No Love

Short Story- Jake Morris learns that he must deal with the loss of his mother, even if it means dealing with people. To his surprise, people seem to willing to help.

A lot can change in two weeks. No, seriously. My life’s proof of it. Although, if you were to have asked me a month ago, I’d have said nothing could change in two weeks. It didn’t seem possible. Besides, I didn’t want to change. It didn’t seem necessary. Well, guess what?

Life was peachy. It was the first week of May and I was a senior in high school. With the exception of a severe case of senioritis, I was a spectacle of physical and mental health. My grades were good…enough. Not that they mattered.

Waking up that Monday morning, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Sure, the sun was absent at six-thirty in the morning and that bothered me a bit. Seriously, if I have to be up then everyone should be up. That’s not too much to ask, is it? Anyway, so the sun wasn’t up and it was a struggle for me to get up too. Still, ten minutes into the internal argument the good side won and I kicked off the covers and stumbled out of my room.

From the flurry of activity in the hallway one would assume that my family had a role in the nation’s security. Dad was running out of the Master and into the kitchen to pour the contents of the coffeepot into his thermos. Typing away on her laptop, my step-mom sat at the breakfast bar and nursed a bowl of shredded wheat.

I blinked as I found my path to the bathroom blocked by the pine wood door. No one would have been in there, as far as I could tell, that was. With far more energy than I thought I was capable of I pounded on the door. “Jessica! Open the damn door! Some of us actually have reasons to be up this early.”

Dad walked back down the hallway, roughing up my hair on his way back to his bedroom. “Settle down.”

The door opened and steam blasted me in the face. Out of the mist, my older sister appeared.

Her (artificially) red hair was in one of those towel turban things and added another level of malice to her general appearance. Jessica arched an eyebrow, “Will you move?” A normal person would have asked that and then allowed you to move, not Jessica. Her question was punctuated with a lowered shoulder. Ow.

Much to my dismay, and I’m sure to Jessica’s pleasure, my shower did its job even better than I’d hoped. Cold water does a much better job in waking you up than the hot stuff. Shivering, I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Everyone was gone.

Eventually the chills stopped and I was ready for school. My backpack seemed to be even heavier than normal, but I’ve come to the decision that it was due to senioritis. Damn side effect.

Ten minutes later I walked into the south entrance of Kennedy High School and made the obligatory face. Not the ‘please-not-more-school’ face but the ‘wow-the-pool’s-humidity-amplifies-the-BO-of-the-entire-student-population’ face.

I was late for zero hour, not that it really mattered. Mr. Golden cared far more about playing golf with yardsticks and chalk butts than taking tardies and absences. The air in the main school area was noticeably cooler causing the sweat to almost freeze at the back of my neck. Somehow I found myself in front of my open locker with my Pre-Calc book in my hand. Looking down at my unzipped backpack, I shook my head and called it a win and dropped the book into the opening.

Mr. Golden’s room was on the other side of the main staircase, so I dropped a level and walked in front of the IMC and up the set of stairs on the other side. As I turned into his wing, I noticed that I was somehow only four minutes late for class. Knowing the old man, he probably hadn’t even looked up from his coffee cup yet.

The door stood open, like always, and I strolled into the room. I’d hitched my bag up on my shoulders and quickly dropped my hands, giving myself whiplash, when I saw, instead of Mr. Golden, Mr. Decker at the front of the class.

Not often do I find myself at odds with a person for being themselves, but Mr. Decker is three levels of d****e-baggery beyond anyone I’d ever met. His short-cropped blonde hair had so much hair gel in it that it appeared to be black. A bit lower, his steel-framed glasses held small rectangles of glass that he had to squint to see out of and made him appear to be in a perpetual mood of pissed-off-ed-ness. Wrong time to be late.

“Welcome, Mr. Morris. I trust your extra sleep was worth the tardy?”

Nothing but vitriol came to mind as a response, so I simply walked across the front of the room and took my seat behind Melanie Alcott.

Behind me, Decker shifted his weight. Looking like a frumpy old maid he asked, “Did I say you could sit down?” God! What a dick!

