It Started with Skinny Jeans

(Ch 8) It Started with Heartbreak

“I’m so sorry, Scott.” I tried to reach out to him, but he avoided my offer of comfort as I knew he would.

“I don’t want your sympathy.”

“What happened – with her a mean?” I couldn’t bring myself to say mother.

He smiled, but not the sexy one I’d become so accustomed to. No this one was cold, detached. It frightened me to see this side to him. I knew Scott had issues when it came his mother, but this was a whole new ball game, one I definitely wasn’t used to. I wanted to shrink away from his, but I held my ground.

“It seems my drug addict mother thought it was easier to take her own life than try and get better so she could see her own son.” He relayed coldly.

I didn’t know what to say. I’ve always known the right words and the right action when it came to intense moments, but this was something even my over analytical mind couldn’t solve.

“Scott, I’m sure she tried really hard to-”

“Don’t spin that crap at me!” he spat out in a rage. “My mother was didn’t love me. She never did.”

In his rage Scott took up the face, the only remaining whole piece of the sculpture. Bringing it over his head he yelled out as he through it at the wall, the hardened clay smashing into a million tiny pieces. Both Jackie and I yelled out in fright. My eyes closed for a brief second as I heard the loud crashing sound.

My eyes found Scott, the tears escaped from his dark eyes, as he swept them away. I stood there unblinking at the enraged form of the guy I cared so deeply for. How had this night gotten so messed up?

Scott pulled out the old photograph from his pocket and looked at it with disgust. For a millisecond I saw his eyes soften only to turn back to the fathomless void, as he tore at the one memory he still had left of the happier times he and his mother had shared.

“No, Scott!” I jumped to stop him, but it was too late. The picture was torn into pieces within a matter of seconds and thrown to the floor, mixed with the pieces of dust already littered there from the sculpture.

“She never gave a damn about me, so I guess it’s my turn not to give a damn about her.”

I tried to stop him, tried to get him to confide in me, but he slipped from my fingers as he dashed out the door.

“Scott, wait –” I yelled, but he as gone. I was about to make my move to follow him when I felt a hand grip my arm.

I turned to see Jackie. “Let him go.”

“No, he needs my help.” I protested, but her grip held firm.

“Right now he needs to be alone, to deal with this the way he knows how.”

“But I want to help him.” I felt the tears roll down my cheek. How could I stand here and do nothing when he was hurting so? He didn’t need to go through this alone – he shouldn’t go through this alone. “I need to help him, Jackie.”

“I know. Believe me; I want to do this same thing. But Scott…” she trailed off

“He won’t accept it.”

She looked at me then as I wiped the tears from my eyes. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

“More than I can say.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Just for being a friend to him.”

I shrugged. “Scott’s a great guy. He’s just had some bad things happen in his life.”

I looked to the door he’d only moments disappeared through. Every fibre in my being wanted to race after him, but I knew Jackie was right. Scott needed some alone time. He’d dealt with so many things on his own, with his mother never being around and his father never being emotionally available, I knew he’d gone through everything in his life alone. It really was the only way he knew how to deal.