Corren's Fight

Chapter Eighteen - Anniversary

Fall

July came and went in a summer haze. Our friends sat on the roof top of Jason's house while his Fourth of July party raged on beneath us. We watched the night sky as fireworks from the beach went off in the distance, and as closer ones fired off neon colors and rained down before us. A new school year was in session when August arrived. I thoroughly enjoyed showing Emily off as my girlfriend. Tyson was keeping a close eye on me though. What was once a mutual friendship had become mutual animosity. He suspected I was going to run off with the money I owed him. All I could do was take his hostility until my debt was paid. I was nearly there. About a few more weeks and I'd be free.

For the most part life was good. Emily and I spent most of our spare time together. My grades were, surprisingly, slightly above average. I made a few more friendships outside Emily's circle. Things had been going well between Jem and I, but then I started noticing a change in him. Towards the month of September Jem was acting strange. When my insomnia kept me up I'd find him awake down stairs drinking during late hours of the night. Sometimes I would come home and he'd be passed out on the floor. Once, Emily and our group were out at the local ice cream parlor. There was a bar across the street. I had glanced out the window and noticed Jem's car. Moments later I saw Jem stumble out and try miserably to pull himself into his truck. I ran out of the shop and drove him home. Jem refused to tell me anything.

I confided in Emily while I was at her house.

"Jem has been acting strange."

"How so?"

I shook my head and watched the TV as a serial killer sliced off a guy's head. "He keeps getting drunk. He used to have a drinking problem, but he stopped a while ago. Now it's like he's trying to drink himself to death again."

There was a moment of silence before Emily abruptly sat up stared at me with wide eyes. "It's the anniversary!"

"What?"

"Clara's death! Every year he drinks around the time of her death!"

I sat up straight. "Why didn't you tell me!"

"I thought he stopped. Jem was so reclusive before you came along. I don't know why he's getting so bad all of the sudden. He drinks every year, but hardly ever in public!"

"What does it mean if it's getting bad again?"

Emily stood and tossed me my jacket. "It means you need to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

I nodded and kissed her on the forehead before tugging on my jacket on and heading out. I drummed my thumbs on the steering wheel anxiously. I noticed the presence of an icy chill trying to bite at the September air. It wouldn't be long before the nights were uncomfortably cold again. I rolled the windows up. Jem's house came into view. As soon as I pulled into the drive way and turned the ignition gunshots thundered through the air.

"Jem!" I yelled and threw open the door.

Another gunshot crackled in the night, sounding from the backyard. I raced around the house to find on the back porch a man in chair with a bottle of whiskey firing a gun into the pitch black sky.

I approached him. "Jem!"

Uncle Jem glanced at me then fired at one of the trees. As I got closer I noticed his eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks tear-stained. I ambled up the steps and came around him. Propped up on the wooden rail was a picture I found so many months ago, a picture of Jem and a dark haired woman I now knew to be Clara.

Jem did not sob, nor did his voice crack. In a clear, somber, bitter tone he said to me. "Died five years ago today." He picked up his bottle of whiskey from the ground and gulped it down.

I said nothing.

"I loved her... so much. You know what I said when I first started speaking to her?"

I said nothing.

"I told her, 'Let's get married here and now.' She said 'You'll have to take me out on a date first, Jem.' And I did. Don't fall in love, Son. Don't do it."

Jem pulled the trigger again, shooting a distant tree right in the middle of the trunk. A perfect shot. I picked up the extra rifle leaned against his chair. I cocked it and aimed. Then I fired.

I still said nothing, not until it was two a.m. after thirty drunken life stories between the uncle who was easily my dad, and the kid who was easily his son. Even then I said nothing as I hauled Jem to his bed, leaning him on his side so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. I said nothing because you can't. fix. everything. Sometimes there are moments in your life where words will never be adequate. That night was one of those moments. A moment where I saw the shell of a great man trying to find his way back to himself. I knew Jem would one day soon. Tonight just wasn't the night. People don't heal in an instant. It takes time and hard work, and that person has to want it. There are some things in this world not everyone comes back from. I understood that Jem may be that type, and I fully accepted it. He numbed his pain better than anyone, but in consequence it was worse when he finally let himself feel it. He was entitled to be who he was and to act however he wanted when pain was that evident.

A/N:

Hello beautiful readers! :) Wafflez has returned! I again apologize for my two (three?) week absence. A lot had been going on... and for the better it seems :) But fear not! I still plan to complete this story!

I hope you guys enjoyed. I'm sorry it's short but I've been having some terrible writer's block (another reason for my absence). As always, Stay Strong.

~Mickey