Soundtrack
Breaking the HabitâLinkin Park
No One KnowsâQueens of the Stone Age
The PretenderâFoo Fighters
9
Jack
Jack woke up morning after morning hoping for a different outcome, but despite the changes he made in his life, it often felt like he was at a perpetual standstill. It had been a few weeks since he and Mia had gotten back together, and she was still somehow keeping up with the charade to her parents that she was living with her brother.
Jack knew it was tearing her apart, so he did what he felt was the only thing he could do. Mia left him no choice.
He took an early lunch break and drove across town to Russ's office. He was fairly certain that should he walk in unannounced, the secretary of the insurance company Mia's father worked for would scoot him right out, so he made an appointment, albeit, under a fake name, but nonetheless an appointment. A woman he'd never seen before was working the front desk when he walked in; he gave his name, sat, and waited for Russ to come out to greet him. When he did, his face fell just slightly before contorting into a look of pure loathing. Regardless, he held out his hand, and Jack took it.
"Jack," Russ said.
"Oh, Mr. Clarke, his name is Devon. He's here about switching to one of our policies," the secretary said.
Russ sighed and turned to her with a smile. "Right. Thanks, Jenny."
Jenny positively beamed. On their way back to his office, Russ muttered, "she's new."
"Figured as much when she didn't kick me out."
Russ grunted in agreement. He opened the door to his office, gestured to a chair, and then sat behind his desk. Suddenly, his anger was wiped away, and a look of panic worked its way over his face. "Did something happen to Mia?"
Jack put his hands up in surrender. "No, no, sir. She's fine."
Russ's relief mixed with confusion at Jack's use of formalities. "Okay. Okay. Good." A pause. "What do you want?"
Jack closed his eyes and took a breath. He rubbed at the patch on his upper left arm. "I want to start by offering an apology for how things have been in the past between me and Mia. I'm sorry."
"For?" Russ asked.
Jack steadied himself. "For all of it. The lying, the general lack of care, the selfishness. All of it. I'm sorry."
Russ leaned back in his chair and thought this over. He looked Jack dead in the eyes. "Why are you doing this? Do you want my blessing or something to get back with my daughter?"
Jack stilled, then, "Well..."
Russ's head began to shake. "No."
"No...what?" Jack asked.
"No, you don't have my blessing or permission or whatever it is you're looking for to get back with Mia."
Jack's hands were up in that surrender position yet again. "I want you to know that I'm only doing this because it has been destroying her. We've been seeing each other for nearly a month. She moved back in. She's been afraid to tell you."
Mia's father rubbed at his temples. "Please get out of my office."
"Mr. Clarke, sir, I'm really trying toâ"
Russ stood up, leaning across his desk towards Jack, voice roaring. Jack neither moved nor flinched. If an adult were going to hit him, it wouldn't be the first time.
"What're you doing? 'Sir' this and 'sir' that? What're you playing at?"
Jack felt that familiar cracking in his chest, one he was once able to stave off with cigarettes and weed among other things. He felt a prickle behind his eyes, but there wasn't a fucking chance in hell he was going to let Mia's dad see him cry. He closed his eyes and took a breath. When he opened them, Russ looked back at him, gaze suddenly soft and penitent.
"I'm sorry. IâI shouldn't have raised my voice." Russ sat back down in his chair.
"I'm not playing at anything. I'm actively trying to be a better person for her. I know, I know, I've been a shitty partner in the past. I'm trying to make things right. One step at a time."
"Like what? What have you done for her?"
Jack raised the arm of his sleeve to expose the clear nicotine patch on his arm. "This, for starters."
Russ nodded.
"I've been running with her, putting in more effort in our shared responsibilities, making sure she's not fronting the financial load, things like that."
Russ stilled a moment, then rubbed at his chin. "If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?"
Jack stalled. "Probably. Depends on the question."
"A few weeks ago, there was a flag on your parents' account. Late payment."
Jack swallowed. Winchester wasn't the smallest town, but it certainly wasn't big. Eventually, people were going to run into each other, catch on to things, notice something that would get lost in a larger place.
"Yeah?"
"When it came through, it had different account information than usual. Billing almost denied it thinking it was an error. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
Jack didn't say anything; he just sat there, trying to remain stoic. Russ didn't add anything either, and Jack finally gave in. For Mia. "I was waiting on my paycheck to clear. Figured...figured it'd be faster doing it directly than sending it to my dad first."
Russ nodded and stood. "I think it's time you headed back to work."
