Lost With You

Chapter Three

After Dad and Mr. Brad's unheard discussion in the living room downstairs, Dad found his way into my room without Mr. Brad. He probably didn't want any guidance from him since he possibly felt that he could be independent about something as simple as finding his own son's room.
    He came into the room to notify me that I would be attending the same high school as Jonathan. I never thought I would say this but at least I had somewhere to study at for now.
    From where I used to live, getting to school by car could take almost an hour! I had to wake up extra early just to get ready for school before heading off! I'd need even more time to do so if I hadn't switched schools.
    My high school life had been boring—I'd barely made any friends at all. The friends I'd made were not even considered fun to be with, let alone trustworthy. Maybe it was because I wasn't a social butterfly, probably even an introvert. Nonetheless, I never liked the school I'd enrolled in previously.
    However, none of the whole enrollment situation was confirmed yet. Dad just wanted to let me know that if the registration worked out fine, I would be able to see Jonathan in school as well.
    I was disappointed since Dad got my hopes up—what would happen if the registration didn't go as planned? I didn't want be a loner again after shifting schools! If I could see Jonathan in school, at least I'd have someone to chat with.
    Not to mention, since our move was sudden, Dad had to head to the registration office today—which meant that if all was well, I'd only be able to join Jonathan the week after next. What was I supposed to do while everyone was gone for work and school the following week!
    If I hadn't had company to begin with, I wouldn't be whining, but I finally made a companion outside of that damned school I used to go to.
    After withdrawing from that instituition completely a week before this happened, not because of the fight between Ms. Harrison and Dad, but because Dad had planned for me to switch schools anyway, I was completely behind many subjects. I had tried studying topics which my classes had yet to go through but I had always been stressed out because of that devil in human skin.
    Ms. Harrison was always making me do the chores. It might not sound as bad but I was made to clean the entire house while I was away from what was already considered an educational hellhole. I would rather be in a library and actually focusing on my studies properly for once.
    I was never terrible at all the subjects I had but I wasn't fantastic at them either. I made occasional errors and mistakes in quizzes and mock exams which would always bring me down to a grade B or even worse, a C. Nonetheless, a pass was a pass. Dad would still be crestfallen at such accidental mistakes, however.
    Just thinking about Ms. Harrison was an easy way to get into a bad mood. I was glad that she was gone but I was paranoid about a long of things. One thing I was extremely grateful for was that the relationship Dad and Ms. Harrison had wasn't that serious. If it was, lawyers might already be involved.
    "This is stupid—absolutely and undoubtedly stupid," I groaned after Dad closed the door behind him. I expected him to open the door again to tell me off but the door stayed shut.
    Dad must've heard it still and thought that I was being puerile for complaining about the process of registering me into a new school and having to wait. If it wasn't for that woman, I wouldn't have felt frustrated.
    I slapped the pillow from the bed onto the floor carelessly, imagining it to be Ms. Harrison's face I was smacking. It might be childish, but if I had the chance, I would have done exactly that for all she'd done to us.
    "Not even a few hours here and you're already making a mess."
    I flinched at the voice from the doorway. I turned to see that it was Jonathan who had a slight smile on his face. Thank god it wasn't Dad. He'd only lecture me about throwing a tantrum at my age.
    "It's a good thing that you're making yourself at home though," Jonathan laughed before walking over and sitting down next to me like he did previously. "What's wrong? Suddenly showing a scary face like that."
    "Nah, it's nothing," I played it off with a sigh.
    I knew that Jonathan wasn't convinced since he didn't reply. Instead of prying for further information, he just nodded and changed the subject.
    "Anyway, our dads are making a scene in the kitchen," he snorted. "You should come see."
    "Oh?" I raised a brow with a smug smile. Now that would be something interesting to watch.
    "Come on." He stood up and held a hand out as if to wait for me to grab it.
    I stared at his outstretched hand before a smirk tugged at my lips. I was in a playful mood now to tease him. "No."
    "You're seriously gonna miss out—"
    "Piggyback me."
    He seemed stunned at first before returning a complacent expression once he figured out what I was up to. "Sure. I would if I could, but . . . I think you'll only weigh me down."
    I let out an exaggerated gasp and glared at him jokingly. "How dare you."
    He chuckled before grabbing my arm and pulling me up. "Don't be silly, Jeremy. But you're in the skinny range, so rest assured."
    I pouted. "I really expected more of a reaction than a retort."
    "Something like 'Are you insane?' and whatnot?"
