I’ve noticed a change in Alina since last we spoke. She seems more stressed than usual. Normally, I would breeze on past it, but Isaac noticed as well. In spite of his current situation. And yesterday, he asked me to fix it. I’m not sure I can, but I plan on trying. Knowing Alina’s life, if she’s more stressed than usual, it’s because Jason has grown even more distant to her. I haven’t had the time this semester to hang out, so I figure it’s best to make some. Perhaps he’ll admit what is wrong. Not likely, but entirely possible.
I need to get Jason to show up, so we can figure the way forward. He will not show up without something he needs and wants. Over dinner, Gregory had mentioned Jason was flailing a bit in their Mystical Theory course. Knowing my friend, he’s definitely enjoying his evening with a duck. I realize the easiest, most obvious bait is the best one. I text him a simple offer. ‘Gregory says you’re struggling in MT. Want me to meet you at the usual place to help you study?’ We generally study down at the Waffle House. High Jason would never turn down waffles, and sober Jason would never turn down my help. Assuming he isn’t too high, High Jason also probably would want my help, and assuming he isn’t actively eating at the moment, sober Jason would almost never turn down waffles, either. Confident he’ll show, if only for the food, I head down the road to the House.
Sitting down at our usual studying booth, I order a coffee while I wait. I make sure to text Irene, so she doesn’t freak out or feel the need to wait around at the bench after class. ‘I’m working with Jason this evening. Talk to you about it tomorrow before class. Sorry’ A simple, direct explanation. The waiter brings my coffee over. I make sure to say, “I have a friend coming, like normal. We’ll order food when he gets his lazy ass here.”
The guy chuckles as he walks away, and once his back’s turned, I pull out my flask and spike my coffee and slide it back into my rear pocket. If I’m going to have to deal with Jason’s emotional health, I don’t want to be entirely sober. I wait, sipping my delicious drink.
It takes Jason eleven minutes to show up. From the look in his eyes, he got lost in the walk from the pond through the woods. “Hey, Therese,” he says, “Sorry it took me so long. That duck challenged me again, and I wasn’t about to lose a fifteenth time.”
I cock my head, giving him the slightest hint of a smile. “Let me guess. It did.”
Jason made a face as he sat down across from me. “Filthy cheater,” he mutters, mostly to himself. When the waiter comes back, he orders. “Just the usual,” he says with a smile.
The waiter nods, turns to me. I stare him down and tap my now mostly empty mug. He nods and heads away. Jason begins to talk. “So, anyways, thanks for this, there’re a couple things that it takes work to wrap my mind around. I mean, it’s not like I couldn’t figure it out on my own, you know, but having someone help walk me through or whatever, it might help...”
I wait for the food to be delivered before I interrupt his rambling. If there’s food in front of him, he’s less likely to simply get up and leave. It takes our waiter about a minute to return. It seems they were expecting Jason. I’m honestly not surprised. As soon as the plate of waffles gets placed in front of him, Jason, without a break in his rambling, begins to eat. Once he’s taken a break from talking to put food in his mouth, I jump on the opportunity. “Jason,” I say calmly, “Cut the crap.” still chewing the far-too-large bite he took, Jason looks at me confused. I continue. “You’ve fallen into yourself, so I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but something is. And I don’t know what you need, but tell me and I’ll help. Get your shit together, and you’ll be fine.” I add a shrug before finishing “And if you don’t get your shit together, you and I both know all this studying wouldn’t help.”
He swallows prematurely. It takes a moment to go down, then he insists, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I preempt the rest of his objection. “Listen I noticed something at the beginning of the year, but I figured you'd work it out yourself. Tell me, what's on your mind?"
Despite my preemption, his objection continues, “Well, um, maybe I’m just…”
I cut him off with a slight glare and a shake of my head. He silences himself immediately. “Just tell me, Jason,” I press, “What’re you trying to deal with on your own?”
The silence hangs a moment afterwards. He takes a small bite of waffle before he continues. I let him, because from the look in his eyes, he’s planning on telling me. Chewing the bite to completion this time, he swallows the food, takes a sip of water, and begins. “You remember my brother, right?” he says.
I nod. “You used to send emails to him regularly, through the rewrite system.”
“So, over the summer, we hung out a bunch, right? Anyways, he got divorced before the summer and started dating this chick, right? And I met her and she’s a good person and they clearly liked one another, but he told me not to tell dad, so I didn’t,” he explains.
“That explains the additional stress in the beginning of the year. What happened over break?”
Jason takes another bite before he continues. “Well, as well as getting me more of his piss, I hung out some with him and his new girlfriend. I learn my little nephews and niece like her too, which is dope and I figure, great. But in private, my brother admits he still hasn’t even told dad about the divorce, much less the new lady. I tell him the truth, it’s his business and I ain’t going to share it with dad.”
