After a blunt at their last stop, another viewpoint, this time with a sunset, they made their way to the airport again.
Stepping onto the plane felt like he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, although he'd be lying if he said he still wasn't concerned. But as he lived and breathed, he would hold firm to his boundaries or whatever they had been calling them. He had no reason to believe that whatever it was she was keeping from him couldn't be solved.
Maybe it was growing up under the watchful and judgmental eye of Anna Carrera, her father's militant parenting style? Could it have been the constant near misses with death? Or the Singh kidnapping? Or the whole thing with that behavioral camp? He squeezed his eyes shut. Sarah, his psuedo-sister, lay on his shoulder, softly snoring. He couldn't sleep. Too many unanswered questions, and his ears were crackling. He popped a piece of gum in his mouth.
He and Kie were done. That was certain, he wouldn't let her come back into his life as a romantic partner any time soon, that was for certain. But he would never hang her out to dry. He and Sarah had discussed that while sitting on the hill during the sunset. She understood, nodding along thoughtfully to his careful words.
That's very brave of you J. She had told him after he finished his thoughts.
You should write her a letter.
And so, here he was with the paper the flight attendant had so thoughtfully given him.
The red ink held dangerous thoughts that he attempted to push down into the back of his mind. It had been so long since he'd felt this way, since Luke was still in the picture, really. He felt numb, but it was a heavy numb, and when he woke up that morning, he almost wished he hadn't. It was dangerous territory for him to be charting into, but it had been a slow build of the last five days.
Kie left, and as silly as it sounded, what Sarah told him on the beach had weight to it.
Don't you ever wonder who your mother is?
He remembered his mother, still. He remembered her flowing blonde locks, her soft voice as she'd sing to her, her floral perfume. She remembered her always taking off with some wild excuse, disappearing. Back when his father wasn't quite so out of his mind. He remembered bits and pieces of her, and now at twenty-one, it was fuzzy. But he remembered sometimes there was another baby, when he was alone with his mother, and that thought made his stomach churn. He'd played it cool on the beach, but if it really was true, then he didn't know how he would handle that.
They left him on the Cut with a terrible, terrible man, when he was at least half a Kook. He could have had a decent life rather than a shitty one. But that was a done deal, now. He looked at the paper, which only had two words scrawled on it. He continued writing.
Dear Kie,
You know I've never been one with words, but I felt this was the best way to reach you considering what happened. I don't really want to get into it again, so here we go, I guess.
He pursed his lips, fighting himself against erasing it, and pressing onward. This was a no-hesitation move.
I don't think that after what I saw in LA, we can be together again in a romantic sense. And maybe that's for the best, cuz all we do lately is fight. But I wanted to tell you that I'm worried about you.
And it was the truth, he was worried, but he didn't know what for. That part frustrated him most, and he tapped his eraser against the fold-up table, trying not to bounce his leg too much because Sarah would stir. He stared at the paper some more, before glancing out the window. It was cloudy, and dark considering it was one in the morning. He pursed his lips.
What I have to be worried about, I'm not so sure. I'm sure there's a laundry list of things that's been bugging you. Whatever it is, no matter how broken up we are, you're still a Pogue. You can still come home. And I'll always listen. No matter what.
He scratched his head.
You have my number, and I won't bug you anymore, but I'm still here.
J
He ended it, folding it up twelve times and shoving it in his pocket, before crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. In his ears, Rainbow Kitten Surprise crooned on about a Cocaine Jesus, and he swallowed thickly. This was going to be tricky for him.
"You okay?" Sarah mumbled from beside him, stirring slightly.
He hummed in response, glancing at her. There was a stain on his shoulder, making him smirk.
"You got drool on my shoulder."
"Shut up." She grumbled.
A week after their return, John B, along with Cleo and Sarah, grew worried. JJ had not left his room since they'd been home. Sarah thoughtfully brought him one snack a day, and reminded him they loved him, but by the ninth day, John B finally grew worried enough.
