mark Smith. Not Markie. Not Marko. Not M. Not Smithy. Not M.S and damn sure not Smudger. Seriously, just last week an ignoramus called my G. I mean G! What the hell does that mean? G. What's the connection. Where in the hell do you find a g in Mark Smith? Is it short for something... I don't know, maybe, G-string, G-spot? God help me if it's Ali-G. Je-sus Christ!
I'm indifferent towards my name I suppose. On one hand it's pretty common so I don't raise any unwanted attention. Unfortunately, whenever I give my name to a goddamn stranger, they always think I'm goddamn lying.
So, anyway – actually I've said that before, my goddamn teachers usually bitch at me for waffling. I still waffle.
On to the present day – hell yeah, that's a lot better – I'm currently numbing my ass off in this goddamn train to Lark Creek. The aforementioned destination is where I've been 'sent' by my parents to, actually I wasn't really paying attention to what they said. Don't get me wrong, they're nice people, more or less. They're just a little touchy at times, what with the whole 'we're disappointed in you, dear' act.
I was kicked out of my last school – it wasn't really my fault, honestly. My parents imagined that chucking me into some goddamn rich private school might give me 'focus'. Unfortunately for them, they hadn't counted on it being infested with utter pricks. Seriously, that idiot was just asking for a broken nose, maybe I went a bit far with setting off the old cannon next to the foreyard, but in my defense, it really looked like it was past it. How was I supposed to know it would set on fire? I had been the goddamn executive of the hockey team at the time, whatever the hell that meant!
So, I'm currently on the road to nowhere(Lark Creek), and this train is making some, shall we say, light protests to the driver – it grated on your nerves after a goddamn 4 hour trip.
Fortunately, I'm very good at keeping still. It's always something I've enjoyed doing. When I was a bit queer, I used to imagine that I was something like a snake or a shark. I would lull someone into a false sense of security before making them shit themselves. Works every time, never gets boring either. Gets it right up the pretentious, pompous, prissy - need another word beginning with P, damn it. Eh... pejorative? Not that that makes any sense in the context of the sentence, but who cares? I certainly don't.
Another thing you should probably know about me: I look older than I really am. The beginnings of a mustache has its perks. What! I'm not growing this for the good of my health, even if my father thinks so. Again, this has its perks. For one, thanks to the look, no one in this goddamn compartment has lifted an eye at a 12 year old traveling alone.
There was this annoying fat guy sitting beside me, blocking my exit... I hate to feel trapped. Why do I always end up with the fat guy? He was listening to his mp3 player, he'd put it on so loud that half the train could hear it. Inconsiderate bastard. It wouldn't have been so bad if the song was actually decent.
I was currently striking up conversation with this girl opposite me. She was the type that you didn't even think about getting in the sack. Not because she was particular bad looking, although she had an irritating habit of fidgeting every goddamn second. No, it would be like shagging your sister, not that I have a sister, but still, I can imagine.
She stuttered slightly whenever I looked directly at her, although at least she wasn't superficial, unlike the rest of the miserable bastards in this compartment.
Another thing that bugs me... Public Transport. I'm sure you've encountered it all before, the fat guy that just has to sit next to you, crushing you against the goddamn window. The officious type that subtly sit their bag down beside them so you can't sit down. The big shots who sit at the back and won't shut the hell up. It was amazing, just how isolated everyone was from each other. It wasn't a forced isolation either. I'd put money on if the fat guy beside me collapsed and had a heart attack, the officious bitch who was currently pretending to read would simply walk over him to get to the exit.
Super - goddamn - ficial. It was pathetic really. I was half tempted to start jumping around, swearing like a mad thing, just to see if I could get a reaction.
"Erm, this is my stop," the girl said slowly, embarrassed with her father who was gesturing like a mad thing, urging her over. That was another thing I liked about the girl, she didn't pretend that her father wasn't an asshole, she just got on with it.
"Right." I wasn't the best at goodbyes, from my experience, they were always awkward, filled with a regret at what you had failed to achieve in your time together.
She seemed reluctant to go. "I... I enjoyed your music... you're really good. "
Christ, she was hovering over me, it was goddamn suffocating. She obviously expected me to ask for her number or something... like hell! I hate presumptuous people.
