Corin took the liberty to buy me an outfit with the two fucking thousand dollars he gave me, so that I'd have something to wear. It's too expensive. He got me some beige jacket that costs 200 dollars, some kind of soft, warm shirt that I know had to be at least fifty dollars, really nice jeans that have some weird brand name on them, underwear (embarrassing), socks, and shoes that were probably a couple hundred dollars too.
Wonderful.
But I was too tired to protest, now anyway, and didn't want to wait any longer to get out of the paper dress. I walk to the bathroom, take a shower, brush my teeth, put on the new clothes, and take a look at myself. What size are these? They –I'm mean they're good, and they fit but, I mean... I look so weird.
I walk out, looking at the ground.
Linda whistles, "You look so cute, Jay."
I stay silent and I sit on the bed. The nurse would be in soon with a bloody wheelchair. I haven't ever needed a wheelchair in my life, not even when I had a broken ankle. Why did I need one now, when the injury wasn't even on the lower part of my body? Idiots.
Seaton's getting his car downstairs and then he's going to take me to where I'll be staying. With him. We'll be going to an apartment, he said somewhere on the north side, and – did I mention – with him? I'm going to live with Seaton. Seaton. Seaton. Seaton. I am pretty sure I'm deliriously happy, even though my shoulder hurts like hell. Damn, I need another happy pill.
"Here we are, birthday boy!" The preppy blond nurse came in with a wheelchair. Which, I was reluctantly got into. God, still going on about my freaking birthday...
I sit in the chair, putting the expensive shoes that enclose my feet on the footrests. The ride down the hall, in the elevator, and out to the front is silent and uneventful. One of the wheels on the wheelchair is squeaky and grating on my nerves. Luckily, Seaton's waiting at the front, along with many other family members of other patients. He's sitting there, cigarette peeking out of his lips, leaning against his orange Ford.
"Brat," He snorts, handing his cigarette to Linda, who narrows her eyes.
"What the hell, Seaton? Can't you stomp on your own cancer stick?" Linda asks, putting her hands on her hips.
"Put it out and throw it away, Blondie," Seaton rolls his eyes, "I'm helping Jayden into the seat."
"I don't need –" I protest.
"Oh, shut up, brat," Seaton snaps, "You know by now there's no use in arguing with me."
I frown and wait as Seaton takes hold of my wrist, wraps my arm around his neck, hoists me from the chair. Corin opens the door and Seaton helps me into the seat. After I buckle up, Seaton shuts the door.
"Bye, Jay!" Linda shouts, and Corin winks and nods. Suki just blows a kiss and Mr. Spencer just smiles and puts his hand up to his ear in the 'rock on' hand shape and mouths "Call me".
Seaton pulls away, out of the circular hospital driveway and onto the road. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say. Have I already expressed how damn happy I am to be out of the hospital, to be going to live with Seaton? Yesterday, I had to sign some papers for my 'emancipation'. Very long and complicated shit.
"We're stopping by a CVS to drop off your prescription," Seaton informs me, both hands on the steering wheel and his eyes trained ahead, "Then we'll pick you up something to eat, god knows what they put in that crap at the hospital."
"Yes, Seaton," I reply quietly.
"Any preferences on the food place?"
"No."
"Sonic it is then," Seaton says, then adds, "Then we'll be going to the apartment. I'll give you part two of the present then, okay?"
"Y-yes...." I nod and then everything is silent again.
I want to tell him how fucking happy I am.
But I can't find the right words.
-
The new apartment is really nice. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large living room, and a small kitchen. It's really nice. So nice I don't see why he was living in a crap heap like my old apartment building. His old furniture is set in the living room, his television and couch and coffee table.
"Tour?" Seaton offers, and I look up at him slowly before nodding. He leads me down the hallway and taps on a door, "This is my room."
He walks across the hall and a little ways down and opens the door to another room, which I'm guessing is mine.
"Yours," he confirms. Mine. It's my room, only a few feet from Seaton's room. I'm the luckiest person alive... Charlie, Alfred, and bullet wound excluded.
There's a main bathroom that's connected to mine and he's got his own bathroom, both of them are about the same size. They've already got towels and toilet paper in them. He then shows me the last room and sort of pauses by the door, looking at me.
"Now, brat, your..." He pauses again, thinks about what he's going to say and then restarts, "Step two of your present."
The muscles in my chest constrict as he opens the door and when I look inside...
It's beautiful. All of it. They're paintings. So many paintings. Maybe a hundred or so, give or take. There's a picture of things as simple as a sunset, but just wonderful because they were painted by him. I'm pretty sure anyways. Hadn't Seaton once confessed to me 'I paint'? Yes, that was it.
