In Between Days: Raising Jordan (boyxman)✅

You Outta Know

Tim

Three years before I was born, Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill came out. My mother was convinced You Outta Know was written especially for her. These types of delusions just came with the territory of being raised by a schizophrenic mother who refused to take medication and who made our lives a living hell growing up. She had multiple, multiple hospitalizations throughout my childhood, even some police arrests due to disorderly conduct or domestic disturbances. I was glad she never made it home after her last and final hospitalization.

Some doctors believed she had a stroke, but none of the tests were 100% conclusive. All kinds of medications were tried, but she never snapped out of it. Nothing would ever bring her back.

"I went down on your father in a theater, you know," she told me, this eight year old kid, like I really understood what that meant. (Listen to the song and read the lyrics to find out what I'm talking about). Google didn't exist back then, so it's not like I could "google it" online. My mother said a lot of things to me no mother should ever say to a child. Despite everything, Jordan loved her. I suppose I loved her, too, but only because she was my mother. So I loved her out of obligation.

Jordan had this fairy tale version of her and believed that someday she would miraculously recover and become this wonderfully caring, normal mother that she never was in the first place. Even when she was supposedly well, she still sucked. Of course she wasn't all crazy, just 90% of the time. I wanted a normal mother, too. I wanted to be a normal teenager and a normal college kid and party and do stupid things that most kids get to do. Not me. I was too busy raising a kid with his own set of unique issues and challenges. Even my brother wasn't normal. I blamed both parents for that one. Still, despite all of Jordan's faults I wouldn't change him.

I must have been the only third grader who knew all the words to You Outta Know, forced to listen to it over and over. Our mother knew the lyrics to just about every punk, post punk, and new wave and alternative song that ever existed. Jordan inherited her music collection and tastes, and thanks to Jamie, his collection expanded. His memory was even more phenomenal than hers. I, too, had a good memory, but it was nothing compared to Jordan's.

My head pounded from all the sangria and weed I smoked the previous night. The only song in my head was that stupid, outdated Alanis Morissette song. Why not Joy Division or the Misfits? Without Jordan's permission, I listened to the classic Misfits album he bought a few days ago while out with Jamie. If he found out I did that I'd never hear the end of it. That seemed like so long ago now. It was before Art showed up and put a damper on this fun, interesting summer. Things were going so well up until then. Before Art's unfortunate return, I was just about convinced Jordan was ready for me to share the news about me and Kelly. Almost ready, anyway.

Despite my pounding head, I wandered down the stairs, following the smell of bacon and eggs. I expected to find Jamie, but instead I found Jordan at the stove cooking. I couldn't believe he was actually cooking breakfast and he wasn't making it just for himself. From the kitchen doorway, I observed Jordan stirring the eggs, his headphones on, his head bobbing to whatever song he was listening to. I doubted it was Alanis Morissette.

As usual, he was only in his boxers, happier than usual these days. In fact, I hardly ever saw him happy. This summer he showed emotions I had never seen him express before. At times, he was almost a different person.

Watching him closer, I realized I knew that look. I probably had that look, too, from time to time whenever I was lucky enough to spend an entire night with a girl. He had that "I was fucked all night" kind of look. A mixture of emotions swept through me from annoyance and anger and irritability (at Jamie for possibly taking advantage of my little brother), to jealousy (because I wasn't the one who fucked all night), back to irritability, then to slight happiness. Was I happy for Jordan? I wasn't sure if I should be angry at Jamie or grateful. I hadn't dealt with it yet. I wasn't sure how to handle it. Jordan and Jamie completely and utterly adored each other; so much so it was kind of sickening.