"Thanks." Piss off, if you please.
Obviously disappointed, she mumbled, "Goodbye, Jamie."
Thank Christ I had the foresight not to tell her my real name. I hate clingy people, or needy people, hell, anything that ends in a 'y'.
There was a slight riff raff as stragglers came and went. This voluptuous vixen sat across from me, offering her cleavage like it was road sign.
"Hi, dear."
Christ! She sounded like my mother, well that's an instant turn off!
She pursed her lips 'seductively', she wore a little too much make-up in an attempt to recreate the 'glory days'. Sadly for her, the 'glory days' probably weren't as glorious as she liked to think.
I wasn't naive, I didn't just look older than I really was, I felt older. I knew exactly what she wanted, giving her a concise, monosyllabic reply; it spurred her on, gave her something to chew on.
"My name's Stacy, Stacy Fulcher, what's yours honey?"
What kind of name was Fulcher? I neither knew, nor wanted to know.
"Name's Kiss, Kiss MaCrack." I frowned over the table, giving off a warning signal.
She was oblivious to the signs. "Lovely name darling, so, where are you headed?"
Did I ever tell you that most people are idiots?
"Bonjour, jeune homme," the voice repeated. Jess wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but he certainly knew what language. Turning to follow the voice, he found the business man. His map had obviously fallen from his grasp, as he bent down to pick it up. His eyes were focused on Jess though, polite and gentle.
"Sont vous bon à l'utilisation des cartes?"
Jess looked at the man like he'd grown another head. Judging by the scorching heat, this was still definitely Lark Creek. Jess was a little afraid now, he hadn't imagined the new world to be so, well, new.
"Emmm, are you lost?" Seeing Jesse's confusion the man's eyes suddenly popped open like a fish.
He slapped his forehead. "Of course, sorry. Forgot where I was for a moment. Right, okay... America, North Virginia, Lark Creek... am I right?"
"...Yes, but why were you speaking French?" Sorry, Scott. This man definitely took top spot on the list of peculiar people he'd meet. The man rubbed a hand through his short cropped hair, laughing self deprecatingly,
"I'm not long back from a book signing tour across Europe. I'm one of those terrible people that like to try everything. If you think my French is bad, my German makes little babies burst into tears."
"You- You've been to Europe?" Jess was enthralled. Here he was standing next to a man who'd traveled the world. Who had stepped on the grounds of distant lands. Lord, while here he was, Jess Aarons, the boy who'd barely traveled out the state, never mind cross the Atlantic. He wasn't the only one of course. Only a few people in Lark Creek had the money or inclination to travel abroad. The only one Jess could remember was that one girl, he thought it had to be 3 years ago, who'd went to Edinburgh University in Britain. This was what Jess had been hoping to find. Of course 'he' could have went abroad, but he didn't want to think about him.
"Yes, of course." The man shrugged as if it was no big deal. Jess was too eager to soak up this man's knowledge to be jealous.
"I've got a few fans in Europe – France in particular - that buy my books. I just ended my tour in Paris so I had few days to explore. Wonderful city, by the way, I'd definitely recommend it. Have you been?"
Jess put his hands firmly in his pockets. "No, I... suppose I haven't found the time."
Jess tried to sound convincing, he really didn't want this man to think less of him because he was poor and ignorant. Lord, he hated it.
"Yeah, it's a big world. Still, it is something special, good old Paris. 'The most romantic city in the world'," he put on an exaggerated French accent that even May Belle would get first time, "Still they definitely have more claim to that title than most cities. I mean, gosh, they've got in their midst – Notre Dame, Arc de triumph, the Louvre-"
"You've seen the Louvre!" Jess had only managed glimpses at a few scarce pictures of breathtaking beauty in the old broom closet at Lark Creek that substituted for a Library. It had completely blown Jess away. To think that such a place existed... lord, he got giddy just thinking about it. Jess suddenly had a revelation. If he only had 5 minutes to live, he'd be honored to live them proudly in the Louvre. Now, if he could convince Miss Edmunds to join him...
