The Morning After the Fourth of July

Jake tried to stay in the shower for as long as he could, letting the steady drops of warm water wash away the nightmare that the night had been. He tried to wipe his face clean—tried to conceal the tears he felt running down his cheeks that he was afraid of even in the privacy of his own shower. Tried and failed because no matter how long he pretended to shower for, he had to get out and face what reality had to offer him. Outside of the shower were endless conversation possibilities with his mother, or terrifyingly enough, no conversation at all. Her silence would kill him if his father didn't first.

So with the blue towel that he tousled over his hair so that maybe the droplets wouldn't run down his face, and the gray t-shirt that stuck to his abdomen that he hadn't completely dried off, he left the comfort of the bathroom. He hadn't even opened the door completely before he saw where his mother was sitting out on his bed, tired eyes tracing over countless sports trophies that Jake never saw the point of. But once upon a time, the trophies brought his mother joy, and bringing her trophies every season brought Jake joy as a child, so even in the animosity he built for the objects taking up so much space on his wall, he cherished the way she looked at them.

"You never were very good at soccer, were you?" She shared a small smile while her eyes stayed pinned to the two soccer trophies on the bottom shelf.

Jake leaned his head over onto the doorframe, dropping the towel down to his side, fondly watching his mother's momentary bout of happiness. He didn't know how long it would last so he reveled in it dearly.

"No."

"You always kicked the ball into your own team's net." She laughed weakly. "Your father used to get so frustrated that McKenna would laugh at how red his face was."

She turned to Jake with the smile fading a bit.

"She was three, of course, but that didn't keep her from makin' fun of him then, and it certainly don't now."

Jake nodded, burying his smile into the doorframe as he thought about how lucky his sister was to be spending the night with Katherine instead of with the two of them in this state. He rationed that he was all the luckier for it. McKenna being home would have meant useless commentary about how the golden boy fucked up and how they should take it easy on her considering the circumstances.

Not that she won't get her chance to throw out useless comments tomorrow.

Today. He corrected himself.

His mother cleared her throat, her face rounding off into the more serious version of his mother that he had only ever had the good misfortune of meeting once or twice in his life. That smile was gone and with it faded any hope Jake had that she would be understanding and take it easy on him.

"Why'd you get pulled over?" She started, shifting her body to face the bathroom instead of the trophy wall.

"Tail light was out..." Jake avoided looking at her. "And swerving... turns out it was also curfew too."

"Quite the combo you got there." She offered, unimpressed.

If the words had been Connor's instead of hers, it might have sounded sarcastic and teasing, not carrying the laced annoyance it did now.

"I know." He nodded, swallowing any ounce of using humor as retaliation that he may have thought was a good idea.

"Where were you?"

What were you doing?

His hand snaked over the back of his neck, trying to seem more casual than he felt inside.

"Um, I was in Columbus. At the fireworks."

"You could've just come up to the Anderson's with us."

"I know." He nodded again, the panic that he had almost eradicated in the shower, settling in to find the home in Jake's nerves again.

"Why didn't you?" She posed to him.

He shrugged, putting off the real answer. "Didn't want to see Hunter."

Well, that's half the reason.

"Yeah, alright." She raised her eyebrows, shaking her head in that 'bullshit' kind of way.

She doesn't believe me.

"So you went to Columbus..." Her eyes looked away from Jake, staring at a point on the floor as she nodded her head ever so slowly Jake didn't see her do it at first. "With Connor."

Jake could feel his heart speed-racing at the mention of Connor's name. He had hoped ever so much that he wouldn't have to be a part of this conversation, but with the way his name left her mouth, it sounded like he was going to be the center point of it. Jake wasn't necessarily convinced she was pissed about him getting pulled over, but more who he was with when it happened. She didn't say anymore, so Jake felt obligated to speak.

"Yes."

She swallowed hard. "Tell me..."

Her voice faded as she bowed her head away to think. Jake didn't want to know how she was going to complete that sentence because he didn't have the heart to tell her anything. He didn't have the heart to disappoint her any more than he had already tonight. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Tell me why you were with him."

Jake felt the pressure in his chest, compounding so tightly that the words were almost incapable of leaving his mouth, but they did.

"He's my friend."

"He's your friend." She looked him in the eyes for the first time since he came into the bedroom.

She was so gentle, but underneath it all, Jake could see something pitiful in his mother's glare. Something remorseful that he couldn't quite place. She shook her head, not in denial, he knew better than that... this was confirmation, because she knew what the answer was before she asked the question.

