Strider
09-27-2003, 09:11 PM
I'm pretty sure this story slipped by everyone the first time around, so I thought I'd take the time to post it a second time for those who missed it. . .
I'd like to warn against a small bit of swearing in the story, but other than that, it should be okay.
________________________________________ ____
Jason sat at his desk and stared intently at the numbers in his book. Number twenty-five was a tough problem to crack, and he only moved to scribble potential solutions in his notepad. He pursed his lips in concentration and guided his hovered pencil over the work he had done so far. The pencil in his hand flipped around and around quickly, a habit developed by working under pressure. After a minute of barely audible muttered comments to his self, the free hand reached to punch some numbers into a graphing calculator. The gateway to his answer had been opened. In short time, the work was recopied onto another piece of paper to be turned in the next day.
Once the copy was finished, Jason dropped the pencil onto his book and took a deep breath. He rubbed his eyes to rid himself of sleep and then stretched his hands to the ceiling. Number theory wasn’t hard, but it was definitely tedious.
Exhausted and with work still left to do, Jason got up and ambled slowly over to his makeshift stereo system. His job didn’t allow him to splurge on a real system, but his worn second-hand speakers always provided the boost he was perpetually in need of. He twisted the volume knob to 12, a respectable amount of noise, and pushed “PLAY.”
As he walked away to prepare for his next task, the speakers released a low trembling bass. Jason recognized the song immediately: Filter, Columind. He put his hand up as he entered the bathroom and thrust it forward like a conductor three times when the speakers exploded with three monstrous and grinding guitar chords. As the band played on, preparations for the rest of the night went underway: A handful of water to his face provided a self-inflicted wake up call. Another couple of handfuls of water were thrown into his brown hair so that it could be combed. He brushed his teeth, during which he realized that he hadn’t eaten anything since he ate a bowl of Cap’n Crunch before brushing in the morning. The song wound down at about the same time Jason left the bathroom and headed toward his closet.
Another song, more upbeat and with wailing guitar riffs and vocals, took its turn as Jason reached for a green polo shirt. Saliva, Back Into Your System. Jason’s grimace of resistance to his imminent work contrasted sharply to his music, but he slung his shirt over his shoulders and threw on the new one. There were no wrinkles, but a couple of hand strokes to straighten the shirt out made absolutely sure of that. He passed his hands over his khakis in the same fashion, and then walked briskly back into the bathroom.
Standing in front of his lone mirror, Jason made sure everything looked perfectly clean-cut. He stared blankly into his own brown eyes, which now seemed more hostile and intense than he had ever noticed before. He clenched his eyes shut and took a forceful deep breath before opening them again, but that only led him to notice the tiredness inherent in his expressions, instead.
Finally, he spoke to himself and smiled, “Hello! Welcome to TGI Friday’s. Is there anything I can . . . start you off with?” The sincerity of his voice was mediocre at best, and the smile was completely forced. Resentment toward everything was making the charade of pleasantness toward anything harder and harder to pull off. He stood upright, stiffly, and lifted his chin slightly in a last attempt to instill himself with more confidence. It failed in only a moment, and so he sighed as he went back to his living room to put his shoes on.
He bent down in his chair to tie his shoes and sang aloud to a third, more somber song: “Quiet, a sound you know so well. You’re living just to make it through another day. Stand, climb and fall, you carry the world, can’t carry your hope. . .” The lead singer’s voice was identical to his own at this moment in time, and Jason was on the verge on getting caught up in his own world when he could least afford it. Only the timing of his obnoxiously loud phone ring brought him rudely back into reality.
The digital clock on his microwave beamed “6:13,” a reminder that Jason couldn’t stay too much longer to talk to whoever was calling. Hastily, he got up and grabbed his phone before it rang again.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Jason? It’s Eileen.”
“Oh, hi. Long time, no . . . hear from.”
“I don’t think that’s my fault. Long time, no see. Long time, no. . . ‘read email.’ Take your pick.”
“Alright, alright. I get your point, kid,” Jason knew that his sister understood the lack of communication and was annoyed that she had to bring it up again, “You know why I don’t call home, Eileen, so don’t bother me about it.”
“You can’t find two minutes to write me a letter? Christ, Jason! Yes, I know everything, but I know enough to see when someone is being childish, too. You’re twenty-two years old, grow up!”
“This coming from someone who lobbied for a Mitsubishi Eclipse at 16 and bitched about it until she got it. Right, whatever.”
The anger on the other end of the line was getting easier to hear, “Just forget it, Jason. Shut up. I didn’t call you so you could piss me off.”
Jason took a deep breath before responding, “Alright, I’m sorry. That’s the last thing I need. What’s going on?”
“Well, I’m sure you know that Saturday is Dad’s 50th birthday. . .”
“I think I know what you’re getting at. Big party, everyone will be there, which obviously includes me, blah blah blah.”
“They weren’t going to call you. But, I want you to come up and see everyone. You’re the oldest, so you have to set a good example.”
He grinned, although his sister couldn’t see it, “A good example, huh? Well, I’m a good example of what happens when you fight with your parents excessively. That’s good enough, right?”
“Jason, come on! I’m serious,” Eileen pleaded. “I know you sure as hell won’t do it for Mom and Dad, but you can come for Robbie and I.”
Another glance at the clock told him that he was going to have to delay a decision, “I don’t have time right now. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
“I’m going to be out all day. School, and then rehearsal for ‘Guys and Dolls,’” Jason could hear the annoyance in Eileen’s voice, “Either way, I don’t see what there is to decide. Just do it!”
Now it was do-or-die, something Jason was hoping to avoid, “Pick my poison,” a third glance at the clock made his decision for him, “Okay, you win, I’ll be there.”
“Jason . . . thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. At any rate, I’ve gotta get out of here.”
“Applegate Park at two o’clock. Don’t forget it!”
He hung up quickly, not thinking whether it was wise to cut off the conversation. There was no time to think about that or the magnitude of the decision he had just made. The night shift was waiting for him at TGI Friday’s, so no time was wasted in turning off the stereo and heading off into the city.
* * *
Torrance wasn’t too far from his apartment in Inglewood, but the distance alone didn’t help Jason’s car or his nerves. The commute was worse than he was used to, even by Los Angeles standards, thanks to the spectacular scenery of a 12-car pileup on the 405. As he inched closer to the scene of the accident, Jason could see numerous sets of flashing lights and flares on the road. People naturally slowed down to see the horrific display of mangled cars and shattered glass, which prompted Jason to abuse his horn to get the drivers in front of him to speed up. The freeway was down to two lanes, which was trying enough on his patience, but when drivers in front on him deliberately slowed down to mock his anger, he had to react somehow.
Once the police officer to his right waved him clear of the mess, Jason punched the gas pedal to accelerate quickly. Holding the steering wheel with his right hand, he used his free hand to roll down his window and extend his middle finger outward. He didn’t bother noting their reactions; he simply concentrated on the road while holding his finger still as he sped past each person who had wronged him.
The haughtiness of those complete strangers reminded Jason of his dad, so he took silent pleasure in his gesture as he closed in on the restaurant. There were countless moments in his adolescence when he had wished for guts enough to give his father the finger and walk away from whatever conflict they were having, but the patriarch never gave him any opportunity.
“Jason, can you get the vacuum and clean up the floor for me?”
“You mean, right now?”
“No, I mean next Tuesday. Yes, I mean right now!”