The man nodded earnestly in agreement. "Yeah, the Louvre is something special. It's just so big (he stretched out his arms in emphasize), pity I only had a couple of hours to see it. I'd like to go back, someday. Just... get one of those yearlong passes and lose myself in it."
"It must be the most beautiful place on Earth". The words were out before Jess could close his mouth. Lord, way to make yourself look stupid, Jess.
To his surprise, the man looked up to the sky as if in deep contemplation, and nodded. "Certainly a contender, minus the crowds and the gift shops. Yeah, good call."
Was that a compliment, lord, this man was full of surprises. He was currently in the process of tapping his chin thoughtfully when the map blew from his hand. "Oops!"
Jess leaped and managed to catch it before it flew onto the road. Why couldn't he do that in P.E!
"Thanks, eh..."
"Jess Aarons"
"Lovely to meet you, Jess." He motioned to shake hands and Jess offered his but the map wobbled precariously in the man's one hand, so he stopped.
"Yeah, better not," said the man jovially; they both laughed as he tried to fold it up. It was like a wild animal. Another passing car beeped at them as it drove past. Jess sighed, were these people all Lark Creek could produce, he felt embarrassed as he watched the man scrutinize the car.
"Wish, I had my car."
"Huh, what happened?"
"Broke down 4 treacherous miles back. Judy was always adamant that I should get a new car, but well I get attached."
"Who's... Judy?"
"Oh sorry, how rude of me, Judy is my beautiful and occasionally recalcitrant wife." This seemed to lift his spirits as he broke out into an even brighter smile. "Best thing that ever happened to me."
Even Jess, with his gigantic naivety, could tell the deep love the man felt for this women.
"We have a daughter, too, she's about your age I think, I'm sure you'd get along, she has the temerity of her mother though, so watch out!"
The man studied the map until his nose was almost touching it. "Sorry, what street is this?"
Jess raised his eyebrows and the man laughed sheepishly. "I'm not very good at directions. D-Don't tell Judy I said that... I'd never live it down," his eyes seemed to cloud for a moment, as if in memory. Jess found it strangely refreshing that this man was willing to reveal his flaws. His Dad considered it a weakness, but...well, Jess wasn't so sure now.
"So... where are you going?"
"Sorry – I seem to be apologizing a lot – I'm currently house hunting, although said house seems to be quite elusive, the timorous beastie. I managed to call the estate agent, he's coming to pick me up promptly. He can be a bit absent minded at times though, so I have the unenviable task of 'jogging' his abysmal memory. "
Jess had never encountered someone who spoke quite like this man. "Why are you walking then?"
"I couldn't just sit in that broken down vehicle doing nothing; it would drive me mad. Better stay efficient with my time – that's the plan. I told him to simply drive as normal and he'd encounter me soon enough. Enough about me, care to reveal a little of your own journey? Where are you headed?"
"Well, I dunno, I didn't really plan it, I guess I'm just gonna see where my feet take me, I guess."
"Seems like you're running to me," the man said bluntly on impulse.
"What do you know! You don't know me, no one understands. I'm-"
"Easy, Jess, I was just calling what I saw. I wouldn't be a very good writer if I changed that. Didn't mean anything by it. Maybe Judy was right, I should work on my tack," he laughed, trying to lighten the soured mood.
His words had left an uncomfortable feeling in Jess. "I'm not, I'm, I'm not running away," he said slowly, deathly quiet. "I'm starting afresh, a new slate, I'm making a change, doing good, they don't understand me. A new life. It's better this way."
The man studied Jess closely. "Doesn't seem so appealing when you have no one to share it with," he smiled a sad but knowing smile.
"I don't need anyone," Jess was even quieter than before. The man nodded, as if he had expected that recourse.
"That's what I thought." The man wasn't simply smiling now, his face bore a full fledged grin, as if he were replaying a cherished memory. He ruffled his hair, licking his lips before continuing, as if he was an actor riling himself up.
"But what life really is, what really enriches life, is the sweet burden of being needed. To care for something not only because you want to, but because they want you to. The end of art is peace, in this world, this chaotic world where nothing makes sense, it gives your life a purpose. And you know what the best part is?" He talked like a man who'd been through it all, and was now reciting his findings to the next weary traveler.
