“Jeremy?”
He jumped, dropping his spoon which clanged against the ceramic bowl causing soup to splash over the side of the bowl and onto the table.
“Shit, Jer. I’m so sorry!” Ana jumped up and grabbed a napkin, dabbing it around the bottom of his bowl on the table.
“It’s ok,” he flashed her a half-smile. “I was miles away.”
“That’s ok,” she squeezed his shoulder gently and he bristled at the sympathetic way she was dealing with him, the pity that was plain to see across her face, the softness with which she spoke.
“You don’t need to handle me with kid gloves, Ana,” he snapped, standing up from the table and storming out of the room leaving everyone open-mouthed and staring after him. He knew she was just being kind, he knew that their banter and sarcastic exchanges wouldn’t be gone forever, but he just hated the fact that everyone was treating him so differently. Except, everything was different and he was pretty fucking mad about that fact and he didn’t know what to do with that.
This was his life now.
It wasn’t long before someone knocked on his bedroom door. He felt guilty about snapping at Ana, but also knew that he wasn’t done. This wasn’t about her, this was about him. He had felt irritation rumbling inside of him since the day his parents had died. At first, he’d been able to side-step it, but as the last few weeks had progressed, the agitation grew. He knew from casually searching on Google, and the therapist he’d been avoiding, that anger was a stage of grief. She’d tried to call him but he’d ignored her calls. “You need to process this, Jeremy,” she’d said to his voicemail. “Please call me,” she implored.
He expected to see Cindy at his door, soup in-hand, insisting he finish his lunch, or AJ to yell at him for being a monumental dick to his sister, but as the door opened, he realized Ana had followed him upstairs herself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, running his hands through his hair, lip quivering.
She hurried towards him and put the steaming mug of coffee she was carrying next to him on the bedside cabinet and crouched down in front of him.
“You don’t need to apologize,” she started, lifting his chin so she could look into his tearful eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Jer. I really can’t.” She pulled him into a hug and despite resisting for a moment he gave in and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her shoulder.
“I don’t know how to live without them here,” he mumbled. “I don’t know how to be here, in this house, without them. Without Dad’s music playing while he’s out in the garage tinkering with something Mom told him to leave well alone, or without the smell of something cooking or cooling in the kitchen. I don’t know how to be a responsible adult, Ana.” He pushed back and gave her a lopsided, teary smile. “I know that might come as a shock to you, but it’s true. I don’t know how to be an adulty adult. It terrifies me. How am I supposed to be ok without my mom and dad?”
“Oh Jer!” She grabbed him into another hug and squeezed him tightly. Despite their banter and picking on each other, he’d grown fond of his best friend’s younger sister, she was kind and caring. “I don’t know. I don’t have an answer for you. It’s not supposed to be like this. It really isn’t. But I do know that we won’t abandon you and we’re all here for you. I know it’s not the same and I know it’s little consolation, but we are and we’ll help you walk through this. Or crawl if you have to. Whatever it takes, it’s just got to be forward motion, ok? You can lay on the dirt, but you can’t stay there.”
Jeremy wiped his tears and tilted his head.
“What? What’s that weird look for?”
“I just dunno when you became more sensible than Pim and me. It’s mildly concerning, dude.”
She giggled softly. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it, dude. I plan to have my coming-of-age rebellion at some point and I’ll expect nothing but your complete support.”
“And complicity.” He grinned.
“And complicity,” she repeated, returning his grin. “Honestly, Jer, I don’t know what to say. This whole situation is just so tragic and I’m so very sorry it happened to you. You’re handling things better than you think, too, but at the same time I feel like I need to remind you that it really is ok to fall apart. Y’know?”
She looked at him with sadness in her eyes and his heart twitched. “What do you mean?” he rasped.
“You know what I mean, Jer. The more you bottle everything up inside yourself,” she reached over and covered his heart with her hand, “the more it’s going to eat you alive. It’s totally okay to feel. I know you jock-types think it’s not, and I know even society thinks it’s not, but you lost your fucking parents in a heartbreaking and traumatic event and it’s ok to acknowledge that it’s shit, and feel just how shitty it is.”
He stared at her, wondering if his desperation was showing through the cracks of his self-control.
“It’s ok to be angry,” she said quietly. “I can’t begin to know just how angry you are, hell, Jer, I’m angry, the whole country is angry and we didn’t lose our parents to the act of a mad man. It’s ok to say you’re not ok. It’s ok to be less than composed and flawless sometimes. It’s ok to storm off in anger because of the behavior of your friend’s sister, who normally throws shade at you, being just so damn nice you can’t take it.”
He winced.
“I’m serious, Jer. We don’t expect you to just carry on your life as though nothing has changed. So stop trying to hide it from us and if there’s anything we can do to help you, please, please just tell us.”
