Torn Tears

Like Home

When I was a little kid, my brother and I used to play outside everyday after school. We ran races around the house, wrestled played, hide-and-go-seek. All kinds of things. He was only three and a half years older than me--Jackson.  He was perpetually the reckless one. Got a girl pregnant when he was eighteen. After my niece was born, the girl--Elizabeth, I think-- ran off and left my brother with an infant.

Jackson really grew up with that baby--Briley. He finally got a job at a convenience store. He was almost manager when he was shot in a robbery. Briley was orphaned and I, only barely sixteen didn't yet have a job. Our parents felt the full struggle of dealing with their eldest son's death and raising their only granddaughter. She looks just like him. A stab in the heart when you look at her, but she's a beautiful child.

A few months later, I got my job at the mechanic shop. As soon as I turned eighteen, I moved out to alleviate my parents. It's history.

But I think a lot about Jackson. What would he think of my circumstance? I'd like to imagine him being proud of me for stepping up to the plate and remaining steadfast to my girlfriend's side. Maybe, he'd question why I brought her in to my home in the first plate.

  Where did you put your brain, Luc? Inviting a girl to live with you like that. 

I love her, I'd say. My brother never knew true love. I wonder that never having love in your whole life is more tragic than having the real thing just once and losing it. I think he'd like Jess. Everyone likes her. My parents were skeptical when I told them she was moving in with me, but they never told me not to bring her in.

With a start, I realize she doesn't know them anymore and they don't know what's happened.

"Lucas?"

I snap my head up.

"You okay? You were zoned out for a couple minutes."

"Just thinking. Nothing's wrong," I answer absently.

"Liar." She squints at me.

"My brother. I was thinking of him." I mutter.

Jess frowns. Striving to remember someone she never met.

"He died before you met me. Shot. I have a niece named Briley. She lives with my parents." I wish I didn't have to tell her all of the painful details. For the thousandth time, I wish it was me. 

I want to trade.

"Oh." She looks at her lap then glances back at me with my head down.

Her hand on my shoulder patting me. Other hand reaching for one of mine.

"I'm fine." I say automatically.

"You're not." Jess pulls me into a hug. It's awkward at first, but then I make myself forget everything and let her hold me.

She smells of sweet shampoo and my soap. The little thief still takes my soap.

I could cry at the lack of change.

She's still holding me when I pull back and announce I need to work.

"Do you still have your job? It's been how long?" Phrased innocently enough, her question stings. She doesn't mean for it to, I know, but it only reminds me of my mistakes.

"I have to find out." I stand and head to the kitchen.

"Did I have a job, before I mean?" She follows me.

"No. You were looking for one before all of this happened." What I don't say is that I don't see how she could get a job now. There would be too many liabilities--if she had a flashback at work, if they came after her, if she can't focus on work.

"I need one to help you out." She sounds a little guilty and it takes me a couple seconds to figure out why.

"Jess, as long as I'm working we can make it financially. It's just the two of us and all utilities are paid with the apartment rent. It's a little close, but I take care of us." I say gently.

"Well. I don't want to feel like a leech. I live here and I feel like a drain of your resources. So, I'm getting a job." The way she says it, so matter-of-fact, leaves no room for argument.

But, I squeeze it in. "Jess, we're making it. Just let me do the work."

"I get it. You don't want to worry about me while I'm at work. I can't live with the idea that I'm nothing, but a leech."

You're more than a leech. You'll never be a drain of resources. You'll never be a burden. I'll love you forever as much as I do right now, never less and always more. You're worth all of the extra hours I put in. You'll never stop being worth the blood, the sweat, the tears. Oh, the tears.

I can't say any of these words and they words weigh on me. These words can't come out. They're too much she won't believe them. "I'll always worry about you, but you'll never be a leech. Last I checked, leeches aren't as pleasant as you." I reach out and ruffle her hair.

"It seems to me that our arguments end in confessions of love and adoration." She wrinkles her forehead.

"Always." I slip in a kiss on her forehead. She doesn't seem to mind much, but I can feel her staring at me as I head to the cabinet for a box of cereal.

"I like whole grain cereal?" She asks skeptically.

"No. That's for me. You, my dear," I pull out the Froot Loops,"Have a thing for sugar cereals."

"That seems more normal." She giggles in an off-hand way.

I grab two bowls from the next cabinet over and two spoons from a drawer. Jess already has the milk out of the refrigerator.

"This," she scrunches her nose, "is a bit too dicey for me."

I take the jug from her hand and sniff it. Stifling a gag, I pour it down the sink."

"Had to find out for yourself," she laughs.

"I'm a guy. What do you expect?" I return the laugh.

"I don't know." She dumps some Froot Loops into her bowl and begins eating them dry.

"I never understood how you can eat cereal dry." I shove the box back in the cabinet and opt for a Pop Tart.

"And I never understood how you can eat strawberry Pop Tarts."

I gape at her. What she's said is true. It takes her a minute to realize why I look so confused.

"Why the heck do I remember my hatred for strawberry Pop Tarts when I can't even remember you middle name?"

"James." I say instantly. "I don't know why. Maybe they couldn't annihilate every memory and your tastes remained."

"And scents."

"Little soap thief." I smile.

"It smelled like home." She says under her breath.

I snap my head to look at her.

She blushes a little, not having meant for me to hear her.

I will never change soap scents again.

I smell like home. I am her home.