There had been far too many words for Jess to fully grasp what the man was saying, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this was important, somehow. "What?"
The man outright laughed now, almost inappropriately happy. "It makes you feel great. That's something they taught me."
Lord, this man was strange... but in a nice way. An incessant beeping from an alarmingly close proximity broke their converse. He watched a car window slide down automatically. The pick up truck certainly didn't do that!
"Thank goodness sir, I told you to stay put!"
The man broke from his spell and shrugged unapologetically at the driver. "Sorry about that."
The driver shook his head exasperated. "I don't know how your wife copes. The house is close by, if you'd like to see it before Christmas?"
The man held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, really-"
"You expect me to believe that?"
The man sighed. "No, not really." He turned to Jess, his eyes soft, staring at Jesse's bag.
"Sometimes it's hard knowing if you should or shouldn't do something, so you do what feels right at the time. Just remember, Jess, that isn't necessarily the right thing." He then broke into another laugh, and Jess got the impression that he spent most of his time laughing. Jess wished he could be the same.
The man got into the car, still talking, this time in a lighter tone. "Who knows anything when it comes down to it, I don't, I like to pretend I do sometimes, but, I don't."
"You're certainly not wrong there," the driver muttered.
The man voiced his protests, but it was half-hearted at best. "You know you love my way with words, Claudio."
"More like useless rhetoric to me," the driver muttered again as he started the engine, but he was smiling despite himself and Jess realized that they must have enjoyed bantering with each other like a tandem of old married bickering couples.
As the engine gave a loud belch of life, it brought Jess to attention. "Excuse me, I never got your name?"
The man slapped his forehead, blushing. "Once again it seems I must apologize. My name is William Rubek," he said on instinct.
As the car began to move, he waved at Jess, urging him closer. "Do you have a family, Jess?"
"... Yeah."
As the car drove away, Jess was sure he heard him yell, "You're lucky!!"
Jess stood, stunned as the car drove off into the obtrusive sunrise. Lord, that was the first time that anyone had ever called Jess Oliver Aarons lucky. Lucky. He began to laugh at the thought, almost in spite of himself.
"Lucky, huh," he chortled, laughing the laugh of a boy who'd just discovered a different perspective on life. He looked at the long, glorious never ending road. Holding countless adventures and experiences at a tantalizing arm's reach. Then Jess looked back the way he came, back to the dour and dull Lark Creek. His irritating sisters, his uncaring family. He thought of what awaited for him there: school, gangs, teachers, bullies, poverty and deprivation... Home.
Jess wiped the sweat from his brown, biting his bottom lip, still grinning self deprecatingly. Home. Lucky. He'd made his decision. As Jess ran, he wondered if he would ever encounter that man again. He smiled to himself. Hopefully in the Louvre.
Tighter. Tighter.
Wonda Kay inspected her chest in the mirror, shuffling slightly to the left to get a better profile. No. Tighter. Tighter. She heard the strain of the material, a slight unnoticeable tear appeared at the chest area. She cursed Madison and her big breasts. Making her look inadequate. Her!
Hearing the incessant beep of a car horn outside, Wonda gave the shirt one last pull for good measure before rushing out.
Her mother tapped her fingers impatiently, leaning on the family car, before giving her the once over – again!
"Pumpkin. Dear. Are you trying to look like an ugly whore?"
"Yes." Wonda deadpanned, thoroughly immune to her mother's diatribes by now.
She plopped herself down in the backseat, studying her reflection in the windscreen.
"Jacob, for Gods sake, be late if you want but don't make me suffer as well!"
Wonda's father stumbled out the front door, holding his briefcase tightly in front of him. His appearance was so rushed and haggard that it looked like he'd just wrestled off a pack of wolves with his bare hands.
"Yes, honey. Sorry, honey," he said through gritted teeth.
Wonda saw it before it happened. Another chance for her father to humiliate her. In his rush to get to the car, he tripped on the sidewalk, connecting face to face with a foul stench of mud. He spluttered it out, choking, still clutching his suitcase in a death grip.
