Tender Hearts Only Get Torn Apart

[Jason's POV]

Okay, so maybe being denied right to my face wasn’t so bad, right? I mean, it saved me from having to make fucking annoying small talk for about a half an hour before he left me with the check and a cold cup of coffee, never to be seen again. Of course, it might not have gone exactly as I saw it playing out in my disturbed little teenaged mind, but that was the way I was seeing it. To make myself feel better, or course. How nice of me.

Then again, it’s happened before. I don’t know why, but everyone I ever talk to seems to scurry away after five minutes. Maybe it’s just my demeanor, I’m not sure. I tend to be overbearing for people, with my strange comments and quirks and flamboyant perversities. But I’ve never stayed disappointed over rejection too long, seeing as having ADD makes it hard to concentrate on anything for more than five seconds, much less something I don’t want to think about.

So. Right. I’m sitting here staring at a game over screen, at the arcade again. I’m actually astonished that I didn’t get here sooner, because every day of the summer, if I’m not out vandalizing street signs and supermarkets- this is the part where I snort and insert another quarter while pressing the little green continue button- then this is most definitely the place to find one Jason Brooks, the teen with no life. It’s pretty sad, really. Sometimes my mom tries to talk to me about it, demanding for me to sign up for the courses at the community college, but I usually shrug her screaming off and turn back to the TV, XBOX controller in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Yeah, all-nighters are pretty common in the Brooks household. If it isn’t me, it’s one of my sisters cramming for yet another test.

Today, though, I actually spent a lot of time just messing around after my whole pep talk from the batty old lady who marks my papers saying I did my time every day. She likes to go on and on about how great a job I did when really she was sitting in the back room that’s actually got a usable source of entertainment while picking at her trendy little salad for the entire time so she doesn’t even fucking know. God.

But yep, I’d felt so bad about the whole turned down by some twenty-something year old guy thing that I decided to kick rocks on the way here. And I don’t mean metaphorically speaking, y’know, like that phrase that everyone uses to express that they’re wasting time when really they’re not actually kicking rocks? The sad thing is I was actually kicking rocks, so it took about an hour to get here when usually I’d be at the door and spending my first quarter within ten minutes at the fucking most.

Insert expressions of blasphemous nature here.

And now I’m sitting here, wondering where the fuck I’m going with this. This whole life thing, you know? Like, parents always talk about getting jobs, doing your duties, learning some damned responsibility. And us, us teenagers, we usually don’t even think twice about it. We blow it off as them trying to make up for their life’s mistakes and be good little parents, but really when you think about it, it’d be kind of smart to get a start now.

Which leads us to…

Me. Jason Brooks, sitting here on a moldy chair playing some game that I can’t even concentrate on, spending over twenty bucks every day doing absolutely nothing useful. Money that my mom works for, money I take without even thinking about it. It’s actually pretty pitiful once you think about it, and I’m beginning to realize why that Alex guy must have turned me down- I’m the epitome of teen. Just that one word about sums it up. At nine-fucking-teen years old, my life is headed absolutely nowhere. I’ll probably end up living in a ditch or alleyway if my mom ever kicks me out, honestly.

I stop mashing the buttons on the little pad, the moldy pad that looks like it hasn’t been properly cleaned in years, and just stare at the screen, wondering why I’m having this sudden epiphany now, right when I’m about to get the high score on Mortal Kombat. I see bright lights flash red and then my character dies, his heart still pumping warm in that asshole Scorpion’s hand. An evil laugh sounds and I’m still just staring at the screen, suddenly seeing myself in a flash of hazy puke green, fat and sitting on a greasy couch, controller with the back lost in my left hand, bowl of gruesome chips with roaches crawling on them in my right. It’s horrifying, and disgusting, and everything I have ever hated and seen in my grandfather. I back away hesitantly from the large boxy game in front of me and turn towards all of the others here with me, in the dark. All of them, staring blankly at the screens, munching on junk food and wasting hundreds a week on these fucking games that’ll never lead anywhere.

