The Makeover

42

42 | Pain and fear

"How can a person be

filled with life

and then be empty?

Where does it all go?"

-unknown

The stars had long filled the sky by the time Jake Riley reached Mikey's Junkyard and light shone down on him as if the angels themselves were watching his movements. The fence surrounding it looked as it always did these days – rusted, falling apart and beyond fixing.

He moved forward, the glass in his hands swaying and threatening to drop as he stumbled over the litter in his path. Fumbling in his pockets, he retrieved a key which he slipped into the lock.

A loud sound filled the silence, and the air seemed to shiver at the disturbance of the gate swinging open. The hazel-eyed boy entered, not noticing the dusty old jacket slung over the barbed wire lining the fence.

Jake couldn't think clearly but he wasn't complaining about this. He didn't want to think but more importantly, he didn't want to feel. Not after what he had done.

He knew that he would mess up some way – eventually. His life had been going too smoothly, lately – as if everything was simply waiting to fall apart again.

Jake rounded a corner. He hadn't visited the junkyard since the last time he had come with Katie. He could still see pieces of his father in it. He passed a mural on one of the walls – concrete worn-down and paint fading. It wasn't spectacular and wouldn't be eye-catching to a stranger, but Jake stopped and brought his hand up to touch the little painted car closest to him.

He remembered how his father had drawn outlines for a much younger Jake and how he'd been allowed to paint the drawings whichever colour he wanted. Right that moment, he let his fingers drift over a pink car with canary-yellow wheels.

His father's amused voice echoed in his head. Yellow wheels, Jake? At the time, Jake had been extremely proud of those wheels and had gone on to explain that wheels should come in all colours and not only black. His father had simply smiled, pulled Jake in for a hug and kissed his forehead.

Jake let his hand slip and continued his way around the junkyard. Scrap pieces of metal were strewn around in piles and Jake managed a sigh at the mess.

No one had bothered to claim the junkyard so instead, it had stayed the exact same way since his father had died – except the joy of coming to it had died inside Jake.

He took another swig of his beer, enjoying the feeling of it travelling down his throat. His balance failed slightly as he lowered the bottle and stumbled again. He stood still for a few moments, regaining what was left of his rational thoughts.

As he began to move again, he found himself at his father's old office and he shifted in his pocket again for a set of keys.

The office was as his father had left it – everything packed away neatly and a picture of their family in a frame on his desk. Jake sat down in his father's old chair and gazed down at the frame.

It had been a while since he'd seen his mother smile – or seen her at all. In the picture, his mother stood behind his younger self, her arms slung around Jake's neck lovingly. His father stood beside her, one hand resting on Jake's shoulder and the other, around his mother.

Jake looked at it longingly. When last had he been that happy? That carefree? The smile on his face in that picture could have lit up the world. These days he could only manage a small grin, too scared to let himself be fully happy. Too scared it would be taken away – and it had been taken away, hadn't it? Yet again.