Jaxon.
He's a good kid, I see why you're into him. My advice is not do anything stupid, I'd still love to see him around.
I kept bringing up the images of the chat bubble in my mind. I never once hide the smile that were formed in my face even as I leave the room. I bumped into Curran on my way down the stairs, he even asked what made me smile so stupidly like that, but I just shook it off and tell him goodnight. I didn't realize how long did I got lost in my own head, I wasn't even aware that I am now slurping nothing but air from the strawberry slurpee that I was drinking inside Alex's store.
"Thanks for coming." I heard Alex mutter towards the customer that was buying two crates of beer. Seeing the two crates of beer makes me want to throw a party myself, celebrating the silly moment of mine after reading the text from Harry to Missus Anderson.
"Please, do tell me all about your troubles tonight, Jaxon." Alex, sarcastically stated while taking a drag from his joint before puffing the smoke out of his mouth. I bit my lip to supress the grin that was about to break out on my face.
"I think I'm in love with her."
"No, you're not." My eyes remained fixed upon Alex. When I mentioned being in love with Missus Anderson, I wasn't entirely sure if love was the accurate term for the rollercoaster feeling that has been coursing through me. Alex must have sensed the gravity of the situation as I only stood there, no defying him whatsoever. Silence in the air before he picked over the fact that I am, serious.
"No way, you're not, Jaxon. It's just a silly crush." Alex tries to brush off my statement. But, I fought back. "No, it's true, man! I think I am in love with Missus Anderson." I stated.
"Okay, how so?"
"Okay, okay. There was this one time, she asked me to drive her to the Styles' mansion, and we had a small conversation where she asks me about my, my hobbies and my favorite thing to do which I answered that I am passionate in arts and crafts right. Then, the next thing you know- and mind you, I think it's like weeks or.. or months later, she asks me to pick her up from the Styles' mansion and she introduced me to Harry Styles—who is really an important person in the art world by the way, and she remembered how I was into art!" I explained until the very last breath.
"Okay, and?"
"She remembers, man!"
Alex snorts, his reaction made me pulled my eyebrows together and frown. "That, is why you think you're in love with the woman? Jesus Christ. My seventeen year old sister called me chivalrous just because I poured her a drink, and I bet she'd fuck with me if she's not my sister." I cringe to his statement.
"It's logic, man. She remembered you liked painting, so she introduced you to this Harvey Styles-"
"Harry Styles," I nonchalantly corrected him.
"Harry Styles guy who loves art too, and she wanted you to bond with him because she feels like it's a good deed. Period, it's just common sense, man. And thank god she has one, because lucky you, she doesn't treat you as only someone who works for her." There it is.
"OKAY! There it is. It's just different with her," I began, my words carrying the weight of sincerity. "She treats me in a way that makes me feel remembered, chosen. There's a certain change in her composure, a subtle shift in the air whenever we're around each other. And I think that's what makes it so emotionally important for me. It was more than routine politeness, it was a genuine connection that seemed to transcend the ordinary, man." I sighed, and I realize I kind of went full on dramatic words into it. I turn my back towards Alex before I lean against the counter, my arms crossed.
"Have you ever felt like someone just gets you without words, man? That's how it is with her. It's like she knows a part of me without having to hear it from my mouth." I tilt my head to my left shoulder, before fully turning back towards him.
"That's not love, Jaxon. That's obsession." I pursed my lips and then shrugged my shoulders.
"It's the same thing."
"Dude, I might be fucked, but I know the difference between love and obsession. You're obsessed with the woman, knock it off."
A heavy sigh escaped me, maybe, he's right. Perhaps, I was overanalyzing, reading too much into her gestures and kindness. I cringed to myself, realizing that I shouldn't be attributing significance to every thoughtful act, that her friendly demeanor might be a common trait rather than a personal connection. I shouldn't perceive her treatment that way, falling in love over something so common—that could happen to anyone. It's like, gushing over sugar, then someone takes you to an ice cream shop. It's a nice gesture, but it doesn't necessarily mean they're the only person who would do it. It's just... Kindness.