And all of a sudden, I don’t quite feel like being here. At the arcade.

For once in my life, I turn to the door before closing time and walk out, the bright sleazy sun glaring down at me. I have to squint my eyes and let my eyes adjust to the sudden harsh light. It’s shocking, since the arcade is dim, lit only by seemingly hundreds of old games. It quieter out here, too. The only thing I can hear besides the sudden roar of a car passing by in a blur of silver is the sound of wings flapping overhead. I stare up at the small flock of tawny birds, gaze at them as they flutter past and they look like they’re flying low, trying to avoid the sunny heat. I wonder briefly for an insane moment- if I reach up, could I touch them?

They disappear behind a large dilapidated building and I miss my chance.

It was a crazy thought anyways.

I still haven’t forgotten about Alex, either. He’s weighing heavily on the back of my mind, even heavier on my heart. For some reason, I just can’t let him go like I’ve done to all of the rest, and that seriously bothers me. I fixate my intent gaze to the concrete below my, and I can practically see the heat radiating from it in blistering waves. I’m wiping at my forehead and taking my first step towards home then, and I know that warm brown eyes and a heavenly, nervous smile will linger on my mind the entire way there.

True to my still somewhat childish nature, I wonder if my mother will be happy to see me home early.

---

The door opens with a loud creak, alerting them that I’m home. The smaller of the fam, Bill and Tina, come running up to try to jerk on my tiny pants and cling to my legs. I hear the soft patter of their small feet on the hallway carpet and brace myself, finding two squealing masses soon attached to me at the hip- literally.

Little fuckers.

I ruffle their hair affectionately and walk to the living room slash dining room where I know I’ll find mom feeding the others. Sam usually badgers her for a bit of easy mac right about this time of day. Arissa and Emily will just tag along and munch on an apple or whatever else is lying around, usually hunched over schoolbooks. Mom‘s always saying that they‘re going to give the Brooks family name some recognition someday, most likely as doctors or something. I’m a little envious of how serious they take their schoolwork, since I pretty much made straight C’s in high school. Not because I’m stupid or anything, but I’ve always had difficulty paying attention to things I deem unworthy of the Mighty Brooks’s time.

I laugh along with Bill and Tina, who detach their tiny arms from my legs as soon as I walk through the door to my destination (the kitchen), and run off somewhere to do little kid things. You know, toy cars and barbie dolls.

And of course, I was right. There’s mom, with her bright green shirt and mossy brown skirt, trying to spoon a glob of cheesy mess onto Sam’s plate without him knocking the rickety table over in excitement. Arissa’s reading with her glasses halfway down her nose and a hand in her frazzled brown hair, and Em’s busying herself helping mom try to keep Sam still.

When I enter, pretty much everyone glances up to me. Even Sam sits still for about two seconds before he reaches for the large yellow bowl of easy mac and runs off in only his underwear, Emily screaming after him. I think mom pretty much gives up on the poor kid, instead cleaning off the small mess of crayons the five year old has left on the table. I smile at her and rush over to help, grabbing the small stack of papers sprawled in a colorful array with artistic scribbling on them. I’ve never really appreciated anything my mom does or lifted a finger to help around the house, so it’s no surprise that she looks up at me like I’m up to something.

She stops suddenly and lets out a long sigh. A smirk’s on her face, like she knows what I want. She probably thinks I want more money. But I just stand there and grin at her, her with her strange earthy clothes and mussed black hair. Eventually, she gives up and just rolls her eyes, removing her hand from her hip and slowly walking over to the large dresser crammed haphazardly into the leftmost corner of the room. That’s where we keep all of Sam’s art supplies, stored in the lowest drawer so he can actually reach them. The little guy’s really tiny for a five year old. And messy.

