It's almost like looking at a mirror image, the way they are standing and glaring at each other.
As soon as Jackson enters the room, I feel a wave of nervous energy emanating from Jack. He quickly gets up on his feet and his eyes narrow into two slits as he takes in the sight of his youngster for the first time. His body is slightly bent forward, and he reminds me of a predator ready for attack.
Jackson, on the other hand, leans on the doorframe and lets his eyes wander over the tall figure of his father. I know Jackson well, so I know he's putting on an act of being cool and not that impressed. I know that inside, meeting Jack makes him nervous as hell.
The silence is deafening and I can't believe that none of them has uttered a word yet. I didn't expect them to fall into each other's arms. But I also didn't expect the air to be charged with open hostility. I desperately try to think of anything to say, something neutral in order to soothe the situation, but my son beats me to it.
"I thought you wear make-up", Jackson says a bit dismissively. Just a bit, to act as if he doesn't really care, but still neutral enough not to really provoke this strange man that is supposed to be daddy.
"You mother made me take it off", Jack replies with a hint of bitterness to it. It is true, I did demand of him to take the bloody thing off. First of all, I wanted to see him. I missed his face and all the little things about it for too long, and I wouldn't be denied by anything or anyone. Second of all, I didn't want my son's first impression of dad to be disturbing-ok, make that as less disturbing as possible, given the special circumstances of our specific case. Jack and I fought about it for a while, and our argument – as most of our arguments tend to – ended with pretty wild quickie, with me bent over the kitchen table. Only after that did he finally agree to take the grease paint off. This one time.
Jackson rolls his eyes and smiles a bit, as if agreeing that I am bossy. I raise my brow a bit at that, but refrain from commenting. If they're going to bond over me being bossy and commandeering, so be it.
"She thought it would offend your sensibilities", Jack taunts the kid, and the smile instantly vanishes from Jackson's handsome face.
"What took you so long, I called you two hours ago?", I ask Jackson before he has the chance to snap back at his father. I really don't want them to fight, not when they just met.
"…I had company.", he slumps carelessly on a nearby couch.
"What company? You don't know anyone in Gotham and I left you alone for less than a day in the hotel?", I realize that my voice has gone from normal to almost yelling by the end of the sentence.
"I went to grab a burger, and I met this girl, and then, you know..", he does a little circle with his hand in the air, as if that explains anything.
I drop my jaw, and I realize that I need to have a very serious talk with my son, who is taking some real liberties, but Jack, of course, thinks this is very funny.
"That's the spirit! You don't waste any time. I like that. Son.", Jack actually smiles proudly at his son, but there is still something creepy about the whole interaction, and he called Jackson 'son' in a rather mocking tone, "Was she any good? Was she a looker?"
"Jack!", I'm completely mortified, "Don't encourage him!"
"..it was a girl, right?", Jack ignores me completely.
"Yeah, this time it was a girl, dad", Jackson fires back and smiles a very nasty smile. Jack frowns and shoots me questioning looks, and I just shake my head and roll my eyes, indicating that Jackson is not being serious. As far as I know, at least.
A very uncomfortable silence falls over the three of us. For a while, Jackson pretends to be busy with his phone, and Jack and I keep on shooting angry glances at each other, trying to make the other remedy the situation. I feel a strong urge to try to make things right myself, but I keep on reminding myself that Jack is actually an adult person, a grown man of 33 years, and Jackson is not a kid anymore, as well, but a very stubborn and intelligent young man. They should be able to figure this out themselves, without me hovering over them. With this in mind, I get up and announce that I'm going to make something for us to eat. None of them makes a sound as I leave the room.
…
A few minutes after mom's gone, I hear him clearing his throat in that very obvious kind of way. I lazily look at him, knowing it would irritate him even more. I don't know where this defiance is coming from, I don't know where this instant dislike is coming from. I just know that something about him both irritates me and fascinates me in the same time.
I look at him, glaring at me, and I wonder if it is because he's too young. I mean, dads are supposed to be these smiley older guys with a funny beer belly, and a moustache, barbequing on weekends and telling awful pun jokes-right? He's nothing like that. He's fit, he sharp, he seems..dangerous. He seems like that weird friend that you have who's not really a friend. Like that guy that years later you hear about has killed someone or stuff like that.