Jack pushed his chair back and stood as well. When Russ held a hand out to him, Jack swallowed down the lump in his throat.
"Thank you for coming to see me," Russ said, complete with a firm grasp on Jack's hand.
"Thanks for letting me in." Jack made to let go of Russ's hand, but Russ kept a tight grip on it.
"If things begin to go south between you two again, I need your word that you will end it cleanly and you'll let her go. You won't keep dragging her back in."
Jack knew he could never verbalize the response he was going to give, even though he meant it. He nodded, let go of Russ's hand, and left.
***
A few days later, it was the weekend, and Jack was looking forward to spending uninterrupted time with Mia. All he had to do was stop at his parents', drop off the money, and go. Simple.
He had it all planned out: he'd walk in through the garage, set the envelope in the drawer under the microwave, and then text his dad where it was. He'd be in and out in no time.
Jack couldn't risk another look into his parents' financials; it would be cash from then on out. Should his father find out anyone knew Jack had been helping them, it would destroy him. Jack couldn't take that risk, not when his father was the only one who displayed a modicum of interest in his well-being. Jack would protect him and his reputation indefinitely.
He was through the garage. In the kitchen. The drawer had been opened and closed. He turned to leave, but his mother was standing in the doorway.
"Jacky-boy, what're you doing here? Come to bring me a present?"
Jack paled, not only because he had been found out but because his mother looked even worse than the last time he saw her. He made a mental note to check the top shelves of the garage on his way out.
"Hey, ma. Nope, just wanted to stop by after work. Was going to brew some coffee. Dad will be home soon, won't he?"
Carla eyed Jack as she sat down at the small round table in their kitchen. "Should be."
Jack moved about gathering the ground coffee and a filter and the pot to fill with water. As he set these things up, his mother cleared her throat.
"Remember when you used to bring me presents, Jacky-boy?"
Jack swallowed, and a shaky finger pressed the brew button on the coffee machine. "Mhmm." He refused to look at her. He refused to let her harness so much power over him.
"Sure, now with Dr. Clemens, I don't need you snooping around the medicine cabinets at your friends' houses, but that was awfully nice of you to do for me when times were harder." She laughed, as if it were all some happy fucking Disney movie. "Well, I say that it was nice, but, truly son, you owed me."
Jack's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. If his mother noticed, she didn't say anything. Jack stood off in the corner until his mother beckoned to him and gestured to the empty seat across from her. He sat down, and, strangely, felt more uneasy sitting across from her than he had while sitting across from Mia's father.
"Heard your dad talking on the phone the other night to your Aunt Val. Used you as an example. Told her you all but kicked your little nicotine habit. Encouraged her to do the same." Carla's voice had shifted; anger was clawing its way up her throat, and Jack had heard it enough times to know that whatever fix she was on was wearing thin.
He looked down at his watch and stood. "Shit, sorry, mom. Mia's waiting on me. Forgot about this dinner we had planned. I have to go. See you soon."
His mother tsked with her tongue, forcing Jack to stop. He knew he should leave; he knew it was only going to get worse, but he couldn't make his feet move. All he wanted, all he ever wanted, was for her to give one single, measly fuck about him.
"I bet you think you're special, Jacky-boy, don't you?"
"Mom, I think you need to go lay down." He put out a hand to help her up, but she swatted it away.
"You don't know a goddamn thing about what I need."
Jack took a calming breath. He knew the speech, the same words hurled at him over and over, and he couldn't stay to hear her play it out again. He straightened his back, turned to the door that would lead into the garage despite his mother's protests, and walked straight through it. He scanned the top shelves of the storage rack his father installed and landed on a new cardboard box. He reached up and took it down, half full with bottles of alcohol, some nearly empty, some nearly full. He turned at the sound of his mother's shuffled footsteps. She stopped in the doorway and stared at him.
He pulled out one of the nearly empty bottles and held it in front of him. "Is this why I'm special? Because my girlfriend doesn't have to hide my stash from me?"
His mother's eyes narrowed, ready to spit another barb at him, but that crack inside Jack's chest was growing deeper, longer. Soon, it would be cavernous, and it would consume him. He dropped the bottle to the ground, glass shattering at his feet, liquid seeping into his shoes.
"How fucking dareâ"
He did it again, this time with a bottle almost half full. His mother charged at him, and he strode forward quickly, putting a hand out to stop her.
"What the fuck are you doing? There's broken glass everywhere and you're barefoot. You can't possibly want this that badly!" Jack held her at arm's length, keeping her just centimeters from the mess he'd made.
