A bunch of Taylor and Eric's friends and family show up at her funeral. I'd also invited Melissa and Jackson, but only Mel shows up. Jackson's probably scrounging around for his next shot anyway.
I'd just reunited with Taylor a few days ago. And now she's dead. And I feel like it's my fault because I'd brought the thought of her daughter's death back up.
I open the door to Jackson's apartment, for I know that he wouldn't have answered it if I had knocked. I don't see him in the kitchen or bedroom area, so I check the only other room: the bathroom. I push open the door slowly and find Jackson fully clothed, laying in the tub. His arm hangs over the side, and a shot is laying nearby on the floor. Jackson's chin is in the air, for he can't hold his head up straight. His eyes are closed as he imagines himself in his own perfect world.
Jackson finally seems to be coming back to reality. He opens his eyes when I slap his cheek lightly.
Jackson: (mumbling) What are you doing here?
Me: (angrily) Where were you yesterday?
Jackson: What?
Me: Taylor's funeral!
Jackson: (stands weakly and gets out of the bathtub) Oh. Right. I forgot.
Me: How could you forget something as serious as that?
Jackson: (leads me into the bedroom section of his house) I was busy.
Me: Too busy for a friend? What? Were you shooting up more of your stupid drugs?
Jackson: Why does it matter?
Me: Because you're friend needed you! You were the only one of Taylor's old friends that didn't show up and sympathize for Eric and the family! You're so heartless!
Jackson: Look! You can't just suddenly appear in my life and act like everything's gonna be the same as it was when we were kids! I'm an adult now! I don't even know you guys anymore! And you don't f*cking know me!
Me: Oh, I know you very well, Jackson. You're nothing more that a bum~a loser wandering the streets for you next shot and any crumbs of food you can find. You're just a nobody.
Jackson: Well, not everyone can be a hot-shot football player.
Me: No. But you could've been something better than this.
Jackson: You know what? I don't need this sh*t from you.
Me: Look at yourself, Jackson! You could've had a wonderful life with Melissa and your kids! I bet you don't even care about them!
Jackson: Yes, I do.
Me: You sure have a funny way of showing it.
Jackson suddenly grabs my shirt collar, then pushes me until my back was against the wall next to the door.
Jackson: Just leave me the f*ck alone, man!
Me: You wanna go outside?
Jackson: If we go outside, one of us is gonna get hurt.
I manage to grab hold of his shirt collar and turn us around so that I am in control. But, instead of him being pinned against the wall, we go out the door that I had left open. He leans backwards against the rail. I realize that this place isn't sturdy, and I don't want Jackson to fall, so I twist him around and shove him against the wall.
Jackson: Why don't you just go home and f*ck your wife and leave me alone, d*mnit?
Me: You leave her out of this!
I knee his lower stomach, causing him to double over, then I knee his face. His head flies back and he drops to the ground. I kick his side a few times, then pull him back up and punch him.
Jackson used to be the toughest guy that I knew. But not after his drug use. And he's especially no match for a former professional football player.
Blood and saliva drip from his lips.
Jackson: (smirks as I pause from kneeing his lower stomach) I told you one of us was gonna get hurt.
I toss him to my left. He tumbles down the staircase. I hadn't meant for that to happen. But I'm not apologizing to him now.
Daley: How'd it go with Jackson?
Me: Terrible. I'm not going over there anymore.
Daley: What? Why not?
Me: He doesn't want me there, and I just don't wanna be there.
Daley: What happened?
Me: We got into an argument, and we started fighting.
Daley: Nathan, of course he doesn't want your help. He's addicted. You gotta be the bigger man and help him out. That's what friends do.
Me: He made it pretty clear that he wasn't my friend.
Daley: It doesn't matter, Nathan. Do you want something bad to happen to him?
Me: (sighs) No.
Daley: Well, then help him out. He'll thank you one day.