His dad’s retorts had always dripped with sarcasm, and the words bit sharply every time they were used. Retreated in his room, Jason would come up with an infinite number of hurtful things to say, none of which were ever used. As he turned onto Hawthorne Boulevard, the long-repressed thoughts of anger were dredged up again. The insistence that there was no option other than abandonment had quelled his doubts for three years. Not even an unexpected invitation to go home was going to change that.
When he pulled into his usual parking space, Jason leaned his head back in the seat. The drive had given him time to think things over, and a trip home wasn’t what he wanted. The way Eileen said, “Jason . . . thanks” kept running in his mind, though, and as reluctant as he was, he didn’t want to let her or his little brother Robbie down. She knew exactly how to pull his strings, because she knew how much Robbie looked up to him and missed him. Silently settled, Jason got out of the car and hurried into work.
The door flew open to a cacophony of conversations among patrons and music covering the restaurant. Random paraphernalia lining the walls, the red and white striped tablecloths and the three different sports events being shown on the various televisions at the bar provided a warm atmosphere despite the lack of lighting. Jason walked reservedly through the chaos, toward the back of the restaurant to clock in. While he set himself up, his manager caught his attention.
“Jason Maddox! You’re a little late today, aren’t you?”
Jason went through his preparation checklist while he responded, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, Steve. There was a big pile-up on the 405.”
“Well, normally that wouldn’t be an excuse. Since it’s a slow Thursday, though, I’ll let you off easy this time. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, alright?”
Jason nodded in agreement and smiled, “Sure thing. Where am I at today?”
Steve pointed to the far end of the restaurant. There were only a couple of parties sitting in his section, eating their food and having a good time. It was no man’s land, but it was perfect, “You’re over on tables 35 through 43. I’m sure it won’t be too much of a hassle tonight. Just keep ‘em happy to earn your paycheck,” Steve plopped a hand down on Jason’s shoulder and shook it in encouragement before walking back to his work. Jason couldn’t help but smile, knowing his manager had unwittingly provided him with relief from his thoughts.
He walked over to the first table and greeted a couple who had just sat down. The façade of cheerfulness came easier than it had earlier, and the patrons were clearly surprised. A couple of rounds of drinks, an order of calamari, two cheeseburgers, an Oreo Madness and a few periodic checkups later, Jason’s work was rewarded with a generous tip. Work was easier to execute than it had been in a long time, and the façade became real even to him. The display of confidence never went unnoticed as time marched on, and the tips added up to about a hundred dollars by the one o’clock closing time.
When the last party left, Jason collapsed in a nearby chair. The extent of his effort caught up with him, and he slid down into a slouch as he let satisfaction wash over him. A minute or so passed, and he allowed himself to smile to himself. Eventually, Steve walked up to him and got his attention.
“Hey, Jason. That was quite a performance you put on tonight! You were on your A-game tonight.”
“Aww, it wasn’t much, Steve-o. I just needed to take my mind off of things and . . . voila! Work was there.”
Steve chuckled, “Well, here’s hoping that streak keeps up for this weekend! Are you free Saturday? Macy told me that she won’t be able to make her shift that day, and I need a replacement.”
There was a moment of hesitation before Jason responded, “Normally, I would. I can always use the money, but I’ve got something going on this weekend.”
The manager’s expression brightened, “Oh! Well, color me surprised, then. I don’t ever remember you refusing an extra shift, so it must be something important.”
“Well, kind of. I’ve got to drive up into the Valley for my dad’s birthday. He’s hittin’ fifty on Saturday.”
Steve let out a small outburst of laughter, “Fifty? I’m glad I don’t know what that feels like,” he chuckled a little to himself, “Funny, though, because you never really talk about your family.”
In that instant, a feeling of panic set in. Jason’s heart felt like it constricted in his chest momentarily and skipped a beat, but managed to eke out a simple response, “Well, um, I just don’t like to talk about it too much.”
Steve raised his hand in acknowledgment, “Say no more, I won’t push it. I’ll see if I can get Danny or Chayenne to cover, instead,” he extended his hand in congratulations, and Jason met it halfway, “Well, I’ve gotta get some sleep. I’m gonna be back here tomorrow.”
“Alright, I’ll see you Monday, Steve. Peace.”
Steve walked away to push the main door open as Jason got up to leave. When Jason got outside, he was greeted by brisk night air. He hadn’t brought a jacket, and he shivered a little as he walked back to his car. His footsteps were barely audible on the concrete walkway, and the only other commotion was the few cars straggling home on Hawthorne. After fumbling in his pocket for his car keys, he settled in the driver’s seat and went home.
* * *
It was well after 1:30 AM when Jason crawled into his apartment and headed straight for his bed. The drive home from work drained his energy, so there wasn’t any problem with sleeping fully clothed and with shoes on. He fell flatly on the mattress, stomach first, and groaned with exhaustion as he rolled onto his back.
While he sank into sleep, Jason blinked slowly, finally allowing himself a few minutes to think clearly about the upcoming weekend. Though the room was only marginally lit by a nearby streetlamp that was screened by trees, visions of past hurts were easy to remember and see with the mind’s eye. The sparring with his mom when he still lived at home had instilled him with a sense of unwanted submission. The frequent fights with his dad had filled him with distrust, hatred and fear.
“Hey, Mom,” he once said, “The crew’s going out to see The Matrix. Can I go?”
“Well, Jason,” she had replied, “did you ever pull the weeds in the backyard?”
“Um . . . no. But, I’ll get to it tomorrow morning, since it’s Saturday.”
“You can’t do it now? Your father asked you to do that two days ago.”
“The plants aren’t going to die overnight. I promise I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Don’t talk back! You’ll do it now before you go to your movie.”
“The movie starts in a half hour, though.”
“Then, you’ll just have to work quickly, won’t you?”
At home, breakdowns in communication weren’t uncommon. As Jason replayed the different scenes in his mind, he remembered his refusals to obey and consequent groundings. Sitting in his room, listening to System of a Down and furiously reading one book or another, he hoped to escape his problems. He brooded constantly about the silliness of being stuck under his parents’ thumb at eighteen years old.
In that time, the same list of reassurances always ran through his mind, “I’m 18 years old, I’m smarter than them, I’m going to UCLA, it’ll be better soon. I’m 18, I’m smarter than them, I’m going to UCLA, it’ll be better soon. . .”
As sure as the sun rose in the morning, his dad would come into his room, talk down to him and explain why they were right and he was wrong. Despising the condescending tone, Jason would block out the voice and look at anything else in his room. The alarm clock, the dresser, the Metallica poster on his wall, it didn’t matter. If he was avoiding the glare of his father’s piercing hazel eyes, he was alright. False attention allowed opportunities to create counterarguments for the lecture that were never mentioned. When his dad asked, “Do you understand?” Jason would nod half-heartedly and mutter an insult to himself after his dad had left. It became routine and never let up until they helped him move down to Inglewood.
Tiring, Jason shook off the flow of thoughts and rolled onto his side. “Like night and day,” he mumbled, “Home life and college life are like night and day.” His parents had forced him out, but Eileen was right: Do it for her and Robbie. Contented as much as possible, he cleared his mind and went to sleep.
The next day passed quickly, no doubt because it was Friday. Jason felt like someone had pressed fast-forward on his life: he sat in number theory, turned in his homework, got praised for his work, heard a lecture and was out of the classroom in what seemed like thirty minutes. In reality, nearly two hours had passed. As he walked from the Mathematical Sciences building to Boelter Hall for his other class of the day, the campus seemed more energetic than he ever recalled. Kerckhoff Hall was bustling with activity, as people milled about or sat at tables and talked with each other. An organization was blasting some hip-hop music from large speakers, loud enough for Jason to bob his head to the bass beat as he walked along the periphery of the union.