My first instinct was to see if he was serious. Sarcasm and I have never been on the same level so I miss stuff sometimes. His face told me that I had, indeed, not been granted permission to park it. So, I stood up. “Do you need an excuse? Bloodwork? A grander entrance?”

My smartass comments were underappreciated. And, honestly, if I was as smart as I thought I was then I would’ve learned to not mouth off to people bigger than me.

Mr. Decker pursed his lips, not unlike the way my Grandma made her dentures fit. His beady eyes bore into me and seemed to have the power to heat up the room we were standing in. “Let’s take a walk, Morris.”

“Okay,” I said as I hesitantly walked back the way I came. His heavy footfall joined mine in the hallway, quickening as we wound our way down the staircase.

Unsure of where we were going, I stopped at the Senior Bench and turned. Surprisingly, he was directly behind me. Not much intimidates me, ever. Being tall-ish, not too many people are taller than me. Mr. Decker isn’t. He is powerfully built and able to exude high levels of confidence and ‘I’m-able-to-kick-your-a*s-but-can’t-because-of-the-student-teacher-relationship.’ Lucky I didn’t piss myself, I swallowed dryly.

Eye-to-eye, we seemed to be having a staring contest. His gaze strong and stern to mine wide-eyed and Bambi-like, he had to have smelled the blood in the water. “Morris, what am I gonna do with you?” All of the anger was gone replaced by frustration. He turned from me and rubbed his face in his hands. “You do realize that Golden keeps an attendance record, right?”

My throat didn’t seem to be working, so I shook my head. “He said he didn’t care as long as we didn’t tell on him.”

He smiled. “Now, Mr. Golden is allowed to run his classroom as he sees fit. It’s up to him whether he does his job the way it’s meant to be done or not. But, I can’t stress this enough, when I saw the attendance sheet and saw that you’ve been late 41 times out of a possible 47 chances, it aggravated me.” In a mildly controlled fury that he masked as irritation, Mr. Decker somehow convinced me to join him on the Senior Bench. “You’ve gotta fix this.”

My mind wasn’t working. “Fix what?”

With an eye roll, “Jake, who’s your best friend?”

“What do you mean? I’ve got lots of friends.”

“No you don’t. Kid you have acquaintances and colleagues. Sure you spend lots of time with all of your show choir peeps but, that’s not the same.” He removed his glasses and wiped his face again. “A common belief held by the faculty is that you lack relationships because you’re irresponsible.”

“How am I irresponsible?” These accusations cut me like a knife. “My homework’s done for every class; every assignment is on time. I’m in the top thirty percent of my class. I have extracurricular activities; what else is there for me to do?”

Decker nodded. “I hear you, Jake, I do. But, you don’t apply yourself. Instead of pulling in a B+, you could easily have a 3.5 average. Why?” He had his hands up at his sides. Universal non-signed language for ‘the frack’s going on?’

“It doesn’t matter what I do with school. Not like I’ll get a scholarship for better grades.”

“Seriously? We’re still stuck on this Kirkwood crap?” Taking a deep breath, Mr. Decker slowly continued. “I know your dad pissed you off by putting the stops on UCONN, but there is no reason to stop trying. Do it for your pride, man!”

Some context might help here. Flashback one year and like, six months. After taking the ACT, and killing it with a 34, I applied to three colleges: the University of Iowa, University of Connecticut, and UC Berkeley. Three applications led to three acceptance letters. UCONN offered me the best financial aid package, a full financial aid package, with an on-campus job. It would be ridiculous to not have gone. Unless you’re my father. Here was the conversation.

Me: Dad, UCONN is giving me three scholarships, two for ten thousand and one for fourteen thousand.

Dad: How much does the school cost?

Me: Thirty-three thousand.

Dad: Sounds fishy to me.

Me: What?

Dad: You’ll go to Kirkwood.

Me: WHAT?

Dad: Maniacal laughter.

I shook my head. “Mr. Decker, it doesn’t make an a*s crack of a difference. My three point will be my high school GPA and that’s all it’ll be. Besides, we make too much for scholarships from them.”

