Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
High above the chimney tops,
That's where you'll find me.
Somewhere Over the Rainbow – Judy Garland
Jasper was up and out of bed with the dawn, the tree outside his window containing a nest of squawling baby birds demanding their breakfast. He threw the window open, breathing the soupy air deeply and running a hand through unkempt hair.
Dragging on a pair of oil stained jeans and a t-shirt that might have once been white, he crossed to the sink on the other side of the wall to splash water on his face. He scrubbed his face dry with the rough towel, running a hand over his jawline he decided he could do without shaving.
Jasper cut across the town square and into the diner, setting off the chimes above him.
"Miss Jessica," he tipped his hat at the waitress behind the counter as he took a seat in front of her.
Jessica bent to grab a mug from below her, placing it in front of him before filling it with steaming coffee.
"Breakfast?" she questioned, pushing a menu towards him, "you're up early, didn't think Mikey opened up 'til 8?"
Jasper pulled the menu towards him, flicking his eyes up to meet Jess's.
"Pancakes sound good," he handed the piece of paper back, "couldn't sleep, figured I may as well get a head start on my truck."
Jessica nodded, scribbling his order on her pad before turning to pass it through the hatch into the kitchen.
"You think you'll be sticking around for long then?" she asked, leaning her elbows on the counter in front of him.
"Reckon it'll take me at least a month to fix up the truck, probably another month to work off the cost. Headed to Jersey after that though."
"What's in Jersey?" she asked, reaching to grab a cloth and starting to wipe down the counter in front of him
"Family," Jasper said tersely, dropping his eyes to follow the motion of her cloth.
Sensing the young man in front of her didn't want to talk about it, Jess smiled softly at him.
"There's a lot of us with checkered pasts around here," she told him kindly, "you don't feel obliged to tell nosy old me or anybody anything, ok?"
Clocking off later that day, Jasper headed across the grassy town square to the hardware shop, the high school across the road awash with teenagers being let free for the afternoon.
He nodded at the elderly man behind the counter as he moved amongst the shelves, stopping when he found the car parts, weighing up the different pistons in his hands. Deciding the larger of the two would do the job, he moved towards the man.
"This'll fit a Ford F150?" he questioned, "forgot to check before I left."
The man nodded an affirmation, ringing Jasper up and handing him his change.
"Have a good night, son."
15 years ago: Jasper is 9
"Son!" the shout bellowed through the house as Jasper tucked his baby sister into her crib, crooning a lullaby as he did so.
Kissing her downy head one more time, he moved to the door, gently closing it. His grandma had gone visiting her sister for a week, and his dad was still too sad to look after baby Rosabee, so she said it fell to Jasper to be the man of the house and make sure she was ok.
He hurried downstairs, finding his dad in his armchair, cigarette butts littering the floor around him, a half empty bottle of whisky dangling from his fingers as small eyes leered at Jasper.
"Get over here, son," Jasper hastened to follow the command, the memory of last night's burnt arm still throbbing beneath his pajama sleeve.
He still wasn't fast enough for his father though, who grabbed the boy by his shirt collar and flung him away. Jasper stumbled, catching his shoulder on the wall, letting out a hiss of pain as the joint protested.
"Don't be such a pathetic, useless wimp," his father sneered, snatching at Jasper's sleeve, bringing the boy's face into line with his, his stale breath washing over Jasper as he tried desperately not to breathe it in.
"Think you're so big don't you," he snarled "taking care of that little monster who stole your mother away. Should be ashamed of yourself!"
Jasper trembled in his father's grasp. He'd seen him drunk before, heard him shout sometimes, but Momma or Grandma had always kept him away from Jasper when he was in one of his moods.
The man shoved his son away, Jasper fell to the floor, the hand he'd put out to stifle his fall catching on the lit end of a cigarette. He snatched it up to his mouth with a hiss, sucking on the red skin.
His father laughed, turning back to the baseball game on the TV and his whisky. Jasper hurried up to Rosabee's room, assuring himself that she was still ok. She was sleeping peacefully still, so Jasper retreated to the bathroom to stick his hand under the faucet. The red skin was already starting to blister, and the young boy jerked when the cold water first hit it.
Wrapping his injury in a hand towel he crossed to his bedroom, curling up into the smallest ball he could in his bed and staring at the stars through his small window.
Grandma would be back next week, and she would make it all ok again, he was sure of it. If he could only make it through to next week, it would all be ok again.