A World Apart (4 page)

"Here,…"  Mr. Madison said, handing Jake some tissues.  "…use the tissues and put some pressure on the lip.  When you get home, put an ice compress on it and your eye."  He paused for a moment as he turned down the lane to Jake's house.  "You want me to speak with your dad about this?"

"No.  I'll talk to him later.  I guess I won't be able to hide this."

"Alright, if that is how you want it."  He pulled into the driveway and stopped.  "Listen, Jake, there is no shame in what happened to you.  You got jumped by three guys and did what you could.  Don't let it get into your head."

"I'll try.  Thanks for your help, Mr. Madison."  Jake said as he opened the door and got out gingerly, pain radiating from his ribcage.

"You sure you're ok?  You need any help to get into the house?"

"No.  I'm ok, Mr. Madison.  Thanks again."

"If you say so, Jake.  Look, if you ever need to talk about things that you don't think you can tell your father, like fighting or some such, you can come see me."  Mr. Madison offered.  He backed out of the driveway, gave Jake a wave and left.

Jake slowly walked to the front door, unlocked it and went inside.  He had an hour or so before his mom got home with Russ and Jane, his younger brother and sister.  He headed through the living room, dining room and kitchen, turned down the hallway next to the bathroom and went straight to his bedroom.

He pulled his phone out of his pants and saw that he had a message from Sean.  He opened it and saw that Sean had asked - "You get home ok?"  He did not feel like discussing what happened yet, so he sent a reply – "No problems."  He plugged his phone into the speaker dock next to his bed.  He took off his clothes, went to the laundry room and tossed them in the washer, then headed to the shower.

He kept the shower cold as it seemed to help with the pain in his ribs.  He carefully rinsed the blood off of his face, trying to avoid getting his lip bleeding again.  He could tell that his left eye was swelling.  He got out and gingerly dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist.  He went to the mirror and stared at his reflection, seeing that he was a mess.  His cheek and the skin around his left eye were swollen and starting to change color, his lip split in an angry looking cut, blood trickling out.  He grabbed some tissue and put pressure on his lip.  After a minute or two, he gently removed the tissue and threw the bloody remnants into the toilet and flushed them down.

Wrapped in a towel, he went to the kitchen and grabbed some ice and aspirin.  He popped the aspirin, then wrapped the ice in a dishcloth and returned to his room.  He closed the door and pulled up his music on his phone, selecting the soft mix he liked when he wanted to relax.  He slowly laid down on his bed, shifting to get comfortable.  He rested the icepack on his face, trying to cover his cheek and lip.  He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the cold on his face and the pain in his ribs, and drifted off into a fitful rest.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

Jake jolted awake up at the sound of the knock on his door.  He winced as the sudden movement reignited the pain in his side.  His face felt painful, tight and swollen, but also very wet.  The ice in his icepack had melted, soaking the towel and draining onto his pillow.  He sat up as the knock came again, grasping his side.

"Jake, are you alright?"  His mother's voice came through the door.  "Dinner is almost ready."  He heard the doorknob start to turn.

"I'm fine, Mom." Jake said quickly.  "Stay out.  I'm not dressed.  I'll be out in a couple of minutes."

"Ok.  Food will on the table in five minutes."  He heard his mother move away.

Jake stood up slowly and glanced down at his ribs.  He could see the purple and yellow bruising where he had been hit.  He brought up his hand and tentatively felt along his ribcage.  His ribs were tender, but he did not think any were broken.

He walked over to his dresser, dropping his towel and grabbed his clothes.  He felt like an old man as he struggled to dress without generating more pain.  He dressed in his sweatpants, a t-shirt and his hooded sweatshirt.  He grabbed some socks and went back to sit on the bed to put them on, along with his tennis shoes that were on the floor next to the bed.  Bending over to get his socks and shoes on caused his head to throb.  Finally finished, he straightened slowly and paused for a moment, trying to think of what he should say.

