One month later.
"Jet Hudson Wesley, get your ass in here now!" I yelled upstairs.
I had just opened his term report, which I found dumped in the garbage bin when I got home, addressed to me and torn open. And I was pissed.
I had talked to his parents about getting them to add me onto the school system as his primary contact. I wasn't his legal guardian so I needed their consent to change it, even though the school knew perfectly well what the situation was with Jet and I. They have laws they need to follow, I guess.
And I have parent-like rules to lay down when I see his report with all Ds except for one class unceremoniously discarded in the trash.
"Jesus, Ruben. What's with all the rage?" Jet said, emerging at the bottom of the stairs with a smile which turned instantly into panic when he saw the papers in my hand. I didn't feel good yelling at him, but he's smarter than Ds, and he's also smarter than opening my mail and trashing his report without showing it to me.
"Please explain to me why I am finding your report, addressed to me, opened, in the garbage. And then explain to me why you've received a D in every class this term except Woodwork, and why I've now got five teachers pulling me in for parent-teacher conferences to talk about your grades. Now," I said in my most stern voice yet.
"So? I got a few Ds in classes that don't matter. I got an A in Woodwork, which is the only one I really care about," Jet shrugged, ignoring my want of an explanation as to why he didn't show this to me and why it was in the bin.
"You should care about all your classes, Jet. They're all important."
"Was there some fine print I missed in my employment contract saying I had to write essays about how to use a hammer and nails? Or conduct experiments in a lab relating to the density and composition of wood?" he joked, no doubt thinking I was kidding about all his classes being important. I wasn't, and I was pissed that he would assume I was. School is important.
"No, wiseass. But there was an expectation that you were going to try your best and actually put effort into your schooling, not just sit back and slack off in the ones you don't care about."
"What does it matter? You know I can do the work if I actually tried. I'm not an idiot," he said, again shrugging away my concerns about his education.
"That's exactly my point, Jet. You're not a fucking idiot and yet you're failing the majority of your classes and trying to hide it from me by throwing your report in the bin so I can't see it. It was addressed to me. See: Ruben Foster. Not Jet Wesley," I said, tapping my name forcibly on the paper envelope.
"It's just a term report, Ruben. It's not like it actually means anything in the grand scheme of life. I work hard and I'm good at it. I don't even know why I need to finish school anyway when I already have a job lined up."
"Just because I have given you a job doesn't mean you can piss around with your education, Jet. You might want to do something else with your life down the track and could use the skills they teach you in school."
I loved that he enjoyed working with me, but I wanted him to leave his options open just in case that changed. And even more than that, I wanted him to feel successful and proud of how smart he was, because he really was so damn smart.
"If you want to continue working with me, Jet, you need to respect the education you're being given at school and try your best, not slack off like a common dickhead. You're better than Ds. And if I ever find out that you've gone through my mail again, I'm going to be more disappointed in you than I am right now. It's not good enough," I said, trying my best to keep calm, and dealing with my inner torment in trying to decide what the best way to handle this is. "I'm grounding you for two weeks. No footy. No surfing. No work. You go to school and you come straight home."
Jet looked like he was about to explode. "Tell me you're fucking joking right now?" he hissed through his clenched jaw.
"I'm not joking, Jet. Grounded, starting from now. You're lucky you paid for your own phone and PlayStation, otherwise I'd be taking those, too."
"And if I don't give a shit whether you want to ground me, considering you're not even my parent?" he said, fuming. He knew how much of a reaction he would get from that comment, and he said it deliberately right now to piss me off even more. Do not take the bait, Ruben.
"Then you'll continue to be grounded until you've learned your lesson."
"I already know enough about life to know I don't need any more lessons, least of all ones from you. This is bullshit!"
"Yes, it is bullshit, Jet. I've given you an opportunity to make something of your life and you're throwing it back in my face like it means nothing to you. I don't ask you for much. But I am asking that you fucking try, and that you're honest with me. You haven't done either of those things, and I'm so pissed off at you right now."
"Yeah? Well, I'm fucking pissed off, too. I'm almost seventeen and you can't go around slapping rules and restrictions on me now. I'm practically an adult."