Except, this guy..daddy..he actually has killed. A bunch of people. And for no real reason.
And aren't dads supposed to be all warm and loving and whatnot? Why the fuck is mine glaring at me like I'm poison?
"I can't believe you're my dad", I blurt out, and I feel instantly ashamed because I sound like the typical whiney teenager.
"At least you knew you had a dad", he falls back in the couch, still glaring at me, "Just yesterday, I didn't even know I had a son."
"Sorry to disappoint", I obviously can't help but to sound like some drama bitch today.
"I didn't say that, but keep up this pussy attitude..", he rolls his eyes.
"…or what, you won't take me fishing?", I roll my eyes back at him.
"Or I won't take you to my next bank robbery", he answers and I quickly look at him to see if he's joking, and his face is blank. Holy shit.
We keep quiet for a while, and I actually am curious about him, but I don't want to show it by asking questions. At least not questions about him.
"So..", I look at him, trying to seem relaxed about it, "What about mom?"
"Who..?", it takes him a second to realize that Sonja is mom, "Ah, Sonja. It's weird to hear someone calling her that. So, what about her?"
"I dunno…", I'm not sure how to ask this, but basically I want to know what is going on with the two of them, "Are you like..together now?"
"Bah, kid, what do I know…guess so?", he shrugs his shoulders, and he honestly seems a bit unsure about this.
"Well, do you want to be with her?", I continue, "I mean, will you guys live together now or what?"
"Geez, what's with the questions?!", he's getting irritated all over again.
"I mean, are we just visiting or…what? Are we moving here? Where we're gonna live?", I keep on pestering him, and it amuses me a bit to press his buttons, "Do you love mom? Will you take care of us?"
"Jesus Christ, kid, shut the fuck up!", he finally yells at me.
"Well, dad, these are the things you should know!", I yell back at him.
"Are you always so annoying?!", he gets up quickly and his eyes search the room, as if he's looking for something to smash into pieces.
"Are you always in such a foul mood?", I ask him back.
"You know what, you little shit", he takes a few steps towards me and leans over, getting his face closer to mine, "When and if you learn to know me…you'll know this is me in my good mood. I'm actually trying to be nice here..so don't fuck this up."
And I react as I usually do when I'm provoked. I just can't get over it. I'm on my feet in and instant, and I'm very glad to discover we're pretty much the same height. I get even closer to him and look him straight in the eyes.
"Or what?", I ask him in a silent and very provoking whisper.
"Or I will show you what happens to people who get to deal with me when I'm in a bad mood", he says, and there's something about the tone of his voice that makes the hairs on my neck stand up. I take a little step back, and he smirks at my defeat. I refuse to break eye contact for a while, so we just stand there, in a bizarre staring contest.
"What's going on here?", I hear mom's voice and feel a shameful amount of relief. We keep on staring at each other for a few more seconds and then both turn to look at her in the same time.
"Nothing", I lie.
"I'm hungry", Jack informs her.
"We have chicken, French fries and broccoli. I couldn't find anything better in the fridge.", she says, but her eyes keep on dancing between the two of us. She knows that things are very tensed between Dad and I. She sighs a bit, knowing she can't really do much about it, and then looks at Jack, "We'll need to go grocery shopping."
"Do you want to go shopping with cash in hand, or do you want the fun sort of shopping?", he asks her in a clowny voice, and to my surprise, mom smiles a very girly smile at him.
"What's the fun sort of shopping?", she asks him in a voice that sounds…seductive? Eww.
"Well, you'll be accompanied by yours truly, and a few selected friends, and we'll all have guns and you'll take whatever you like FOR FREE!", he finishes the sentence like he's starring in some kind of commercial.
„Yeah, I'd prefer the kind of shopping where nobody gets shot or arrested at the end", mom actually laughs.
„Ah! You're no fun! Except..", and his hand travels down her waist and I realize they totally forgot about me standing just a few feet away.
„Please, before I throw up..", I murmur as I make my way to the kitchen.
I actually hear them giggle behind my back.