When Jason walked into computer science, time flew again. After another effortless two hours, he walked out of the room with nothing standing between him and his trip home. He exited the building and paused in front of the entrance, taking note of everything around him.
Most of the people lounging at Kerckhoff Hall had left and the music was gone. The only real noises were the rustling of tree leaves in the wind and the occasional bird chirp. While he walked back to his car, he thought quietly about what he would do to kill the rest of the day. Occasional yawns suggested that Jason try to catch up on sleep, and the idea got more lucrative as he settled into his car and commuted home.
Friday afternoon commutes always promised to be slow, and this drive proved no different. Jason didn’t have a radio in his car, so the only distractions from the traffic jam were the rumblings of cars going the opposite way on the 405 and his thoughts. More and more, the time to himself drove him to think about things he didn’t want to think about: He and his mom arguing about cleaning dishes; he and his dad arguing about money to buy a DVD player; Eileen coming to Jason’s defense as their dad yelled at him for putting too much soap in the dishwasher. Jason never gave his sister enough credit for saving him from himself several times, because she knew what to say almost every time he and the parents had squared off. Every time, she and Robbie, who never knew about his complaints because he was so young, were the reason he never lost his temper. He hated excommunicating himself from his siblings, but the insistence that his parents forced it remained.
The sun had nearly set by the time he had reached home. Sleep was the best thing to do, Jason knew, because the drive tomorrow would have to begin early. He walked into his apartment and threw his stuff down next to his chair before heading to the phone. He dialed the number for Ticketmaster and made an order. After a few minutes, he walked to the bedroom, able to slide his shoes off his feet before he fell on the bed.
* * *
Falling asleep early did wonders.
The alarm clock buzzed loudly at six in the morning, but Jason needed only a minute or so to get out of bed. The apartment was deathly quiet as he went about his morning routine: breakfast, brush teeth, shower and get dressed. There was no life in the complex or on the streets as Jason walked out to leave. When he started his car and backed out of his parking spot, there was no turning back.
The streets of Inglewood were nearly empty, and the absence of traffic allowed Jason to get to the 405 in no time. Early Saturday morning was ideal for trying to get out of Los Angeles, and no time was wasted in speeding to the connection for I-5. A few cars passed by, going the other way into the city, but the highway was relatively quiet. Jason had the windows rolled down, which hampered his travel time slightly, but the full force of the wind whipping by his extended left arm calmed his nerves.
By mid-morning, Jason had passed over the Grapevine and through Bakersfield. Scenery along Highway 99 looked nearly the same no matter how far north he drove, but he didn’t mind. The golden foothills to the east seemed close enough to walk to under the vibrant blue sky. There was nothing blocking the view as he drove through the countryside, save for a few small farm towns that he quickly passed through.
Farther north, near Fresno, the worries returned. Less than an hour from Merced, his home, a wave of panic washed over and settled in Jason’s thoughts. The sunny surroundings were suddenly powerless to help Jason keep a level head. A sudden rush of pessimism forged a new situation into his mind:
While walking underneath the gargantuan oak trees at Applegate Park, Jason also envisioned himself being rudely unwelcome. His family would be having the time of their life as he walked up to them, and his dad’s smile would turn to a scowl when he turned around to meet Jason’s gaze.
“What are you doing here?” his dad would growl.
“Dad, I came for your birthday. It’s fifty and Eileen wan—”
“Jason, I don’t care what Eileen wants. I don’t want you here.”
Eileen would chime up, in protest, “Come on, Dad, it’s a big day for you—”
“Eileen, be quiet. Jason, I don’t want you here.”
At that moment, the two men would stare at each other coldly before Jason stole a glance at Eileen and Robbie and responded, “Fine. I don’t even know why I bothered.” He would walk away then, and the family would go back to their business more wary of the elder Maddox’s temper.
Lost in his parallel world, he didn’t notice the speedometer approaching 90 miles per hour. Most of the northbound traffic consisted of 18-wheelers, but he didn’t want to lose his mind at an inopportune time. When he approached the next exit, he slowed down and pulled off the freeway and into the closest gas station. Quickly, he jumped out of the car and ran to the nearest phone booth. He prayed that the family wouldn’t be at Applegate Park yet, so that he could talk to Eileen.
After a couple of rings, someone picked up. It was a male voice, nearly identical to Jason’s, but a little rougher around the edges. Jason knew who it was right away, “Uh, hello?”
Thinking on his feet, Jason was able to manipulate his voice to a higher and more cheerful tone, “Hi! Is Eileen around?”
The man responded flatly, completely fooled, “Yeah, she is. Can I tell her who’s calling?”
“It’s . . . a friend of hers. From theatre.”
“Oh, okay. Hold on just a second,” the temporary pause killed Jason, who needed reassurance as soon as possible. After thirty seconds, the familiar female voice responded.
“Hello?”
“Eileen, it’s Jason.”
She sounded surprised, “Jas--! I mean . . . Jay, how’s it going?”
“Good cover. I’m terrible, by the way. I’m in Fresno, but I can’t shake the feeling that something else is going to happen. You know what I mean.”
The fluidity of her voice told Jason that his sister was trying to keep the conversation ambiguous, “Oh, well, that’s not good to hear. Just know your lines and play it straight. Audiences love that.”
Jason chuckled a little, “I know, I know. But, I just don’t think things will be happy-happy any more. Not after what we did to each other.”
“Well, just remember this,” her tone instantly changed to a full singing voice, “Marry the man today, rather than sigh in sorrow! Marry the man today, and change his ways tomorrow!”
Jason winced at the increase in volume and held the phone away from his ear momentarily, “You’re trying to tell me that fixing things isn’t going to take one day, right?”
Eileen cleared her throat, “Something like that, yeah. I mean, the final str—” she quieted her voice, “The final straw was bad, but anything can be fixed with time. Just get here, and I’ll help you out.”
“I guess it’s my turn to thank you now.”
“You can thank me by showing up! Dad’s on the warpath about the party, so I’ve got to go.”
“Alright, bye.”
Jason set the phone down slowly. He was afraid, and he couldn’t help it. Pushing forward was the one way to resolve things, though, like Eileen had said. He walked back to his car and got back on the highway.
After another 45 minutes, Jason finally drove into town. He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he approached the highway sign exclaiming, “MERCED: CITY LIMITS.” From the outskirts of town, it would be a matter of minutes before he got to his destination. He knew the city like the back of his hand, and it was a straight-forward route once he pulled off of the highway.
Eventually, the northern end of the park, Applegate Zoo, came into view. After turning onto the side street, Jason found the first parking space available. He was certain it would be on the other side of the park from the party, but he didn’t care. He climbed out of his car and started walking.
Applegate Park was bursting with happiness as he walked through it. Small and big kids alike took turns flying off of the swings, while other families sat in the shade and enjoyed lunch. The sun was high in the sky and brighter than ever. Low-cut grass shifted through each of Jason’s shuffling steps. As he walked, he kept thinking of Eileen’s words on the phone: Anything can be fixed with time. Jason still wasn’t convinced, and the memory of that “final straw” replayed in his mind while he walked.
* * *
Three days before Christmas during freshman year, Jason had been watching football on TV while the parents milled about in the kitchen, preparing sweets for the eventual family feast. His dad came up next to the couch and watched the television momentarily.
“Jason,” his dad said, “Can you help us out by making the carmelitas? Mom and I have to do some things in the back of the house.”
