99 Steps

Step 48: Share Secrets

Jack stood at the end of the driveway. The house seemed to loom over his head, laughing at his fear of what was inside. He hadn't told his mom he would be coming back, so he didn't even know if she still lived here or if she moved.

The Jack that was standing there was much different from the Jack who left, the small gauges were the same, but since then he had gotten his hair colored, tattoos, he actually wore his glasses like he was supposed to. The sleeves of Mark's favorite flannel were rolled up to just below his elbows. He told Mark to keep it, over and over again, but Mark shoved it in his back pack when he went to the bathroom at the airport. Of course he tugged it on when he found it.

He bit his lip, looking up at the house once more. Surely, if he stood there long enough she would just notice him, right? Or would she see him and lock the doors and hope he got kidnapped? Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket. He'd already been debating going inside for 15 minutes. Maybe the coffee shop down the street was open.

That seemed like a better choice than seeing his mom.

He made his way down the street, turning, and walking, and turning again, and walking some more. Jack stopped outside the door, checking the sign. Open til 9 P.M. Great, he could stay here for like 4 hours. Then maybe he could find a bar to go to. Or maybe grab a coffee, then go to the bar. If he hooked up with someone, he could put off seeing his mom til tomorrow afternoon. The plan was horrible, but he liked the idea of not going home.

Jack fixed the straps of his bag as he made his way up to the counter. He was really happy he decided to not use the suitcase. That would mean he would have to awkwardly lug it around with him - and nobody would want to fuck someone who brought a suitcase to the bar. Honestly, he couldn't even bring himself to let Mark have sex with him, so this could go one of two ways. Jack would freak out and be kicked to the curb late at night, or he would be so drunk everything would just feel like a blur, and maybe the thought of Frank wouldn't cross his mind.

"Hello! What can I get for you today?"

"Uh, hi. Can I just get a black coffee?"

"Yeah! Is that it for you today?"

Jack paid, got his drink, and sat at a table in the corner. He took his backpack off, setting it on the chair next to him. The cell phone in his hand didn't buzz with a text. No missed phone calls, no nothing. His thumb hovered over Mark's contact. He should just send a text, just one. Mark was probably wondering if he made it okay. Or maybe he wasn't, maybe he didn't want to think about Jack. He sipped his coffee. Mark might have still been driving, he didn't actually have a plan. Just drive and find somewhere else to live. It wasn't a good plan, but it wasn't like Jack was any better off.

Jack tossed his cup in the trash can by the door as he walked out. The air was already cooling off, so as he walked Jack unrolled the sleeves and buttoned the flannel up all the way. The bar he was making his way to was one he and Zoey would frequently visit on their nights out. His hands found the straps over his shoulders, like a nervous kid walking to school. It wouldn't be that bad, it couldn't be. Nothing bad at all would come out of Jack being back in Ireland. He would have a good time tonight, and then he would go see his mom tomorrow and that would go smoothly. At least that's all he could tell himself.

Inside, he opted for a booth in the back. Again, his bag found a spot next to him. After a litle bit, a waiter came to take his order.

"Something that'll get me drunk. Fast. Please."

"Ha, that kinda day?" The waiter smiled kindly, turning to get his drink. Hopefully he didn't come across as too grumpy, he always tried to be friendly to people working in retail or food service. So many employees were treated like shit.

A glass was set in front of him, and the waitress stood by the table for a minute.

"What is it?" Jack asked, eyeing the liquid.

"That gentleman up at the bar," she gestured to a man with dark hair, facing the opposite way, "Suggested it. It's a mix of gin, rum, triple sec, and vodka. I've never had to before and only a few people have asked for it. You'll have to tell me if you like it."

"Thanks." Jack was alone again, watching the back of the man at the bar. He couldn't help but make connections between him and Mark.

Mark. Jack considered sending him a text, surely he would be at least stopped for a rest now. No, he'll text you when he wants to talk to you. It's as simple as that.

The drink tasted a little sweet, like a tea. It was gone quicker than he would have liked it to be, so he sat swirling the straw around the melting ice. A different waiter walked by with a tray full of something, which made his stomach growl. Maybe he should get some food too. He couldn't even think of the last meal he had, maybe yesterday?

"Another one, courtesy of the man at the bar. He said to call him Adam. Would you like anything else?" The waiter set another drink on the table, grabbing the empty one.

"Yeah, just an order of onion rings please. And tell Adam thanks." Jack smiled, reaching for the glass.

---

Jack opened his eyes, flinching at the sunlight shining through a window. He rolled over, curling into Mark's chest. He was nearly asleep before realizing that it was not Mark holding him close, because Mark was still in the United States, and Jack was back in Ireland. He felt so disgusted with himself, remembering how he was just okay with getting so drunk that he would be up for a one night stand, just so he had a place to stay for the night. It was quite pathetic really, he was trying so hard to avoid his mom.

Jack slipped out of the bed, pulled his clothes back on, and grabbed his phone and wallet. He walked through the house, desperate to find the door quickly. It shocked him a little, how nicely his shoes where set on the mat, when his clothes had seemingly been ripped from his body. He brushed it off, and walked outside. The cold air made him wish he had more layers on, but he did have a sweatshirt in his backpack.

"Shit." Jack realized, once he was about a block away, that his bag wasn't slung on his back. It was only clothes and a stupid camera, he didn't need it anyways. He most deffinetly wasn't going back for it. Hopefully Adam liked taking pictures.

After a while of wondering through town, Jack found his way back to his mom's. His dying phone told him it was a little after 9, so she should be up by now. He didn't waste 15 minutes at the end of the driveway like before, instead he walked right up to the door and waited 5 minutes before knocking.

His fingers were numb from the cold, and hitting them on the wooden door made them sting, but he bit his lip and waited. Almost instantly his mother opened the door.

Who's a mess, I'm a mess, so is this fucking plot, and book, and my sleep schedule. And my schedule in general. Holy shit my life is falling apart lol. Also I didn't edit I might do it later