"Are you lying to me?" She whispered so faint, it broke Jake's heart.

I'm sorry.

There was an uneasy silence that cut through Jake like the sharpest knife in the kitchen. She didn't deserve another lie, but she didn't deserve the truth either. She didn't deserve to be crushed by it like he knew she would be. She deserved the perfect son she thought she had. She deserved to hold on to that fantasy for even one more minute.

Anything.

"Yes." The word whispered from his mouth like the hushed secret that it was.

"Damnit, Lee."

Her hands fell into her lap with such aggravation that Jake swore he heard the flip switch in her head. His mother never cursed—tonight was proving to be a test of her patience. She was always so reserved, so thoughtful, so warm; she was the comfort he needed when life got hard, and now she sat in front of him with a stern, concentrated glare and Jake felt like dying.

Please, please don't hate me.

"About which part?" She asked, but Jake felt like she already knew the answer.

She knows all my answers. Why does she even ask?

Jake's chest pulled tightly in his shirt as he thought maybe this once he could breathe without it feeling like a struggle. He knew he was wrong when he felt his fingertips tingle alongside the burning sensation that found a permanent home on his cheeks. He didn't know how to respond, but partially because she didn't give him the chance.

"Connor." She stated, not as a question, but an answer.

He swallowed thickly, finding his mouth dryer than he thought it was before, rendering him incapable of finding any words to retort. So he nodded and considered it his death sentence.

Jake watched her face carefully. Her eyes darted around the floor in thought, trying to find something to land on that wasn't her eldest child. Jake wondered if she was incapable of looking at him—if when the flip switched, maybe her feelings for her son did as well. She was unreadable. She didn't cry, she didn't smile, her face didn't get red or wrinkle up in anger. She was contemplating, calculating, somewhere deep in thought.

I would kill to know what she's thinking right now.

Jake grew uncomfortable with the uncertainty of the silence, so he broke it.

"I–"

"Jake..."

She motioned her hand up to stop him, holding him silent as he sank back down into the doorframe.

Shit.

He could feel the paint chipping from the door frame underneath his fingernails as he picked at whatever he could. The room felt hot, and the silence between them was cold, tracing goosebumps up his arms as he laid his hand flat against the frame before he got the chance to deface the rest of it. She dropped her hand back down to her lap and finally brought her head back up to his level. Jake nearly shit himself when she looked at him, calm and collected—the result of taking the time to get her thoughts together.

She always was so patient with us.

His mother took a deep breath, and for once in his life, Jake had no idea what to anticipate coming next.

"Are you gay?"

It wasn't that.

She said it way too carefully. It was layered with contempt, Jake could feel it by how she cut the word short—nearly disgusted the word 'gay' even had to leave her mouth. He looked at the floor in front of him, the same place she was staring moments before. It was the neutral ground, a safe space neither he or his mother could claim.

I can't do this.

When he looked up slowly, he acted as if it took him a moment to process what she was saying.

It's too late, she knows you're deflecting.

"What?" He had the audacity to ask.

To pretend.

"No." He shook his head too enthusiastically.

Acting never was your strong suit. Jake crossed his arms over his chest, trying to seem confident, almost offended by the question. His mother paid it no mind. She saw right through him.

Her voice became angry. "Don't you dare lie to me again."

Any of the fake confidence Jake thought he had flew out the open window on the other side of the room when her voice made him flinch.

Shit has officially hit the fan.

His arms dropped from his chest as he thought about sinking back into the bathroom and closing the door.

If you do that, you're fucked.

He couldn't answer her. The words had only left his mouth once in this room and he wasn't looking to do it again. He was nowhere near ready to tell anyone else, let alone his mother. She was the last person on Earth he ever wanted to find out, and now he felt like burying himself alive so he would suffocate on dirt instead of the words he couldn't say.

I can't do this.

Staring down at the floor had never felt so heavy. His neck seemed to be stuck and his knees threatened to crumble out from underneath him. He wasn't sure even his grip against the chipped-paint door frame could save him if he fell now. The lump lingering in the back of his throat since the moment his mother walked through the doors at the police station was getting dangerously close to spilling over.

Come on Jake, no crying. Not now.

He tried taking a breath in, hoping his lungs would fill and his eyes wouldn't well with tears to the anxious rope that tightened around his neck.

You have to say something, coward.

His hand instinctively ran over his chest, brushing over the cross necklace underneath his shirt as he clutched onto his shirt collar to pull it off his neck.