“Would I? I can’t live without those things. I’m on it.”
Carmelitas were always Jason’s favorite Christmas concoction. Gathering the best ingredients from the pantry and fridge – caramel, chocolate chips and walnuts --made him salivate. His dad set the recipe down on the counter while Jason prepared to cook. He glanced at the orders and began to follow them.
The football game on the television raged on, and Jason kept a constant eye on it to catch every moment possible. After he set the mixture in the oven, he strolled back over to the couch and sat back down. The clock told him it was “5:20,” so he had to take the goods out of the oven at the bottom of the hour.
“Aww, Madden, that wasn’t a flag!” Jason became fixated on the game again as easily as he had temporarily disconnected. Fans at the stadium were about to go berserk; the home team stood at the ten-yard line with four minutes to go. Unaware of his movement, Jason slowly inched closer to the screen in anticipation. Watching the quarterback’s movement, he was obviously startled out of his wits by a sudden piercing shrill. Another look at the clock told him that the carmelitas were more than done.
“Jason!” his mom yelled, “What happened?!”
He looked over at the bewildered look on his mom’s face, certain that he was in trouble. “:bou::bou::bou::bou:,” he muttered, then picked up his voice, “Hold on, Mom!”
There was no chance to save the moment, though. The elder Maddox came rushing down the hallway to survey the scene and fix it. Immediately, he opened the oven, which belched a small bit of smoke toward the ceiling. Jason watched from the couch in stunned silence. His mom, clearly frightened, had her hands over her mouth. His dad yelled for Eileen to bring a fire extinguisher while Robbie wailed in panic from the commotion. A minute that felt more like a year passed as the fire was put out and attention was refocused on Jason.
“Jason!” his dad yelled. “What the hell are you doing?”
Jason knew there was no way out, “I . . . I was . . .”
The older Maddox pointed angrily at the television, “You were watching football, weren’t you? You should’ve been watching the oven, and you know that!”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry isn’t going to cut it. You’re 18 years old, and I expect you to be more responsible than this,” Jason looked up into the raging brown eyes, stunned, “I don’t know why I trusted you with cooking.”
“What? Nothing happened, right? Nothing burned down, everything’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You scared the hell out of your family, that’s not okay.”
“I already said I was sorry,” Jason said flatly.
“Forget it,” his dad muttered, “It’s no use trying to get through to you,”
He started walking away. Jason, angered by those words, replied out of character, “Hey, don’t walk away from me!” Immediately, his dad turned around.
“Are you talking to me?”
“You’re damn right, I’m talking to you.”
The older Maddox walked quickly back toward Jason, “Don’t talk like that in my house, buddy. You’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I can’t say ‘damn,’ but you can insult your own son? Yeah, that’s really :skull::skull::skull::skull:ing fair.”
His mom started to say something, but was sharply cut off, “Hey, what did I tell you? Don’t talk like that in my house.”
Tempers began to reach the boiling point, and Jason stepped closer with a look of absolute hatred, “Then don’t insult your :skull::skull::skull::skull:ing son.”
Without warning, his dad grasped his arm and jerked him to within two inches of his face. Jason let out a small yelp, and the hatred turned to fear. A pressure point on his wrist was being pressed aggressively, and he quickly succumbed to tears.
“There is nothing you should be crying about,” his dad said coldly, maintaining his grip. “You are way out of line, Jason, and it will stop now. Do you understand?”
Through the pain and anger, Jason regrouped. He sniffed loudly and shook a little as he responded, “Yeah. . . I understand.”
For a few moments, the two maintained furious glares with one another. Slowly, the iron grip on his arm was loosened and released. His dad shook his fury away and responded firmly, “Well, I’m glad you do.” Then, he began to walk away again.
Bewildered, he shot a wild glance at his mother, who silently cautioned him against rash behavior. It didn’t register, and Jason yelled back furiously, “I SAID DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME!”
For a second time, his dad turned around. He walked quickly back to Jason and reached his open right hand back in a flash. Jason only had time to instinctively raise his right arm in defense and sling his left hand forward to counter. The blow landed on his dad’s cheek and followed through with tremendous force. Momentum threw the elder Maddox to the ground while a few droplets of blood flew onto the carpet. Jason retracted his fist as his dad clutched his face and his mom ran over to help.
In a brief moment, Jason had humbled his oppressor. He stood over the stunned, crumpled figure, his mom wrapping her arms around him and yelling things at Jason that were never noted. The tears in his mom’s eyes and the tone of her cries let him see that things had immediately changed. He looked up to see Eileen in the hallway with tears on her face, tightly clutching Robbie in her arms. At seeing his sister’s dismay, tears streaked down Jason’s face. Looking back at his mom, he noticed her cries had stopped, and both parents were looking at him in utter confusion.
Jason hurried away from his huddled parents and brushed by Eileen in a hurry to escape. He ran down the driveway to his car and sped off. In the process, he left everything behind: his clothes, his possessions and his family.
* * *
That was three years ago. It was a lifetime past. Now, he stood a respectable distance from the gathering, watching everyone. Music was playing, and kids were running around. This was the threshold.
Slowly, he took a breath and continued walking toward the party. For a minute, it seemed like no one would notice, but Robbie finally stopped his apparent sprinting and shouted “Jason!” As Robbie ran toward him, Jason kept his eyes on the party, which had all turned in his direction now. The commotion quieted quickly, and Jason simply knelt down to give his brother a hug when Robbie threw his arms around him.
“Jason, I missed you!” Robbie chimed.
“Yeah, Robbie. I know you did.” Jason raised his hand to scramble his brother’s hair, and Robbie laughed as he did. “Why don’t you go back to what you were doing, I’ll hang out with you in a minute.”
“Okay!” Robbie sprinted away as Jason stood back up and walked toward the crowd. A few people said hello and Jason greeted them with nods. He glanced at Eileen, standing at a table gathering potato chips, and the two moved to meet each other. No words were exchanged; Eileen wrapped her arms around Jason and squeezed tightly. She buried her heard in his chest, and he could feel small sobs. Gradually, he pried her away so he could look into her eyes.
“Kid, man,” he said softly, “You’ve grown. None of this crying stuff, now.”
Eileen sniffed and rubbed a tear away from her eye, “Jason Maddox . . . you know you want to cry because you see me again.”
He smirked a little bit and sighed, “Maybe, I guess we’ll see.” He turned his eyes to where his dad was sitting, and let go of Eileen to go talk to him.
As he approached, his dad got up out of the chair and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Jason slowed to a stop three feet away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The scar from the fight was evident, and Jason was reluctant to look at it. The two stared uneasily in different directions, the music saving the moment from awkward silence.
Finally, Jason spoke up, “I don’t have your present with me. I ordered it, though,” his dad looked at him when he paused, “Five bleacher seats at Dodger Stadium. I . . . want to fix things.”
His dad nodded slowly, “I do, too,” the gruffness of his voice was more apparent than on the phone, “I never thought you’d come.”
Jason stole a glance at Eileen, who stood with a subdued smile, “Someone got me to thinking. Re-examining things. So that I could fix them.”
“Yeah, I guessed,” he looked at Eileen himself, “So that we could fix them.”
Jason paused and looked at the ground. Finally, his dad spoke up again, “Do you want something to drink?”
“Pepsi will be fine.”
The older Maddox walked over to a cooler, and the party resumed. Jason got a hug from his mom and an offer to sit down. He found an open lawn chair and plopped into it. A can of Pepsi found its way into his hands, and he popped it open and took a drink. It was a simple way to start the reconciliation. It was a good example to remember for the future.