But this was much more than just paint. There was a horse galloping with a man on its back. The man in the picture had fierce eyes and was riding toward me as though he were readying himself to jump over me. It was painted so well, it nearly looked like a picture from a few feet away.
There's another, a large one, of a man and woman dancing on their wedding day. Their entire family, both sides are standing around them. You can tell which family is his and which is hers because he's black and she's white and quite fair. Every family member around them is scowling or at least looking indifferent –there's even a woman in the back turned away. But the man and woman are looking at each other, only each other. And it's amazing, because you can almost feel the way the fictional characters feel about each other.
I didn't think it was possible to translate those feelings onto a picture.
Another, near the wedding canvas, is a portrayal of a beautiful woman looking into a mirror, bright green piercing eyes staring at herself, brownish red hair flowing around her face and shoulders as if she were in water. But in the mirror there is an ugly woman with sunken cheeks and a grotesque frown, dirt, blood and wrinkles on her face. Next to her is child and a mother, laughing together as the little boy steals a lick of her eye cream; his is already finished and thrown in the trash next to him.
The work of art next to it is of a boy, sitting in a hallway, beside a soda machine. He's sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, with his brown head down and...
Wait.
"I... Is that..." I start and look at Seaton and he just raises an eyebrow. I step further into the room and directly up to the picture of the boy, examining what little of his face I can make out in the dark. It can't... It can't be... but it is, "Is that me?"
"No," Seaton disagrees, "It's the other brat I know that used to spend his free time sitting next to a soda machine."
"Oh," I reply and I hear him snort. It's me. But... "Why would you paint a picture of me?"
"Damn, you're..." Seaton stops himself again, "I paint the truth. I paint what's happening... and for the past couple months, brat, you've been what's happening."
"Oh," I repeat myself intelligently. "They're... you're... it's..."
"Eloquence isn't your forte," Seaton says amusedly and I blush, ducking my head slightly. Is it my fault he make me so happy I can't put two words together?
"Yes, I..." I think about what I'm going to say before hand.
I really like your paintings. I love that you let me see them. This is the best present, because you made it yourself and, you know, it's you. Which is different than Corin, Linda, Suki or Mr. Spencer. Because, well... I don't feel like this about them. This is like getting to see a piece of you, it unravels this mystery just a bit more. I love it. And I think I might... love you, too.
Hm. Well, maybe just that first sentence.
"I really like your paintings," I say finally, looking at another picture of two little boys playing together in a sand box and smiling. That image was directly beside another picture, with two grown men sitting on a couch, on opposite ends, glaring at each other with a loathing that seems to eat away at the rough cloth of the canvas. They were quite distinctly the same two people.
This is... like seeing Seaton again for the first time. It's confusing and crazy and almost damn right terrifying, but wonderful. Because I'm seeing something that will help me, something that's beautiful and sweet and perfect and nice, something I think I'm effing in love with... and I don't think I'm talking about the paintings anymore.
"Thank you," I whisper and then turn to him. I know I probably shouldn't hug him, but I do anyways, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in his chest. He's so warm and... something... I'm so inarticulate when I'm around him...
He tenses under my grip for quite a while, not hugging back just yet. I don't let go just yet though, because my heart is thumping in my chest so hard that I fear if I let go it might knock me off my feet. But then, the heartbeat is probably due to the hug anyways.
"Brat, why are you hugging me?" Seaton asks, his voice flowing like silk over my ears. I missed the sound in only the couple minutes he's been silent.
"Because of the present," I say. Obviously.
"Brat," Seaton growls, finally placing a hand on my head, and I love the feel of his fingers on my hair, "How egotistical would I be for this present to be just showing you something? Like my paintings are that good. Pfft."
"But –"
"No buts," Seaton interrupts, and I nearly feel him rolling his eyes, "You're picking one of them, any of them. And it's yours."
But... but I... but that's not...I don't stop hugging him. I just want to drown in this embrace for a while, just because he's letting me. God, he's so warm. I get a painting, and each of these paintings are a part of Seaton. So figuratively, I get to have a part of Seaton. Something that's completely his belonging to me.
Forget what I've been saying about presents. I've changed my mind.
I love them.
-
I sit on my new bed, in my new room, looking at my new picture hanging across the wall from me. I can see it clearly even when I lay down. It's the one of me sitting in the hallways, because I think it's amazing that when I wasn't there, Seaton was thinking about me enough to paint a picture of me. That he knows my face so well that he can construct it on paper from memory.
When I chose it, I told him 'because it's of me'.
He answered, 'It's not the only one'.
But, I looked through every painting in that room I couldn't find any other painting with my face on it. Oh well. That's just Seaton for you, I suppose.
So damn confusing.
