Chapter 35 - Waves
The waves of grief came in like clockwork, and they came in loud.
Jon hadn't been able to do much of anything but sit at his own kitchen table, watching the unimaginable at a distance. Shawn wouldn't let him come any closer than that. Ashley sat on his couch, with a pillow in her lap where Shawn lay his head. For the most part, he was quiet. He shed a few silent tears, or spoke softly to Ashley. She whispered back to him, offered him tissues, ran her fingers through his hair.
But maybe two or three times an hour, his tone would escalate, his eyes would glaze over, like he was reliving the moment of rejection, and he would bury his face in the pillow, screaming for all he was worth, his body twisting and writhing with pain. The first few times it happened, Ashley held him by the shoulders and tried to speak to him, to calm his cries. Now, she just rode out the grief with him. She wordlessly held him close and rubbed his back, tears filling her own eyes.
It was late in the afternoon when Ashley beckoned Jon over to the couch. Shawn was in one of his calm phases; his eyes were red and teary, and he glared at Jon as he approached, but Ashley looked like she wanted to say something, and so he leaned in to listen.
"I traded shifts today to be at the court," Ashley said.
Jon swallowed hard. "I understand."
Ashley nudged Shawn up off the pillow, and he cried out, gripping tightly to her, eyes wild.
"I'll come back," she said softly. "I promise."
"Everyone leaves," he cried, clinging to her like a child.
Ashley looked up at Jon. "I . . . I'm sorry . . ."
Jon cleared his throat and knelt beside the couch. He knew better than to touch the kid, but he had to speak. "Shawn."
Shawn whimpered, burying his face in Ashley's shoulder. He didn't look or sound his sixteen years. He sounded more like seven.
"Do you trust Ashley?"
"Yes," he whispered.
"She's coming back. But right now, she needs to go to work."
It took a long moment, but he finally let go and settled into the couch beside her, knees pulled into his chest.
Ashley stood up and opened her arms to Jon, who stepped into them and let himself take a long, deep breath before he let go sat down on the couch beside Shawn, and Ashley left the apartment.
And silence reigned.
Shawn didn't speak. Didn't cry. Didn't make a move toward Jon. Just stared at his knees.
Jon didn't try to speak, either. He couldn't possibly have known what to say. He'd known this day could only be painful, but he couldn't have imagined things going this way.
Shawn was staying with him. It wasn't good bye. Eight hours ago, Jon had told himself he would have given anything to be with Shawn at the major landmarks of his life. Now, he knew he would give anything for things to be any other way.
He didn't even know how to feel.
Jon didn't know how long it had been when Shawn broke the silence: "He left because of you."
Jon's eyes fell closed. He couldn't even claim it wasn't true. "I . . . I never wanted—"
"I know. You were trying to help, you were doing what you thought was right, but . . ." He looked away. "I really hate you, man."
It was far from the first time Shawn had told Jon he hated him. It felt so much different this time—bigger and deeper and more painful, like the wind had been knocked out of him, but this time, Jon didn't care about his own pain. It didn't matter if Jon didn't know what to feel about all of this. None of this was about Jon.
"That's okay," Jon said quietly.
Shawn fidgeted with his fingers. Tears filled his eyes, like he was experiencing another wave of grief, but he didn't burst into screaming tears this time.
Jon shifted himself on the couch so he was facing Shawn. "Do you want to stay at the Matthews for a few days? Or call your social worker about another placement?"
"You wanna kick me out?"
"No. No, Shawn." Jon waited until Shawn looked up at him, though Shawn only did for a half second. Jon sighed. "I didn't think you'd want to be around me, since you . . . hate me."
"Hate my dad. Still wanna be with him."
Jon let his breath out. He didn't know what to say about that.
Shawn shifted his weight, leaning his head back on the couch. "So what do we do now?"
"I don't know," Jon said, and he hung his head as the truth of the statement settled in deep.
He didn't know what to do now, and he didn't know what to do with tomorrow, and he didn't know what would happen in the weeks and months to come. He couldn't make any of this okay; he couldn't make Shawn feel any better. All he could do was make sure the kid had a roof, and a bed, and enough to eat . . .
Speaking of which. "You hungry?"
"Yeah," Shawn said.
"I can order a pizza?"
"Can I have it in my room?"
"Sure."
Shawn nodded. "I'm gonna go to my room."
"I'll bring you a few slices."
Shawn didn't say any more. He just slid himself off the couch and went to climb the stairs, leaving Jon alone in the living room.