I'd like to warn against a small bit of swearing in the story, but other than that, it should be okay.
________________________________________ ____
Jason sat at his desk and stared intently at the numbers in his book. Number twenty-five was a tough problem to crack, and he only moved to scribble potential solutions in his notepad. He pursed his lips in concentration and guided his hovered pencil over the work he had done so far. The pencil in his hand flipped around and around quickly, a habit developed by working under pressure. After a minute of barely audible muttered comments to his self, the free hand reached to punch some numbers into a graphing calculator. The gateway to his answer had been opened. In short time, the work was recopied onto another piece of paper to be turned in the next day.
Once the copy was finished, Jason dropped the pencil onto his book and took a deep breath. He rubbed his eyes to rid himself of sleep and then stretched his hands to the ceiling. Number theory wasn’t hard, but it was definitely tedious.
Exhausted and with work still left to do, Jason got up and ambled slowly over to his makeshift stereo system. His job didn’t allow him to splurge on a real system, but his worn second-hand speakers always provided the boost he was perpetually in need of. He twisted the volume knob to 12, a respectable amount of noise, and pushed “PLAY.”
As he walked away to prepare for his next task, the speakers released a low trembling bass. Jason recognized the song immediately: Filter, Columind. He put his hand up as he entered the bathroom and thrust it forward like a conductor three times when the speakers exploded with three monstrous and grinding guitar chords. As the band played on, preparations for the rest of the night went underway: A handful of water to his face provided a self-inflicted wake up call. Another couple of handfuls of water were thrown into his brown hair so that it could be combed. He brushed his teeth, during which he realized that he hadn’t eaten anything since he ate a bowl of Cap’n Crunch before brushing in the morning. The song wound down at about the same time Jason left the bathroom and headed toward his closet.
Another song, more upbeat and with wailing guitar riffs and vocals, took its turn as Jason reached for a green polo shirt. Saliva, Back Into Your System. Jason’s grimace of resistance to his imminent work contrasted sharply to his music, but he slung his shirt over his shoulders and threw on the new one. There were no wrinkles, but a couple of hand strokes to straighten the shirt out made absolutely sure of that. He passed his hands over his khakis in the same fashion, and then walked briskly back into the bathroom.
Standing in front of his lone mirror, Jason made sure everything looked perfectly clean-cut. He stared blankly into his own brown eyes, which now seemed more hostile and intense than he had ever noticed before. He clenched his eyes shut and took a forceful deep breath before opening them again, but that only led him to notice the tiredness inherent in his expressions, instead.
Finally, he spoke to himself and smiled, “Hello! Welcome to TGI Friday’s. Is there anything I can . . . start you off with?” The sincerity of his voice was mediocre at best, and the smile was completely forced. Resentment toward everything was making the charade of pleasantness toward anything harder and harder to pull off. He stood upright, stiffly, and lifted his chin slightly in a last attempt to instill himself with more confidence. It failed in only a moment, and so he sighed as he went back to his living room to put his shoes on.
He bent down in his chair to tie his shoes and sang aloud to a third, more somber song: “Quiet, a sound you know so well. You’re living just to make it through another day. Stand, climb and fall, you carry the world, can’t carry your hope. . .” The lead singer’s voice was identical to his own at this moment in time, and Jason was on the verge on getting caught up in his own world when he could least afford it. Only the timing of his obnoxiously loud phone ring brought him rudely back into reality.
The digital clock on his microwave beamed “6:13,” a reminder that Jason couldn’t stay too much longer to talk to whoever was calling. Hastily, he got up and grabbed his phone before it rang again.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Jason? It’s Eileen.”
“Oh, hi. Long time, no . . . hear from.”
“I don’t think that’s my fault. Long time, no see. Long time, no. . . ‘read email.’ Take your pick.”
“Alright, alright. I get your point, kid,” Jason knew that his sister understood the lack of communication and was annoyed that she had to bring it up again, “You know why I don’t call home, Eileen, so don’t bother me about it.”
“You can’t find two minutes to write me a letter? Christ, Jason! Yes, I know everything, but I know enough to see when someone is being childish, too. You’re twenty-two years old, grow up!”
“This coming from someone who lobbied for a Mitsubishi Eclipse at 16 and bitched about it until she got it. Right, whatever.”
The anger on the other end of the line was getting easier to hear, “Just forget it, Jason. Shut up. I didn’t call you so you could piss me off.”
Jason took a deep breath before responding, “Alright, I’m sorry. That’s the last thing I need. What’s going on?”
“Well, I’m sure you know that Saturday is Dad’s 50th birthday. . .”
“I think I know what you’re getting at. Big party, everyone will be there, which obviously includes me, blah blah blah.”
“They weren’t going to call you. But, I want you to come up and see everyone. You’re the oldest, so you have to set a good example.”
He grinned, although his sister couldn’t see it, “A good example, huh? Well, I’m a good example of what happens when you fight with your parents excessively. That’s good enough, right?”
“Jason, come on! I’m serious,” Eileen pleaded. “I know you sure as hell won’t do it for Mom and Dad, but you can come for Robbie and I.”
Another glance at the clock told him that he was going to have to delay a decision, “I don’t have time right now. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
“I’m going to be out all day. School, and then rehearsal for ‘Guys and Dolls,’” Jason could hear the annoyance in Eileen’s voice, “Either way, I don’t see what there is to decide. Just do it!”
Now it was do-or-die, something Jason was hoping to avoid, “Pick my poison,” a third glance at the clock made his decision for him, “Okay, you win, I’ll be there.”
“Jason . . . thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. At any rate, I’ve gotta get out of here.”
“Applegate Park at two o’clock. Don’t forget it!”
He hung up quickly, not thinking whether it was wise to cut off the conversation. There was no time to think about that or the magnitude of the decision he had just made. The night shift was waiting for him at TGI Friday’s, so no time was wasted in turning off the stereo and heading off into the city.
* * *
Torrance wasn’t too far from his apartment in Inglewood, but the distance alone didn’t help Jason’s car or his nerves. The commute was worse than he was used to, even by Los Angeles standards, thanks to the spectacular scenery of a 12-car pileup on the 405. As he inched closer to the scene of the accident, Jason could see numerous sets of flashing lights and flares on the road. People naturally slowed down to see the horrific display of mangled cars and shattered glass, which prompted Jason to abuse his horn to get the drivers in front of him to speed up. The freeway was down to two lanes, which was trying enough on his patience, but when drivers in front on him deliberately slowed down to mock his anger, he had to react somehow.
Once the police officer to his right waved him clear of the mess, Jason punched the gas pedal to accelerate quickly. Holding the steering wheel with his right hand, he used his free hand to roll down his window and extend his middle finger outward. He didn’t bother noting their reactions; he simply concentrated on the road while holding his finger still as he sped past each person who had wronged him.
The haughtiness of those complete strangers reminded Jason of his dad, so he took silent pleasure in his gesture as he closed in on the restaurant. There were countless moments in his adolescence when he had wished for guts enough to give his father the finger and walk away from whatever conflict they were having, but the patriarch never gave him any opportunity.
“Jason, can you get the vacuum and clean up the floor for me?”
“You mean, right now?”
“No, I mean next Tuesday. Yes, I mean right now!”
His dad’s retorts had always dripped with sarcasm, and the words bit sharply every time they were used. Retreated in his room, Jason would come up with an infinite number of hurtful things to say, none of which were ever used. As he turned onto Hawthorne Boulevard, the long-repressed thoughts of anger were dredged up again. The insistence that there was no option other than abandonment had quelled his doubts for three years. Not even an unexpected invitation to go home was going to change that.
