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He has a problem. Well, he and Carol have a problem. But he doesn’t speak for her unless she says, and she hasn’t, so he’s speaking for himself only.
his kid is falling apart. He's watching him (metaphorically) crumble like crushed clay. Looking back, he thinks Jackson has been hurting for longer than he thinks. Much longer.
It didn’t start in the forest, when he came home rain-soaked with a scratched up face and a bruised nose. When he locked himself in his room and swore everyone was out to get him. No, that was the climax. The climax of the movie of his kid and that other kid- what was his name? Axel- no, Exer.
He was stupid to assume that was the end of it. That this could all be blamed on stupid teenage hormones and typical drama.
Because now the wool has been pulled off of his eyes. Now, his kid sits in an office chair with bloody knuckles and a split eyebrow. Now, he’s the perpetrator of this ‘disagreement’ (that’s what the principal called it). Now his kid looks borderline catatonic; not responding to anything or anyone. He just stares straight ahead. His gray eyes seem more fitting for those on a corpse than a lively teenager.
He was so happy just a couple of months ago. Now the light has gone out. All that remains is…well, he doesn’t exactly know.
Jackson doesn’t even acknowledge his punishment. One month in detention. But Frank guesses he had bigger things on his mind. The two of them were planning to take him home after that, but the guidance counselor insisted he met the kids (whoever they were). So he was taken back into the school.
The two of them sit in the principal's office, both the principal and guidance counselor off attending to other things. He’ll admit it, he has no idea where to go from here. He’d know what to do if this was a regular throwdown formed of pettiness; but this wasn’t that.
He saw Exer when they were walking in. He looked rough, of course (jeez, Jackson really did a number on him) but he also looked odd. He had a look on his face that could only be a mix of regret and guilt. But if this was just Jackson wailing on him, why would he be guilty? What did he know?
Obviously he didn’t ask. The kid just got the snot beaten out of him and he might find it a touchy subject. Besides he doesn’t know how well confronting a bruised up teenager might appear to the average passerby.
“Something isn’t adding up.” He mutters to Carol. She sighs. “What do you mean? Our kid got into a fight with another kid. I think the principal laid it out quite clearly.” She put a hand on her temple. “I saw that other kid. There’s something that’s not being told here.” He swears. “And you know it too, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But I’m not going to start interrogating people without a good reason.” She sighs again. “Let’s just focus on the kid we’re responsible for. Please?” He could never say no to her. “Alright. Come on, we have a few hours until we have to pick him back up. We took the rest of the day off…want to go to the library?” He offers. She smiles. “I’d love that.”
A few hours later, they pick up Jackson, who doesn’t seem to be doing any better. He seems to be doing worse, actually. His eyes are red rimmed, worse than they were in the morning. It looks like he’s been crying all day.
Jackson doesn’t say anything, just puts his head against the car window. He doesn’t scream, he doesn’t try to defend himself. Some would think it’s because he knew what he did was wrong, but Frank knew what this was. This was Jackson caving in on himself. This was him giving up.
And though neither of them would admit it, there is always one hard notion that comes whenever Jackson gets like this: they can’t do anything. He just has to watch him dig his hole and then watch him climb out.
God, this was so much easier when Elijah was around.
~~~~~
Jackson sleeps for fourteen hours straight after that.
The longest stretch in months. Frank assumes it’s his body finally giving into the weight of it all.
He and Carol take turns checking in on him. At one point, there are tears streaming down his face as he sleeps. He does his best to wipe them away without waking him up.
He looks around his room. He doesn’t know why, maybe to find a clue. Maybe there was an indicator that Jackson was going to hurt and be hurt, and they missed it. He knows he shouldn’t be snooping around, but he has a gut feeling.
He opens the drawer in his desk. He finds a set of Polaroids that were probably taken at the arcade. There’s four of them: Jackson, Ron, Exer, and the blond boy who’s always around Exer. They look happy. They look like friends. The date on the Polaroid said this was taken two weeks ago. So what the hell happened to make it all go down?
He can’t find anything else. He figures. He sighs and sees Jackson still asleep. It’s not like he can ask Jackson about it. He just has to hope he can come out of it.
~~~~~~
After letting Jackson go to the Halloween dance, Frank finds him pouring gasoline in the backyard. Obviously, he yanks the bottle out of his hands.
“What are you doing?” He asks exasperated. This is the first time he’s seen Jackson do more than sleep and he’s about to commit arson. “What do you think?” Jackson retorts. “I think you’re about to set the whole place on fire.” He states. “Not the whole place. Just this little bit.” He gestures to the pile.