-
A week passes, and I decide I'm ready to go back to school. No, wait, I'm sorry. Did I say I decided? No, no, Seaton decided. Said I needed to stop moping. Just because I haven't left the apartment yet doesn't mean I'm moping. I'm quite content, actually.
How can I not be when I'm with him?
I make my way to the front room, a new backpack on my shoulder. I found it under my bed that morning and my books were on my desk. A nice desk, and a wooden chair to match. Great to do... homework... on. Weird. I've never actually planned to do homework before. Seaton's in the kitchen cooking. He's rather good at it, I've noticed, although he prefers to order out.
But there's only so much pizza and Chinese food one can take.
"Sit," He orders, so I do, and soon a plate with pancakes and bacon is sat in front of me and he points at me with the spatula and demands, "Eat it. As much as you can take, okay? We need to nourish your skinny self."
I nod and eat, quite miserable at the thought of going to school. Eventually, Seaton sighs, shaking his head and collecting my plate when I'm done. He hands me my happy pill and I swallow it, taking a sip of water to ease its trek down my esophagus. It barely hurts anymore, but I don't want to take a chance. It's not completely healed.
"If you don't feel up to it at some point through the day, call me," Seaton tells me, placing the dishes in the sink, "I'll come pick you up."
"Yes, Seaton."
That bastard.
That sly, cunning, manipulative bastard. He knows that if it puts anyone out of their way I won't do it. What a slick way of making sure I stay at school all day. He sees the recognition of the ploy in my eyes.
And I swear I see him smirk.
-
When I walk into the school, eyes are on me. Apparently I'm not so invisible anymore, unfortunately, and just when I thought I could rely on people ignoring me. I go to my locker to deposit some books and someone walks up beside me. I turn and I don't even have to look up to realize it's Michael coming to taunt me.
"Dude, I heard you were shot."
Or not.
"Yes..." I reply hesitantly and he smiles widely.
"That's pretty cool, Norse," He compliments. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to say 'thanks' or what, "Who'd you piss off?"
"Leave him alone, Mike," Lauren pops up from behind Michael and pushes him aside, "He doesn't have to explain anything to you."
"Come on, he was shot," Michael whines, his lips twisting.
"Shut up, leave him be," Lauren orders.
"Whatever," Michael finally growls and then looks at me, "Just 'cause you were shot doesn't mean I'll stop ragging on you though, Norse."
"Uh..."
"See you in History," He says and then walks away. Luckily, the bell saves me from having to converse with Lauren. I excuse myself and head to class.
The next few hours are filled with 'welcome backs' from strangers, people I don't I know the names of, and teachers constantly asking if I'm okay or need a break. It makes me nervous, all this attention. Math, History and English pass, and soon it's Chemistry with Mr. Spencer, and when I come in he smiles brightly at me. I remember the picture of his wife and son, and that they died, and I wonder how he can smile like that.
"Jayden!" he says cheerfully, "Welcome back! How are you feeling?"
"Fine," I respond lowly, sitting in my seat. Other people file in he flashes one more grin in my direction before greeting everyone else.
The class progresses, and I find myself keeping up. Amazingly. After it's over and the bell's rung, Mr. Spencer approaches me. I stuff my books into my backpack and zip it as he comes over.
"How was your first day back?" He asks, and I just shrug.
"Weird," I answer, "Everyone knows I was...."
"Yeah, when the police mess up it's advertised pretty heavily," Mr. Spencer agrees, nodding, "But don't worry, they don't know any of the details. Your shoulder? How's it feeling?"
"Okay," I counter, shrugging once again.
"Look, Jayden, now that there are no domestic problems, I... uh... wanted to work with you on your grades," Mr. Spencer states, "They're –uh –not –okay, they're sort of abysmal, which is understandable. But now I'd like to help you get pass that so you can get into a good college."
"College?" I blurt out. That really happens too much. But... well... now that there's no one to be scared of, is that okay? Or... not? I don't know how to act with no Alfred.
"Yeah, aren't you... planning on going to college?" Mr. Spencer blinks, and I stay silent, because I'm not going to lie about that. "Oh. But... you can't just... what do you want to do?"
"I... don't really know," I admit. "Sir."
"Well, what are your talents? You're smart, I know, so which your brains you could do anything you like," Mr. Spencer suggested, which really narrowed down the options, "I mean, do you draw, do you write, do you like sports?"
"No, sir," I say, shaking my head.
"What about being a doctor?"
"No, sir."
"Lawyer?"
"N –I...I really don't know, sir," I confess uncomfortably, "I never really thought...that well...college wasn't..." something I had to worry about. I have bigger problems, like my physical training.
"Right," He looks slightly forlorn for about three seconds before smiling brightly, "But now I won't tolerate anything less than your best, you know. You're going to college Jayden. I won't let that jerk ruin the rest of your life."
