She placed the keys into the ignition as she grabbed the spare pack of cigarettes from her glove compartment. They were there in the rare situation that she would need them, just to calm her nerves or if the craving hit. She hadn't smoked one for almost four years now, but after her interaction with the bitter wrestler just moments before, the urge called to her more than ever.
She ripped the foil from the pack and and grabbed the cigarette between her fingers, letting it roll between them for a moment. No one had ever angered her the way he had since her addiction years earlier, and usually it was due to lack of medication. She was usually able to collect herself, stay calm and rational and speak about things easily, but for some reason, that just wasn't the case with Jeff Hardy.
She had read his chart, his profile and the background information that was sent to her. She knew her hands would be full seeing as she would be dealing with someone still addicted, no just someone trying to sober up. Jeff was no where near a sobriety level. And yet, she was ready and had prepared herself for the harsh words and arguments that were to come between the two, at least for the next 30 days. At least, she thought she had.
She placed the cigarette between her lips and let it hang there for a second before lighting it and inhaling it within her lungs. She knew she was capable of handling Jeff and his problems and even helping him face them, but was he ready?
The answer that she got from him, his reactions and his emotions was no.
He slammed the door behind him before throwing his keys onto the glass of the kitchen table. He began pacing the length of the kitchen, recalling everything that had happened that evening. He had been on the phone non-stop, calling contractors and his insurance company. After even more bad news about his future house, he hadn't even thought about the call he was going to place to his boss. It was something he had hopped would fix itself. But, he knew better.
He walked into the living room and saw Matt staring at his actions from the couch. He smirked at his older brother before flopping onto the over-sized chair and kicking his feet up onto the ottoman. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, still feeling Matt's eyes burning a hole through him.
"You're on them, aren't you?" Matt asked, shoveling the last bite of food into his mouth before placing the plate onto the coffee table.
"Oh God Matt, not you too?" Jeff said, no opening his eyes.
"Yeah, me too. Someone has to get through that thick head of yours. Jeff, you're letting everything blow right by you and when it's gone, it's gonna be no one's fault but your own. You know that, right?" Matt asked, sipping his sweet tea.
"Yes, Matt, I do. Do we have to do this tonight?" Jeff asked, finally looking up.
"If not tonight, when, Jeff? When you're six feet under next to Mom?" Matt yelled, throwing his now empty plate across the room.
Jeff heard the crash and looked at the broken contents on the floor. He heard his brothers loud sigh and knew he had disappointed Matt once more. He looked over at him and saw the tears lining his older brothers eyes – a sight that about killed Jeff. He had only seen Matt cry on a handful of occasions, and usually it dealt with a broken-heart, their father or a major career success, a goal in life, that he or they had obtained.
It had never failed, either. He somehow had always managed to upset his brother in some form or another. His father, too.
Matt was always the organized, more goal-oriented son. The one who had his life planned out from the time they were teenagers, building backyard wrestling organizations and keeping him in line. And when something came up that Matt hadn't planned, rather bad or good, he always took it in stride and knew just how to deal with it. Matt was the perfect son, in Jeff's eyes, and in some ways, Jeff was deeply jealous and sometimes hurt by his brother. Rather intentional or not, the jealousy was there and would rear it's ugly head on occasions, but mostly, Jeff knew how to hide it deep inside.
Jeff, on the other hand, was one to fly by the seat of his pants, be more adventurous and try new things, good or bad, and while normally a restrained, shy person, was still very well liked and the life of the party. He didn't have an organized plan in life. He just excepted things as they came and took things more to heart, but held them in at the same time. He always tried to please his father, but somehow, Matt always seemed to overshadow him and was better than him, Jeff thought.
Matt shook his head and wiped the tears before storming into the kitchen and grabbing his keys from the hanger by the door. Jeff watched his movements as he walked to the laundry room and grabbed his coat. He knew he had hurt his brother. He hadn't meant to and it broke Jeff's heart. No matter how hard things got, no matter who was against Jeff or even if their father was mad, Matt was always there for him, picking up the pieces, a shoulder to cry on, a friend, whatever. Matt was always there. And now it seemed like it was losing the last support system, his strongest supporter, his brother.
"Where are you going?" Jeff asked softly, as he dropped his head, not wanting to look at the disappointment anymore.
"Out!" Matt replied loudly, before the door slammed behind him.
Jeff didn't look up for a while, knowing his brother was gone, but not wanting to feel the emptiness of the house, matched with the loneliness he already felt. He leaned back in the chair, debating on rather to take more pills or sit there in solitude and silence. For the first time Jeff could remember, he was left debating rather to take his comfort and give in or face it and make things better.
He was on the verge of a break through, and even if he didn't realize it or not, he was the only one who could change things and make them better.