He debated creating a false story; maybe he could try and pass it off as if he fell off his bike or had some clumsy accident while messing around.  His mind raced with the idea, thinking he could avoid the sure-to-be high drama with his folks.  Unfortunately, the fact that Mr. Madison knew what had happened foreclosed that possibility.  As much as he expected the next hour or so to be uncomfortable, he knew that telling the truth now would be better than his parents catching him in a lie later.  Through the pain in his head, he tried to anticipate what his parents would say and figure out what he should say to minimize dragging this out.

While his parents were generally understanding about things, he knew that his mother Cheryl's reaction would be the one that would determine what came next.  She was definitely the more protective and emotional of the two.  She had stayed home when he and his siblings were young and now only worked part-time so she could be available for the after-school activities.  She was very demonstrative in showing affection; she was always hugging, touching or kissing her children.  She tended to make a big deal over minor injuries, so Jake knew she would probably lose her mind over this.  Realizing that this was probably going to be a big emotional scene with his mother, Jake hoped that his father would act as a calming element.

His father, Dan, tended to be the opposite of his mother in temperament.  No matter the situation, he generally stayed calm and spoke quietly and evenly.  Jake could only remember a couple of times where he heard his father raise his voice at him, his brother or sister.  While he did not physically show his affection often, he was usually full of praise and support for his children.  This carried over into the other areas of his life.  He ran a small software development company in town and was well-liked by his employees for his calm and warm personality.

Figuring that he should probably get this over with, Jake took a deep breath, stood and opened his door slowly.  He could hear the sounds of his family talking in the kitchen area, but no one was in the hallway.  He made his way to the bathroom and went in.  When he got to the mirror, he knew that the small hope he had was gone; he would not be able to hide this from his parents.  His left eye was swollen, a dark purple that spread down into his cheek. His lip had also become swollen with a large clump of dried blood crusting the area where it was split. 

As he stood staring at the damage to his face, he felt both anger and frustration rise up in him.  By tomorrow, everyone at school would know that he had let Donald get the best of him.  He imagined several different ways he could turn this to his advantage or get back at Donald, but he knew that they were unlikely to happen.  He also wished he could skip school for a couple of days, but, knowing his dad, that was not going to happen.  Realizing that he would have to go to school looking like a used piñata for all to see just made him angrier.  Knowing that he had to calm down before he spoke with his parents, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to release his anger.  He was not sure he succeeded; he was in a mood when he left the bathroom.

Steeling himself, he walked into the kitchen.  His mother had her back to him, preparing a dish.  His brother and sister were already sitting down, his father at the head of the table.  His father's chair faced the kitchen, so he was the first to see Jake as he walked in.  His only obvious reaction was that his eyes widened slightly at the sight.

"What happened, Jake?"  His father asked calmly, standing up.  "Did you fall off the roof or something?"  Russ and Jane looked over and gasped.

His mother, hearing the question and the reaction, stopped what she was doing and turned to Jake.  She gave a low cry and ran over to him, gently reaching out and holding his face.  Her eyes were full of worry.

"What happened to you?"  She said, her voice rising.  "How did this happen?  Are you ok?  Dan, should we take him to the hospital?"  Jake could tell that his mother was not going to take this well.

"Mom, I'm alright."  Jake replied, trying to mimic his father and stay calm.  "A guy and I just got into a disagreement after school, that's all."

"Who did this?"  His mother asked fiercely, her fingers tightening on his face.  Jake saw anger replace concern in her eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Mom.  It's over."  Jake said shortly, his own anger returning, responding to his mother's emotion.

"It is definitely not over, Jake!"  His mother replied loudly.  "You are not going anywhere until you tell me who did this to you!"

"Why?  What are your going to do, call the cops?"  He replied, voice rising.  He jerked his head out of his mother's hands and stepped back, wincing at the pain the sudden movement.  "Great, Mom; that's all I need!  It is bad enough I got beat up; I'm not going to be that guy who has to hide behind his mom!  Do you want me to have a reputation of being a freaking momma's boy?!  Just leave it alone and butt the hell out!"  His mother raised a hand to her mouth, stung by Jake's words.  Jake, almost quivering with his anger, spun and stormed back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

He paced back and forth, his anger overcoming the pain from his injuries.  He could feel the pressure of his emotions building in his chest; he needed to go outside and get some air.  He grabbed his phone and earbuds and shoved them into his sweatshirt pocket.  He spun around to leave when his door opened suddenly.  His father stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Sit down, Jake."  His father said firmly, face stern, eyes angry.