Her mother simply shook her head in a contemptuous act. She looked half annoyed, and half resigned to not expecting any better from her lummox of a husband.
"Get in," she yelled with venom.
Her father nodded getting into the passenger's seat. He struggled with his belt, finally clicking it into place after almost tearing it off its hinges.
He turned to Wonda. "Here, baby, do you mind holding this?"
He presented her with his muddy suitcase, dropping it in her hands before she could utter a retort. He turned back, completely unaware of the position he'd put her in. Idiot! As they drove, each resident in their car preparing for another miserable day of work or school, Wonda looked at her lap covered in the residue mud from the briefcase. How on Earth would she survive school in this?
"Mum, can we drop by the super mall?"
Jess yawned tiredly, passing the chickens who he'd no doubt have to feed in Brenda's absence again. The grass tickled his knees, Jess would have to be getting on with cutting that soon as well. The sheer weight of the chores he had to look forward to weighed him down in every sense of the word. That wasn't even counting milking Miss Bessie, or the blasted greenhouse Jess thought grimly.
He had his hands tucked in his pockets as he entered their home. He smiled sagely. Lucky, now there's a thought.
Jess decided to treat himself to the last remnants of Miss Bessie's last milking session. No doubt Brenda would bitch at him during breakfast, but Jess couldn't muster the effort to care.
He was slightly surprised to find his mother by the sink washing last night's dinner; this time a chore Ellie had 'forgotten' while she had been doing her homework. In Ellie's world, that equated to watching T.V. His mother was never usually up this early. It was a bad omen, he decided.
She turned as he walked in. "Jess, I-"
"I'll do them after school," he said tiredly, losing his appetite for milk. Perhaps he could sleep for what little time there was before the bus arrived, or better yet draw.
He made to leave, but his mother's voice stopped him. "Jess, we need to talk."
Jess winced, lord, he'd been dreading this. He could count the number of times she'd said that to him on one hand, the result was always disastrous for him. He remembered only vaguely the argument last night. It was as if it had all been a really vivid nightmare, a distant memory that he would never reclaim. He had went too far, said too much, Jess decided. It was easier, just staying silent.
He had long ago realized that he couldn't compete with Brenda and Ellie's explosiveness, or the babies fragility and dependency on others for attention. Rather than fight a losing battle, he kept silent in the hope that he would avoid any unnecessary wrath. Life was more peaceful that way, quieter, simpler, he could almost live with it. Almost. He was forced to remain in the proverbial middle, not old enough or cute enough. No, Jess shook fiercely, he wasn't in the middle. He'd been thrown out long ago – after him...
"If it's about last night, I'm sorry about what I said," he droned, woodenly. That should be that. His mother would just let herself forget abou-
"Sit."
Lord, this was bad!
Now Jess was really surprised, he'd never heard her like this before. He sat down as far away from her as possible, half afraid that she would bite him.
His mother was studying her hands, as if she were waiting for the words to flow. "Did you really mean what you said – last night?"
"No, of course not, I was just acting stupid again. I'm sorry," he said automatically, his face emotionless.
She seemed to slouch at his words, as if they weakened her. "How did we come to this?"
"What?"
"We can't even say two words to each other anymore."
"And whose fault is that?" The words were out before he could stop himself.
They were like a fiery bullet of anger directed at her, and his mother looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in so long, just him. She was looking at a stranger.
"Jess, I, I don't understand."
"Exactly, you never can, he never can. Not because it isn't possible, no it's because you both have bigger priorities. I'm not important, am I, I just get the left overs."
"That isn't true, you are important, Jess-"
He remembered the promise he'd made to himself. About being more assertive. "Oh, really, do you want proof? Not even three days ago, Brenda, asks to go out. You say no, oh wait, she still gets out somehow. Brenda asks for money, you say no, oh wait, she gets the money as well. You say be home by 10, she says no, oh wait, she doesn't come home till 1am. Brenda gets home, do you shout at her, do you punish her, no, you treat her to hot chocolate and discuss the clothes she bought with the money she wasn't supposed to have. Who was left to do the chores, hmmm? Did the ironing get done by itself? Or did you just ignore it, let good old Jess do it, no one will notice?"