He nodded but didn’t speak. This was a strange moment for him, he didn’t have this kind of relationship with Ana, he barely knew her, and while on one hand it felt uncomfortable and out of place, on the other it felt cleansing.
“I don’t know how to grieve.” He lifted his eyes to watch her reaction, to see if she was going to mock him or somehow accuse him of being a terrible person.
She gave a small, humorless laugh. “Jeremy, no one knows how to grieve. It’s the least natural thing in the world. We all know that life is short and that we’re all going to die, but when it happens, it’s tragic and it’s shocking, especially when it’s completely unexpected. You’re not supposed to know how to grieve. None of us are and I think each loss, each grieving process is different for each person and there is no right or wrong way.” She paused and scrunched up her face. “Actually, there is a wrong way and that’s trying really hard not to grieve. It’ll bite you in the ass, man. I dunno if you’ve got a therapist, but if not, maybe you should think about looking for one, just in case you feel like talking to someone who actually knows what the hell they’re talking about.” She smiled and shrugged as she stood up, taking his hand as she did and pulling him into a standing hug.
“Sounds like you know plenty.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered. “I’m kinda ok with people thinking AJ is the smart sibling.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he answered, squeezing her tightly.
Picking up his coffee he followed her back downstairs to finish his lunch though his stomach objected. He wasn’t sure he could get a handle on the storm raging inside himself, but Ana seemed convinced that he didn’t need to, or at least that he didn’t need to fight it. He just needed to let everything he was feeling run its course and he’d come out the other side cured of all these overwhelming and suffocating feelings that were running rampant and playing havoc with his life. All he had to do in the meantime was ride out the waves and wait for land to appear on the horizon.
Chapter 28
Before long, it was February, and then March. Jeremy’s life had fallen into a fairly consistent routine of working out as much as he could stand, doing the bare minimum in school so he could keep playing hockey, and drinking. He hadn’t seen AJ much since they’d returned to Alabama from his parents’ funeral, and in truth, Jeremy had kind of been avoiding him. He hadn’t returned his therapis
t’s phone calls, he didn’t want to hear her lectures about processing his grief correctly and he sure as hell didn’t want to hear AJ’s persistent lectures about how he needed to talk to someone, or cut back on the drinking and partying, or do better in school. After the first few weeks back in Alabama, AJ had confronted him about his behavior. Jeremy had told him to back off and let him work through things the way he wanted to but AJ wouldn’t back down. He’d told Jeremy that he was worried, scared he was going to pick a fight with the wrong person or drink himself into doing something stupid. Jeremy had dismissed his friend’s concerns and washed the argument away with beer, whisky and shots.
It hadn’t taken long for Jeremy to realize that alcohol worked well as an emotional anesthetic. When he was drinking, the ache in his chest became duller, and he was able to let loose a little and enjoy himself. When he was in the bar, he was almost able to convince himself that life was normal and his parents hadn’t been brutally gunned down because of him. Almost.
Tonight, he’d left AJ a note to say he wouldn’t be home for dinner and not to wait up. It was the same note he’d left countless times throughout the last few months, he should probably just leave a huge neon, ‘I’m avoiding you’ sign instead. As he pulled open the door to the bar, he was surprised to see a green hue covering the bar and everyone in it.
How the hell is it already St. Paddy’s day? He wondered, convinced it had been Valentine’s day only last week. He hadn’t cried in weeks, and while he wished he could say he hadn’t punched anything in weeks, the familiar aching bruises on his knuckles reminded him that the opposite was in fact true. It would seem that while the drink subdued his pain, it fueled his anger.
This was his life now.
Glancing around the bar through the shamrock and leprechaun decorations and the sea of green shirts and light-up headbands he struggled to find someone he knew. The Chargers had made it to the playoffs and despite the weekend of back-to-back games they were coming up to, Jeremy wanted to celebrate.
Sitting alone at the bar he was already on his third whisky on the rocks when he spotted Chelsea out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t replied to her messages, either, and she’d stopped sending them. Guilt flared in his chest. He’d hooked up with random girls over the last few weeks, but he hadn’t even called Jess for a roll in the sheets and she hadn’t called him. It was safer for everyone for him to keep them all at arm’s length and work through his grief himself. He felt bad for not replying to Chelsea and his guilt flexed as he quickly washed it away, replacing it with the comforting, familiar burn of Jack Daniels.
As far as he could tell, she hadn’t noticed him yet, so as he sat swirling the golden liquid around in his glass, he watched her. He watched her hips sway as she walked past a group of guys. One of them reached out a hand to grab her as she walked by, Jeremy primed himself to intervene, feeling jealousy and rage pooling in the pit of his stomach. Chelsea side-swept the man’s extended hand, leaned over and said something in his ear and continued on her way until she reached her friends.