"What should I do?"
"Fall in love with someone who is not as old as your mom."
-------------------
Beads of sweat formed against my forehead, as I immersed myself in the creative process. My calloused hand tightly gripped the tiny wooden object, guiding it with purpose up and down the blank space. With each deliberate stroke, I sought to transfer the vivid image that danced in my mind onto the awaiting surface.
Missus Anderson's introduction to Harry has gotta be the turning point of my life, one that reignited the flames of my passion for arts and crafts back to life. I feel like my soul had felt tired and depleted, as if the spark of creativity had died down. But now, it blazed brightly and as fresh and vibrant as ever. Harry's enthusiasm for art awakened a dormant part of me that I thought I had lost. The hours left during night times that I usually spent with brooding or sleeping, turned into blasting my playlist in my room and sketch on my notebook. You never know when you're losing that passion of yours until you realize when you're starring at one that isn't yours. Sometimes you need a little reminder how the activity that has become your favorite turned into passion, and that's okay. It doesn't mean that you're losing your touch, take it as the universe reminding you what's yours in the first place.
"Don't you spent enough time sketching during the night, boy? Come help us out." My dad hissed as he walked passed me his feet climbing down the stairs of the patio to the Anderson's backyard.
I gave one last stroke before closing my notebook and tuck it inside my duffle bag. As I stretch my body from the sitting position, I inhaled the sunny air. If I were the Anderson's, I would have the party right here and right now. It's one of those days where you know it's going to be a good one because of the clear blue sky, the wind blowing at the perfect amount of speed which made the whole atmosphere very relaxing. It's three PM and everyone is working their ass off helping the event planner people. My pops helped Curran and I clean the gazebo area along with the addition of people coming from the event planner decorating the place for Missus Anderson. The party will be held tomorrow night, hence why everyone is occupied.
I noticed Curran making his way towards me, his hand went to the back of his neck. "Have you seen, Dale?" Curran asked.
"No, I haven't seen him." I replied, the words leaving my lips with a little bit of uncertainty. It was a response that were laced in between honesty and self-reflection, honestly. In truth, I couldn't shake off the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I had been avoiding him. Our last dispute resulted with a tension that hung in the air, unresolved. After that disagreement, I had tried to play it cool, not let it bother me. But for some reason, there was something in Dale's demeanor that suggested he took it more seriously because whenever Curran tried to bring us together to talk, like that one moment where—coincidentally—we were all hanging out in the kitchen, Dale's replies felt like one sided. Regardless, I don't care about it much. Dale could hate me for all I care, as long as he doesn't come for my job and my pops.
"Oh, well if you see him, tell him that I'm looking for him. Thanks, Jaxon." Curran pat my back before I could even reply, he jogs toward the mansion. I sighed to myself, my hands on my hips as I was about to turn around and get to work, I saw Lydia walking down the stairs and calls out my name,
"Jaxon!" A smile on her face.I watch as she stroll across towards me, she's wearing that typical black and white maid outfit, a white apron wrapped on her waist, which I find adorable.
As Lydia approached, her cheeks gradually turned a delicate shade of rosy pink. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, betraying such subtle of nervousness, and her uncertainty expression painted across her face which didn't go unnoticed. I notice the change in her demeanor, and a soft smile played on my lips as I greeted her. "Hey, Lydia. You need something?" My voice laced with genuine curiosity.
"Actually," She breathed out. "I um- I wanted to ask if you would um.." My eyebrows pulled together.
"If you would like to go to the party as my date..?" I chuckled. "A date? Aren't we supposed to be the help once the party started?"
"Oh right you didn't know. So, when it comes to big parties, it became a holiday for all the maids, though, only the selected maids will be working for the party. We have this system that, Robin and Sam in charge of- Anyways, the point is, I won't be working for this one. So, I thought maybe.. You could come as my date.."