“But with Christmas and new years, that was rough,” I finish his thought.
He nods. “Anyways, fast forward to last week, and my brother emails me to tell me he’s getting married. Dad finds out about the divorce at the same time he finds out the man went and eloped, again. Dad got pissed at him and, evidently according to his email, disowned him. I don’t know what to do.”
I think a moment, taking the opportunity to sip on my coffee. “Have you emailed him?” I ask.
“Sure but with the changes, I just feel like I’m not really helping him, you know?” he asks.
I don’t, but then again my family operates under the assumption of unconditional support, not a near constant necessity to reinforce said support. “Sure. Why don’t you leave?”
He gives me a look somewhere between annoyed and upset. “Because unlike some people at the table, I can’t just leave during hell week. They aren’t going to just let me postpone their shit for me to deal with my brother’s feelings.” He bites his lip. Clearly he’s less upset at me than at the situation.
I take another drink. As I drink, I think about the inevitable liver problems in my future and a realization comes over me. “That’s it,” I say, the slightest hint of a smirk crossing my face for but a moment.
Jason is clearly confused. “What’s it?” he asks.
“You need a valid excuse to delay your work and tests and whatnot? How long do you need?”
Jason takes a bite. “A couple days, a week should be more than enough.”
“I got you. Leave tonight, don’t tell people about it.” Jason looks at me, wanting more information before he commits to leaving and risks failure. I raise my hands slightly in defeat. “Fine,” I say, “You leave tonight, head over to wherever. I barely listen when you talk about your life.” I’m lying, but he knows that so it barely counts. And I’ve found people find it creepy when you know exactly where they and their relatives are at any given time. Taking a sip, I continue, “Tomorrow morning, Lisette will show up for her morning, let’s call it a constitutional. She’ll see you leaving for the house and feel the need to follow, because you never leave before talking with her.”
“But how—” he begins his confused questioning early.
I hold up a finger to stop him. “Save questions until the end, if you will.” Then, I get back on track. “So, she sees you wander into the street and get run over by a car. Well, I mean, you’ll go over the car, but that’s just semantics. The driver will call an ambulance, and you’ll get rushed to a hospital for some surgery that has roughly a week of recovery time. Being in a hospital and monitored constantly, they can’t just check you out or force you to do any magic work, and as long as you’re back before you’ve recovered, no one will be the wiser. I’ll even run interference for you.”
“But how am I going to get run over by a car and surgurized after I’ve already gone to my brother’s place?” he asks. I give him a slightly judgemental look and he remembers what I specialize in. “Oh, right. Shady shit and mind control.”
“Illusions and hypnosis,” I calmly correct him with the technical names of my mystical fields, even though his answer is probably closer to the truth of my specialties. I ask him the key question, even though I already know the answer. “So, are you in?”
He nods, solemnly. “Yeah,” he agrees, “But you can’t tell Irene, alright?”
I cock my head. “I wasn’t planning to. Though, I would suspect she’ll figure it out at some point.” Uncocking my head, I say, “In any case, she was not who I am curious whether you’ll want to know.”
“We both know she’s pissed at me. She doesn’t need to deal with my bullshit.” Interesting. Jason has been thinking about Alina, he just does not wish her involved. So, he is not becoming more oblivious, he is simply his usual idiot self. I dip my head, staring him in the eyes, mine filled with judgement. I really want him to get the message that he’s being an idiot. It takes a moment, but he does. “What’s happened?” he asks, “What’d I miss?”
“Alina is spinning out. Stressed, scared, tired. Even Isaac noticed, and I am certain you’re aware of what he’s going through.” I am only around eighty percent certain Jason is aware of Isaac’s recent entanglements.
“Still?” Jason almost spits out with a chuckle. So he does know, at least of its concept. “I don’t know if I can face her, though. Just maybe…” I keep my judgemental gaze fixed on him. “Fine, I’ll talk to her tonight before I go.” Then, to himself, he mutters, “You’re as bad as that damned duck, you know?”
I smile slightly. “I know,” I answer the rhetorical, muttered question that I don’t think he wanted me to hear. His body tenses as though he’s about to stand up. Looking in his eyes, I can see the debate raging. He really wants to leave after that, he feels an ideal storm off opportunity is presenting itself. But we both know he won’t. He likes waffles too much to abandon them like that. I sip my coffee and raise an eyebrow. With a groan, he settles back in and takes another far-too-large bite. I smile, victorious. “For the record,” I say quietly, “I’ve beaten that duck. It’s just a matter of patience.” Jason, mouth full of food, burst out laughing. He uses his hands to try to keep the food in, and it works to an extent. Still, it truly is a gross sight.
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