Jackson tries to go for the bottle again, but Frank stops him. “I’m trying to do something here.” He sighs. Like he’s just talking about mowing the lawn. “I’m trying to stop you. Maybe that indicates something.”
There’s silence.
“So…want to explain why you’re trying to burn your clothes?” He recognized those jackets, but he couldn’t remember where they were from. There had to be a reason. With Jackson there always was.
“They’re ruined.” Jackson almost whispers. “Well we can wash the gasoline out. Maybe let them air dry..” Frank offers. Jackson exhales. “That's not what I meant.”
Frank focuses on the clothes. There’s blood droplets on one of them. Another is covered in dirt.
“I can’t wear them. I can't even look at them. They’re constant reminders of what I’ve done and I’m not exactly raring for them.” Jackson chuckles wetly. “I just. The fight ruined them. I ruined them. I can’t-“ Jackson looks like he’s about to cry.
“I have nothing. I fucked it all up. Why not get rid of the evidence.” He snatched the bottle back, then. “No you didn’t.” Frank tries. Jackson chuckles at that. “Don’t say that, you know I did. At least be honest.”
“I have nothing.” Jackson exhales. “That’s not true.” Frank tries to reason. “Yes it is. I have no friends, everyone at school looks at me like I’m a monster. Everyone sided with him, and I don’t blame them.”
“All I see is what I’ve done. Everytime I look in the mirror, everytime I look at that stupid red jacket. Now all I want to do is burn all my clothes and lay in bed.” Jackson rubs at his face. “Is this what rock bottom feels like? Because I feel horrible.” He finishes.
And what is he supposed to say to that? He can’t fix this. Jackson certainly can’t.
Frank sighs and pulls him into a hug. Jackson drops the bottle and hugs back. He feels Jackson start to cry, and Frank doesn’t mention it.
He knows he can’t make it better. But he does know one thing that always worked…
“You want to get ice cream?” He runs his hand through Jackson’s hair.
“…sure.”
~~~~~~
“Tia said you’re not supposed to have that much sugar.” Jackson tells him.
“And you’re supposed to be grounded right now.” Frank retorts.
The two of them sit on the curb eating their ice cream. They haven’t talked about the fight. Or anything else important, for that matter.
He thinks about when he first met Jackson. Jackson wasn’t keen on talking and Frank didn’t really know how to raise a kid (don’t tell the case worker that). But he took him out for ice cream and they split a sundae.
Now they’re here.
“So…that other kid. Is he an asshole?” Frank asks bluntly. Jackson sighs. “Yes. And no. Both? It’s complicated. He was a jerk in the beginning, then he became my friend, and in the end I realized he had been messing with me all along.” Jackson takes a bite. “I really thought he was my friend. I thought I had friends.” He takes another bite. “Guess I was wrong.”
“Listen, kid. I know that whole…situation is really complicated right now. Me and your Tia don’t know where to even start, if I’m being honest. I know you were opposed to the idea earlier, and you can say no now. But I think therapy would allow you to process what happened.” He says his piece and watches Jackson.
“…I’ll go. If I can burn the clothes.” Jackson tells him.
“You can’t burn the clothes.” Frank argues. How’s he going to explain the burnt, dead grass to Carol?
“Then I’m not going to therapy.”
“You should go to therapy.”
“Then let me burn the clothes.”
“We’ve had this conversation before.” Frank says. “Yes, it all sounds very familiar.” Jackson agrees.
Frank weighs the options in his head. Therapy would be very helpful. If it took a little bit of burnt lawn to get Jackson there, then why not do it?
“Fine. We’re doing it tonight, though. I don’t want the gasoline smell lingering.” He tells him. “Then it’s a deal.” Jackson decides.
Frank thinks it’s a step in the right direction.
~~~~~~
The bonfire is oddly calming. The two of them sit down to watch it. A barrier of rocks was put around it so the whole lawn didn’t go up in flames.
He really didn’t want to set anything on fire. But this is important for Jackson, though. He didn’t say anything, but Frank could see it in his eyes. It’s cathartic.
The jackets burn, and he assumes it’s a weight off of his shoulders. Pun intended.
“…I can tell you the whole story. It might take a while, though. Like a rehearsal for therapy.” Jackson chuckles. “Sure. Let’s hear it.” Frank smiles. Jackson gives him a weak smile back. Then begins his story.
“So. Imagine this: my first day of school. I walk into the school. I realize I’m lost and can’t even tell left from right. Then bam! These two guys walk in, acting like they own the place…”