Space be damned. He'd given him quite enough space, more than enough time, but the moping in silence had to stop.
"J." John B finally spoke, after standing by his bedroom door for a few minutes.
No answer. He sighed, opening the door, and grimacing.
Obviously, he hadn't showered either.
"J." He repeated again, more firm this time. "C'mon, bud, why don't we go for a walk."
JJ snorted. "Go away, Bree."
John B breathed a sigh of relief, sitting on the side of the bed.
JJ turned to look at him. John B knew he'd seen his friend in worse conditions, but JJ looked particularly rough in a different sense. His hair was matted, eyes ringed with red, and his breath was rank. Dark circles lined up under his eyes, signaling that sleep hadn't been fond of his friend. His face looked thinner and considering that JJ ate like a champ and has eaten hardly anything all week, it made sense. John B sighed, thinking back to a time when this hunger was normal. Now, though, it was a sign of his friend's mental state.
"C'mon. I can't let you lie in here another day."
"And what do you suggest I do?" JJ asked, voice sounding small. John B swallowed.
"Brush your teeth." He told his friend, who blew at him playfully.
JJ was still in there.
"Shower. Come socialize. Brush your teeth a second time, Jesus, J." John B put his hand over his nose. "Sarah's making breakfast. I'll help you change your sheets."
As if rising from the dead, the blonde sat up in one fluid motion. Food sounded nauseating, but John B was right. He couldn't continue to do this to himself. The brunette looked stunned, but nodded, stopping him at the door. "Shower, J."
JJ blew raspberries, signaling his protest, but complied. He stepped into the tub, faced with Kie's peach body wash and the scent of her shampoo, and grimaced. He grabbed the bottles, running his fingers over them, and pursed his lips. He tucked them under the sink.
Better.
He didn't take too long, just long enough to let the hot water run over him enough to be soothing. He washed, conditioned, scrubbed his body. Combed through his incredibly matted hair. He stepped out of the shower.
Stupid John B. He did feel better physically. The numbness that had settled into his bones, however, seemed to be here to stay. He wiped a hand over the fogged mirror, grinning at his facial hair. He had a beard, or the start of one, anyway. He decided against shaving, instead choosing to see where it would go.
He used a tongue scraper next, and then brushed, flossed, rinsed. He almost felt right as rain. Except, he was heartbroken. And it sucked.
He sauntered into his room, pulling on a fresh pair of undies, a fresh pair of sweats, and a t-shirt that was comfy but fit well enough to not be considered slobby. He looked at his bed, which had been stripped of its linens, and smiled.
Stupid John B.
"Breakfast!" Sarah's voice chirped, floating down the hall.
He froze at his door, which was still closed. He hadn't been downstairs all week. He hadn't even been out of his room, choosing to smoke out his window. He didn't feel like answering questions.
Sarah had been leaving plates of food on his desk. They all had ensuite bathrooms. He grimaced, but shook his head. He was JJ Maybank and nothing could scare him off. He walked down the stairs slow and calculated, bare feet padding on the hardwood, before he appeared like a ghost in the kitchen doorway.
Silence fell over the three at the table, before Cleo grinned.
"Rude Boy has been awoken from his hibernation!" She exclaimed, grinning.
He smiled, but it didn't quite make it to his eyes.
"Do you want some pancakes, J?" Sarah asked, moving to make him a plate.
"Yeah, not a ton though, I'm not super hungry. Please." He spoke with a rasp that told his friends that he hadn't quite spoken. The hum of the washing machine behind them did very little to help the awkwardness that he felt hanging in the air from the silence.
John B and Cleo sensed this and started talking about something else.
"Bacon and eggs?"
"Please."
They ate in a comfortable silence, the washing machine humming lowly, and then the front door opened. Four heads turned to meet Pope's grinning face. JJ's face erupted into a smile that he wasn't expecting to wear today.
