Seeing that I was putting up resistance to letting my own laugh escape while covering my mouth, he only continued to chuckle at my expression. "What? Why are you laughing?"
I took a breath and calmed myself down, finally removing my hand after managing a proper grin. "It's nothing. It's nice to meet you too."
His charming smile distracted me for a moment. I noticed that with the kind of perfect looks and attitude he had, he'd be a hit for the girls. And for me, well, good-looking or not, being together or even the mere thought of dating someone was . . . intolerable. I couldn't even imagine being with the girl of my dreams, or if such a girl existed for me at all. The traumatic experience with Ms. Harrison had put me as low as it had put Dad. I didn't need anyone who would enter my life just to take advantage of me and abuse anyone who I could say I truly loved like Dad, the exact same Ms. Harrison did. Simply thinking about love left a bitter taste in my mouth and abandoned an undesirable image of that woman in my mind.
Sweeping away the detestable picture that was overwhelming enough to decimate the other thoughts I had, I turned to Jonathan's dad who was still busy having a discussion with Dad. They were mumbling so softly that it was barely audible, but I knew from the look of Dad's troubled face, he was filled with nothing but doubt and the urge to almost scream an apology. He might even change his mind if his ego was in control.
Jonathan noticed me staring before lightly smacking the side of his fist to the palm of his hand as if he'd just remembered something. "Right, since Dad's busy, I'll introduce him to you," he smiled. "So, Dad's name is Brad. He's pretty chill so I doubt he'd care even if you address him by his own name without any significance."
How lucky, I thought. Boy, I wished Dad was similar to Jonathan's dad but it seemed that they were almost complete opposites.
"That's kind of disrespectful," I let out a sheepish chuckle as I brought my hand to the back of my neck out of habit to display my awkwardness in front of others.
"Hey, do whatever you're comfortable with. Besides, we'll be living together for a while."
It was weird hearing something like that coming from a person whom I wasn't even familiar with. It was my first time seeing Jonathan, and Dad didn't mention anything about his colleague's son. In fact, today was the first time he talked about his colleague, or, well, Mr. Brad. He has never mentioned a single word about the people whom he had been working with for the past years as a hardworking employee of the finance department. It was as if Dad had decided to cut off all social interactions the moment he had started working. He was a serious man, after all. I'd even thought that for the years he'd been working, he'd never made a single friend. I was glad to know that he still had someone to depend on.
"Yeah," I said with a diffident smile, which had easily taken over the shape of my somewhat dried lip. "Sorry, I'm kinda awkward since . . ."
"No, yeah, I get it, no worries." Jonathan's smile turned. I could tell that he was trying to show sympathy toward me. He lowered his volume so that Dad couldn't hear what we were talking about, even though our voices would have simply come off as incoherent mumbles riddled with other sounds from the moving vehicles on the road and the rustling leaves from the breeze. Not to mention, both Dad and Mr. Brad were a good distance away from us, engaged in their own conversation as well. "I'm sorry for all that's happened. It must've been tough for you."
I bit my lower lip and shook my head before giving him a reassuring smile. I realized how ironic my actions were, considering the fact that Jonathan should be the one comforting me and not the other way round. I didn’t mind, regardless, and appreciated his words of concern anyway. I didn't care about what had happened to me. Instead, what I was afraid of was that the trauma for Dad would disallow him to find someone he would like to have as a reliable partner in a relationship. "Nah, it's cool. I feel bad for my dad the most since he's the one taking the blame for everything, even though it’s not his fault entirely."
I shot a quick glimpse back at Dad and Mr. Brad who were still talking. "But I'm glad that Mr. Brad is someone Dad can trust."
"You didn't know?" Jonathan's eyes grew slightly wide. "They've been friends ever since back in high school. It's been more than ten years now."
I traded back a look of shock before raising my shoulders to shrug. "My dad never said anything about Mr. Brad. I don't even hear much about his work life up till now. He always avoided the topic."
He dipped his head to simply nod at me. "I see. Well, my dad likes talking about your dad, actually."
A brow slowly lifted itself up as I stared at Jonathan who returned a look of confusion with my mouth parted slightly. After arriving late to realization, Jonathan began to wave his hands frantically to cut off my thoughts about how creepy Mr. Brad was for liking to talk about Dad. I mean, talking about friends was normal but liking to talk about someone was different. Was I overthinking? Or, perhaps, was my intuition accurate after all? It was meant to be a joke at first but anything could happen, really.
"Before you say anything or judge, it's not what you think," Jonathan stated quickly, only for a chuckle to follow after. "Well, at least I don't think so anyway."
I released a titter. "Well, actually, I thought of something similar during the car ride here."
"Oh? Tell me."
"I joked to my dad, saying that he was technically temporarily getting married to Mr. Brad. He got pissed and we almost got into a car accident."