That's a news to me. I mean, a wedding anniversary sounds like one of the big parties of the Anderson's definitely, but the fact that turns out it became a holiday for the maids'—well some of them. Snap out of your thoughts, that girl is asking you out as her date to the party, what's it gonna be? If I were to be honest, as I found out about this news, I'd rather stay at home. I mean, don't I want to see Missus Anderson's reaction to the Gazebo that I built? Yes. But, at the same time, I can't stand watching her gaze lovingly towards her husband as if he's been a saint after all this time.
"I uh.." I stammered, searching for the right words, I hope my struggle didn't seem too evident in my response. The truth was, I'd rather stay at home, not because I don't want to go with her, but because I'm also not big on parties. Finding a way to decline her invitation without hurting her feelings weighed heavily on my mind. My intention was not to reject her. I didn't want to appear ungrateful or indifferent to her company, but at the same time, I needed to prioritize my own comfort and well-being.
"I'm actually thinking of not, going to the party, Lydia." I spoke, my hand scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. "I'm sorry."
"Oh.. Uh.. Yeah sure, I totally get it." Lydia laughs, nervously. "But uh- If you change your mind, you know where to find me."
I shoot her a smile, "Yeah, of course. Thanks for asking though."
"Mhmm." And with that she turns around and walks away.
"Jaxon," I felt a firm grip on my shoulder as I flinched a little to find my dad. "They didn't pay you to just stand there and do nothing, get back to work!"
-------------------
As the sun goes down, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, the day slowly transformed into evening. While some workers took the opportunity to excuse themselves and call it a day, my commitment to perfection kept me tethered to the Gazebo. I need to make sure that I didn't leave anything behind. Once I'm proud with how it looks, I turned off the lights and let my feet carry me inside the mansion. My throat parched, a cold water would be nice before I hit the road and go home. As I bring myself to the kitchen, I notice Curran sitting on the kitchen island with a glass of orange juice in front of him. The palm of his hand served as a makeshift cushion for his head
"Hey, man. You okay?" I asked, my voice breaking the quiet of the kitchen as I made my way to the refrigerator, reaching for a bottle of water. The clink of the ice cubes and the gentle pour of water filled the air as I prepared to quench my own thirst.
Curran slowly rubs his face, inhaling the air rather harshly before he puffs out through his mouth. "I needed to talk to Dale, it's really important. I haven't seen him anywhere and he hasn't replied to any of my texts or calls." Curran mumbled, his fingers playing with each other.
I pursed my lips before taking a seat beside him, "Maybe... In the meantime, you can talk to me." I offered.
"Would you happen to have this thing called Mommy Issues ?" Curran chuckled to himself, not believing the words that comes out from his mouth as if the words itself was stupid. I smiled and laughs a little before nodding my head.
"As a matter of fact, yeah. I live with my dad and my step-mom. So, when you said your mom sold you to Missus Anderson, I kinda understand the betrayal." I explained, my hand tilting the almost empty glass of water in my grasp. "My real mom, was my first heartbreak. So.." I shrugged my shoulders.
Curran's gaze fixated on my presence, "My mom just called." He revealed.
"Yeah? What happened?" I inquired, curious about the conversation that obviously had stirred something within him.
"She wants to see me." He shared, and I could sense a mix of emotions in his words. I nodded in acknowledgement, I could say I've faced the same situation. Where my mom, sent me a letter wishing to see me, but instead I crumpled that paper and throw it away.
"Have you been in contact with her?"
"That's the thing! I've never. And now, all of a sudden, she called me, and I don't even know how she even got my number." Curran exclaimed. I hummed, I do understand the mix emotions. Torn between the desire to trust and the instinct to look the other way. Afraid that if chosen either way, it would still leave you with a broken heart. But on the other hand, Curran's case is different than mine. Maybe his mother may have no choice but to give him up to Missus Anderson in order to fulfil whatever it was her debt. I think he was young, very young when the event took place. I tried to fill myself in his shoes, a wave of questions must've running through my mind if my dad were ever to give me up. The question being, Why am I here with this strangers? Why is my mom never come and pick me? Then the next thing you know, it's Ten years later.