Um... okay?
"Now, off with you, Black's probably waiting for you out front," Mr. Spencer laughs, almost evilly, glad that he's making Seaton wait. He leads me out the door, still beaming brightly.
I'm halfway down the hallways before I hear him call me again.
"And I expect you to have that homework done tonight! No excuses!"
Wonderful.
-
Wednesday comes around, and Seaton decides we're going out to eat. Not just him and me, either, but Suki, Linda, Corin and Mr. Spencer too. There's a Red Lobster almost directly beside the apartment complex, so we go there. Linda, Suki and Corin are already waiting there and Linda nearly jumps me when she sees me.
"JAYDEN!!!" Linda squeals , "I've missed you! Spencer said you went to school Monday, how'd that go?"
"Fine," I say shortly.
"You're not wearing the shoes," Corin pouts, looking at my feet, "The beautiful shoes."
"Uncomfortable," I say shortly. Corin gasps dramatically.
"What kind of gay man are you!?"
"Oh please, Corin leave him alone!" Suki smacks Corin's arm, "Just because he's not a flamer like you doesn't means he's not really gay."
"Really," Seaton snorts, sneering slightly at the blond boy, "You don't see me dressing like that."
"You're gay?" Suki and Linda squeak together. Then, in unison, they're eyes dart to me, and comprehension fills they're features. Great. They know.
"Oh, my god," Corin smacks his own forehead in exasperation, "You two are completely clueless. Of course he's gay!"
"Not everyone has a gaydar antenna sticking out of their head!" Linda snaps, "Oh wait, that's just your cowlick."
"Why you –"
"Fighting already?" Mr. Spencer asks, coming in the door and shaking his head, "You guys really can't stay friendly for five minutes, can you?"
Seaton rolls his eyes, "No, they can't. That would require maturity."
"So that's why you quarrel so much," Mr. Spencer asks with feigned innocence, and Seaton scowls and opens his mouth to retort.
"Hello!" says a foreign joyful voice, and we all turn toward the intruder, a mousy boy with red hair and freckles, "I'm so sorry for the wait! We do have an official host this evening, so sorry. How many?"
"Six," Mr. Spencer and Seaton say simultaneously, which in turn caused twin glares to be sent each other's way.
"Why no host?" Linda asks, with a look in her eye that says she's up to something.
"The last one was fired yesterday," he said, and on his name-tag I see the name 'Mark'. "I think he was stealing or something. Either way, we're short."
"Hey! Jayden needs a job!" Linda exclaims, clapping her hands together and smiling as though she just discovered the cure for cancer. Wait –what?
"No –" I start to dispute.
"Shut it, brat you do need a job," Seaton hisses, putting a hand on my arm. And I'm too distracted by the strong, hot hand burning the skin on my arm.
"Really!?" Mark smiles, looking at me, his eyes following Linda's index finger, "That's great! After I see you guys, I'll get you an application, okay?"
"Uh –" the hand tightens on my arm slightly, "Yes."
"Wonderful, come this way," Mark leads us to a table.
Six drinks, one filled out application, and twenty arguments between Mr. Spencer and Seaton later, the appetizer arrives. Biscuits. I swear, they're the best thing I've tasted in my entire life. Except for, perhaps, Seaton.
And hot chocolate.
Corin's managed to take up the conversation with a funny story about an escapade in his college days. Mr. Spencer, Suki and Linda laughed wildly at the tale, that was obviously fabricated, or at least exaggerated, and I even saw Seaton smile slightly out of the corner of my eye. Absolutely gorgeous.
Linda's been looking at me a lot. Several times, smiling and winking and then looking at Seaton quickly. Yes, I get it. You fucking know I like Seaton. God. At least Suki is decent enough to ignore it. It's embarrassing enough as it is.
The food arrives and I eat, because Seaton is sitting right next to me, watching me like a hawk. I'm not sure is it was just the food, but I feel really warm. It reminds me of a painting I saw in Seaton's art room of a family. Or, rather, what I guess a family should be like. Laughing around a dinner table, talking, at ease. But, I really wouldn't know, would I?
But I think this is sort of how it would feel. Only, it's friends now. Friends. Yeah, they're my friends. More of a family than my only family ever was. And it feels good, really, really, really good. Even if I want Seaton to be more than a friend, to kiss him again. Even if that never, ever happens that's okay. It really is.
Because I'm not strong enough to make a move yet. And I'm not good enough for Seaton and maybe I never will be. But I'll become better, because I know that Seaton deserves better and I won't ever have any chance with him if I'm like this. For now, he can be my... friend. That's a step, right?
Friends are okay. I could live with it.
I think I'll have to.