The Tide - Completed

Part 10

My Second Home

We reach Jay’s house fifteen minutes later. It must be seven o’ clock now.

“Mum?” Jay calls as he closes the door.

“I’m in the kitchen, sweety,” Mrs. B replies.

We both go into the kitchen. Mrs. B is reading a magazine. She doesn’t look up at us.

“Mum, are you okay?” Jay asks.

She looks up at us. Her eyes are red and puffy. Woah. This is so unlike Mrs. B. She never cries. Whenever she’s faced with a situation she always remains calm.

“Mrs. B?” I say uneasily. “Have you been crying?”

It could be allergies. Maybe that’s why her eyes are red and puffy. She smiles weakly and waves her hand.

“I’ve just had a rough day,” she says. “Stress is getting to me. But I’m fine.”

Jay looks at her suspiciously. He doesn’t pursue the matter, though.

“Jamie’s sleeping over,” he says. “That okay?”

Mrs. B nods.

“Yes, that’s perfectly alright,” she says, smiling. “Jamie’s always welcome here.”

“Cool,” Jay says. “We’ll be upstairs in my room if you need us.”

Mrs. B nods and goes back to reading her magazine.

Jay walks out and goes up the stairs. I look at Mrs. B. She’s engrossed in her magazine. I leave the kitchen quietly and follow Jay.

Once I’m in his room I pull my phone out and text my mom. I tell her that I’m spending the night here. I put my phone away and lay on Jay’s carpet.

Jay is standing by his CD rack. He’s got so many CDs. Music is a passion of his (and mine). He picks up Justin Timberlake’s FutureSex/LoveSounds CD and puts it in his stereo. Jay lies down next to me and sighs. I don’t say anything. I don’t want to kill what’s left of his good mood (if there’s any of it left). We lie in silence for about ten minutes. Well, the music is the only sound occupying the room.

“I know why my mum’s crying,” Jay says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Why is she crying?” I ask dutifully.

“My parents have been fighting a lot lately,” Jay continues. “My dad’s started coming home late. My mum suspects that he’s cheating on her. But she hasn’t accused him yet. She just keeps asking why he comes home late. He always explodes when she asks that question. He starts yelling about how he has no freedom.”

Jay sighs again and shakes his head.

“What annoys me is whenever I walk into the room they act like everything is alright,” Jay continues. “It pisses me off.”

“I’m sure they’ll sort out their problems, hey,

 I say, trying to help.

Jay looks at me and smiles slightly.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says. “They’ll work out their problems.”

I smile and nod. For the next few minutes Jay and I don’t talk again. We’re just lying down, listening to music. Sometimes, silence is a lot more filling than useless words.

“Jay!” Mrs. B calls. “Could you please come downstairs?”

“Coming!” Jay replies.

He gets up and straightens his t-shirt. He looks at me and sighs. I give him thumbs up and a supportive smile. He smiles sadly and leaves the room.

I hear him go downstairs and ask his mum what’s up.

Since it’s rude to eavesdrop, I get up and start to walk around the room. I go over to Jay’s desk. There is a sea of papers, stationery and books. I smile slightly and shake my head. I start sorting out the papers and put them in a neat pile. Once I’m done with them, I move on to the books. As I’m putting them in a neat pile, one of them falls onto the floor. I bend down and pick it up. As I put it on the pile, the title of the book catches my eye.

“Good Times Book,” I read aloud.

Hmm well this looks interesting. I wonder what good times have been recorded in this book. I didn’t even know Jay had a ‘Good Times Book’.

Well, a little peek won’t hurt.

I look around; making sure that Jay hasn’t come into the room quietly. All clear. I open the book and page through it. There are pictures of his first soccer game when he was six, all the birthday parties he had when he was little, and some pictures are from his first day of school. I’m about to close the book and put it away but I notice that the book has another section.

“Special Times,” I read the heading.

I shrug and turn the page. I gasp. I’m staring at the pages in disbelief. The pages are full of pictures of Jay and me. There are pictures from when we were babies, some pictures of all the outings we’ve been on, and pictures of all the times we’ve had Kodak moments whilst chilling. The last page of the section has one photo. It was taken on the day Jay and I went to the beach. Mrs. B thought it’d be ‘cute’ for us to have a picture to remind us of our time at the beach. Jay and I are standing on the balcony at his Aunt’s house. There’s writing underneath the photo. It’s in Jay’s handwriting.

“Special times...with a very special person in my life...” is what it says.

I don’t say anything. I’m still staring at the photo. We look so...cosy together. It’s not a ‘friendly’ cosy. It’s the type of cosy one would associate with...couples.

Suddenly I hear Jay’s footsteps. He’s coming up the stairs. I jump and throw the book underneath Jay’s desk. I rush over to where I was lying down, and lie down again. I hope Jay didn’t hear me running around. My worries evaporate the moment Jay walks in. He does not look okay.

His jaw is clenched and he’s looking down at the ground. I sit up and look at him.

“Jay?” I say quietly. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t reply. He walks over to his bed and sits down. He’s staring at the carpet. His hands are shaking...so is his jaw.

“Jay?” I say again, worried. “What’s the matter?”

He doesn’t reply again. Just as I’m about to speak again, Jay speaks.

“My parents...” he says quietly.

“What about them?” I ask. “What’s wrong with your parents?”

He looks up at me. There are tears welling up in his eyes.

“My parents are getting divorced,” Jay says, his voice breaking.

I gasp.

What?