    "I do it to my dad sometimes—and since he's no man to joke with, he took it seriously."
    "You're really the opposite of your father, huh?"
    "I get that a lot."
    We got to the kitchen, almost missing a step on our way down as we thought we might have missed the action if we continued to dawdle. Good thing we were lucky enough to avoid another unfortunate accident.
    Dad and Mr. Brad seemed to be arguing in a not-so-serious manner, though Dad had a displeased frown plastered on his face. Mr. Brad, on the other hand, seemed reluctant to listen to what Dad was saying.
    "I'm telling you, I can go myself. I don't need your help," Dad assured in an unfriendly tone.
    "As much as I don't want to say it, directions are not your strength. Just let me drive you there," Mr. Brad requested calmly.
    "I troubled you enough. I don't—"
    Mr. Brad's hand flew to Dad's mouth, covering it. "You were never a bother. You're my friend—you can depend on me."
    Dad finally went silent, only to gaze at him, his eyebrows still slightly narrowed. His incoherent muffled words altered to one single, unwillingly-said word. "Fine."
    "What are we watching? Some drama clip?" I commented, sounding unimpressed, only to slap my hand over my mouth.
    "Shit," I cursed beneath my breath and made contact with Dad's signature I-will-take-your-games-away glare. Jonathan only nudged my shoulder, stifling his giggle.
    Dad only looked at us and heaved a loud and obviously irritated sigh. "We're going off for a bit. Don't trouble Jonathan, Jeremy."
    "I won't." I folded my arms at him. "Hmph."
    Dad raised a brow, seemingly unfazed at my adolescent behavior. I now hid my hands behind my back and gave an apologetic frown and puffed out my cheeks. "Have a safe trip."
    "Thank you," Dad replied in a toneless but somehow evidently forgiving voice.
    "You two, really . . ." Mr. Brad shook his head. "Tyler, you can't always scold Jeremy for something minor."
    "What—"
    "You yourself aren't showing maturity if you're going to chide him for something so trivial."
    Oh snap, I thought with wide eyes. I would have never imagined Mr. Brad to call him out like that. So even he could be firm, too . . .
    Dad didn't reply, and almost looked guilty as he bit his lower lip. Mr. Brad placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jolt at the touch. He, too, was quiet for a short while before he turned to both me and Jonathan, who looked as dumbfounded as I was.
    He gave us his signature goofy smile. "It's pretty late for lunch, but you two have yet to eat." He came over, his hand slowly leaving Dad's stiff shoulder and sliding into his pocket. He took out a $20 note from his leather wallet which he pulled out and handed it to Jonathan. "Order somethin' if ya like—or you two can head out too."
    I watched with an awkward smile as Jonathan slowly nodded as if he was a malfunctioning robot. "Got it."
    "Thanks, Mr. Brad," I added on quickly, struggling to display a genuine smile to show that I was grateful.
    "No problem," Mr. Brad beamed, having no issues with grinning at all.
    He turned back to Dad who was facing in a random direction to avoid contact, an uncomfortable expression stuck on his face. Mr. Brad tapped his shoulder and ushered him to the door, opening it for Dad and closing it after himself with one last goodbye. "See you later, kids!"
    When the door was completely shut, I turned to Jonathan in awe. "What . . . just happened?"
    "Tell me about it . . ."
    I snorted at his reply which didn't even answer my question. "What the hell? But seriously, that's the first time I've seen my dad getting lectured—and out of all people, from your dad!"
    "I wouldn't have thought that my dad would be the one correcting your dad either."
    "He got a taste of his own medicine!"
    "Hey now, that's kind of rude to say, especially when he's your own father."
    I shrugged playfully but let out a sigh as I recalled the scene. "It's true that I always get scolded for small matters, but I actually feel bad."
    "For your dad?"
    "Yeah." I nodded with a single dipping motion of my head. "No one has ever shut him up like that."
    "I can tell."
    There was a short unwanted stillness between the both of us. I decided to cut in to avoid any further unpleasant absence of sound. "H-hey! Should we go out and have lunch or call for an order?"
    "I'm thinking of ordering."
    "Pizza?"
    "Pizza."
    And just like that, it was decided that we were going to laze around at home while waiting for our delivery to arrive. It came a tad bit later than expected but our Dads were still out.
    We didn't have any trouble finishing lunch at all. Who wouldn't want to chow down on something delicious? Though, we'd decided not to order much.
