Finding Jaime

Chapter 9

Pete's POV

Meagan came back downstairs from trying to get Jaime to come have lunch. I was spooning macaroni and cheese into Saint and Marvel's bowls.

"He doesn't want to come downstairs," she sighed. "He says he's not hungry."

"He has to be. He hasn't eaten today. I doubt he had much breakfast at the group home, if he even had time, and he didn't eat anything with me at IHOP."

"You went to IHOP?" Saint asked. "No fair!"

"Saint," I said. "I take you all the time. We'll go this weekend, maybe. Bronx is coming, and we can all go."

"Well, Jaime says he's not hungry and he doesn't want to come downstairs."

"I'll go talk to him," I said. "See if I can't get him to come. He has to eat."

"I know. But be gentle, Pete. He's really upset. He was crying, but he wouldn't admit it."

I nodded and went upstairs to Jaime's room. I knocked on the door.

"Go away," the voice behind the door said.

"Jaime, it's me," I said.

"And I said Go. Away."

I opened the door anyway.

"Are you deaf?" he fumed at me.

"Jaime, come down for lunch. Meagan made macaroni and cheese and Saint would love to meet you."

"What the fuck kind of name is Saint? Or Marvel for that matter."

"They're the names of your brother and sister. And you'll meet Bronx this weekend."

He rolled his eyes at me.

"Jaime, come on. You didn't eat breakfast, I doubt you got much at the group home. I know you're hurting. But you gotta eat. You need your strength. What would your mom think?"

Jaime sat up and glared at me with such hate in his eyes.

"Don't you ever mention my mom. You don't have that right! You have no idea what my mom would think! I don't know what she was thinking sticking me here with you!"

"Jaime," I said.

"Go away," he said. "Just go the fuck away! Leave me alone!"

I got up and left the room and closed the door quietly behind me. He was grieving. He was scared. I had to give him some room for that. But I couldn't let him starve.

I went back down to the kitchen and I pulled down another bowl and spooned some macaroni into it.

"Is Jaime coming down?" Meagan asked.

"No," I said. "I'll bring him a bowl."

"We don't allow eating in the bedrooms," Meagan said.

"Meagan, give him a break, okay? He's adjusting to new surroundings, he's lost his mom, he's in a strange place with strange people."

"He's just so, I don't know," Meagan said. "He's so angry."

"He's sad. He's grieving."

I brought the bowl and a glass of milk upstairs and went into Jaime's room.

"You don't listen so well," he said, his back to the door.

"I brought you lunch. Macaroni and a glass of milk. I'll leave it here on the desk."

"I don't want it."

"You don't have to eat it. But, if you change your mind, it's here. Whenever you feel like it, come on downstairs."

He didn't say anything. I sighed and left the room.

Back downstairs, I served myself a bowl of macaroni and ate it leaning up against the counter. Meagan was watching me.

"He'll come around," I said to her, hoping I sounded convincing.

She shook her head at me and walked out of the room.

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Meagan POV

I went upstairs and stood outside Jaime's room. It was quiet in there. I opened the door and peeked in. Jaime was lying on his bed, curled up, back to the door.

"Go. Away," he said.

"I'm just going to help you start unpacking, Jaime," I said.

He grunted at me.

"I don't need help. I don't want to be here," he said.

"I know," I said, going over to his bed and sitting down. "I know you don't. But you are. And we do want you here. You're hurting, I know. Pete's a good guy, Jaime. You have to give him a chance. Give all of us a chance. Get to know us. Because we want to get to know you."

"Pete," he spat. "Had 15 years to try to get to know me. He never bothered. So why bother now?"

"Jaime," I said. "Pete didn't even know about you before two days ago. Your mom never told him about you."

"Bullshit," he said to me.

I sighed and went over to his duffle bags and started unzipping them.

"Leave my stuff alone!" he said.

"Jaime, I'm going to unpack your stuff. This is your home, honey."

He rolled back over, as if he was resigned.

I pulled out jeans and t-shirts, sweatshirts, underwear, socks from one bag, and placed them in drawers in the dresser under the window. Out of the other bag I pulled out what was clearly some dirty clothes, which I found a hamper in the closet for, and tossed them into. I pulled out more jeans and sweatpants and t-shirts and put them away. I pulled out a photo in a frame and looked at it. It was Jaime and a woman with the same blue eyes. Clearly his mom.

"Is this your mom?" I asked, holding the picture towards him.

He rolled over and grabbed the photo from me.

"That's mine," he said, and rolled back over away from me.

"I'm just going to put your empty bags in the closet. They'll be up on the top shelf. You don't have a suit," I said.

"So?" Jaime said.

"You'll need a suit for tomorrow. I'll have Pete bring one for you to try."

"I don't need a suit from him," he spat at me.

"Jaime," I said, sitting on the bed. "You need to wear a suit tomorrow."

"I don't want to go tomorrow," he whispered.

"I know, Jaime. But it's your mom's funeral. It's your only chance to say goodbye."

I could see tears rolling down his face as I looked at him. I put my hand on his shoulder again, and this time, he didn't push it off. He stayed turned away from me, but he didn't push my hand off.

"Jaime, I know you're hurting. I know you're scared. I know your entire world has been turned upside down. We're here for you. We really are."

Jaime sniffled and stayed turned away from me.