I follow, still grinning. I know that Emily thinks I’m crazy for actually coming home by the way she scoffs when I turn my back to the table and my sisters, but I ignore her. Being the oldest, I never get into fights with any of my younger siblings. It’s stupid and a waste of time. Especially when I’m always right.

I shove the colored papers into the drawer and close it with my foot after she tosses the stubs of crayon into the mess. Her hands are back on her hips then, and I know she’s insanely curious, because I haven’t asked for money yet. And I’m not going to.

“Alright Jason,” she says. She pushes the words out in a rush. You know how mothers do it- that whole ‘I’m about to ask you something and you better answer or else’ thing that they do. I think they’re born with it or something.

I’m still grinning, and she’s getting annoyed by now, I can just see it in her eyes. So I appease her. By speaking.

“Hi,” I stop to give an odd little wave, my lanky arm flying seemingly everywhere. “Sorry I’m home so early.” My tiny smile is awkward- I have no clue what I should do, and it’s a curious feeling to seem like a stranger in your own house.

It won’t suffice though, I can tell by the way her mouth is set in a grim line. She’s suspicious still. So I give her a hug. Yet again, my gangly limbs seem to encompass her completely. I’m much taller than my mother, so I lean down a little to peck her on her plump cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere tomorrow after the Library, either,” I state, my arms still wrapped around her short figure. Her black hair tickles my nose and she snorts disbelievingly. I pull away and stare at her with wide, serious eyes.

“Honestly! Unless you need me to go out and get anything…?” I leave it hanging there, hands still warm on her broad shoulders, and she’s still got her hands on her hips. An eyebrow raised in doubt and she’s testing the waters, opening her mouth to ask for something.

“Well, Jason. If you’re sure, then… Maybe tomorrow you could stop by The Quick Mart and get a few gallons of milk. We’re out.”

It’s silent for a few minutes. I’m thinking for once, and even though I really hate going to that store, I really don’t want to say no. I hear a pencil drop in the background, see Arissa bend down to pick it up with an exasperated sigh out of the corner of my eye.

“I really hate that store, ma,” I whine, giving her my puppy dog eyes. I hold up a finger when I see her preparing to complain. “But! I have some of the money you gave me for the arcade yesterday. I’ll stop by Jillian’s on the way back. It’s more of a walk, but there’s this creepy guy that always stares at my ass at Quick Mart.” And for once, I wasn’t making excuses. There was a crazy-looking cashier who always stared at me and winked when I passed by him. It was scary. Milk was forty cents more up at Jillian’s, and it really was a little ways out of my usual walk, but I was willing to go to any extreme as long as there weren’t weird guys assraping me with their eyes. Thankfully, someone up above was looking down on me with good graces because mom just smiles and tells me to watch my language before nodding in consent.

I’m about to thank her when Sam runs by, now fully naked with the empty bowl on his head, trailing mac and cheese behind him. She waves a hand in exasperation and sighs before chasing after him, and I just stand there and laugh while they run around the couch in circles.

I wonder briefly why I’d actually wanted to miss this, especially for the arcade.


---


Later that night, when I’m lying in bed all trussed up in my blue and pink ‘FUCK YOU’ pajamas and staring out the window at the silky looking moon, my thoughts trail back to Alex. I wonder where he went after the library, after he walked out, after crushing my hopes. I have suddenly realized that I may have a minor obsession with the man that I don’t even know, but I think that’s okay in some fucked up way. There’s this huge feeling just bearing down on me, this bone crushing hope that maybe I’ll see him around, and just maybe we’ll actually talk sometime. It’s a pointless hope, but it’s okay to dream.

And the last thoughts I think before my eyes become too heavy to remain open any longer are of how much the moon reminds me of Alex’s skin, the flash of milky white farmer’s tan under his shirt when it rode up.

---

Chapter three, folks!

This has about ten more already written, so I can update as fast or slow as I’d like. I have almost fifty hits and NO REVIEWS. We authors love feedback, so give me some to let me know you’re interested, even if it’s just ‘udatez plz’! R&R!