"Do you hate her?" I asked. I watched the way his shoulder slumped along with exhaling his breath through his nose.
"Surprisingly, I don't. Not even a bit. And, I don't understand why. I tried to hate her, but it left me with this uncertain feeling." Curran admitted. I nodded in understanding, recognizing the journey myself about the emotions coursing through your body. It wasn't always easy.
Curran cussed to himself, "I think I'm weak. I'm such a baby." He made a fist of his hand before slamming it against the counter.
"Man, no." I intervened, firmly placing my hand on his shoulder. "You're not weak, man. As a matter of fact, you're actually strong." I admit, I envy the way Curran can still hold the biggest part of a human being, which was their heart. I envy the feeling of forgiving people. As I perceive Curran's state, I couldn't help but wanting to lead him to the right way. Which was embracing what's left in his heart and that is to learn the situation. I don't think I'm as strong enough as him. I hate my mother, and I still am. I refuse to accept, refuse to learn what has happened in my life.
"I think you should see her. Learn what happened. You deserve to know why she did what she did." I advise. Curran pursed his lips, his gaze fixed up front. There was a brief silence, I assume he's debating within himself whether he should listen to me, or listen to his inner ego before a nod breaks out from his head.
"I might consider that, Jaxon." Curran responded, and a half-smile adorned his face.
I returned the gesture with a pat on his back, a brotherly reassurance. "That's okay, man. Now, I don't want to leave you alone just yet. How about we fix ourselves with some beers and a nice chat, ay?" I suggested, the famous bright smile of Curran's slowly appeared on his face. The joy that I've always known as him, lights back up to life.
"That's sounds like a vibe, man. Let me get them out." I clicked my tongue and point my finger towards him. I didn't know what time it was, I was about to find out from my phone but as my hands went to pat the pockets of my shorts, I couldn't feel it anywhere. I must've placed it somewhere at the backyard.
"Yo, I'm gonna check the backyard real quick. I need to find my phone."
"Okay."
I gently closed the door behind me, as if I'm afraid I might've woken something out there if I were to be creating a loud noise. As I stepped into the night, the huge backyard unfolded before me. The imposing fence, standing sentinel on each side, and they were as tall as my house. My house doesn't even possess that kind of height. Atop its sturdy frame, light bulbs were patented on top of the fence, casting a subtle luminescence that outlined the boundaries of the mansion. The Anderson's may not have a big ass mansion as the Styles' but they sure as hell owns a big ass backyard.
I scanned through the tables and the chairs for my phone, and thank god I found it. I couldn't afford to lose my phone. As I was about to head back inside, my ears perked up towards some kind of noise. It wasn't loud, it was a bit subtle but I my ears could still pick it up. My eyebrows furrowed, my head tilted left and right. My instinct is telling me to stare straight ahead across the pool, then to the corner which stands the Gazebo. I couldn't see very clear with the amount of light provided. I squint my eyes as if the action would give me a better sight, and all of a sudden a figure emerged in the Gazebo. I startled, as I quickly duck and hide behind the chair.
The noise they made became clearer, as I try to make out the noise, a nagging suspicion made its way into my consciousness—it sounded remarkably like Mister Anderson. I don't want to jump into any conclusions so I decided to test out my theory instead. I retrieved my phone and scroll through my contacts before my thumb landed on his name. My teeth drew my bottom lip, chewing on it and giving myself a second to think this through. It couldn't be Mister Anderson, he said he'll be home right before the party. But then I thought, just call him, make it seem as some kind of a friendly call making sure if there is anything that he would like to add for the Gazebo.
My thumb pressed on the call button, my hand brought it up against my ear. I watched the way the mysterious figure seemed to startle in surprise, and all of a sudden another figure emerged from underneath him. The silhouette happens to be a woman with long hair and a very, petite body. I watch as the mysterious man, lifted his hand holding some kind of object, he stares at it for a second and from then, the ringing in my ear got cut off.
My mouth fell agape, it couldn't be..
Fuck me.
I just caught Mister Anderson fucking with some chick.