She seemed happy. She was drinking beer and chatting to her friends. Jeremy had almost talked himself into prying his eyes away from her in a desperate bid to stop his love-sick-puppy-ness when the guy who’d tried to get handsy with her stood up and took an unsteady step in her direction.
Stay in your lane, man. Jeremy silently willed him. Downing the rest of his drink and flexing his hand he stood, ready to step in if need be. As he watched the man get closer to Chelsea he moved quickly through the crowd, stopping just before he got to Chelsea. The man draped his arm around her shoulder and as she attempted to shirk it, she held her hand up to him and told him to leave her alone.
Jeremy took this as his invitation to get involved and placing a firm hand on the man’s shoulder, he spun him so they were face to face.
“She said no, man. Step off.” His voice was even and low, but Jeremy’s meaning was clear, don’t fuck with her.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” The drunk man puffed his chest out and spread his palms, clearly keen for the confrontation.
“I don’t want any trouble. She said no the first time and she’s said no again. Leave her alone, man. Do yourself a favor.”
Jeremy glanced at the table where the guy’s friends sat and one of them hurried to his side and tried to reason with him. “C’mon man, you’re drunk, let’s just leave.”
But he wouldn’t, he stared at Jeremy, who, without looking away, planted his feet wide and firm. If he was going to get hit as he suspected, he was certainly not going on his ass in a bar full of people.
He heard Chelsea’s gasp at the fist connecting with his jaw before he felt it, but the throb of bone on bone was quick and seared deeply into his face.
“You should learn to mind your own business, asshole,” the guy spat, taking a step towards Jeremy muttering something else under his breath that Jeremy struggled to make out. He didn’t hesitate another second before he returned the guy’s punch, watching with quiet satisfaction as he fell to the ground. Stepping over him Jeremy grabbed his collar and wound his arm up for a second punch. He could feel the adrenaline entwined with whisky running through him as his body buzzed. His anger encouraged him to continue, telling him he’d feel better if he threw a few more punches at the man lying beneath him on the ground.
I couldn’t save my parents, but I can definitely save Chelsea.
Taking a breath, he leaned his weight back to take another swing when he felt cool fingers wrap around his wrist. Snapping his head to glare at the owner of the fingers, he found himself glaring at one Ms. Chelsea Davis, she didn’t say anything but her eyes implored him to stop. She gently pulled at his arm and he found himself giving in to her. Feeling the anger smolder somewhere deep inside of himself he stood and followed her outside the bar into the night air.
Déjà vu struck as he felt his breathing quicken. This was the same bar I found out about the shooting. He glanced at the wall, spicy-chicken-vomit wall, he glanced back at Chelsea who was watching him intently, and Chels.
He could feel the tendrils of panic curling themselves around his chest and he closed his eyes for a beat or two, willing the anxiety to stop dragging him into the darkness.
“He deserved it,” he grumbled after he opened his eyes, expecting her to start grousing at her. Instead, she launched herself at him and hugged him tightly.
“Jer,” she breathed his name with such relief that he felt it at his core. The tone of her voice was sobering and his guilt resurfaced. “Damn straight he did. The first one.” She pushed back from him and held up her index finger to emphasize the number one. “Whatever shower of punches you were about to deal out to him, no, he didn’t deserve that.”
They stood staring at each other awkwardly and Jeremy felt the corner of his mouth tug into a half smile.
“What?”
“You look gorgeous, Chels.”
“You’re drunk, Jer.”
“I only had three.” He held up three fingers to mimic her action a moment ago and she gasped at his bruises. Grabbing his hand, she examined his knuckles.
“Jeremy.” She winced, it was only one word, but her voice was thick with pain and laced with sadness. “What are you doing to yourself?” she whispered.
He snapped his hand from her grasp, embarrassed at the understanding on her face.
I’m punishing myself, Chels. I failed them as a son. They died because I sent them to that theater. What if I’d never bought them those damn tickets? How do I make this pain go away? How do I figure out how to go back to normal without my parents? I just want them back. Please, just let me wake up tomorrow and let this all be a dream.
He felt the agitation reignite and took a breath, ready to spout something defensive. He didn’t owe her an explanation and she didn’t want to be in his life, so she didn’t get to have an opinion on how he chose to grieve the loss of his parents.
Before he could speak, she covered his mouth with her fingers an
d kissed his cheek. Leaning her forehead against his, their noses touching, he closed his eyes and breathed her in. Being so close to her seemed to fan the flames of fury in his chest and he wanted to soak in the moment before she did what she always did, pull back and run.
He felt her fingers wrap themselves around his own and he glanced down in surprise.
Four Letter Feelings (The Jeremy Lewis Series Book 1) Page 18