When he pulled into his usual parking space, Jason leaned his head back in the seat. The drive had given him time to think things over, and a trip home wasn’t what he wanted. The way Eileen said, “Jason . . . thanks” kept running in his mind, though, and as reluctant as he was, he didn’t want to let her or his little brother Robbie down. She knew exactly how to pull his strings, because she knew how much Robbie looked up to him and missed him. Silently settled, Jason got out of the car and hurried into work.
The door flew open to a cacophony of conversations among patrons and music covering the restaurant. Random paraphernalia lining the walls, the red and white striped tablecloths and the three different sports events being shown on the various televisions at the bar provided a warm atmosphere despite the lack of lighting. Jason walked reservedly through the chaos, toward the back of the restaurant to clock in. While he set himself up, his manager caught his attention.
“Jason Maddox! You’re a little late today, aren’t you?”
Jason went through his preparation checklist while he responded, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, Steve. There was a big pile-up on the 405.”
“Well, normally that wouldn’t be an excuse. Since it’s a slow Thursday, though, I’ll let you off easy this time. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, alright?”
Jason nodded in agreement and smiled, “Sure thing. Where am I at today?”
Steve pointed to the far end of the restaurant. There were only a couple of parties sitting in his section, eating their food and having a good time. It was no man’s land, but it was perfect, “You’re over on tables 35 through 43. I’m sure it won’t be too much of a hassle tonight. Just keep ‘em happy to earn your paycheck,” Steve plopped a hand down on Jason’s shoulder and shook it in encouragement before walking back to his work. Jason couldn’t help but smile, knowing his manager had unwittingly provided him with relief from his thoughts.
He walked over to the first table and greeted a couple who had just sat down. The façade of cheerfulness came easier than it had earlier, and the patrons were clearly surprised. A couple of rounds of drinks, an order of calamari, two cheeseburgers, an Oreo Madness and a few periodic checkups later, Jason’s work was rewarded with a generous tip. Work was easier to execute than it had been in a long time, and the façade became real even to him. The display of confidence never went unnoticed as time marched on, and the tips added up to about a hundred dollars by the one o’clock closing time.
When the last party left, Jason collapsed in a nearby chair. The extent of his effort caught up with him, and he slid down into a slouch as he let satisfaction wash over him. A minute or so passed, and he allowed himself to smile to himself. Eventually, Steve walked up to him and got his attention.
“Hey, Jason. That was quite a performance you put on tonight! You were on your A-game tonight.”
“Aww, it wasn’t much, Steve-o. I just needed to take my mind off of things and . . . voila! Work was there.”
Steve chuckled, “Well, here’s hoping that streak keeps up for this weekend! Are you free Saturday? Macy told me that she won’t be able to make her shift that day, and I need a replacement.”
There was a moment of hesitation before Jason responded, “Normally, I would. I can always use the money, but I’ve got something going on this weekend.”
The manager’s expression brightened, “Oh! Well, color me surprised, then. I don’t ever remember you refusing an extra shift, so it must be something important.”
“Well, kind of. I’ve got to drive up into the Valley for my dad’s birthday. He’s hittin’ fifty on Saturday.”
Steve let out a small outburst of laughter, “Fifty? I’m glad I don’t know what that feels like,” he chuckled a little to himself, “Funny, though, because you never really talk about your family.”
In that instant, a feeling of panic set in. Jason’s heart felt like it constricted in his chest momentarily and skipped a beat, but managed to eke out a simple response, “Well, um, I just don’t like to talk about it too much.”
Steve raised his hand in acknowledgment, “Say no more, I won’t push it. I’ll see if I can get Danny or Chayenne to cover, instead,” he extended his hand in congratulations, and Jason met it halfway, “Well, I’ve gotta get some sleep. I’m gonna be back here tomorrow.”
“Alright, I’ll see you Monday, Steve. Peace.”
Steve walked away to push the main door open as Jason got up to leave. When Jason got outside, he was greeted by brisk night air. He hadn’t brought a jacket, and he shivered a little as he walked back to his car. His footsteps were barely audible on the concrete walkway, and the only other commotion was the few cars straggling home on Hawthorne. After fumbling in his pocket for his car keys, he settled in the driver’s seat and went home.
* * *
It was well after 1:30 AM when Jason crawled into his apartment and headed straight for his bed. The drive home from work drained his energy, so there wasn’t any problem with sleeping fully clothed and with shoes on. He fell flatly on the mattress, stomach first, and groaned with exhaustion as he rolled onto his back.
While he sank into sleep, Jason blinked slowly, finally allowing himself a few minutes to think clearly about the upcoming weekend. Though the room was only marginally lit by a nearby streetlamp that was screened by trees, visions of past hurts were easy to remember and see with the mind’s eye. The sparring with his mom when he still lived at home had instilled him with a sense of unwanted submission. The frequent fights with his dad had filled him with distrust, hatred and fear.
“Hey, Mom,” he once said, “The crew’s going out to see The Matrix. Can I go?”
“Well, Jason,” she had replied, “did you ever pull the weeds in the backyard?”
“Um . . . no. But, I’ll get to it tomorrow morning, since it’s Saturday.”
“You can’t do it now? Your father asked you to do that two days ago.”
“The plants aren’t going to die overnight. I promise I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Don’t talk back! You’ll do it now before you go to your movie.”
“The movie starts in a half hour, though.”
“Then, you’ll just have to work quickly, won’t you?”
At home, breakdowns in communication weren’t uncommon. As Jason replayed the different scenes in his mind, he remembered his refusals to obey and consequent groundings. Sitting in his room, listening to System of a Down and furiously reading one book or another, he hoped to escape his problems. He brooded constantly about the silliness of being stuck under his parents’ thumb at eighteen years old.
In that time, the same list of reassurances always ran through his mind, “I’m 18 years old, I’m smarter than them, I’m going to UCLA, it’ll be better soon. I’m 18, I’m smarter than them, I’m going to UCLA, it’ll be better soon. . .”
As sure as the sun rose in the morning, his dad would come into his room, talk down to him and explain why they were right and he was wrong. Despising the condescending tone, Jason would block out the voice and look at anything else in his room. The alarm clock, the dresser, the Metallica poster on his wall, it didn’t matter. If he was avoiding the glare of his father’s piercing hazel eyes, he was alright. False attention allowed opportunities to create counterarguments for the lecture that were never mentioned. When his dad asked, “Do you understand?” Jason would nod half-heartedly and mutter an insult to himself after his dad had left. It became routine and never let up until they helped him move down to Inglewood.
Tiring, Jason shook off the flow of thoughts and rolled onto his side. “Like night and day,” he mumbled, “Home life and college life are like night and day.” His parents had forced him out, but Eileen was right: Do it for her and Robbie. Contented as much as possible, he cleared his mind and went to sleep.
The next day passed quickly, no doubt because it was Friday. Jason felt like someone had pressed fast-forward on his life: he sat in number theory, turned in his homework, got praised for his work, heard a lecture and was out of the classroom in what seemed like thirty minutes. In reality, nearly two hours had passed. As he walked from the Mathematical Sciences building to Boelter Hall for his other class of the day, the campus seemed more energetic than he ever recalled. Kerckhoff Hall was bustling with activity, as people milled about or sat at tables and talked with each other. An organization was blasting some hip-hop music from large speakers, loud enough for Jason to bob his head to the bass beat as he walked along the periphery of the union.