"But Brenda said that you-"
"Mum, not everything the girls say is true. Just in case you didn't notice."
"She was stressed, she has exams, and."
"Well, what about what I feel. How do you think I felt like when I was the only one in my class whose parents didn't turn up for parents evening because Ellie's was on the same day. Do you know how that made me feel, sitting there on my own, surrounded by kids with parents that actually gave a damn about them!" he was shouting now, but he couldn't bottle it up any longer.
"I had no idea."
"No, you don't."
Jess was exhausted, he had almost become lost in his emotions, as years of neglect, years of 'next times' and 'tomorrows' boiled over. It made him feel sick with nausea, he rubbed his temple, unsure about everything, anything.
His mother laughed humorless, eyes tinged with regret. "I suppose we haven't been very good parents to you, have we? When the girls are at their loudest, you just seem to get lost in the shuffle, don't you? Maybe I should have tried harder, no, I should have tried harder, but, I think... I know it isn't an excuse but its been difficult, after what happened with Adam," she took a couple of deep breaths to compose herself, determined to keep the promise she'd made to herself long ago to never cry over him again. Jess was stunned, that name was taboo.
"It still lingers in this house, I can feel it. Sometimes I wake up and imagine he's still here, imagine that we aren't a broken family, missing a piece... You two, you're so alike, it's almost frightening. You-"
"We're not the same," Jess spoke with a passionate vehemence. It always came back to this, would he forever be in his shadow?
Her mother smiled grimly, eyes wide. Jess was sure he heard her whisper something before continuing.
"I guess what happened last night brought back memories for all of us. That was how it started, with him- Adam. He'd stay out late, make up excuses that I don't even think he thought would work. He'd stay locked up in his room, not talking to anyone, not caring. He was so bright at school, I was so proud of him; we ignored the signs, it was my fault-"
"It wasn't-" Jess started, not sure why he wanted to defend her, but she waved him off. She needed to finish it, this was her catharsis after so long, serving her penance.
"We turned a blind eye. Kidded ourselves, we just couldn't see the truth. Maybe we didn't want to see it. And then he was gone. I – I wonder sometimes, where he went, if he's safe. Even now, everyday, the hel- I, " she shook her head," he even, even left a note, about us, it, it was-"
She stopped in mid sentence, stammering, eyes watering, sniffing. Jess had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around her, to protect her. She was his mother after all. You only got one. Jess was not nearly as merciful as his mother. Wherever he was, Jess hoped that he was suffering the same pain his mother felt everyday.
"It was so hard, moving on, like nothing had happened. I wish that he would come back more than anything, but we moved on, we had to," she paused again, her breathing erratic. "We acted like he'd never existed, took away all the pictures, locked them away. I – sometimes – forget what he looked like, forget, and then you walk in, and... it's like a replay, it's a black hole in this family, hovering over us."
After a few minutes, her shaking subsided. "...Your father thought we'd been too soft on him. That's why, with you, he thought we needed to be stronger, make sure we didn't make the same mistake twice..."
"What about you?" Their eyes meet as he spoke, and then Jess realized that they weren't as different as he had cared to believe. She too tended to concede to Brenda and Ellie the unwinnable battle. She too walked with the same gait, like she'd had the fight ripped out of her.
"I would do – anything - I don't think – I won't – I can't, can't lose another son." She barely managed to finish the sentence before she broke down, completely. The tears fell like a flood, she sobbed into her hands, cursing her own weakness. Jess found himself hugging her, she clung back with all she was worth, desperately searching for an anchor, something to keep her afloat in the ocean of her misery. It was amazing how perfectly they fit together, the warmth of her body on his. Mother and son had never been closer, not in the whole rest of their lives. As they stood there, Jess realized how selfish he'd been, how close he'd been. Had Adam felt this way? Had... no, it didn't matter what he had felt, Jess could only focus on the present - and the future – with her.
Jess lost his grip on time. Eventually he detached himself from her grip, sitting back down in his seat, emotionally exhausted.
He looked at her, noticing she was oddly pale, she was moving her right hand in front of her face, as if she was testing if it was really there.
"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.
She quickly dropped her hand. "Of course, yes, just a little dizzy."