Decker was silent for a minute. “I can understand where you’re coming from. Now, I don’t like it, but I get it. Still, there’s another side to this responsibility issue.”

“When show choir’s done, you don’t really socialize. Why is that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, the general feeling from the faculty is that you find people too trivial and tedious. Like relationships are below you.”

What are these people talking about? “What’s that even mean?”

“Jake.” Decker turned to face me. “Teachers are a gossipy bunch. We compare students and talk about your work and stuff like that.”

The look on my face was similar to that of a child when they learn the truth about Santa Claus.

“Ms. Frye is the most worried. She seems to think that you have emotional problems that limit your ability to care for others.”

Something was wrong with my eyes. They were prickling like they do when you walk fast in a cold hallway. “I care about people. A lot.”

The bench started to rock. Next to me, Mr. Decker was bobbing his head. “Good. People care about you too.”

He stood up and started for the stairs. “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll excuse you from class today. I called it a study period anyway.” He climbed the stairs, leaving alone on the bench.

Shouts and squeaks came down the main hallway as the rest of the school began to arrive. My heart was still pounding in my chest as I stood up and flew up the stairs to my locker. With more anger than normal, I opened my bag and got my first set of books ready to go. Spanish, Physics, Econ, and my choir folder. With no better ideas, I sat down and slam-zipped my bag shut, thoroughly crushing most of the contents.

Overhead a car door opened as the warning bell went off. Five minutes until class began. A pair of stockinged legs shuffled next to me as I thought about going to class.

“Good morning, Jake.”

I glanced up at Kate McInnis. More precisely, I glanced up her skirt. Not a bad turn of events. “Morning.”

An orchestra of thin steel bangs surrounded me as I stewed in my pity. Teenage traffic passed behind me, shaking the floor. I leaned forward and banged my head against the door of my locker.

“Jake?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Kate crouched next to me. Her strawberry blond hair hung softly over her shoulders. Slowly, she reached out and touched my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I began to nod, only managing to get halfway through it before my forward momentum was impeded by the wall of lockers in front of me. “I’m fine.”

She removed her hand and sat back on her heels. “Alright. Um, there’re only a couple of minutes till first bell. Bark’ll be pissed if you’re late again. Bye.”

Kate turned and left. The sound of her heavy shoes clacked over the roar of the teenage conversation.

If you’re wondering, yes, I did make it to Spanish on time. And for good reason too. Senora Bark brought in taco pizza and let us watch Destinos. A good start to a weird day. In fact, my whole morning went that way. In Physics we watched Mythbusters under the guise of review. Ms. Stephens made popcorn and passed out her leftover jelly beans from Easter. Econ was pretty much a waste of time. We had a discussion about current events. And, I’d like to take this opportunity to state that ‘high school sports’ is not an acceptable current event.

On and on the day continued. Choir gave way to lunch which led to Humanities with the infamous Ms. Frye. Motherly and loving, she’s easier to be around than my mom. I see her more than my mom. Still, after my discussion with Mr. Decker this morning, I couldn’t help but wonder how she saw me.

The bell rang at 1:45, signaling the end of fifth period. As one, we packed up and bottlenecked at the door. Mere feet from freedom, I heard my name. I spun around and saw Ms. Frye sitting on her desk. “Can you stay here for a minute?”

A bit worried, I nodded and walked toward her. Unsure whether to sit or stand, I decided to mirror her and sit down.

Everyone left and we were alone. For a minute. An underclassman walked in and stopped short when he saw us alone.

Ms. Frye smiled, “Jeremy, would you shut the door and wait please?

Jeremy nodded and turned to shut the door. He turned back and waited for more directions.

“She meant with you on the other side, Jeremy.” Normally I didn’t snap at people, but seriously? How dumb do people have to be?

Anyway, Jeremy laughed and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Ms. Frye beat her legs and smiled at me. “So, I heard that Mr. Decker and you had a great conversation this morning.”

“Are you trying to be sarcastic?”