"Grey Pipe!" Cleo exclaimed, chair clattering to the floor as she flew to the door to greet her boyfriend.
Choruses of happy confusion rang through the kitchen, all rising from their designated seats to greet their friend. Cleo first, followed by JJ, who hugged longer than expected. Then John B, who exchanged a knowing glance with his friend about JJ. Sarah was last.
"Do you want a plate, Mister College?" She asked, grinning. On cue, the man's stomach growled, making them laugh.
"Please. The food on campus kinda sucks." He whined.
JJ looked up at him. "Don't you have two hundred mil in your account?"
"Yes, JJ, but if we recklessly spend our money and deplete our resources, then-" Pope began, but was cut off by JJ blowing raspberries. "If you spend your money the same way you did the first time, you won't be blowing raspberries, JJ."
"Wah, wah. I will have you know, I have been responsible as hell." He grumbled, stabbing his smiley face pancakes with a fork. "Not that it matters."
A tense silence fell over the group, which made him bristle. The washing machine crooned on as it spun, making a whooshing sound as it drained the water from his sheets. He swallowed, eyeing John B, who looked worried.
"You guys can say it. You don't have to sit here staring at me like I'm some animal in a zoo." He told them.
"Nobody said you were an animal, Shitbird, we're worried about you." John B was the one that spoke, his voice full of angst.
"Because of Kie?" He asked, voice cracking in anger.
"No, asshole, because this is the first time you left your room in days." Sarah pointed her fork at him. "We're all worried about you because you aren't being you."
Silence again, but the air was thicker, full of more emotion. The washing machine sang to them, signaling the end of the cycle. Pope cleared his throat, and he could hear everyone chewing. He stood, suddenly, leaving his plate on the table. He put his shoes on, followed by his jacket.
"Where are you going?" Cleo asked him.
"Walk." Was his gruff response.
He opened the door, to see a sight he wasn't necessarily looking forward to, and laughed at his own misfortune. He looked crazy, he knew, the shower only cleaned him.
Mike and Anna stood on the porch, Anna holding a fist up to knock on the door, frowning when JJ started laughing maniacally.
"What do I owe the pleasure of this experience?" He asked, smiling, even though he didn't mean it.
Mike said nothing, rolling his eyes. Anna swallowed, running her eyes over his figure, but not with judgement, rather with worry.
"We, uh..." She started, trailing off, looking past the door. JJ stepped aside, letting them in, taking his shoes off.
"Mr and Mrs Carrera." John B spoke first.
"Johnny." Mike greeted, making the younger one's shoulders tense.
"Is Kiara here?" Mike asked, finally.
JJ snorted, moving to the door. He shoved his feet into his sneakers, pulled on the first hoodie he saw, and took off. The door slammed, rattling the house. The people in the house looked on, Pope swallowing thickly.
"No." He answered for the group. "No, she isn't."
Mike nodded, swallowing, still looking at the door.
"JJ isn't handling it very well." Sarah told them. "In fact, this is the first day he's been out of his room for nine days."
"He hasn't been out of his room in nine days?" Anna and Pope asked, almost at the same time, tone laced with shock and concern.
"Why are you saying it like that?" John B panicked, eyes glazing over.
"That's not good, man, you told me he was sad, not majorly depressed." Pope grilled.
John B threw his hands up. "Well, if Sarah left me, I don't think I'd leave my room for a month." He defended himself.
"John B, you and JJ are two totally different people." Pope tried to reason with him. "JJ is more of an anomoly."
"What does that mean?"
"You have more to worry about with him." Cleo offered. "He's more reckless, more likely to do dumb shit. Your father died, but left you with good memories. Our Rude Boy has faced nothing but turmoil for ninety five percent of his life." Her accent was thicker as she spoke, emotions ruling over her. "I worry about him."
John B looked at his hands.
Mike cleared his throat. "Right, well-" He went to stand, but Anna yanked him back into his chair.