"You might think you are, Jet. But you're not. You're a kid and it's my responsibility to make sure you're growing up right," I said angrily, scrunching up the report in my hand out of sheer frustration. "This shit here, is not at all right."
"Fuck this. I don't need to deal with this from you," said Jet, slamming his phone down on the wooden counter and storming off towards the front door.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" I yelled after him, trying to calm myself down.
"Anywhere but here," he replied, the front door crashing shut with such force I thought it was going to come unhinged.
I took a few deep breaths before I went after him; but by the time I got outside, he was nowhere in sight, and I didn't know which way he went in order to follow him. I pulled out my phone to call him, hearing his ringtone going off inside where he left it, probably deliberately just so I couldn't get in touch with him when he left.
Fucking hell.
I went and grabbed my keys from inside, jumped in my truck and started driving around the streets trying to find him. Whichever way I went must have been the opposite direction he chose to run because I couldn't see him anywhere. I doubled back to the house a few times to see if he had decided to go back, but there was no sign of him.
By the time it was getting dark outside and there was still no sign of him, I started panicking. I had no idea where he might be. I went past his school, but couldn't see him there. I went to the beach where we surf every day, but he wasn't there. I went to the footy oval, nothing.
I even started driving towards his parents' house, stopping a few streets before I reached their street because I knew he wouldn't go back there, especially if he was angry . . . unless he was really itching for a fight, which he very well might be this time.
I pulled over, my heart racing now the street lights had come on, knowing that Jet was out here somewhere on his own without his phone to get him out of any trouble he might stumble upon; and knowing his luck, there was plenty of it to go around.
I needed help. I reached to my phone and called Tanner, who answered on the first ring. "Took you long enough, man."
"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.
"Come collect your kid. And bring us some tissues. He's tapped us out." I sighed deeply, grateful that Jet was smart enough even in his pissy mood to go to somewhere he would be safe and cared for. Of course he went to Tanner and Morgan's. They were the only other adults he knew who would take care of him like he wanted.
"Is he okay, Tann?" I asked, putting my truck into gear and driving towards their house, worried that he was never going to forgive me. "We had a fight and he just left. I've been in my car searching the streets for him for hours."
"Yeah, mate. He's fine. I just think he's not used to having adults who care what he does enough to ground him when he messes up. He knows he did the wrong thing. He's just a proud Mini Foster and doesn't want to admit it just yet. Play his game for a little while. He'll come 'round eventually."
"Did I do the wrong thing? Yelling at him?"
"From what I can tell you went easy on him. I'd have taken the phone, PlayStation and the TV if it were me. And I'd have made it two months, not weeks," Tanner laughed. "I'm sorry about school, though. I really didn't know he had fallen that far behind."
"It's not your fault, mate. He's the one responsible for that shit." I feel like I've let him down, not knowing what was going on at school. I was the one who should have been more aware.
"He'll make it up, Rubes. Don't worry. Just stay strong and let him be annoyed for a while. He needs this. Healthy boundaries and consequences. And he knows it. But he's still just an angsty teenager, pushing back."
I pulled into their driveway, hanging up the phone with a wish of good luck from Tanner. I didn't even get to unbuckling my seat belt before the passenger door opened and Jet climbed in.
"I'm ready to go home, but I don't want to talk right now," he said, looking out the window and not at me. I could still hear the tears in his voice and it made me just want to reach over and hug him.
I sat there for a few seconds in silence, waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, and I saw him trying to covertly wipe away a tear, I risked the hug I'd wanted to give him from the second I saw him, and even though he didn't hug me back, I felt him relax in my arms and continue crying quietly.
When we got home, he went straight into his room, still not having spoken another word to me, and came out two minutes later with his TV remote and both PlayStation controllers, putting them down next to his phone which still lay on the counter. He didn't even look at me before he walked upstairs to his room, shutting the door behind him.
I barely slept all night, overwhelmed with everything that had happened with Jet this afternoon. I just wanted to knock on his door and take it all back, apologising for yelling at him, ungrounding him, and giving him back everything that he voluntarily handed over to me.