“No, I’m not being sarcastic. I’m worried about you, Jake.”

“Why? What reason do you have for being worried about me?”

With a look that I can only describe as a glower, Ms. Frye rolled her eyes and huffed. “You’re my student. Jake, I don’t know what you think that means, but as an educator, you are my business. If I feel you’ve changed, I have to address it. If I feel you’re not being the best you, I have to address it.” She stood up and moved a couple steps closer to me. “Jake, I worry about you because I want you to be happy. And, I don’t think that you’re happy or that you’ll be happy.”

So far nothing she was saying filled me with warm and fuzzies or inspired confidence. In fact, I was starting to think that I had some big obvious disease that everyone but me knew about. “Ms. Frye, what the hell is everyone talking about?”

She grimaced. “That’s the thing, Jake. There isn’t a problem that can be solved if you don’t think that there’s one.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Go home, Jake.” Ms. Frye walked to the door. “Have a good night.” With a soft click, she opened the door sending me on my way.

Again, the open car door signaled the beginning of sixth period. I have study hall, but as a senior, study hall translates to ‘get the hell out!’ Walking across the foyer, I stopped by the Attendance Office to sign out. A few seconds later I was out the doors heading toward the parking lot.

It didn’t exactly warm up today like I’d hoped it would. A gentle breeze was coming from the east, chilling me as I waited for the walk signal at 42^nd Street. It came a minute later and I jogged across the street. A short block and one right turn later, I found myself walking up the driveway. Or, I stopped in the middle of the driveway.

Dad was home. So was Patty, my step-mom. Something wasn’t right.

Slowly I made my way up the path to the front door. As I opened the screen door, the inner door opened. I flinched. Dad was standing there, his hair a mess and his tie crooked. For the first time today, I actually looked at him. His eyes were red and wet like he’d just finished crying, or still was.

Everything about him was gray. His hair, his face, his blue eyes were now stormy. “Hey buddy.” He didn’t call me ‘buddy’ anymore. Not since Mom left.

“Can I come inside?” I asked him. Dad blinked and nodded, moving out of the way and shutting the door.

I turned in a slow circle and saw that Jessica was crying. Patty sat next to her on the couch, a gentle arm laid around her shoulder. She looked up at me and gave a weak smile.

“What happened?” It wasn’t directed at anyone, but I felt like I was missing something vitally important.

A shaking hand sat on my shoulder. Dad’s uneven breathing was right behind me. “Your mom’s gone.”

“Gone?”

Jessica wailed. “She’s dead, you idiot!”

Oh, that kind of gone. I nodded and swallowed with difficulty. This was more emotion than I’d felt in a long time. “I’ll be in my room.”

Never have I ever felt tension that thick in our house before. It wasn’t my place. Cautiously, I moved across the room and down the hall gently closing my door with a click.

Mom. I sat on the bed, my back ramrod straight. A sense of heaviness weighed on my shoulders. Strange though, I didn’t need a mirror to tell that I had a stony look on my face.

Mom and Dad had been over for a while. I mean, since before she moved out. It was during 9/11. Dad was flying that day for business and decided to take a rental car all the way from Nashville back to Cedar Rapids. Sometime during the ten hour trip he realized that they shouldn’t be together. Two months later he left.

What happened next was the hardest thing to watch. Mom lost it. Slowly she slipped further and further away from Jessica and I. Doctors all agreed that it was shock. But we could tell that it had to have been something else.

Sometime during my freshman year, a whole two years after they split up, Mom snapped. She started laughing all the time and talking about Suzy, her daughter. We’d often come home from school and find the house empty. Considering the outrageous child support and alimony we collected every month, there wasn’t a need for her to work and she didn’t drive either.

It was May of that school year. Mom was dropped off at our place by the cops. They’d found her waving at cars from the median of the interstate. That night, Jessica and I moved in with Dad and Patty. Mom moved into a center where she’d get the help she needed the next morning.

