WAKE (Wattpad edition)

52. Handle it.

Soundtrack: 'Young glass' - Hey Rosetta

{Jon}

Jon spent the morning helping his mom load stuffed black garbage bags into the van and dropping them at the donation bin and the recycling depot. As they drove, his mom would point to passing school buildings and say, "Blah-blah High has an excellent music program," or "Whatever-whatever's theatre clubs are the best in the city."

After the third school, Jon said quietly, "I just want something close to home."

In the afternoon, they all packed into the van to look at houses. Jon's sisters chattered and laughed behind him while his parents held hands in front of him. Jon's head began to ache, and he silently turned his face to the window. The empty seat next to him made him feel like there was a scoop right out of his side, raw and bleeding, while the rest of his family were oblivious, comfortably paired off with each other.

The last house they looked at was an old three-story with stairs that creaked and wooden floors and cupboards showing wear—but four-hundred square feet more than anything else in their price range. Jon climbed the stairs away from the real estate agent who was gushing about "good bones" and "updated furnace and electrical." He climbed until he had to duck his head under a low door lintel and emerged into the highest point of the house—a bare attic room with a peaked ceiling. The space was lit by a window with a scuffed sill deep enough to make a seat. His mother found him sitting there, a knee drawn up, looking down into the branches of the tree in the front yard.

She was a little out of breath from all the stairs. "Oh—this is nice," Mel said. "The listing didn't say there were five bedrooms." She perched a hip on the window ledge, the daylight bright on her face, then scanned the room. "I think Cary would like this, don't you?"

Jon turned his head to look sharply at her, and she met his eyes, smiling, a small wrinkle in her forehead. "I confess I was imagining the two of you together in our home when you finished at Hope House."

It reminded him of how little she really knew about his life. "We haven't exactly been close," he said in a low voice. "I treated him like shit all summer."

"Did you two talk about that while you were away?"

Jon nodded once, his headache knocking in his skull. "I finally got it. And said sorry for being a self-righteous asshole." His hand clenched against his stomach, and he kept his eyes on the hole frayed through one knee of his jeans. "I'm not as good as you think I am, Mom."

She patted the bare skin of his knee. "I can handle it," she said quietly.

He looked at her through his fringe of hair, his cheeks stinging to find her unruffled by anything he'd just said.

She smiled fondly. "My second son."

"Your only son," he said tightly.

"No." She tilted her head at him, her eyes clear and serious. "I still have two sons. Judah is here—" she put her hand over her heart. "And you're here." She patted his knee again. "You are—distinct." She made the word carefully. "I love you for you—Jonathan Nathaniel White."

Sometimes when he had wrestled with Judah, they'd played so hard that it left Jon bruised and out of breath. His brother had been two years bigger than him, and full of boisterous energy. Jon felt as if his mom had just pulled them apart and given him a room of his own to catch his breath. He closed his eyes, a sigh shaking his whole body. I love you for you.

His mom let out a sigh of her own, leaning against the window. "I haven't got used to Cary being gone. Nothing either of you has said has persuaded me that he's better off with his aunt than he is with us. Am I missing something?"

Jon shrugged his shoulders jerkily. "He's stubborn. He thought he fucked it up too much to stay. Dad—didn't help."

His mother's eyes were blue as the sky as she looked up through the branches of the tree. "Do you miss him?" she asked softly.

"Judah?" The name caught in his throat. "Yes."

She lowered her eyes to his, giving her head a small shake. "Cary," she said.

He slumped a little against the frame, hurting too much to brush it off. He nodded once, turning his face away from hers. "Feels like leaving a brother behind," he said in a low voice. "And having to go on alone—again." The last word whispered through his aching throat.

Her hand found his, clasping it gently, and they sat in silence until the noise of Bea thundering up the stairs made Jon get up quickly and head back to the van.

It was pretty clear from the girls' excitement and the look his parents exchanged on the porch as they left that this house was their favorite too. Jon tried to get a feel for the neighborhood as they pulled away. "What's the closest high school?" he asked.

His dad glanced at him in the mirror. "King George."

Jon flinched and ducked his head. "Of course it is," he muttered. He'd jabbed Cary mercilessly for having to go to King George in the spring, for being the kind of fuck-up student that belonged there.

His mother said, "You could catch the bus to another school—"

"No," Jon broke in. "I'll go." Bleakly, he felt the justice of it. "Smaller classes for fu—messed-up kids, right?" He brushed the front of his shirt, feeling the bumpy lines on his stomach. "Is that where Cary saw his counsellor?"

"Yes," Mel said.

Jon lifted his shoulders. "Guess that's good enough for me," he said quietly.