His Secret

Chapter 32

   "I want to tell you about me."

   Okay— What?! This wasn't happening! This boy with a million secrets was finally going to open up to me?

   Jesus.

   "O-okay."

   He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know how or where to start so I'm just going to say it."

   "..... Um.... O-okay." I was nervous.

   "Okay." He repeated after me and took a long, stressful breath. "Um, I grew up around here but I was born in Oregon. You.... remember the baseball game?" He didn't give me time to answer. "Yeah, I was born around that area. Well, I wasn't obviously born in the place where we had stayed. That place is only for you rich, snobby people." He glanced over at me, while I sat in his lap, and winked. I rolled my eyes and waited for him to continue.

   "My parents left that place and and moved out here when I was four." He paused and cleared his voice. He glanced nervously at me. "Jennifer, tell me when to stop telling the story if... if it gets to be... too much."

   I just nodded.

   "My father was, um..... a..... he wasn't the greatest guy. You know, had no job, watched his parents die in a car crash when he was eight and joined a gang when he was thirteen, broke as hell with a kid and a wife. You know... the average American."

   Average American?! He was kidding right? I mean, I guess some Americans lived similar lifestyles to the things he said— everything except the middle part!

   Jason just watched me. "Watching that..... It ruined him." He said. I knew he was referring to the car crash with his parents.

   I gave a small nod.

   "I'm not saying that gives him an excuse, though. He was stilled fucked up in the head. He beat my mother. All the time. I'm not saying that she's perfect either. She drank like crazy." He hung his head a little, his eyes going dark as he murmured mostly to himself, "Still doesn't make her a bad person."

   I hated watching him like that. His dark eyes were grave as he stared at the carpet. I put a soft hand on his shoulder. He shook his head and continued.

   "She drank like crazy." He repeated. "She was bad. My dad drank too, but she was just horrible. Honestly, I don't think I remember a time when she was halfway sober.

   "I was ten when I got drunk for the first time." He shrugged a little. "You know, I didn't grow up with the greatest family. There was no god damn food in the house, and the water got shut off by the city... Thought I try the bottle. Didn't know what the hell I was doing, I was ten." He closed his eyes for a second before he sighed and opened them again, still not looking at me.

   "I was thirteen when I beat my father shitless. I had had enough of his crap. You know, watching someone abuse the only one you cared about for thirteen years isn't a very lovely, childhood memory." He shrugged to himself again. I stayed quiet as a million questions danced throughout my mind. I stared at the side of Jason's face in awe. And yet, at the same time, I felt pity. "I didn't let him touch my mother after that.

   "But..." He hung his head in his hands. "I screwed up. I.... I started hanging out with the wrong people. The criminals, the drug dealers.... I didn't come home one night." I looked so stress while he hung his head in shame. I took one of his hands in both of mine, cupping it. He didn't look up at me but instead stared at his hand that was now locked in the center of mine. And then my heart broke.

   I saw the tears shimmering in Jason's dark brown eyes.

   I had never seen him cry before. Not even close.