She did get better. Bipolar disorder: that was controlled pretty easily. After a month, there were no more roller coaster days. Mom was level and lucid, able to take care of herself again. We’d visit her at her little apartment and sit there in silence. Sometimes, I don’t think she even realized we were there. In the end, she started visiting us. It was best that way.

I blinked. The room was dark. Behind me, my blinds showed the last fading rays of sun through the trees. Sunset was Mom’s favorite time of the day. “True beauty of the day comes from knowing you’ll see the sun again.”

“And if you don’t?”

She’d smile at me. “Well, at least the last you saw of the world was beautiful.”

My eyes were doing that prickly thing again. Blinking, I rubbed my face and slowly moved my body. I didn’t hear the door open.

It was the sagging of the bed that warned me of the visitor. Turning toward the door, I saw Dad sitting on the bed. Honestly, he didn’t sit on it but weighed on it. A man defeated is probably the best cliché I can think of.

“Jake. How are you feeling?”

That was a weird question. It’s not like I was the one who died. “I’m fine. Are you gonna make it?”

He smiled. “You’re such a dork.” Shaking his head, he continued. “I meant are you handling the news alright?” Dad’s voice broke.

I turned to him. His shoulders were shaking as he sobbed. A shadow lengthened in the hallway. Patty. She’d be worried, hoping that Dad was handling this as well as he could.

“Dad, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I always have been.” Something about all of this felt wrong. Why was he asking me this? Was it a conspiracy?

Looking up at me, Dad sniffled back a pound of snot and looked at me. It was different. “How can you say that? Your mother has died, Jacob.”

“Repeatedly telling me the fact isn’t going to help any, Dad. She’ll still be dead.”

I’d figured it out. Dad was looking at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

“How can you not feel anything? Right now? This doesn’t affect you at all?” The color was coming back into his cheeks. Under the glistening tracks of his tears, the redness made then seem like angry silver snakes. “You are such an ungrateful dick!”

I flinched. The words hit me like a punch to the throat. My tongue swelled up and my breathing decided to go on strike. “That’s not fair!”

Dad stood up and I saw Patty’s shadow disappear. This wasn’t her sort of thing. Confrontation. “Your mother went through a lot. Her life was spent caring and loving you and your sister. And you don’t even care about that, do you?”

“That’s not far, Dad. Of course I care. She was my mom. It just isn’t affecting me the way it affects you guys. My emotions get held in check.”

At the time I thought I was simply being strong, what I’d been taught to do. Showing emotion of any form was considered a weakness. Boy was I a dumbass.

Slowly, Dad bent down. His eyes were slowly turning back to the clear blue that I remembered. Surrounded by drying tears and redness, the blue and gray of his eyes stood out like a campfire in the Serengeti. “Get out of my house.”

“What?” I know that I said it, but I swear I heard the word from the hall, too. “Where the hell am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t even care.” Dad turned as though to leave. He stopped in the doorway and turned back around. “If you can’t figure out what you’re missing, don’t bother coming back.”

“But I-“ It was pointless. Dad was gone and I was left red-faced and embarrassed. If I’d wanted an omelet, I could have used the egg on my face. Was he serious? Where the hell was I supposed to go?

A loud smack made me jump. Dad was back. In one hand was a wad of cash, the other was my jacket. At his feet was the big suitcase. S**t! The man was serious!

“Dad! You can’t!”

“I’m sorry, Jacob. You just can’t be here anymore.” With that, he set the money on my bed and my jacket on the suitcase and shut the door. “You have an hour,” he said through the door. His voice, though muffled, still sounded hurt.

Initially, I was hurt. In what world does a father kick his son out of his home? Well, in what non-Amish world, anyway. Luckily for me, I didn’t have the world’s largest wardrobe. After emptying my closet and two dresser drawers, there was still a half a suitcase to fill. I raided my bookshelf and nightstand, taking every magazine and scrap of paper. It might seem futile, and at the moment it did, but I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do so every little bit I could take with me was helpful.