"Jesus, Jeremy," Jonathan sighed, suppressing his laugh from before. He was amused until the point of the possibility of an accident occurring. "You have to know when to tell jokes."
"Sorry," I grinned after failing to keep a serious face, refraining myself from even letting out a single sound that even resembled that of laughter.
"It's good to see that you boys are getting along." Mr. Brad said, stepping forward with Dad behind. Dad seemed to be vexed, which I initially thought was because Mr. Brad was poking fun at him again, but I swallowed when I noticed that his sharp glare directed at me. I could even visualize smoke coming out of his ears, like in animated cartoons, as his face began to turn increasingly red from both anger and shame. He was probably listening to what we were saying for a while now.
"I would take Tyler's hand in marriage any day." A playful smirk tugged at Mr. Brad's lips as he casually confessed.
The confidence in Mr. Brad’s tone left me astonished at his sudden declaration. I was unable to tell if he was joking or not due to the way he said it out loud without hinting a single bit of hesitation, which masked the sincerity of his announcement. I just looked at him with my mouth hung open, speechless, before finally being influenced by the sounds of Jonathan’s laughter and deciding not to smother my own.
Dad’s expression darkened upon hearing those words, a fake smile dragging its way to his lips and his eyebrows remaining corrugated as if the top half of his face was frowning while the bottom half of his face was grinning at us behind Mr. Brad. The side of his mouth twitched, highlighting the menacing aura he hid behind what a stranger would think was a benevolent smile with a devious pair of eyes to match. Our shrill and heartless chorus of chortles gradually came to an end after spotting his malicious appearance.
After observing the evident change in our expressions, Mr. Brad’s smile was also wiped clean off his face as he could probably imagine what would happen to him if his quips persisted. He pretended to clear his throat as he emitted a soundless breath. Once it seemed like he was prepared for Dad to lunge at him, he released a nervous chuckle.
“I was jo—” Before Mr. Brad could face him properly, Dad’s hand charged forward to grab a hold of his earlobe and yanked him forward with a daunting smile.
“You better be,” Dad said with the same frightening expression still plastered on his face and released Mr. Brad, who turned to us, wincing in pain as he covered his left ear which was assaulted out of the blue.
I could have sworn Jonathan and I gulped and exhaled a sigh of relief in sync as we witnessed the scene in front of us, feeling fortunate we weren’t in Mr. Brad’s place. I would be lying if I said that I had never once thought Dad would make a great acting career as a villain in several movies. Sometimes I wonder if this was the same person who wanted to raise me to be a kind, obedient and open-minded boy. Though, I did find it rather amusing that Dad was more terrifying whenever he wasn’t exactly genuinely angry in comparison to when he actually was.
Thinking about it now, it reminded me of all the times Dad would tug at my ear when I was younger. I would sometimes repeat the same old mistakes Dad told me to be aware of, such as leaving the lights switched on. Of course, he had never pulled at my ear as harshly as he just did to Mr. Brad.
Before I knew it, Dad’s face was back to his usual blank expression, watching Mr. Brad recover from the sudden attack. He pouted at him as he continued to shield his ear with his hand. “Come on, you knew it was a joke.”
“You know, I could have punched you but because the kids are here and because you’re my friend, I wouldn’t do that,” Dad paused. “Unless you do it again, of course.”
"But what if I was serious?"
I simply gawked at the phrase that dared to exit Mr. Brad’s mouth even after what Dad had done to him. He still had the audacity to make even more remarks which he would only regret later. On the inside, I was struggling to get over the humor of the idea even until now but I no longer had the courage to laugh in fear of what Dad might do to Mr. Brad, or even me.
Dad refused to say anything else but glared daggers at him and even raised a fist, as if he was preparing to hit him if he wasn’t willing to stop. Mr. Brad raised his hands up to chest to indicate that he surrendered as he gave a short sheepish chuckle. “I’m kidding.”
His fist unclenched slowly as he shook his head. “Are we done now? Can we get going?”
Mr. Brad only nodded, most likely afraid to say anything else to Dad but managed an innocent smile at Jonathan who was at a loss of words as I was. “Come on, Jon. Let’s go.”
I watched them walk away as their inaudible voices traveled along with them while they proceeded toward their car. Meanwhile, Dad was busy groaning and grumbling about Mr. Brad to himself as he got in, carefully shutting the door after settling down. I followed after without even trying to start a conversation with him as he probably needed to rant to himself for a short while.
Questions surrounded my mind after discovering that Mr. Brad had been friends with him for a long time and the urge to ask him grew stronger. I was just afraid that Dad would end up throwing me out of the car if I asked him. Well, he wouldn't do that, but I was definitely sure I would get in some form of trouble. Though, I was also confident that under all that layer of clearly displayed annoyance was a carefully concealed feeling of embarrassment.
