Fly High, Fly Low [ON-HOLD]

Chapter 3

FKY HIGH, FLY LOW
By GinoongONEGANI

CHAPTER THREE

IT ISN'T what you would call the perfect end to the school year --- being summoned at the discipline's office.

The moment Jay sets foot inside the room, he's been greeted by the disappointed expression on the counselor's bony face. The cold generated by the air-conditioner isn't really comfortable, and his body doesn't appreciate the sudden change in temperature. It gives him a headache. The counselor gives him warning for his first offense, telling him he doesn't expect something like this from him, and that's pretty much it. He leaves at once.

It's something he's developed as an introvert --- to be more conscious than he already is, of the eyes around him when he does something wrong. It takes a lot of self-restraint to fight the urge to hide behind his elbows.

The eyes that linger for a little bit too long. The neck that twists to follow him. Behind those things are genuine interest as to why his presence has been summoned at the guidance office. But he can't help but think that there's more to it than meets the eye. Perhaps they are expecting him to make a mistake again.

It's getting suffocating. But it's not like he can call them out for it. What they are doing is not against the law. And, he admits bashfully, he doesn't have what it takes to do it. The brazen punk in him earlier has reduced to nothing, is vaporized by the sun.

As he gets closer to his room, different versions of stories fly around. He decides right then that it's better to just head back home. There's nothing to do here after all. At home, at least, he can have the rest of the day in peace.

Jay doesn't expect his mother in the house. She is anxiously rubbing her palms against the fabric of her dress, as though getting rid of dirt. When she sees him enter the threshold, she makes a tiny jump in surprise. But the relief that soon occupies her eyes tells Jay she's been waiting for him. She must have not come to work, Jay thinks, because she's still wearing the same clothes she has on when he's left her.

Jay walks up to her, however hesitantly. Her words are still going  nonstop in his head like a broken record. But, he can't help it. The sight of her, worn and impossibly older, makes him gravitate towards her. His hands ache to ease her pain.

"I'm home," he says after a minute of contemplation. He doesn't know what to say after what happened earlier between them.

An awkward silence ensues next, and Jay is thankful it doesn't drag out for too long.

Her mother hums nervously, then, "I'm sorry, Jay."

For a moment it seems like she doesn't know what to say. Like her words have been robbed from her. Nervous fingers tangle and untangle themselves. She is bare in front of him. The weakest he has ever seen. Then the words come out, strangled and ugly, "I don't know what to say, really. I am ashamed."

Fat ugly tears come streaming down her cheeks. His heart clenches, reaching out to tentatively hold her in his arms. The older makes a shelter in his neck. The unsure hug becomes tighter as the sobs get louder, even reaching for her hair, smoothing down the stray strands. His mother is a lot shorter than him, he wants to chuckle at the thought, but quickly dismisses the idea.

"Maybe," she sobs out, faltering, unable to find the right words again. "I know . . . I know everything will just sound like an excuse. But, maybe --- maybe I'm just stressed. I don't know. I'm sorry."

Jay hums in understanding. He knows well enough how stress transforms people into a completely different being. Isn't that the exact thing that happens back at school? He looks at his own hand that's caressing her mother's hair. A thought strikes him, and it just might work.

"Let me stay," Jay says, "here. Let me stay here with you."

Her mother pushes herself so she will have enough space to look at him. The scrutiny makes him fumble at his words, but he's determined to use this chance.

Her mother looks skeptical.

"If we fall," he says, buckling. Saying it aloud makes it more real, like it's really going to happen. No stopping. A distant rumbling echoes in his head. He can't close his eyes, because everytime he does, he sees their company literally falling into pieces. What will happen to them if the company really goes bankrupt? He swallows thickly. "If we do fall," he continues, "we will fall as family. Together."

The older's eyes become difficult to catch. And she completely lets go of him, taking a few steps backwards so it will be difficult to reach her. She shakes her head, no, no, she says.

"I want to see this through," he tries again.

"Jay . . . " Her voice has a hard edge to it. Like she's telling him not to be hard-headed and just go with her plan. That's for the best, her eyes are telling him. Jay would rather be here, though. He refuses to leave them alone. He's not like those old farts.

"Mom." He sounds so whiny that he wants to cringe. "Please."

This time her mother looks him in the eye. He doesn't let go of her gaze. He will not lose this argument. She heaves a sigh, giving up. "Fine. But that will never happen. Your father and I will not make that happen."

He smiles at that. He strides over the sofa, throwing his backpack there. Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he asks, "Have you eaten yet?"

She lets out another sigh, then graces her face with a smile. She shakes her head.

"I'll cook for us, then."

Her mother sits across from him, enjoying the food he prepares. It's still not long since Jay's started cooking. It isn't really in his plan to learn the chore --- Nana is there for it. The woman makes the best Adobo. Jay is not entirely sure what pushes him to try. One day, he just wakes up asking Nana to teach him how.

His mother is about to take another spoonful when her eyes turn into slits, as though she notices something. "Why are you home so early?"

Jay shifts uncomfortably on his seat. He can't say what happened at school. His mother hates violence the most. She will definitely freak out once she learns about it. The word will definitely reach his father.

Drinking a glass of water seems like a nice way to buy some time while he's thinking of a good response. She's watching him intently as he drinks. He knows she doesn't have any idea about what has happened, but he can't but feel nervous. As soon as he's finished the glass, his mother asks the same question again, he nearly chokes.

"Nothing to do there anymore," he says shortly. Fortunately, his mother lets go of it pretty quickly. She doesn't like him skipping classes, even if it's the last day.

When the night comes, the sky clear, sprinkled with shiny stars, the moon in its full glory, he lies in the bed with a satisfied smile. He is not spending his vacation with the old farts. Their company is still on the brink, but he decides it's not bad to rejoice over simple things.

His bed has never been this comfortable.

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A/N: Sa paunti-unti ay makatatapos din. Chos!