That prickly feeling was back. This time I knew that I was crying. Scattered on the floor was the money Dad had dropped on the suitcase. It wasn’t like me to disregard money. Scrabbling on the carpet, I tapped the bills onto my hand and folded them as tightly as I could. There was a lot of money there, or at least a lot of bills. The wad made my pants bulge in an awkward place.

How long had passed since Dad had kicked me out? Forty minutes or something like that? My mind was moving through so much crap that I had absolutely no concept of time. Inside my chest my heart hammered. My palms began to sweat and the world started to get heavy. On my shoulders, it felt like the weight of the world was crushing me.

It was time to go.

With a pop, my door swung open. One breath. One deeper breath coming after and I passed through the doorway.

Walking down the hall made me feel like a dead man walking. I’d never realized what that would feel like until now. Mom was gone, Dad was angry with me, and there was really no reason left for me to be around. Thinking about it like that somehow got my legs moving faster.

In the living room, Dad sat with his arm around Jessica. Her red hair hung uncharacteristically limp along her face. Silently she sobbed. Dad’s eyes were still red but his cheeks were dry. Was he being strong for my sister’s sake?

“Well, I’m leaving.” Looking back I couldn’t hope to tell you what I thought I’d accomplish by saying it. It was a fact and I’d shown myself to be very unable, or unwilling, to change it.

From the kitchen, Patty came walking in. She smiled weakly and walked around the couch. Pulling me into a bony one-armed hug, I started to feel something. Was this grief? No.

“Be good, Jake.” Patty held me out at arm’s length. “Your dad loves you, he does. But, there are things that you could do differently. Things that he doesn’t feel he can help you with. Just-“ She swallowed as she blinked. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. “-promise me that you’ll try.”

I hadn’t realized my breathing had gotten heavy. “I’ll try, Patty. I will.”

With a pained smile Patty let me go and sat next to Dad on the couch.

Just like that, I felt erased. My presence wasn’t registering with them, or something. I turned, opened the door and walked out on my family.

Little had changed outside our house. Birds still congregated in creepily large numbers and seemed to hide in the trees. Behind the house I could hear the rush of traffic on 42^nd Street. From the sounds of it, school was just getting out.

Without a glance, I walked away from my home.

Sensing few options, the only place I could come up with was going back to school. So, like one of the kids who didn’t realize wheeled backpacks are cool for seven year olds I crossed the avenue and noisily rolled my life along with me up to the school building.

From my earlier experience that morning, I skipped the south entrance. Walking past Willie’s shack I returned his wave half-heartedly. Something about that man was just, unnerving. It could have been his ability to be so damn passive about everything. Like, one day, six cars were stopped by the CRPD and “randomly” checked for drugs. Willie was seen running from campus as the cops started confiscating pot.

Still, have you ever seen him break up a fight? For a skinny old guy, the man would be the last one I’d want on my a*s. 

The path I was taking to the front façade of the school was gravel. Being that the school year was almost over, it was pretty much dust with an occasional pebble. That said, I definitely understand why rocks are the bane of every piece of wheeled luggage.

School was pretty much deserted when I walked into the foyer. The lights were off in both the Attendance and Activities offices. I don’t know why, but my feet took me to the stairs.

Thirty seconds after entering the school, I found myself in a vaguely familiar position. My locker door was cold, dirtier but the same cold, as it was earlier that day. To be fair, my hair was pretty ridiculous looking so it might have thinned out a bit. But, still.

Every so often, legs passed in front of me. Most were descended hurriedly, trying to catch rides or simply get the hell out. Who knows? I didn’t register any of them.

“Jake!”

Someone barked at me and, had I not been sleeping, I’d probably have barked back. My contacts were gummed making it incredibly difficult to keep my eyes open. Still, the well-lit foyer with its skylights and veritable cage-fight-like stage lighting, prompted a silhouetting of the person at the top of the stairs.

Ambiguity. That was all I could come up with initially. Eventually my eyes adjusted and I saw the woman before me. Her hands were on her hips and a look of consternation seemed stuck on her face. In that unshapely and probably conservative dress, it could only be Dr. B, the principal.

