"That's what I'm guessing," I say, getting a spatula to flip the burgers.
"Does she have a boyfriend?"
I turn back to look at him. "Why are you so interested in this girl?"
He shrugs. "Just making conversation."
"Talk about something else. And stop thinking about girls. What did I teach you?"
"That girls are trouble, but if I don't date, how am I gonna get laid?" He tosses another handful of cereal in his mouth.
"You're 15. You don't need to be getting laid. You've got your whole life for that. Right now you need to focus on school." I flip the burgers. "Tell me about your other classes. What about that computing programming class you're taking. You like it?"
"Why do you get to have sex and I don't?"
I hate having these conversations with him. The ones where he calls me on shit I do after I tell him not to do it. I'm not a good example for him, especially when it comes to girls.
"I heard you with Heather." Jacob jumps off the counter and goes to the fridge. "The whole damn neighborhood did." He laughs. "Must've been good the way she was yelling like that."
"Eat your dinner," I say, handing him the plate and ignoring his comments about Heather. She's a cheerleader at school. Last week after football practice, she was waiting outside the locker room for me. She said she needed help with her car but when we got to the parking lot, I found out her car was fine. It was just an excuse to be alone with me. We kissed, and my hand made its way under her skirt, but I stopped before we actually did it.
Heather's the type of girl who wants a boyfriend—a relationship—and I don't do that shit. I'm not boyfriend material. If I get the feeling things are even heading that way, I end it and move on. Girls at school know this and yet they keep trying to date me, thinking they'll be the one to convince me to change my mind. Heather's one of those girls. I should've stopped her that day, right there at her car, and told her to find someone else. But I didn't. She gave me a ride home, invited herself in my house, and went down on me just seconds after I'd closed the door. We ended up in the bedroom just as Jacob got home. The door was closed but he still heard what was going on. Like Jacob said, the whole neighborhood probably heard. Heather was the loudest girl I've ever been with, which I wasn't expecting. At school, she's kind of quiet. I don't remember us ever talking before last week.
"We got any pickles?" Jacob asks.
"No." I place two patties on my plate and join him at the breakfast bar, sitting on the wobbly stool my dad broke in one of his fits of rage. "Pickles weren't in the budget."
"I'm getting a job," Jacob says, his mouth full of hamburger.
"You have a job. You go to school."
"I want a real job. One that pays money."
"It's not happening so stop talking about it."
He turns to me. "Just a few hours a week. I'm tired of being broke all the time."
"Then get your grades up so you get into college and can get a good job."
"I don't want to wait that long."
"I don't give a shit. You're not getting a job."
"What about in the summer?"
"Maybe, but only if you get your grades up."
He lets out a defeated sigh as he takes his plate to the sink. "I'm gonna go watch TV."
"Jake, I know you're mad at me but—"
"Just forget it." He walks off and I hear the bedroom door slam.
I suck at being a parent. It's yet another reason I'll never get in a relationship with a girl. Relationships lead to marriage and having kids—two things I don't trust myself enough to do. I want those things. I just can't have them, and I've accepted that. Jacob hasn't, and maybe that's okay. He doesn't have a temper like me, or our father. He seems to be missing that gene. I sure as hell hope so. I want him to have a normal life. The life I'll never have.
Jacob stays in his room the rest of the night while I stay in the living room. I let him have the bedroom. It's quieter and he sleeps better in there. I sleep on the couch, which is old and sagging and not long enough for my height but it's good enough for now.
* * *