Dad could be full of himself at times, but he was also someone who was easily ashamed. He would usually cover all the humiliation with his frustration and acted somewhat aggressively to those who mortify him as a way for them to stop, as shown earlier. My mouth stayed pursed as if I had sewn my lips shut with a needle and thread, juggling my options. While I was still pondering whether I should talk to Dad, his voice interrupted my thought process.
"What is it that you want to ask, Jeremy?" he sighed before starting the engine and following the black car that drove off.
I never liked how Dad was always able to decipher my following actions, even when I did nothing that could have possibly given a clue as to what my next move would be. Was it just easy to read me? If I was laughing, he'd always hit the mark as to why I was laughing instead of asking. He'd then demand me to say whatever was in my mind.
“Well . . . “ I trailed off. “This isn’t exactly what I want to ask but I’m also curious about this.”
“What is it?”
“So . . ." I started off, crossing my fingers beneath to pray for my safety, knowing that I had a chance of getting smacked. "If Mr. Brad had been serious back there, would you have considered it?"
I immediately shut my eyes to avoid what I pictured to be Dad’s murderous gaze in the rearview mirror and shrunk in my seat. The silence which stayed seemingly longer than it should have caused both eyelids to raise as I perked up. Dad was completely focused on driving, but even with his eyes avoiding the rearview mirror, I could tell that he didn’t at all find this humorous.
I realized that this could have been a sensitive topic as he had just broken up with Ms. Harrison literally hours ago. The feeling of remorse consumed me as I tripped over my words, fearing that I had just ruined his mood, again. “I-I’m just joking, sorry.”
Dad inhaled in a somewhat relaxed manner and let out an extended sigh as if he was telling himself to solely concentrate on driving and ignore his son’s shenanigans. “So? What is it that you actually wanted to ask?”
I fumbled with my words, letting out incoherent stammers at first before getting a grip of what I wanted to say. "I mean, you know, you don't talk about your co-workers at all . . . Mr. Brad seems pretty nice and all."
"Well, yeah, he’s nice . . . to some extent."
“Jonathan told me that you guys actually knew each other ever since high school?”
"Yes. He's the kind of clown you'd see in class, always up to no good and known to be a mischievous brat."
Ouch, I thought as I held back a sheepish smile. Harsh much . . .
"He fools around a lot, but surprisingly, he can cope with work and all that. He was independent," Dad continued. “He was always the type to joke around. One day, his jokes just became inappropriate and he continued, until now."
"Have you tried stopping him?"
Once more, a short moment of silence.
"I didn't try to. I knew that this was his way of having fun.”
“Oh.”
I thought that was the end of our conversation so my attention began to drift to the window until Dad finally admitted something I wouldn’t have thought he would confess.
“But, he’s a good friend.”
I gaped at his honesty but decided not to say anything about it and looked out the window for the rest of the car ride. After some time, we made it to what I assumed was Mr. Brad’s house. My fingers were already wrapped around the handle of the car door, ready to leave. However, Dad threw a question back at me which made my blood boil.
"Any other uncomfortable questions?" he asked bluntly.
I resisted the urge to frown at his back as I looked down to bury the bitterness that might have been present on my face. It was true that the things I couldn’t help saying was inappropriate to some extent but he didn’t have to say it like that. The way he was forthright about it rubbed me the wrong way.
"No, it's nothing . . ." I forced out through clenched teeth.
"Don't give me that attitude, young man," he replied sternly, grabbing his bag and unlocking the doors of the car.
I disregarded his remark as I watched him get ready to leave from my peripheral vision. I ditched my moping and forced a common expression to desist getting rebuked before stepping out of the vehicle. I gathered as much fresh air as I could to relax my mind and ease its continuous complaints about Dad.
"What? What’s with that sour face?" asked Mr. Brad curiously as he approached us with Jonathan tagging behind him, hands shoved in his pockets.
"It's nothing, I was just telling Jeremy how childish you are,” Dad answered nonchalantly.
Soon enough, both adults started chattering again. Even though this was the second time I saw them fooling around with one another, the scene gave me an odd sense of familiarity, as if I had watched their conversation multiple times already. In other words, I had already gotten used to this moment between them.
Watching a slight smile break out on Dad’s face as he contained an incoming titter, it would be false if I claimed that I didn’t feel a tinge of jealousy toward Mr. Brad. He made it seem easy to lighten the mood but whenever I tried to cheer Dad up, it'd either end up undermining the bit of contentment, if any, or get him to smile for a few seconds before reverting back to a stoic look. It would usually be the latter, but I just felt that it was unfair. Moreover, if it ended up being the former, which was the case not too long ago, the only sentences that would come out of his mouth were always impolite and heartless.