“Morris, why are you still here?” She climbed the last two stairs and stared down at me. If possible, I thought I saw her expression soften. “Why do you look like you’re moving in?”

My mouth was dry. Sure, the air was terrible and the floor was dusty and unclean, but I was sure it had to do with the whole “ordeal.” “I’m not planning on moving in. To school, I mean.”

Her bobbed brown didn’t move as she nodded. “Right.” Glancing at her watch, Dr. B. sighed and leaned against the railing across from me. “Our records indicate that you aren’t in the building, Mr. Morris. Why are you?”

I know there was no possible way that I could have kept the apprehension off of my face. Do I tell her? Was it Dad’s job to do that? I mean, yeah, I have more of her genes than he does, but he chose it that way.

“Jacob,” Dr. B.’s tone was edgier. “What happened?” Almost absent-mindedly she placed her bifocals on her nose. The cord draped below her shoulders as she folded her arms to her chest. She looked motherly, almost.

“My mom died.”

Again, her expression softened. Her arms dropped and she walked toward me. Slowly she dropped to her knees. Removing the bifocals Dr. B. cleared her throat. “I’m terribly sorry, Jake. Losing a mother is tough, even if she’s been…removed.” The look on her face was freaking me out. It was like she was searching for something. Something inside of me.

A chill crept down my body from the top of my head down to my toes.

“Why are you here, though? Why aren’t you at home?”

Ha. What the hell was I supposed to say? ‘My dad and mother figures think that I’m incapable of relying on anyone or anything and am destined to be stuck in an eternal vortex of fucked-upedness unless I come to terms with my demons and figure out to let people in.’ Please. This isn’t reality TV.

Still, I think she got it. A knowing look appeared on her face. With something resembling restraint, Dr. B. said almost troublingly, “Mr. Decker and Ms. Frye both told me about today. At school, I mean. Obviously I had no idea about your mother.”

She cocked her head to the side. “What do you think they were telling you?”

I was uncomfortable. Cracking my neck, I told her, “Everyone thinks that I’m pretty much an irresponsible jerk who has a people problem.”

“That’s not what I asked, Jake.” Dr. B. leaned closer, “What do you think?”

The locker was cold.

What did I think? Hopefully I thought of something soon, because I couldn’t see a path which led me to getting out of here without saying something she liked.

“Um, I think that things have happened in my life that has led me to remove myself from human contact when not necessary?” My voice raised in pitch on the last word, making me sound like I questioned my answer.

“Want to try that again?”

“I just, I can’t do it.” It felt like my contacts were gumming up again. I knew it was tears. “Dad left, told my Mom he didn’t love her anymore. It broke her.” With the back of my hand I tried to dry my cheeks before they were actually wet. “After Dad left us, Mom just slid into a dark, dark place. She’d had love and it was taken from her. She was broken. All because her love was taken from her.”

My throat was scratchy. With some difficulty, I swallowed. The tears that I’d been so adamant to dry before they were noticed had given me up. On my cheeks were the streaks of my tears.

A minute passed with me crying and Dr. B. letting me cry. My cheeks were flushed, whether from embarrassment or crying, I couldn’t tell you. A sword was in my throat as I shuddered, my sobs finally ending.

A gentle hand lay on my shoulder. That was all it did, lay there. It was nice.

“Thank you, Jacob.” Dr. B.’s voice was gentle. It soothed me somehow.

My jaw gradually unclenched and I began to breathe normally again. “I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could tell that she nodded. “Thank you. It means a lot that you’d share that with me.”

Soft footfalls approached. The empty school did nothing to swallow the sound, letting it echo through the corridor.

Slowly I turned my head and saw Kate making her way toward. She looked uber-confused about the whole situation and stopped mid-stride. Finally gravity took over and her heavy shoe dropped to the tiled floor.

Kate’s jaw opened and closed, like she wanted to say something but the words wouldn’t come. “Dr. B. Jake. Can I get to my locker?”

Dr. B. nodded emphatically. “Of course, Kate.” She lifted herself off the ground, dusting her skirt as she stood. “Come on, Jacob. Let’s discuss this more.”