"Listen to me." Anna told them, voice dry. "JJ has always been... Wild. But I know he cares about you guys. And, I know he cares about Kiara."
"He would die for her." John B spoke, voice solemn. "He almost has, when we were doing the whole treasure thing. For all of us."
Mike swallowed thickly.
"I don't want to put any ideas in your head." Anna continued. "But I know how much he means to you all, and I know that he's trying to be a better man." She fidgeted with her hands, before grasping onto Sarah and Cleo's hand with each one. She gazed pointedly at John B and Pope. "Your friend is exhibiting signs that point toward suicide. Given his past, his reckless tendencies, and his nine days in bed, I'd keep an eye on him."
John B looked like he'd seen a ghost.
Anna took a card out of her purse. "I don't know if Kiara ever told you, but I don't work with Mike all the time. I work with a local Psychiatrist and at the mental hospital on the other side of the island. This phone number on here is for crisis help. You call 9-1-1, and then you call us." Her tone was sad, and gentle.
Her eyes swept across the four Pogues, who looked her dead in the eyes. "I know Mike and I haven't always been... Supportive or kind to you all. Especially the boys. But, this group shows true friendship. If you need us. You call."
"If you tell us where Kiara is." Mike added.
Anna shook her head. "Those are his stipulations. You have trouble. You call me. Kiara is gonna do what she's gonna do, but you all need to know that I am right here." She told them.
Sarah swallowed thickly. "He's one of my best friends." She told them, voice quiet. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost him. If we lost him. He's our glue."
The look on Mike and Anna's face when she told them that was haunting. As if they held a secret. But no sooner than it crossed their face did it leave.
"I don't wanna take up too much of your time. But I want you to keep an eye on that boy. And you call me if something changes."
"Yes ma'am." John B and Pope spoke. The girls remained silent.
"Do you, uh-" Sarah cleared her throat. "Do you want a drink?"
"That would be good." Mike nodded, settling into his seat. Anna caught a mop of blonde hair out the window.
"Stay here, Mike."
JJ was chopping wood, when she came outside. Each time the axe swung down, he made a noise. A grunt. He looked anguished.
Anna said nothing, but he knew she was there.
"I went to see your daughter."
Swing.
"She ran away, like I do. Found a new man."
Swing.
"Told Sarah she was ruining her fresh start."
Swing.
"I'm worried about her."
Swing.
"Wrote her a letter, told her I can't be with her. But I'm here." He threw the axe down, sat on the log, ran a hair through his wild hair. "I probably look insane right now."
Anna swallowed.
"JJ, I want you to know that Mike and I aren't mad at you." She told him.
He laughed dryly. "What would you call that, then?" He motioned to the window with his beer bottle.
"Okay, well, I'm not angry with you." She offered. "Mike is just... Well... It's hard to explain."
"An asshole?" He winced at his words immediately. "Sorry."
"He can be." She giggled. "There's more to it than that. Maybe one day he'll explain instead of being an asshole."
Silence fell over the two. She pulled a small card out of her wallet and handed it to him.
"Suicide hotline?" He asked. But he wasn't defensive. It was more surprise than anything.
"I want you to know, that you have a house full of people that love and care for you. You have a good heart, sweetie. You need to know that. I need you to know that." She told him.
JJ swallowed, nodding.
"Yeah, uh... Thanks, Mrs Carrera."
"It's Anna." She shook her head. "And if you need me, you call."
"What's the catch?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.
"No catch, honey. Just call it a truce."
"1188 Beachview Boulevard." He told her. "Unit 112, in LA. Thats her address."
Anna nodded. "That's sweet of you, but not what I came looking for. But thank you."
"Thank me for what? I'm the reason she's gone." He scoffed.
"Oh, sweetie. I doubt that. Kiara is... Something's wrong. What it is, I don't know, but she'll figure it out. And so will you." She told him.
And then she left.