But I didn't. I used all the strength I had and remained in my room, just listening to him snoring in the bedroom across the hall from mine.
He woke up early to go to school, even before I was up for work, writing me a note to say where he was.
I went to school early, and I'll be straight back afterwards. Jet.
No 'Hi,' no 'Have a good day,' no 'I'll see you later.' He was still upset, but at least he was doing what I asked.
Jet was home when I got back from work. The dishes were done. He'd cooked dinner. The washing was folded. And he was in his room at his desk, doing school work. He didn't talk to me all night, and closed his door at ten o'clock after his shower.
I grappled with deciding what I should do. Whether to just go talk to him or not, but decided in the end that he needed to come to me in his own time.
It was eleven o'clock before I heard him moving again. I was laying in bed doing nothing, figuring if Jet was bored and miserable, I probably should be, too. He didn't knock on my door because it was still open like it was last night, just in case he changed his mind and wanted to talk to me.
He silently lay down on my bed next to me, looking up at the ceiling fan on the roof for a few minutes before talking.
"I'm sorry, Ruben," he said quietly, his bare chest rising and falling with his sad breaths. "I fucked up and slacked off, and I shouldn't have hidden it from you that I was failing and trashed my report. I also shouldn't have sworn at you and ran off, especially when you were just doing the right thing and trying to help me actually take responsibility for being a brat.
"I spoke to all six of my teachers today about the work I owed them, finished it all tonight and emailed it to them with an apology. But I figured I owed you a bigger one, because I was wrong to argue you for grounding me, and even more wrong to leave without my phone because I know you would have been shitting yourself with worry about where I was. I promise it won't happen again."
"Oh, Jetty. Come here," I said, putting my arm around him as he lay his head on my chest. He might be almost an adult in many ways, but he's still just a little kid in so many more.
"You don't hate me?" he asked.
"Mate, nothing in the world could make me hate you. And right now you've made me feel so proud of you, for taking the initiative to catch up on your work and apologise to your teachers, and for being braver than I was and coming to talk to me. I've been wanting to talk to you since you got in my car last night, but I was worried you were going to stay mad at me forever."
Jet sighed with relief. "I was more mad at myself than I was you. For messing up what we have and being a rude asshole just because I didn't like the idea of someone laying down rules I've never had before, but that I know I need. You were just being what I need, and I was just being an obnoxious dickhead. I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry, too, Jetty. I feel awful for yelling at you."
"I deserved it," Jet chuckled into my chest.
"Maybe," I laughed, "but that isn't the way I want us to be together. Next time, we talk it out and figure out what's going on before resulting to yelling and swearing. Deal?"
"Deal," he said, sitting up and looking down at me, mischief sneaking back into his eyes. "So . . . am I still grounded?"
I sat up with him, laughing heartily. "Please tell me all that wasn't just a crock of shit to get out of being grounded?"
He grinned, slyly. "Nah. Meant every word. I just want to go to work and footy; and the surf forecast looks real good for tomorrow morning . . . five-foot . . . offshore."
Turns out Jet loves surfing as much as I do, maybe even more. The first time he stood up—which he did so naturally and easily—I saw the same expression on his face as I once did another long, dark haired, freckly youth, just with less tits, longer legs and more muscle. He doesn't know that I've ordered him a custom board for his upcoming seventeenth birthday in a couple months, but I know he's going to absolutely flip it with excitement when he does.
I leaned back against the headboard and laughed, shaking my head.
"You can keep the technology and all that. Just please let me go to work and keep my sports," Jet pleaded.
"Why do you think I took those things away from you and not the technology? You actually give a shit about those things! I'm not stupid," I said, highly amused by him, as always.
"Well, maybe you're smarter than I ever gave you credit for," he said smugly. "Please? I'll keep doing the dishes and dinner and washing every day, and anything else you ask."
Even in the darkness, his dark brown eyes and long lashes were pleading with me and successfully twisting my arm. Only two sets of eyes have ever been able to bewitch me so easily, and I knew instantly that I was as weak to Jet's as I was hers.
"You're killing me, kid."