Tell the Ones That Need to Know 1/5
Are you aware the shape I’m in?
Jared sighs before he even bothers opening his eyes. He knows he’s coming down home. That the plane is descending and bringing him back to the Texas dirt he’s successfully avoided for the last year and a half.
He keeps his eyes shut, not wanting to see the other passengers, see how they look at him. Or worse, don’t at all. There was a time they’d hush about him, get excited. He doesn’t want to know that it’s officially gone.
It’s been six months since he’s looked for work and more than a year since a paying job. Staying in Los Angeles has become more of a convenience because that’s where his friends are, where his life is …
His hands turn over themselves, index and middle finger spinning around the ring finger, thinking how there were two times before that he’d predicted something there. Sandy and Genevieve. But at the moment there’s guilt at letting Julie go. They’d been together two years, her dropping hints of future and him ignoring every one of them. Until he couldn’t anymore and had to say goodbye. For her sake, for his sake, for everyone around them. It wouldn’t be pretty if he tried to stick it out, even just for the holidays.
Instead, he decided on Christmas in Texas.
*
“Wow, The Grinch in real life,” Megan smarts as she slides through the kitchen on her way to the living room.
Jared shoots her a crabby look. “Real funny, punkface.”
“That was funny when I was 12,” she yells back.
“Haven’t aged a bit, I see.”
“Possible you could not argue?” Sherry asks with a sigh. “It is Christmas.”
“Christmas Eve,” he grunts back.
“JT?” she asks, but it serves more as a warning.
He runs a hand through his hair, biting down on so many barbs and sighs and anything else that would show his annoyance. He’s been in the house for just over twenty-four hours, wishing so badly he hadn’t let his mother guilt him into staying in his old bedroom. It was one of many things that awful holiday movies are made of - get all the family into just one house, no matter how little they get along anymore, and force them to work out their problems. He’s not looking forward to the sentimental pow-wows whatsoever, and that’s pretty much the reason he’s avoided holidays at home for so long.
His sullen mood continues on through dinner, especially when his mother asks with care and interest, “How’s Julie?”
Jared flips an eyebrow up, stares on his plate before he pops a forkful of turkey and dressing into his mouth. “She’s okay, I guess.”
“Dropped another one, huh?” Megan asks with an unsuccessfully hidden smirk.
He glares at her then looks down on his plate. His voice is low but flat. “Yeah. Broke up last week.”
“Man, thought you were actually gonna marry that one,” Jeff tries to joke, even gives Jared a comforting smile.
“Thought he was gonna marry Sandy,” Megan says. Then goes as far as to add, “Genevieve, too.”
“Megan,” Sherry admonishes. “Please.”
“We can’t all be perfect, Meg,” Jared shoots back, disregarding his mother’s attempt to handle the conversation. “You and the perfect doctor.”
“Jared!” she nearly shrieks while Jeff asks, “What doctor?”
His eyes are wide and his mouth drops in mockery. “Oh, you didn’t tell them?” He’s ready to spill the few details he knows of her secret rendezvous with the newest addition to the family practice the Padaleckis still frequent.
“Shut yourself right now,” Megan mutters across the table. His smirk is cocky and wide, forcing her to shoot back. “A little bitter you’re washed out before you’re 35, JT?”
Without a second’s thought, he cuts back. “A little jealous I even had the chance?”
“Go jump off a bridge,” she suggests with a tight smile. “No, better yet. Go out in style and nosedive spectacularly in front of the press. Please.”
“Oh, go screw yourself.”
“Jared!” his father yells, finally getting into the moment but stopping it with the cut of his voice.
Jared takes a long breath and looks at the head of the table. The man’s eyes are sharp as he stares right back and Jared wonders how a family dinner got this bad. He’s just one moment from tossing his napkin to his plate and marching off. Instead he takes a healthy gulp of water and says quietly, “Yes, sir.”