“You okay?”
I jolted at the soft words and finally came to my senses, noticing a pair of legs in front of me. I looked up to meet Jonathan’s worried eyes and gave a quick but terse response as my lips curved upward habitually when being called out to. “Yep.”
He nodded. "Maybe we should head in?"
"Yeah," Mr. Brad joined in, unbeknown to me that the two men were already finished with their talk. "You two got everything, right?"
I didn’t know what came over me as I typically wouldn’t mess around anymore if I was reprimanded, especially by Dad. Whether I was accustomed to making jokes whenever I had the chance to or whether it was a desperate attempt at being funny so that the tension between me and Dad could dissipate, it didn’t matter, because before I knew it, it was too late to try and keep the lame humor to myself.
"My game console . . ."
Dad looked at me disapprovingly and even rolled his eyes to show that I wasn’t funny at all, and from his attitude, he meant it. My head was now filled with the same statements of dissatisfaction I had swept away in the depths of my fantasies, imaginations and beliefs as my teeth pressed tightly together behind closed lips, unhappy with my failed attempt and the unreasonable reaction I managed to obtain. On the other hand, both Mr. Brad and Jonathan found it entertaining, but I didn’t give much thought about them because they weren’t the ones I was trying to make peace with.
I opened my mouth to clarify that I was just pulling their legs but Mr. Brad beat me to it with an unexpected reply.
“Oh, don’t worry. We have a room full of games and a couple of gaming consoles.”
In an instant, my sour thoughts vanished and my eyes lit up with joy as a grin broke free. Dad glanced at Mr. Brad in disbelief and brought his hand up to his forehead, manifesting signs of disappointment toward his colleague.
"All right, now that that’s settled, let’s head in,” Mr. Brad said, paying no heed to Dad. “Jonathan, mind bringing Jeremy to one of the spare guest rooms?”
Feeling fed up with my unsuccessful endeavors along with Dad’s impertinent behavior, I did something unnecessary, knowing that I would only repent my actions soon enough.
I stuck my tongue out at Dad, causing a frown to crease his forehead at my immaturity. I did this as a form of revenge for making me feel the way I did when we were in the car as I knew doing this would irritate him. I had already foreseen the penitence that came after as I watched Mr. Brad place a hand on his shoulder to soothe his aggravation.
"Come on, Jeremy. That was uncalled for," Jonathan commented sheepishly while he fumbled with the keys before unlocking the door and pushing it open gently.
We followed closely behind Jonathan who casually entered, but despite how spacious the house was and how modern the interior designs were, which reflected the wealth of the family, I was bothered by one distinct feature that was missing; the precious woman figure in almost every household.
Overlooking the minor strain between us, I twisted my head to Dad’s direction and he somehow caught my perplexed gaze while he was, yet again, conferring with Mr. Brad, who hadn’t noticed. Like an instinct, he recognized the reason for my bewilderment and scowled fiercely when Mr. Brad was facing elsewhere.
I could hear his voice in my head, forbidding me to talk about it, since there was a time and place for everything, and now wasn’t it. I turned back to the front, promising that voice that I would most definitely keep my mouth zipped. Whatever that had happened to Jonathan and Mr. Brad, I, too, felt sorry for the both of them.
"You’re spacing out a lot," Jonathan suddenly commented before ushering me upstairs. "Come on, let’s head to the guest room."
“Okay,” a succinct agreement left my mouth to at least acknowledge Jonathan as proof that I wasn’t completely out of it.
He led me to a room nearer to the end of the hallway and nudged the door wide open to reveal a tidy and simple bedroom which contained a wooden wardrobe, a wooden desk paired with a wooden chair and an additional white seat cushion, and a bed with a wooden bed frame to match with the overall theme, of course.
"Fine with calling dibs on this room?" he asked.
"Of course!" I smiled, walking over to the table and gliding my hand across it. "Man, it's been a while since I last saw the surface of a desk."
"Sheesh," he laughed. "Make sure not to dirty your desk then."
"No promises.”
"Hey now."
Jonathan and I spent about half an hour getting to know one another. He was more interesting of a person than I was, unsurprisingly. He played the violin and practiced basketball occasionally during his free time, unlike me, who was glued to the screen of my phone all day, literally, I would say. I used to take part in solo basketball too when I was younger but that eventually came to an end when I first got a phone. Though, I wouldn’t mind a game or two if I had others to play with.
I already knew this from the start, but Jonathan was indeed a fun person to be with, even if we were just chatting. I wasn’t sure if it was because I never had the chance to properly socialize with the people at school or if it was because of his convivial character, but I looked forward to spending more time with him.
YOU ARE READING
Lost With You
Romance(Note: Short hiatus until end of first week of June.) A young boy's struggle with grief finding the solidarity he longed for through love.