It was my turn to have a mechanical jaw. The last thing I wanted to do was let Kate know that something was up. I didn’t need her sympathy.

We walked down the stairs, enjoying the mechanical thrum of the HVAC as it pumped recirculated air through the cavernous hallways. Dr. B. crossed the foyer ahead of me, pushing through the doors leading to the vestibule. Instead of exiting, she turned to a door I’d not noticed the entire four years I’d gone here. Crossing the threshold, I realized that she led me to her office, the back way.

Inside, I’ll admit, I was underwhelmed. A small table with thickly padded chairs around it stood off to one side. Beyond it was a computer station cluttered with correspondence and file folders. Dr. B.’s desk was off to one side. It was an antique. Cherry wood with ornately carved designs spiraling down the legs, it represented a lot of her in it. She may have had to use a computer to communicate with most everyone in her life, but her world was grounded. Personality and personal care were more important than immediacy.

Dr. B. leaned against her desk. “Do you have anywhere to stay, Mr. Morris?” The change to a formal name messed with my head a little.

“No.”

Her response was a lifted eyebrow. “What happened?”

I’d already told her everything else, it wouldn’t have made sense to stop now. “When I got home today, Dad was there. And he told me about Mom passing. Well, he thought I should have had more emotion than I was showing. It made him snap. I’m sure he’ll let me back tomorrow.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.”

She crossed the room and stopped in front of me. “Can I tell you something?”

I nodded.

“A lesson that no one seems to learn soon enough, is that certainty doesn’t exist. Unless, you make it certain.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dr. B. laughed. “I know. Not many people get it. Hell, I don’t know how to do it. But, I get it. You get out of life, what you put into it,” she said forcefully.

Unconsciously I had begun grinding my teeth. Normally I only did that while sleeping. For the second time today, my jaw was sore and I couldn’t stop thinking about life in general.

“So, Jake?” She wiggled her eyebrows and gave me a smirk. “What do you think you could do?”

I looked up at her with a million thoughts going through my mind. Only one seemed to make sense. “Thanks, Dr. B.”

“You’re welcome, Jacob.” Dr. B. walked from me and opened the door we’d entered. With a pat on my shoulder, she let me pass and I quickly walked out into the afternoon sunshine.

Okay, I ran out the doors. As I almost tripped down the stairs while looking for her, my heart did a flip. A soft red blur rounded the corner of White Pine. It wasn’t much to go on, but I found myself running anyway.

My chest was thumping. Was it the exercise, which I had been greatly lacking in? Or, was it the unknown? I leapt over the corner of the frog pond and crossed the street as quickly as I could. Winded, I found myself disheartened by the steep hill ahead of me. I pushed on.

Curving to the north, White Pine gradually grew shaded by huge oak and sycamore trees. The hill inclined for only a hundred more yards before leveling. At the crest, I could see the red hair. Kate.

“Kate!” I shouted as loud as I could. My throat was raw and my mouth tasted metallic from the blood pounding through my veins. Stopping, I put my head between my knees and sucked in huge gulps of air. Breathing deeply, I let my diaphragm expand. Inhale through my nose, exhale through my mouth. Instantly I felt my heart rate drop and my breathing steady. Closing my eyes, I shouted once more, “Kate!”

With a deep breath, I stood. Opening my eyes, I saw her. Kate was walking slowly toward me. Her light red hair was beautiful catching the late afternoon sun streaming through the treetops. A look of apprehension was on her face. Not that I’d blame her.

Still, seeing her, all I could do was smile. “Kate,” I said once more. She was standing an arm’s length from me. On the light breeze I could breathe in her peach shampoo. “Hi.”

Her freckles reddened as her cheeks did. I’d swear a smile crept on her lips.

“Hi.”

Damn. I hadn’t thought much past this part. “Could you help me?”

Kate’s forehead creased. “Help you how?”

I swallowed and took one more deep breath. “I just need someone to listen.”

She smiled, “Come on in. Tell me what you’ve got to say.”

 

Author's Note

The formatting isn't me, it's the submission box.