It's something to speak of the way you are feeling
to crowds there assembled
do you ever feel you have gone too far?
Everyone suffers in silence a burden
/
she's a waitress and she's got style

The Boy With The Arab Strap – Belle and Sebastian

Jasper wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm, leaving another streak of grease along his already dirty face.

"Well, Mr. Banner, I gotta say y'all were lucky. Coupl'a more days and this truck woulda left ya high and dry on the side'a the road."

The older man nodded his thanks, climbing in the truck as Jasper walked over to sling his spanner on the shelf.

Bracing his arms over the sink, he turned the tap on full, sticking his head under the flow before shaking like a dog. As Tyler yelled his name for lunch, he grabbed a towel from the side, scrubbing it over his face and arms.

The other three mechanics spent the walk over to the diner teasing Mike about some waitress named Jessie. Jasper hung back, not bothered about making friends with his new colleagues. Staying in town long enough to make friends was a rarity; it was best to not even try.

There were two young waitresses emerging from a door behind the counter when they walked in, aprons strings tied around blue dresses, both wearing chucks. Mike yelled across to the brunette—Bella—and she waved them into a booth by the window.

Jasper hadn't been paying attention once they'd slung themselves into a booth; and it wasn't until the smell of coffee invaded the air that he took notice of his surroundings. The thought of coffee made his skin crawl, his hand shaking as he stuck it out over the mug, almost knocking the coffee pot out of the waitress's—Bella's—hand.

She hurried off to get him something different when he asked, and he turned his head away, blocking out the smell of the coffee with memories of what was waiting for him up north.

He nodded his thanks absent-mindedly as she set the glass down in front of him, fishing a piece of ice out to chew on.

He zoned out of the conversation that was taking place around him, instead looking around the diner—nothing remarkably different than any of the countless other small town diners he'd sat in over the past 24 years.

He excused himself as soon as he'd wolfed down his sandwich and made his way over to the pay phone in the corner, digging a pile of quarters and a wedge of dollar bills out of his back pocket. Once he'd punched in the number he listened to the crackles from the long distance line, waiting for the girl on the other end to pick up.

"Hey listen, Rosabee, it's Jasper. Look, I'm not gonna make it up to Newark for the fourth, darlin'. I gotta work off the cost of repairin' the truck."

"But Jasper, you promised!"

He listened patiently to her protests, assuring her that she'd have plenty of fun without him, that Esme would make sure that the fourth was as fun as always, even without him there.

"Give my love to your Momma for me, and tell her I'll be up real soon."

Jasper replaced the receiver and leant his head against the body of the payphone, Rose's voice ringing in his ears. He'd not seen her in five years and had promised every year that he'd see her on the fourth of July, they're special day. He'd yet to make it a reality though, and he was starting to worry she'd lose faith in him the more he kept letting her down.

He went to rejoin the rest of the mechanics at their table, sliding a couple of bills across to Mike as he returned from the till.

Jasper spent the rest of the afternoon waist deep in the engine of his Ford F150, trying to figure out why the engine had cut out on him halfway between Houston and Newark. He had thought that maybe the rubber between the fuel pump and the fuel line had a leak in it, but having pulled it out and filtered water through it, seeing no sign of a leak, he was stumped.

By six he had given up. Heading out front for a final cigarette before he returned to the B&B he leaned up an old oilcan, out ready for it to be taken with the rest of the trash the next morning. He heard the rumble of a badly tuned engine coming down the road towards him, and looked up to see Bella wave out of the window of an ancient Chevy 3100.

16 years ago: Jasper is 8.

"Bye, honey!" his mother shouted, waving out of the window as his father backed the truck out of the driveway. "Be good for grandma!"

Jasper waved for as long as he could see the truck, taking Momma and Dad to the hospital to collect his new baby sister. He was excited, he'd already sworn he was gonna be the best big brother little Rosalie could ever have; he was gonna teach her to climb the biggest tree at the bottom of the garden and make sure no one picked on her at school, ever.

Jasper spent the day coloring in pictures in the living room, while Grandma sat on the couch white-faced, talking in hushed tones on the telephone. He wasn't allowed to go outside, and when Grandma asked for a hug, she held him too tight, and he thought his lungs were gonna burst.

He told her all his plans for Rosalie, how he knew that Momma had to look after her for a little bit until she was big enough to play with him, but then he was gonna share all his toys with her, he'd even let her play with his civil war soldiers; not even his best friend Emmett was allowed to play with them.

Grandma nodded in all the right places, but she wouldn't look at him, and Jasper thought she might be crying, but he didn't know why she'd be crying so he carried on coloring.

It was very dark outside by the time the headlights from the truck lit up the lounge window. Grandma should have put him in bed hours ago, but maybe she forgot.

Dad walked in carrying a tiny little bundle in his arms. Jasper jumped up to go and get a first glimpse of his Rosalie, but Grandma snagged the back of his shirt and pulled him back.

Dad's face was all red and puffy, like he'd been crying.

"I'm so sorry, son," Grandma said.

Jasper didn't understand why she was sorry. Rosalie was here, why were Dad and Grandma crying? Maybe Momma could cheer them up when she came in from the car.

Grandma took Rosalie from Dad's arms and Dad started crying, big, choking sobs that seemed to explode out of him. He reached blindly for Jasper and started rocking him back and forth, squeezing him even tighter than Grandma had.

He repeated Grandma's words.

"I'm so sorry, son, I'm so, so sorry."

Jasper went to bed that night with the image of Momma, smiling and waving out of the window of the truck, emblazoned on the back of his eyelids.