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It’s quiet.
Jacob draws his knees to his chest and fiddles with a loose thread on his jeans. It’s a warm summer night in Los Angeles; he can just barely make out the sound of crickets chirping over the hum of the air conditioner. The world continues to move, but how can that be? His universe had tilted on its axis, come to a screeching halt, all while everyone else wanders through the city?
The office is cold. Its usual habitant keeps it warm, but the chill matches his mood. He runs his palm over the desk, papers still strewn about. Jacob’s eyes begin to water, and he chews on his lower lip.
Mother told him off for crying three times already. Real men don’t cry, Jacob. Grow up, Jacob. You’re embarrassing me, Jacob.
But he’s not a man. He’s a boy, a scared, lonely twelve year old, and the only person who’s ever cared about him is dead. The void inside of him had started in his chest, but Jacob feels weary to the bone. Mother flits about the house, barking orders at the cleaners and making arrangements.
Dad is dead, and all Mother cares about are her clean house and having the perfect, fanciest, funeral. It’s so goddamn fake, and everything Dad would’ve hated. The hold that Mother’s held over him for all these years amazes Jacob - what would someone so sweet and kind ever want with someone like her?
“She wasn’t always like this.” Dad leans back in his chair, swirling his scotch. Jacob scrunches his nose. Scotch smells disgusting.
“Sometimes…” Dad puts his glass down, the clink too loud in the otherwise quiet office. “Money just changes some people.”
But not Dad. Dad never forgot where he came from, never became selfish or greedy. Mother yearns for more, the biggest house, the best clothes money can buy, the most expensive food in an upscale restaurant.
The house feels too big. Emptier than ever. It’s just him and Mother, and his friends have told him that he shouldn’t feel nauseous when he thinks of his mother, but he does.
How could Dad leave him alone with her? He promised he never would! They were supposed to go to a baseball game next week, an entire day without Mother breathing down their necks, but Dad ruined it!
Mother huffed and rolled her eyes when she found him. He’d been in the bathroom, covered in his own vomit, completely alone, and all mother could do was roll her eyes like he was a naughty child. An inconvenience.
“He did it on purpose,” Mother hissed as Jacob sobbed. “Knock it off, Jacob. Don’t waste tears on him.”
Dad left him all alone. He’d holed himself in his bathroom and drank himself to death, leaving Jacob at the mercy of a woman who made her hatred of him no secret. He thought he’d been good enough for Dad, but…
Mother’s right. He’ll never be good for anything.
The door flies open. Heart racing, Jacob swivels to greet the intruder. When he makes out Mother’s shape, his stomach sinks.
“Come, Jacob. I have three suits I want you to try on, and then in the morning we have to…”
Jacob wordlessly gets up and follows his mother down the hall.
For a fleeting moment, he understands exactly why his father did it.