“Nobody’s excited to seethat, Sean,” Wheely-Guy shouts from under the car and everybody snickers.
“So help you God if you go anywhere near her.”
Sean laughs. “Good one, boss!” but Zeke’s face is stone-cold.
In an attempt to save Sean’s dignity, and life apparently, I cut in again. “Well, nightclubs aren’t really my thing either, but I’d love to celebrate with Maddie.”And have a chance to spend more time with Jay.
Jay snaps his head to me, his expression curious. Am I fooling anybody by pretending to be interested in Maddie’s birthday? “If that’s okay with you?” I add.
I feel my chest grow tight at the thought that he could completely humiliate me right here in front of everyone if he says no.Maybe you should have thought of that first, Claire.See, this is why it’s so important that I overthink before I speak.
He nods in response, creasing his brow, which tells me he’s feeling one of two things, either unexpectedly surprised or thoroughly creeped out. My wheels begin turning as I start thinking maybe I’m doing too much. I am never one to be this bold and here I am, showing up at his work and inviting myself to be his plus one all on the same day.
As if reading my mind, he adjusts his posture, his hand that was once by his side, casually grazing mine. “Sounds good to me.” A subtle, yet intentional brush of his pinky seals the deal. And I feel it head to toe.
19
Jamison
Iwake up in a cold sweat, my body tense and my breathing ragged. I look at the clock - 4:41 am. Less than an hour until my alarm goes off. This happens all the time, and I hate it. I wake up with time left before I have to start my day but usually can’t fall back to sleep. Sometimes I grab a book from my nightstand that I've already read a thousand times. MaybeThe Call of the WildorOf Mice and Men— a story that I relate to, with hardships but no surprises because I always know how it's going to end. Today though, I decide to get a workout done instead.
Having the same nightmares on repeat, you’d think my body would get used to it by now. God knows my mind has. At this point, the dreams play like cartoons on a Saturday morning — expected and familiar — yet without fault, I snap awake almost every time.
Peeling myself from bed, I grab my pack of cigarettes. Is it completely counterproductive to smoke before I exercise? Probably. Do I care? Absolutely fucking not. Plus, it’d be worse if I smoked and didn’t lift, right? So it’s kind of like the two cancel each other out.
Besides, after that nightmare, I could use a smoke or three.
I’m playing marbles on the floor, and Jackson is reading out loud on the bed above me. The lack of light from my window tells me it’s late. Normally, I would be nervous. When I'm alone, the darkness scares me like it’s supposed to when you’re young. There are creepy sounds and spooky shadows, but unlike most kids who are afraid of what is hidden, I'm afraid of what is in plain sight.
Not when Jackson is here though. When he's home, I feel safe. It could be the ten-year age gap, but as long as he's around, which isn’t as often as I would like, I'm not worried about what comes home—Jackson will protect me. If there is fighting or yelling, he will sit with me in the closet, both of us scrunched up to fit against the back wall.
Sometimes we sit in silence, sometimes we talk. Sometimes he shows me how to hold a cigarette, me pretending with a broken crayon or rolled up piece of paper, him with the real thing. Either way, he almost always ends up reading to me until Mom comes to get us.The Adventures of Huckleberry Finnis my favorite. We must have read that book a hundred times already. It's the one he's reading now.
“Well, it made me sick to see it; and I was sorry for them poor pitiful rascals, it seemed like I couldn’t ever feel any hardness against them any more in the world. It was a dreadful thing to see. Human beings can be awful cruel to one another.” Jackson stops reading.
“It’s true, Jay,” he says, still lying at the bottom of the bed so he can see me on the floor. “People in this world can be real dickheads. These losers Mom brings home, can all go to Hell. But you know, not everyone out there sucks so bad. We just have to get out of this fucking place.”
I shoot my head up to him, rolling marbles in my palm. “You mean, like leave?” Looking down, I watch the colorful beads move freely in my hand. “I don’t know, Jack. I don’t think Mom would ever leave this place.”
“Not Mom, Jay—you. Mom’s made her mess, but you have to promise me you’ll leave one day. Get out of his house, and make a life for yourself. Just run, Jay, like Huck did. When you’re big enough, okay?”
The idea of leaving scares me. The idea of running away and being on my own. And does he mean I should leave Mom behind? “Big like you, Jack?” I ask.
“Yeah, buddy.” He hides his face behind the book, but I hear the way his voice changes. “Big like me.”
Jackson stayed up all night finishing the book one last time for me. When I woke up in the morning, still on the floor below his bed, he was gone.
Claire showedup at Monroe’s. I still can’t believe it. I know she said she was there as a thank you from her dad, but I’m hoping at least a small part of her was happy for the chance to see me. I know I was really fucking happy that I got to see her.
Not only did she come to work with the best goddamn dessert I’ve ever had, but she also agreed to go to Maddie’s party with me. At least I think she meant with me. I panicked a little when she said she’d love to go, so I’m not sure where we landed in terms of plans. That’s what I’m trying to find out now. If I would just stop being such a pussy and text her already.
I finally asked Claire for her number before she left the garage. By some twisted turn of events, Zeke wingmanned for me by throwing this stupid party and gave me an excuse to need it. At that point, I was running a little on autopilot from all of the surprises, so thankfully, I didn’t have enough brain power to worry about how it looked.
“I’ll text you about the party then I guess?” She let out an adorable giggle, and I caught myself noticing things like fucking adorable giggles. Writing her number on the back of a Monroe's business card, she handed it to me.
“I guess we’ll see.”
Now I am sitting at Enzo’s, with my phone and the card with a little heart next to the last number, contemplating life and my first text to her.
