Little Jason

"Breakfast is ready."

Little Jason's mother put his plate of french toast, still sizzling, in front of him. The butter was melting in different directions from the warm, thick syrup. He slowly removed a chunk of it with a serrated knife, stabbed it, and put it in his mouth. He knew it was delicious, but it felt tasteless somehow.

"No thank you?"

His face turned red. He felt his neck tense. He put the knife down, hoping she would leave. And she did with a dramatic sigh. 

"I'm sorry, mom," he said. 

She didn't respond or look away from the dishes she had started to wash. Perhaps he had waited too long to react. 

"The food is really good," he tried again. 

Still nothing. She seemed to get more noisy with the dishes, nearly throwing them into cabinets and drawers. He tried not to care, tried to keep eating, but his appetite was gone. 

Little Jason brushed his teeth quickly, packed his homework in a folder, grabbed his books and waited by the kitchen counter. There was no packed lunch sitting there, but he was in no place to make demands. His mom was watching TV in her bed. 

His ride honked twice from the driveway. No lunch today I guess. He gingerly stepped through the icy mud, shaking off his shoes as best he could. He read Nancy Drew the whole way to school while The Backstreet Boys played. His classmate tried to get him to sing with her but he wouldn't. Couldn't.

He felt like he was underwater during class. As if everyone else was standing outside the pool, it was adult swim, and somehow he was stuck drowning in the deep end with no lifeguard on duty. He felt good there though. He didn't see any reason to stick his head above the water. He deserved to be there with the twisting sensation he felt in his stomach. 

His teacher would occasionally come by and ask if he was okay, and he would force a smile, say yes, and hope they moved on quickly. One teacher lingered. Why won't she go? She had those glasses with thin chains dangling from the lenses and a bob of curly hair that looked like a wig but probably wasn't. 

"I'm doing just fine," said Little Jason, the lie causing his stomach to twist more fiercely. The genuine concern in her eyes didn't help either. 

"Are you sure?" she asked. She smelled of strong perfume as she knelt to get close to him. She smelled like she cared. 

"Yes. Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

Little Jason's foot tapped. She looked at him as she stood up and went back to the front of the classroom to teach some more Social Studies. 

He shuddered as his mom pulled up in the line to pick him up at the end of the day. But she was smiling and said something about how his dad would visit them later that day. She smelled of perfume too, like she wanted his dad.

His stomach growled and his mother gasped. "I forgot your lunch!" She grabbed him a granola bar. Little Jason took it but just held it limply in his lap. He liked to look out the window. He could see his mother glancing at him quickly in the reflection. He also watched the trees racing by and the sun at an angle, casting shadows that easily kept pace with the trees and the Chevy Equinox. Little Jason admired that and wondered if he behaved well if he would be allowed on the Nintendo. He ate his Nature Valley bar, careful to keep the exploding crumbs contained. His mother didn't fail to notice the effort.

He swept the kitchen, did his homework, and cleaned the litter box. He asked his mom about her day and told her about Ms. Davis who had taught him some Asian Geography. He pointed to Nepal on a map and his mother smiled. He asked her if he could spend thirty minutes on the Nintendo. She nodded, a bit flustered that he had broken a happy moment with a selfish request. So he bowed his head in submission as he timidly made his way to the game room. 

He heard his father enter the house. He heard him sound pleasant, though he couldn't hear any words. He really didn't want to hear any words and turned up the game volume a bit. 

Mario slammed a question mark with his head.

Little Jason heard the beer hit the counter with a familiar clink. He heard his mother raise her voice at him. His dad's voice sounded calm and reassuring. 

Mario shot fireballs at a turtle. 

He heard the pop of a beer bottle cap as it hit the counter. 

"How dare you," he heard his mother shout. And her voice softened again so the words were incoherent. 

He heard his dad laugh. Maybe it was an attempt to calm her. Little Jason felt paralyzed with fear. He held down the B button and Mario was running at top speed along the top of the screen. 

He heard a bottle shatter. "Fuck you," his mom screamed. 

"Ah," shouted the father. Another bottle shattered. "How dare I? How dare you!" There was more incoherent conversation.

He heard a door slam, and the familiar sound of his dad's run-down truck firing up. His tires screeched. "I love you, you fucking bitch," his father yelled. 

Little Jason muted the game, racing through the levels. He was glad for the extra time on his game tonight. 

"Hey."

At first he thought he had heard a voice, but he wasn't sure so he didn't acknowledge it. 

"Hey," louder this time. It was a voice coming right outside the game room door. His mother sounded choked up. 

Little Jason got up slowly and opened the door. His mother's hand had a few streaks of blood on it from thin cuts on her palms. 

"Are you okay," she asked. 

"Yes, mom," said Little Jason. 

She turned to walk away but he could tell she wanted his company. He walked with her down the stairs. 

"Your father just always does what he does, huh? He's never gonna change. And lord knows I've tried." She wiped some snot from her nose with a trembling hand. It smeared a little blood on her nose and cheek. "I told him if he brought that goddam beer here one more time, we'd be done. And I'm done this time. What a fucking moron! He says he's in AA but that's a fucking lie. Sorry, I shouldn't swear around you. Do as I say not as I do, right? Hey, hey it's okay."

She knelt down much like Ms. Davis had. Her short brown hair was straight though, and it was hard to ignore her bloody cheek and tear-stained face. "It's really gonna be okay. You're gonna be great and smart and change the world someday. I believe in you. And I'll make sure that man doesn't influence your life another second. I have full custody anyway."

Little Jason nodded, really wanting to go to his room. Plus he'd heard all this before. But he got in bed with his mother, while she held him, trembling, to her chest. He felt sick again and fully exited his body in his mind. In his mind he went to his room and curled up in a ball and watched TV at the same time. He liked to imagine his TV being in his room in such a way that he could watch it from his bed. 

The last thing he remembered before his eyes shut was his cat, Phoebe, sitting on the floor, licking her paws.