When Jason walked into computer science, time flew again. After another effortless two hours, he walked out of the room with nothing standing between him and his trip home. He exited the building and paused in front of the entrance, taking note of everything around him.
Most of the people lounging at Kerckhoff Hall had left and the music was gone. The only real noises were the rustling of tree leaves in the wind and the occasional bird chirp. While he walked back to his car, he thought quietly about what he would do to kill the rest of the day. Occasional yawns suggested that Jason try to catch up on sleep, and the idea got more lucrative as he settled into his car and commuted home.
Friday afternoon commutes always promised to be slow, and this drive proved no different. Jason didn’t have a radio in his car, so the only distractions from the traffic jam were the rumblings of cars going the opposite way on the 405 and his thoughts. More and more, the time to himself drove him to think about things he didn’t want to think about: He and his mom arguing about cleaning dishes; he and his dad arguing about money to buy a DVD player; Eileen coming to Jason’s defense as their dad yelled at him for putting too much soap in the dishwasher. Jason never gave his sister enough credit for saving him from himself several times, because she knew what to say almost every time he and the parents had squared off. Every time, she and Robbie, who never knew about his complaints because he was so young, were the reason he never lost his temper. He hated excommunicating himself from his siblings, but the insistence that his parents forced it remained.
The sun had nearly set by the time he had reached home. Sleep was the best thing to do, Jason knew, because the drive tomorrow would have to begin early. He walked into his apartment and threw his stuff down next to his chair before heading to the phone. He dialed the number for Ticketmaster and made an order. After a few minutes, he walked to the bedroom, able to slide his shoes off his feet before he fell on the bed.
* * *
Falling asleep early did wonders.
The alarm clock buzzed loudly at six in the morning, but Jason needed only a minute or so to get out of bed. The apartment was deathly quiet as he went about his morning routine: breakfast, brush teeth, shower and get dressed. There was no life in the complex or on the streets as Jason walked out to leave. When he started his car and backed out of his parking spot, there was no turning back.
The streets of Inglewood were nearly empty, and the absence of traffic allowed Jason to get to the 405 in no time. Early Saturday morning was ideal for trying to get out of Los Angeles, and no time was wasted in speeding to the connection for I-5. A few cars passed by, going the other way into the city, but the highway was relatively quiet. Jason had the windows rolled down, which hampered his travel time slightly, but the full force of the wind whipping by his extended left arm calmed his nerves.
By mid-morning, Jason had passed over the Grapevine and through Bakersfield. Scenery along Highway 99 looked nearly the same no matter how far north he drove, but he didn’t mind. The golden foothills to the east seemed close enough to walk to under the vibrant blue sky. There was nothing blocking the view as he drove through the countryside, save for a few small farm towns that he quickly passed through.
Farther north, near Fresno, the worries returned. Less than an hour from Merced, his home, a wave of panic washed over and settled in Jason’s thoughts. The sunny surroundings were suddenly powerless to help Jason keep a level head. A sudden rush of pessimism forged a new situation into his mind:
While walking underneath the gargantuan oak trees at Applegate Park, Jason also envisioned himself being rudely unwelcome. His family would be having the time of their life as he walked up to them, and his dad’s smile would turn to a scowl when he turned around to meet Jason’s gaze.
“What are you doing here?” his dad would growl.
“Dad, I came for your birthday. It’s fifty and Eileen wan—”
“Jason, I don’t care what Eileen wants. I don’t want you here.”
Eileen would chime up, in protest, “Come on, Dad, it’s a big day for you—”
“Eileen, be quiet. Jason, I don’t want you here.”
At that moment, the two men would stare at each other coldly before Jason stole a glance at Eileen and Robbie and responded, “Fine. I don’t even know why I bothered.” He would walk away then, and the family would go back to their business more wary of the elder Maddox’s temper.
Lost in his parallel world, he didn’t notice the speedometer approaching 90 miles per hour. Most of the northbound traffic consisted of 18-wheelers, but he didn’t want to lose his mind at an inopportune time. When he approached the next exit, he slowed down and pulled off the freeway and into the closest gas station. Quickly, he jumped out of the car and ran to the nearest phone booth. He prayed that the family wouldn’t be at Applegate Park yet, so that he could talk to Eileen.
After a couple of rings, someone picked up. It was a male voice, nearly identical to Jason’s, but a little rougher around the edges. Jason knew who it was right away, “Uh, hello?”
Thinking on his feet, Jason was able to manipulate his voice to a higher and more cheerful tone, “Hi! Is Eileen around?”
The man responded flatly, completely fooled, “Yeah, she is. Can I tell her who’s calling?”
“It’s . . . a friend of hers. From theatre.”
“Oh, okay. Hold on just a second,” the temporary pause killed Jason, who needed reassurance as soon as possible. After thirty seconds, the familiar female voice responded.
“Hello?”
“Eileen, it’s Jason.”
She sounded surprised, “Jas--! I mean . . . Jay, how’s it going?”
“Good cover. I’m terrible, by the way. I’m in Fresno, but I can’t shake the feeling that something else is going to happen. You know what I mean.”
The fluidity of her voice told Jason that his sister was trying to keep the conversation ambiguous, “Oh, well, that’s not good to hear. Just know your lines and play it straight. Audiences love that.”
Jason chuckled a little, “I know, I know. But, I just don’t think things will be happy-happy any more. Not after what we did to each other.”
“Well, just remember this,” her tone instantly changed to a full singing voice, “Marry the man today, rather than sigh in sorrow! Marry the man today, and change his ways tomorrow!”
Jason winced at the increase in volume and held the phone away from his ear momentarily, “You’re trying to tell me that fixing things isn’t going to take one day, right?”
Eileen cleared her throat, “Something like that, yeah. I mean, the final str—” she quieted her voice, “The final straw was bad, but anything can be fixed with time. Just get here, and I’ll help you out.”
“I guess it’s my turn to thank you now.”
“You can thank me by showing up! Dad’s on the warpath about the party, so I’ve got to go.”
“Alright, bye.”
Jason set the phone down slowly. He was afraid, and he couldn’t help it. Pushing forward was the one way to resolve things, though, like Eileen had said. He walked back to his car and got back on the highway.
After another 45 minutes, Jason finally drove into town. He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he approached the highway sign exclaiming, “MERCED: CITY LIMITS.” From the outskirts of town, it would be a matter of minutes before he got to his destination. He knew the city like the back of his hand, and it was a straight-forward route once he pulled off of the highway.
Eventually, the northern end of the park, Applegate Zoo, came into view. After turning onto the side street, Jason found the first parking space available. He was certain it would be on the other side of the park from the party, but he didn’t care. He climbed out of his car and started walking.
Applegate Park was bursting with happiness as he walked through it. Small and big kids alike took turns flying off of the swings, while other families sat in the shade and enjoyed lunch. The sun was high in the sky and brighter than ever. Low-cut grass shifted through each of Jason’s shuffling steps. As he walked, he kept thinking of Eileen’s words on the phone: Anything can be fixed with time. Jason still wasn’t convinced, and the memory of that “final straw” replayed in his mind while he walked.
* * *
Three days before Christmas during freshman year, Jason had been watching football on TV while the parents milled about in the kitchen, preparing sweets for the eventual family feast. His dad came up next to the couch and watched the television momentarily.
“Jason,” his dad said, “Can you help us out by making the carmelitas? Mom and I have to do some things in the back of the house.”
“Would I? I can’t live without those things. I’m on it.”