*
He sits on the porch swing, slowly dipping back and forth with the push of his toes below him. The neighborhood is lit up on this dark night, greens and reds, Santas and reindeer. There was a time when this was what he liked most about Christmas, seeing so many people getting into the spirit with decorations and cheer. Today, he’s tired and bitter and quiet.
And dealing with the awkward family banter doesn’t help. Through most of dinner, he wanted to stuff his napkin down Megan’s throat for all the jabs, but he knows he deserves it. They’d been the closest growing up. When he was off in L.A. in the early days and through so much of his time in Vancouver, she was number one on his list. He called and texted and emailed constantly, keeping up with his little sister’s life and boys and school and the other rumblings of life back in Texas. But somewhere along the way, he slowed down, and she complained, and then he all but cut her out. Just so he could avoid the guilt trips.
“Jared,” his mother says gently as she settles next to him.
He tips his head back, hitting the wood frame and quietly cursing. She keeps them rocking but doesn’t say anything. The silence makes him antsy, so he prompts her. “Can we not do this?”
“Do what?”
“The ‘what’s gotten into you?’ talk? I can tell you right now that I don’t know, and don’t really care.”
She reaches out for him, ready to touch the back of his head but he’s flinching in a reflex he’s never had before. Her frown is enough to make him realize how wrong that movement was. He doesn’t fix it, just listens to her heavy sigh. “JT, you’ve been so sad.”
He scrubs a hand through his hair, frowns at not just her words but her disappointment. “I’m not sad. Just realistic.”
“Realistically sad?”
“Life ain’t peaches and sunshine every day. I don’t have to smile through every hour anymore. Don’t know why you want me to fake that.”
“Never faked it before.”
He scowls, but it eases into a frown because he’s so drained from dealing with his conflicting emotions. “Maybe I did.”
Sherry reaches for his head again and when he doesn’t move, she gently combs through the back of his hair. “Think I’d know.”
There’s a long sigh and plenty of thoughts. Ones he doesn’t want to say or even acknowledge, but they spill out anyway. “Didn’t think this is where I’d end up.” Her fingers continue on, comforting and lulling him into her maternal security. “I broke up with Julie,” he says miserably.
She works a smile and says lightly, “So, I heard.”
“It was too comfortable. Wasn’t excited to be there, just felt like it was okay.”
Her fingers work slowly, soothingly, as he watches him struggle with the words. “JT, that happens to people all the time. You’re not some specialty case. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
His head nods into her hand, welcoming the moment to just let everything go. As long as he doesn’t look at her, it’ll feel more like going to confession and giving up sins he’s been holding in for so long to a perfect stranger. “I can’t even find a job I wanna do.”
“Patience?”
Jared goes on, tacking more things onto the pile. “And my friends are driving me crazy.”
“Some of them are crazy,” she says with a smile.
“I miss my life.” Her fingers stall and so does his mouth. He closes his eyes against the slow, long sweep of his mother’s palm over his hair, top of the head down to the neck. Then once more. Jared stares out to the street as he feels a dull ache creep into his voice. “I miss having a real job and a place to just be and how easy it was to live in that world.”
Sherry squeezes his neck, using warmth and comfort to ease her question. Because it’s been fairly obvious to everyone around Jared even when he continually denies it. “The show?”
His eyes slip shut.
“Living in Vancouver?”
He clears his throat, shakes his head. “Not exactly. But just, something steady, with the same people. It was a … was a really good time.”
“Good memories,” she nods with him. “You were hardly around here, but you kept in touch. Always smilin’.”
He finally looks at her with tired eyes and exhaustion taking over his mind. He snaps, “Was wondering when I’d get the guilt trip.”
“Jared,” she says firmly. “Can’t a mother make her piece?”
“Just sayin’,” he huffs then looks onto the street again. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Her hand slips away and she stands. The voice is quiet but he can hear the press of anger in it. “You called here. You asked to come down, so don’t go on me about guilt trips.”
_
Part Two
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