There was nothing sexy about a real life bad boy, and that was the awful truth chicks didn’t want to accept. Girls enjoyed the two dimensional man, and Jaxon was not one of those. But would he ever pretend to be for their amusement? He was capable of that. If he sat there in brooding silence for a long enough time then, sure, you could take him as someone who lacked depth or care. He was too much like me in a lot of ways, one way standing out more than others: he never let people in.
So I dodged every girl I came across, further befriended boys who were easy to get along with and kept to myself.
Three
I came home one day from school to find a familiar looking blue beat up car in the parking lot. My feet stalled as I recognized who it belonged to. My heart was all a-flutter, and my anxiety skyrocketed at the realization. I turned myself around and ran to Jaxon’s house.
“My father’s back,” I said to him the second he opened the door.
He was still wearing his pajamas, his hair in a million different directions, and eyes puffy from a long night of doing whatever illegal bullshit it was that Jaxon did on Sunday nights.
“What?” he said, rubbing his eyes as I pushed past him and into the house.
I paced the corridor, trying to relieve myself of the sudden busy legs I was experiencing.
“Did you see him?” Jaxon asked.
“I saw his car in the driveway.”
“How do you know it was his for sure–”
“Because he’s been calling my mother for the last few weeks,” I interrupted in irritation. “I told you this.”
Jaxon didn’t respond immediately. He watched me pace the house leaning back against the wall with his arms folded, studying me.
“I thought he was gone for good…” I mumbled to myself. “He’s been gone five years…Who does he think he is? And she’ll take him back because that’s all she’s good for… I’ve had it with this crap…”
Finally, after many restless minutes, I sat down on the red recliner in the living room and stared idly at a spot on the beige carpet. I could feel the well of tears forming in the back of my eyes, but I suppressed their company. Things had been going so well since he left. Even though I had a non-existent mother in my life, the house was an easy roof to live under as long as the bills were paid and there was food.
Jaxon moved to the three seater couch and sat at the end closest to me.
“You don’t have to go back,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Pack your shit and leave. He’s no good. You and I know that. I’m sure Mom will let you stay here.”
“And then what? Stay here and do what, Jaxon? Leech off your mother? I can’t do that. There’s no room for me here, anyway. I’d rather move out on my own and make it by without freeloading.”
“You’re not freeloading,” he argued, giving me a look of annoyance. “I’ve been making good cash on the side, Sara. I contribute here and can float all of us.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, we’d have to discuss it with your mother first.”
“As if Mom won’t say yes,” he scoffed.
I couldn’t explain to him exactly why I didn’t want to move in. The real reason was that I was frightened for my mother. Yes, the woman who never showed her maternal love for me in any shape or form still had my unconditional love. My father, on the other hand, did not. He was nasty and cruel, and I fully blamed him for being the reason why my mother was an alcoholic in the first place. At least with him gone she had never been verbally abusive to me. We didn’t fight. Every now and then there were disagreements when it came to money and how it should be spent: main one being forced to take portions of my paycheck to fund her alcohol habit. Still. These were struggles I was able to live with.
My father returning would tip her over the edge again. She would never be conscious or mentally there. He would be his horrible self, manipulating her, arguing with her, beating her…
“I just can’t,” I told Jaxon, looking away from him.
Jaxon was disappointed, which was ironic since I was always the disappointed one when it came to us. It was funny seeing him take my role. He furrowed his brows, pursed his lips, and stared daggers into me. “What if he does something to you?”
“Like what?” I feigned ignorance knowing full well what he was going to say. He knew all about my father.
“Like turn his attention to you and hit you?”
“But my mom, Jaxon… I can’t just leave her with him.”
He pondered my words for a few moments, and that was another sight to behold: Jaxon Barlow actually pondering something! He was always the impulsive one with no regard to consequences. There was no indication he even had a moral compass in that brain of his by the amount of crime he was committing. He was beyond skilled at what he did, and only lately was the town really knuckling down on security.
“Wait right here.” I watched him stand up and leave the room. Shortly after, he reappeared and sat down with his hand out. Looking down, I saw a cell phone. “Take it. It’s got a month’s credit in there already.”
“What?” I frowned. “Why are you giving me a cell phone?”
“So that you can call me in case something happens.”
“Who’d you steal it off of?” I demanded disapprovingly.
He rolled his sharp blue eyes. “I didn’t. Just take it.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I promise I didn’t. I fully bought it. I still have the receipt if you don’t believe me.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly, motioning with his head for me to take it.
I eyed the phone, quickly realizing it was the latest one of its kind out. I took it from him, turned it on, and took my time scrolling through it. There were no numbers stored, no pictures or videos or wallpapers for that matter; nothing that indicated it was previously owned. Plus, it was in immaculate condition.
“I’ll give you the charger on the way out,” he said.
“And the receipt,” I added, eyeing him suspiciously.
He didn’t respond to that. “You’re almost eighteen and have your first ever cell phone, Sara. You’re behind on the years.”
I shrugged. “I’m not fussed about the latest greatest gadgets.”
“Except a cell phone’s been around for years and years and years…”
“Shut up, Jaxon.”
He laughed lightly and leaned back in his couch, grabbing the remote on his way. He turned on the television and flipped through the channels.
I turned on the phone camera, enamored for a moment at its high quality. I aimed it around the room and settled on him, zooming the image to his head. I chuckled, taking pictures of his wild, blonde hair. He was one of the few guys I knew that actually pulled off the long haired look. It was usually combed nicely, and sometimes he’d slick it back so that it rested neatly behind his ears. This morning, however, it was in all kinds of directions as if every strand was trying to escape his scalp. It was downright hilarious.
He looked over at me as I clicked away with a frown on his face, and that frown captured on my phone had me laughing loudly and breathlessly. “What are you laughing at, Sara?” He was a self-conscious guy, so he smoothed out his hair with his hands and tidied up his crinkly white shirt.