    Both Mr. Brad and Dad came home an hour later, and fortunately, the atmosphere wasn't tense. It seemed that they've made up.
    What surprised me was when Mr. Brad decided to pull me aside for a talk. I'd almost thought he'd mistaken me for his own son, but he reassured my silent confusion that it was really me that he wanted to talk to. Even Jonathan made a stupid face, also apparently having identical thoughts as I was having.
    Dad saw this and immediately headed up the stairs and to wherever he went. Even without Dad's obvious action which clearly showed his frustration from before, I knew that Mr. Brad wanted to talk to me about him.
    I mean, who the heck would pull their colleague's son aside and chat with him like they were his own parent?
    "Shocked?" he asked with a sheepish smile.
    Odd, I thought. Wouldn't have guessed that that would be his first question.
    "About what happened?" I confirmed, promptly receiving a nod. "Of course."
    "He's never mentioned me to you before, am I right?"
    "How'd you guess?"
    "It's evident even without our introductions to one another," he chuckled. "He never wanted to involve his work life with his own kid."
    "Right," I stated with a brow raised. "So, uh, what is this talk for again?"
    He only grinned in an innocent way. "Tyler has it tough—both work and personal life. So, for now, go easy on him. I'm sure as his own son, you know."
    I soon figured out that I was now the one in Dad's previous position. I was being lectured—not by my own father but by some other dude's dad. What has my life seriously come to?
    "Ah, you mean the whole 'bad manners' thing that you said was 'trivial'?" I scratched the back of my head, now feeling embarrassed under an invisible spotlight which taunted me. "I knew what I was doing . . . That's how I am. I know it's wrong. But I just wanted to continue my act in hopes of getting Dad to pretend as if nothing happened."
    "You're a good kid, Jeremy." He gave a gentle smile. "But at times when there's a conflict in his personal life, he can't pretend nothing happened. He's still blaming himself for a lot of things."
    "He is . . . ?" My voice almost trembled as a shudder ran down my back.
    "And in situations like these, he would appreciate you to stop acting oblivious—and once in a while talk to him properly."
    "I see . . ." I mumbled before looking at Mr. Brad. "I understand. Thank you for telling me this, Mr. Brad."
    All this time, I was in the wrong for trying to achieve something for Dad's own good. I was just being a complete annoyance to him. I have to apologize, I told myself firmly and sprinted up the stairs. I could hear Jonathan and Mr. Brad's faint voices as I landed my feet onto the second floor.
    My instincts told me that Dad was in my room, and there he was, sitting on the bed with his fingers intertwined and his head hung low.
    "Um, Dad," I started off, feeling strangely nervous. "I'm sorry."
    He finally looked up with a drained smile. "I'm sorry as well, Jeremy."
    I felt crushed to even see such a sight of him. I was such a dumb-ass to even think I was helping.
    "No, I-I mean," I stumbled over my words clumsily before collecting my thoughts. "I'm sorry that I wasn't helping you with the way I was acting."
    Though my voice was firm, my lips were trembling and my breath was shaky. I continued, "I shouldn't have pretended that nothing happened and I shouldn't have joked around."
    "I knew that you were trying your best to help," his soft, croaky voice left his mouth. "I appreciate you trying."
    "Dad!" I blurted out, now feeling even more guilty that he was thanking me for nothing. "I wasn't helping. And I'm sorry. Yes, I was trying, but it didn't change the fact that I made you feel miserable, too."
    He stood up in one swift move, causing me to flinch. He was now in front of me, eyes visibly red from supposedly crying. He brought his hand over and patted my head. "I'm still thanking you—not because your attempt was unsuccessful but because you made an attempt."
    There was a lump in my throat. I clutched my fists into a tight ball and managed out a promise. "I'll really try to help you this time, Dad."
    "Thank you. I'm proud of you."
    And with that, he walked pass me and out of the door, leaving it ajar.
    My heart was thumping loudly at a fast and constant speed and my body was slightly quivering. I took a deep breath to calm myself and loosened the grip in my fist. I was genuinely so close to crying just from that.
    The door creaked back open and Jonathan's voice came. "Uh, so, you good?"
    "Who the hell asks that kind of question to someone who's literally trying to hold back his tears?" I asked, giving a slight laugh as I turned to face him. "I'm okay though. I settled everything with my dad."
    Yes, I was going to refrain from my old habit of being a nuisance to Dad. I was determined to help Dad along with Mr. Brad. His arrogance was a better sight to see than his state of weakness, and I hoped that I'd be able to see his confidence soon.