Carla seethed at him. "If you don't get off my property, I'll call the police."
Jack laughed, actually laughed, and the crack raged deeper. "Your property? By my calculations, I'd say I own at least a third of this fucking house. You haven't worked a day in over twenty years. How do you think dad affords the mortgage every month?"
Jack's mother slacked against his outstretched hand, and he wondered if he'd gone a step too far. It was confirmed for him that he had when Carla wound her arm back and brought her palm with all the force she could muster against his cheek.
Jack was surprised at how hard she was able to hit him after her body had deteriorated so much over the years.
"Get out of my house," she said.
Jack turned, box of liquor still in his hands, and hurled it at the wall opposite of where they were standing. Bottles crashed and broke in a cacophony of shattered sounds. His hands trembled as he put his key in the ignition of his car. His eyes constantly blinked against the onslaught of tears, each slight movement radiating the sting of his mother's palm down the side of his face.
When he parked his car, he shuffled out of it and to the front door to his and Mia's apartment. Upon opening it, the scent of arepas cooking in their kitchen nearly made him vomit.
Mia didn't turn from the range as she flipped one over. Jack stood in the space between the living area and the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe.
"Sorry, give me one sec; I'm making arepas for you! You mentioned them when you were talking about that time you visited your grandpa in Colombia. I found this recipe on this food blog andâ" Mia turned from the stove and looked at Jack. "Jesus, whatâwhat happened?" Her voice rang out in Jack's head, but he was completely incapable of answering her.
Jack crumpled down the wall. Mia turned off the burner and knelt beside him. Jack's cheeks were drenched in tears. His nose ran and the left side of his face was an angry shade of red. A small cut where his mother's ring had caught his cheekbone was caked in dried blood.
"Jack, it's okay. Everything's okay. You're okay." Her hands were gentle as they wiped at the tears on his face. She left him for a moment, returning seconds later with a bag of frozen corn and cradling it to his cheek.
He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come.
"It's alright. You don't need to say anything. It's alright." Mia's eyes were so tender, so full of love that Jack didn't feel he deserved, and he began to cry all over again. He was embarrassed and ashamed and humiliated that he let her see him like this.
Jack began to curl in on himself, bring his legs to his chest, bring his arms in tight, but Mia stopped him. She wedged herself into his lap, held him with everything she had.
He choked out the words, piece by piece, and painted the horrid picture Mia had never seen. "It's my fault." He stared at the wall, eyes unfocused and cloudy.
"That's not true. You know that's not true."
A small laugh rippled through him, and Jack felt Mia shiver against him.
"I'm not talking about the pain she endured during childbirth. How could I have ever blamed dad for enabling her when it was me who started it?"
"Jack, please stop. You're upset, and you're not thinking straight."
Jack's voice roared throughout their apartment. "But I did. It was all me. I did it. She showed me what kinds of words to look for, made me practice them like they were school work: Oxycontin, generic: oxycodone; Valium, generic: diazepam; Vicodin, generic: hydrocodone. I was a fucking pharmacist before I was eight."
His hands were shaking, and he clasped them behind Mia's back to stop them. "Once, at a sleepover, I snuck into my friend's parents' bedroom while his mom made dinner. They had a bathroom in there, and just like mom said, there was a row of bottles in the medicine cabinet. I had to stand on the sink to reach them. On the way down, I slipped and broke my pinky. I couldn't tell them, though, and I had a pocket full of pills, so I hid my hand in there with them. I pretended I was sick and mom came and picked me up. She was so proud of me. She was so fucking proud that she took me home, emptied my pockets, and then had dad take me to get my finger set." Jack looked down at his hand, the knuckle of his left pinky still not quite right after all those years.
Mia pulled back from him and looked him in the eyes. He expected her to be crying, but she wasn't. Her eyes had never been more clear. "Your mother is a terrible person. This is it. You cannot go over there. You cannot see her. You need to set a boundary: a firm boundary. You also need to go to therapy. We'll make the appointment in the morning."
Jack swallowed. Then nodded. He felt an uncomfortable amount of shame rising in him, but he knew there was only one way for him to silence it.
a/n: hi! This is the first completely new chapter I've written for this story in over two years ð
July is nearly over which means summer is nearly over and I CAN'T WAIT. I hate summer, but I love fall. Do you have a favorite season?
I hope you're staying cool wherever you are. Please tap that star to vote on this chapter and let me know what you think.
Have an excellent weekend,
L