Jess grinned apologetically. "Yeah, sorry, I guess I should've had that shower this morning."
She chuckled, no doubt remembering Brenda's constant complaints... it was hard to forget with her decibel level! She brushed the hair away from her eyes, correcting herself. "I've been getting a few headaches recently, but it'll pass."
He nodded in understanding, not sure where to go from here.
He started, "I guess, I better go-" but his mother shook her head obstinately.
"You said that I don't understand, that I don't listen. Maybe that's the case but, well, I'm listening now, Jess. If you'll let me."
Jess frowned, uncertain. "I'm not gonna say everything is forgiven..."
She nodded reluctantly. "I just - could you give me a chance?"
A chance? Wasn't that what he'd always wanted - a chance?
"Yeah, I think we can try."
And so they talked. Just talked. About school, the family – everything and anything. Jess began to realize that he might have more in common with his mother than he ever thought possible.
"You – liked to... draw?" Jess was dumbfounded, his mother – who'd have thunk it. He could no more imagine his mother as an artist as he could imagine Brenda actual doing her homework on time, or Mrs Myers busting out the old drum set and forming a band with Miss Edmunds. Lord, even Joyce Ann not crying for a day was more likely.
"Well, I enjoyed painting mostly," she was blushing, slightly abashed by his reaction, "it was always my dream to go to Venice."
"What stopped you?" he said, immensely curious.
She frowned, deep in memory. "I wasn't always like this. I was young once; Mary Butler. An art schoolgirl who wanted to study water colors in Venice, paint the gondolas," she sounded as if she were reading an epitaph.
"I... met your father – and – then Adam and Ellie came and I..." She cut herself off, as if she herself was unsure of the real answer, or maybe just didn't want to admit it, to accept it.
It was at that moment that Jess realized that, perhaps, one of the reasons they'd become like 'this', was because he hadn't tried. So many times he'd pined for his father's love and attention, almost to the point of begging for something, anything. Yet his mother was just there, in the background, not fully part of it, but too far in to run away – like Jess himself. He'd never really made the effort, he'd just seen her as, well, the housewife, his superior who ordered him to do specific chores. He'd just painted her with the same brush as Brenda and Ellie, as if they were one in the same, a package. It had been staring him in the face for so long, why hadn't he realized? Lord, sometimes he really could be a dumb kid.
He supposed his father had almost an otherworldly quality to him. He was hardly here, either out working or with his friends. Whenever he was here, he usually sprawled himself out on the sofa, too knackered to move or communicate with anyone. The few short sporadic times when his father's attention was available was like an open competition between Jess and his siblings. They all wanted what they couldn't have, while his mother was probably standing in the corner, washing the dishes with an envious glint in her eyes. She was the one that had to be the parent, living with them, disciplining them, while his father could waltz in, to spoil and charm.
"Oh, look at the time, I need to finish the dishes, quickly!" His mother jumped up, startled with herself for wasting time when there was a house to support. She was brushing him off, Jess knew. But it was in a gentle, circumvent way. It didn't annoy him, he realized now that he couldn't expect too much too soon. One conversation wouldn't suddenly fix twelve years of growing separation. There was still a long road ahead. But it was a start. The first step he was ecstatic to take.
As Jess motioned to close the door, his mother began humming melodically as she dried the dishes. She seemed brighter now, radiant, upbeat. He was seeing her in a completely different light, he realized. For so long he had imagined that this couldn't possible be his real family. He had often dreamt that he'd been kidnapped, stolen away from his real, glorious and majestic family, who mourned for their stolen son even now, hoping for his return.
Mary Aarons was his mother. And he was glad of it.
Noticing that he was staring, she looked over her shoulder. She gasped slightly, remembering something.
"Oh, and that punishment, what was it, not going on summer vacation – forget about it."
Jess didn't walk up the stairs to his room, he floated.
"Took your time!" May Belle said, arms crossed.
"Yeah." Lord, she didn't know the half of it!
"You don't have anymore chores?" she asked, suddenly excited.
Jesse's mind couldn't have been further away from the sheltered domestic bliss; where washing dishes was considered corporal punishment. Chores? Lord, he'd had his fair share... he expected to have a fair few more.