Seeing that his father was in no mood for debate, Jake quelled the sudden rebellious impulse that rose up.  He went to his bed and sat down, emotions seething.

His father moved to the dresser across the room and leaned back against it, arms crossed across his chest.  "I want you to tell me what happened, but I have a question first.  When did you think it became acceptable to be disrespectful to your mother?"

"What?"  Jake asked, suddenly confused.  This was not the question he was expecting.

"You're a smart boy; you heard me.  On what planet are you on that you thought I would ever allow you to be disrespectful to your mother?"  His father replied, staring straight at Jake, face seemingly frozen in a look of anger and disapproval.

Jake, daunted by his father's mood, bit back his initial sharp reply, sure that the wrong answer or even the tone of his voice would just make this day get even worse.  He slowly blew out his breath, willing himself to be calm and tried to speak softly and evenly.

"I'm sorry, Dad.  I'm just so angry about what happened.  I know I shouldn't have snapped at Mom, but she was treating me like a baby."  Jake stated as quietly as possible, watching his father's reaction.  His anger made him risk a bit more.  "She has to learn that I'm not a child anymore.  I don't need her to protect me."

His father stared at him silently for a few moments, then gave a short snort, his lips twitching slightly, and spoke.  "Good luck with that."  He moved over to the bed and sat down next to Jake.  He put his arm around his son's shoulders.  "Listen, Jake.  I know that you have had a bad day, but your mother and I will always be concerned for you, Russ and Jane.  We only want the best for you kids.  I hope you know that.  I'm sure when we are old and you are a man with a family of your own, your mom will still try to baby you.  The sooner you realize that, the easier it will be."

"Yes, Dad."  Jake said.

"Now, in spite of what you think of your mom's over-protectiveness, you had no right to take out your anger on her.  Do you understand me?"  His father finished in a tone that expected nothing other than an answer of yes.

"Yes, Dad."  Jake replied again.

His father relaxed slightly.  "Now, tell me what happened."

Jake told his father about the day's events, recounting everything that had occurred.  When he recalled the confrontation at school, his father seemed surprised that Mike came to Jake's rescue.

"I'm glad to hear that Michael did that."  His father always called him Michael.  "I know he has had a tough time since his dad died.  He has made some very bad choices in friends and behavior.  Hopefully, he can get back on the right path."  His father's voice seemed a bit sad.  "Go on."

Jake continued with his encounter with Tina and the missed ride with Sean.  He told him about his plan to avoid Donald on the way home, but that it ended with the fight outside the woods.  He finished with how Mr. Madison stopped the fight and brought him home.

"I'm glad he showed up when he did.  I'll have to go over and thank George for his help."  His father paused for a second.  "So this all started over a girl?  This Sabrina?"

"It's not her fault."  Jake said quickly and defensively.  "Donald is just a prick, that's all.  He is so..."

"I didn't say it was her fault, Jake."  His father interrupted, giving Jake's shoulder a squeeze.  "I'm more concerned about how this is going to end.  Clearly, you and Donald are never going to be friends, but how do you see this playing out?"

"What do you mean?"  Jake asked.

"You know what I mean.  Are your mom and I going to have to worry about you every time you leave whether you are going to be fighting or worse?  This can't continue, Jake."  His father said firmly.

"Yeah, but if I just let it drop, everyone will think I'm afraid of him."  Jake replied.

"So?"  His father asked.

"So?  So?!"  Jake said incredulously.  "Dad, be real.  I don't want to be seen as a big coward that people can push around."

"Look, Jake."  His father sighed.   "I'm not asking you to be a coward or to allow others to pick on you.  I just want you to think these things through.  I want you to look at courage in a different way.  I know that walking away from a fight can seem to be the hardest thing to do at your age, but as the saying goes, 'discretion is the better part of valor'.  Look, I hope you are able to live your life without having to fight anyone, but if you have to fight, just be sure you are fighting for something more than just your pride."