Carmelitas were always Jason’s favorite Christmas concoction. Gathering the best ingredients from the pantry and fridge – caramel, chocolate chips and walnuts --made him salivate. His dad set the recipe down on the counter while Jason prepared to cook. He glanced at the orders and began to follow them.
The football game on the television raged on, and Jason kept a constant eye on it to catch every moment possible. After he set the mixture in the oven, he strolled back over to the couch and sat back down. The clock told him it was “5:20,” so he had to take the goods out of the oven at the bottom of the hour.
“Aww, Madden, that wasn’t a flag!” Jason became fixated on the game again as easily as he had temporarily disconnected. Fans at the stadium were about to go berserk; the home team stood at the ten-yard line with four minutes to go. Unaware of his movement, Jason slowly inched closer to the screen in anticipation. Watching the quarterback’s movement, he was obviously startled out of his wits by a sudden piercing shrill. Another look at the clock told him that the carmelitas were more than done.
“Jason!” his mom yelled, “What happened?!”
He looked over at the bewildered look on his mom’s face, certain that he was in trouble. “:bou::bou::bou::bou:,” he muttered, then picked up his voice, “Hold on, Mom!”
There was no chance to save the moment, though. The elder Maddox came rushing down the hallway to survey the scene and fix it. Immediately, he opened the oven, which belched a small bit of smoke toward the ceiling. Jason watched from the couch in stunned silence. His mom, clearly frightened, had her hands over her mouth. His dad yelled for Eileen to bring a fire extinguisher while Robbie wailed in panic from the commotion. A minute that felt more like a year passed as the fire was put out and attention was refocused on Jason.
“Jason!” his dad yelled. “What the hell are you doing?”
Jason knew there was no way out, “I . . . I was . . .”
The older Maddox pointed angrily at the television, “You were watching football, weren’t you? You should’ve been watching the oven, and you know that!”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry isn’t going to cut it. You’re 18 years old, and I expect you to be more responsible than this,” Jason looked up into the raging brown eyes, stunned, “I don’t know why I trusted you with cooking.”
“What? Nothing happened, right? Nothing burned down, everything’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You scared the hell out of your family, that’s not okay.”
“I already said I was sorry,” Jason said flatly.
“Forget it,” his dad muttered, “It’s no use trying to get through to you,”
He started walking away. Jason, angered by those words, replied out of character, “Hey, don’t walk away from me!” Immediately, his dad turned around.
“Are you talking to me?”
“You’re damn right, I’m talking to you.”
The older Maddox walked quickly back toward Jason, “Don’t talk like that in my house, buddy. You’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I can’t say ‘damn,’ but you can insult your own son? Yeah, that’s really :skull::skull::skull::skull:ing fair.”
His mom started to say something, but was sharply cut off, “Hey, what did I tell you? Don’t talk like that in my house.”
Tempers began to reach the boiling point, and Jason stepped closer with a look of absolute hatred, “Then don’t insult your :skull::skull::skull::skull:ing son.”
Without warning, his dad grasped his arm and jerked him to within two inches of his face. Jason let out a small yelp, and the hatred turned to fear. A pressure point on his wrist was being pressed aggressively, and he quickly succumbed to tears.
“There is nothing you should be crying about,” his dad said coldly, maintaining his grip. “You are way out of line, Jason, and it will stop now. Do you understand?”
Through the pain and anger, Jason regrouped. He sniffed loudly and shook a little as he responded, “Yeah. . . I understand.”
For a few moments, the two maintained furious glares with one another. Slowly, the iron grip on his arm was loosened and released. His dad shook his fury away and responded firmly, “Well, I’m glad you do.” Then, he began to walk away again.
Bewildered, he shot a wild glance at his mother, who silently cautioned him against rash behavior. It didn’t register, and Jason yelled back furiously, “I SAID DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME!”
For a second time, his dad turned around. He walked quickly back to Jason and reached his open right hand back in a flash. Jason only had time to instinctively raise his right arm in defense and sling his left hand forward to counter. The blow landed on his dad’s cheek and followed through with tremendous force. Momentum threw the elder Maddox to the ground while a few droplets of blood flew onto the carpet. Jason retracted his fist as his dad clutched his face and his mom ran over to help.
In a brief moment, Jason had humbled his oppressor. He stood over the stunned, crumpled figure, his mom wrapping her arms around him and yelling things at Jason that were never noted. The tears in his mom’s eyes and the tone of her cries let him see that things had immediately changed. He looked up to see Eileen in the hallway with tears on her face, tightly clutching Robbie in her arms. At seeing his sister’s dismay, tears streaked down Jason’s face. Looking back at his mom, he noticed her cries had stopped, and both parents were looking at him in utter confusion.
Jason hurried away from his huddled parents and brushed by Eileen in a hurry to escape. He ran down the driveway to his car and sped off. In the process, he left everything behind: his clothes, his possessions and his family.
* * *
That was three years ago. It was a lifetime past. Now, he stood a respectable distance from the gathering, watching everyone. Music was playing, and kids were running around. This was the threshold.
Slowly, he took a breath and continued walking toward the party. For a minute, it seemed like no one would notice, but Robbie finally stopped his apparent sprinting and shouted “Jason!” As Robbie ran toward him, Jason kept his eyes on the party, which had all turned in his direction now. The commotion quieted quickly, and Jason simply knelt down to give his brother a hug when Robbie threw his arms around him.
“Jason, I missed you!” Robbie chimed.
“Yeah, Robbie. I know you did.” Jason raised his hand to scramble his brother’s hair, and Robbie laughed as he did. “Why don’t you go back to what you were doing, I’ll hang out with you in a minute.”
“Okay!” Robbie sprinted away as Jason stood back up and walked toward the crowd. A few people said hello and Jason greeted them with nods. He glanced at Eileen, standing at a table gathering potato chips, and the two moved to meet each other. No words were exchanged; Eileen wrapped her arms around Jason and squeezed tightly. She buried her heard in his chest, and he could feel small sobs. Gradually, he pried her away so he could look into her eyes.
“Kid, man,” he said softly, “You’ve grown. None of this crying stuff, now.”
Eileen sniffed and rubbed a tear away from her eye, “Jason Maddox . . . you know you want to cry because you see me again.”
He smirked a little bit and sighed, “Maybe, I guess we’ll see.” He turned his eyes to where his dad was sitting, and let go of Eileen to go talk to him.
As he approached, his dad got up out of the chair and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Jason slowed to a stop three feet away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The scar from the fight was evident, and Jason was reluctant to look at it. The two stared uneasily in different directions, the music saving the moment from awkward silence.
Finally, Jason spoke up, “I don’t have your present with me. I ordered it, though,” his dad looked at him when he paused, “Five bleacher seats at Dodger Stadium. I . . . want to fix things.”
His dad nodded slowly, “I do, too,” the gruffness of his voice was more apparent than on the phone, “I never thought you’d come.”
Jason stole a glance at Eileen, who stood with a subdued smile, “Someone got me to thinking. Re-examining things. So that I could fix them.”
“Yeah, I guessed,” he looked at Eileen himself, “So that we could fix them.”
Jason paused and looked at the ground. Finally, his dad spoke up again, “Do you want something to drink?”
“Pepsi will be fine.”
The older Maddox walked over to a cooler, and the party resumed. Jason got a hug from his mom and an offer to sit down. He found an open lawn chair and plopped into it. A can of Pepsi found its way into his hands, and he popped it open and took a drink. It was a simple way to start the reconciliation. It was a good example to remember for the future.