"Later."
May Belle's face erupted into glee and she pumped her fists triumphantly. "Then we can play, come on Jess! Please, pleas, please..."
She was never going to stop until he conceded. He sighed, "... Uh, okay, as long as it doesn't take too long, school starts soon."
Jess was almost afraid to add. "So... what do you want to play?"
May Belle jumped out of bed. She scampered over to her cupboard, leaving various clothes in her wake as she hunted for her prized play things.
She suddenly spun round, clutching what she had been searching for. Two dolls, or rather, two Barbie dolls.
"Let's play Extreme Dress-up Barbie!" She waved the Barbie's wildly around her like bottles of champagne in a victory parade.
Jess slapped his forehead, sighing with resignation. "Oh, Lord."
Jess found himself kneeling down next to a toilet, across from his little sister. May Belle, for her part, was cackling like a deranged scientist who'd just given life; hair tussled out every-which-way.
Jess winced as water sprang into his eyes, courtesy of another Barbie 'crash landing'. They were already thoroughly soaked to the skin; Barbie's obviously weren't made to entertain water.
May Belle was currently on a destructive rampage. Jess must have been getting sentimental in his old age because he actually felt a modicum of pity for the dolls as May Belle thumped them against the toilet seat like a hammer. One of the Barbie's heads uncoiled, hurtling across the bathroom skyline. Jess managed to duck in time, instead slamming his head onto the toilet. It was like a war zone!
Jess huffed, rubbing his head as his little sister was too absorbed in her killing frenzy to even bother checking on his well being. "May Belle, eh, remind me never to get on your bad side."
May Belle paused from her 'make over', looking up, eyes demented. "Can we do Joyce Ann next?"
They both heard footsteps coming from Ellie's room. "Quick," Jess urged. If they were caught doing this again, they were in serious bother.
In her hast, May Belle slammed the toilet seat down on the Barbie, tearing it in half. "Oops," she said weakly as the other half fell down the toilet.
"Come on!" Jess grabbed her hand and they miraculously made it back to their room without encountering Ellie.
They inspected the Barbies. "Well, now you have one and a half Barbies, May," he assessed.
Later, after Ellie's shrieks that the toilet was jammed awoke the world, and after she'd been thoroughly teased by Brenda for 'blocking the loo', Jess helped May Belle tie her shoes while they got ready for school; his mind wandered. He realized... his father was right. Life was hard... but that didn't mean he had to be too. He, Jessie Oliver Aarons would not be hard. He couldn't be. It was a start, a fresh start.
Wow, my longest chapter so far. It could use a bit of work, but I think it's okay. I feel like Jess' mum gets a raw deal sometimes. Everything revolves around Jess' dad and she is added as an afterthought.
If you think the whole Adam thing came out of the blue, it was touched on in the last chapter in the 'argument'. Jess even mentioned his name. Just remember that it has been engraved in the family to forget about Adam, Jess doesn't want to even acknowledge his existence, that's why he hasn't really been in Jess' train of thought. Also he was before May Belle and Joyce Ann's time, so they don't even know who he is.
I should probably say right now that this whole section is more like a prologue. The real story will get moving when we fast forward 2 months to the end of summer in chapter 6. You might think that things are looking up for Jess, but, well, life doesn't work like that. Things are going to get very dark before someone makes their appearance. Think back to the first chapter. I'm a bit nervous about writing one scene in particular - it could get a little violent.
I hope you didn't mind me putting in a few new characters in there. Just remember that this is still Jess' story; they are only supporting characters who - hopefully - enrich it. Sorry about Mark's language, but I wanted to create a contrast between Jess and him. I won't write in his perspective often so don't worry about that.
I'm going to produce a trailer for this story soon as well. I have to produce a trailer for something in Media Studies, might as well kill two birds with one stone. I just have to find people that look like the new characters (sigh).
Would you prefer if I wrote shorter chapter with quicker updates, or are you happy with making my fingers hurt from typing so much?
Gosh, it's 4:12AM, really need to get to bed. Anyway, thanks for reading, and sorry if it wasn't up to your expectations. Bye!!