God, please let this go nicely.

Fighting back every urge he felt to crawl behind the bathroom door, sink into the bottom of the floor, or jump right out of his own window, Jake inhaled as best he could and nodded. He nodded and his head felt so heavy he couldn't lift it to see her. If he truly looked up, if he truly looked her in the face, he wouldn't be able to stop the tears he fought back with every strained breath.

He heard her shuffle on the bed, a sign she was either getting up or changing her attitude. When he glanced up, just enough to see if she was still there, she was shaking her head as it hung between her shoulders.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?"

She sounded hurt, but not nearly as much as Jake. He allowed himself to watch her this time, because out of all the things she could have said, that wasn't the worst. Okay, maybe this won't be so bad. He shrugged his shoulders and for a moment he thought he could smile. Maybe he wanted to make himself feel better, or maybe he thought it would make him more genuine, but just as soon as the impulse entered his mind, his brain rendered him incapable of such an action.

"I just... I thought... you were going to tell me it's a sin or... or... I don't know..."

The look on her face was not what Jake was expecting. "Jake, it is."

His heart dropped.

So much for not being so bad.

The moment he realized he miscalculated it was too late to take it back.

"Honey, you should've told me, we could've gotten you help."

Oh, fuck. Oh God, no.

As it all sank in, Jake felt like he was going to vomit—he could practically feel the bile of an empty stomach creeping its way up his throat. No, no, this is all wrong. He tried to look at her, but when he did his heart ached in a way it never had before.

"No, no..." He shook his head, not knowing whether the words left his mouth or were still ringing in the back of his head.

"It's okay, it's okay." She ushered out to him, her energy fixating on something less angry, something more... optimistic. "We can fix it."

When he looked at her, he couldn't conceal the way his face remained shocked in denial. Of all the responses, why did it have to be this? Why from her? His mouth worked to find words he couldn't calculate quick enough.

"I– no... I'm not broken."

"I know you can't see that now, but it's okay–"

"No." Jake shook his head. "No, I don't need you to fix it."

"You don't have to feel bad, we can–"

"I don't." He snapped, his denial turning to rage, or perhaps disgust. "I don't feel bad. No... I... not anymore, I–"

"What, not since Connor?" She questioned, turning that rage back on him. "I bet he fed you a whole buncha lies you're too blinded to see."

What. The. Fuck.

"This isn't his fault, mom! I was like this before him, I just didn't tell you for exactly this reason!" Jake swung his arm out, gesturing out to her as his voice cracked under the pressure.

His face that was previously red hot with fear was now wearing the heat of something else. He was angry with himself for falling into the trap, and more frustrated now that he didn't know how to get out of it. Everything seemed so simple for her. She felt as if she were laying out a solution to Jake's problem. He could tell how painful it was for her to be rejected, but after fighting with himself for years, he wasn't willing to believe her.

"Did you have sex with him?"

The words left her mouth in cold anger that Jake almost did a double take to make sure he heard them correctly. His jaw dropped as his neck started to burn along with every inch of his face. It was as if the embarrassment couldn't be contained in the red shades of his cheeks and needed more space to inflame his skin.

"What the fuck?"

He didn't even bother to censor himself. All bets are off. If his profanity would be the thing to take him down, so be it.

"Lee, did you?!" She looked at him sternly, trying to issue some authority in a situation that had escalated past a motherly conversation.

His eyes squinted as his cheeks raised in confusion. "I– no..."

"Good." She nodded as if a wave of relief had washed over her giving her clarity.

"Good?" He repeated in ridicule.

"Honey, you didn't act on it. There's hope. You can just–"

"What? Restrain myself?! I can be good as long as I hate myself and don't fuck anyone?"

"Watch your mouth." She pointed at him angrily.

"This is bullshit." He mumbled, shaking his head. "I mean, you have to know that right? You can't genuinely feel that that's what's best for me."

"Only God knows what's best for you."

"Yeah, okay. I already spoke to God and He said we're cool, so I think that's that."

He liked to believe such was the case anyways. He wanted to believe that his prayer had been heard and that the lack of unease in the week after that was his answer. He needed to believe that when Connor said their middle names were a sign that it was exactly the sign he had been looking for. It had to be. It had to be. Jake wouldn't let it be anything else.

"Don't mock me, boy. You ain't as smart as you think you are."

"I'm not as dumb as you think I am."

The moment the insult left his mouth, Jake regretted it. There was a pang inside his chest that told him it was the wrong move, and it was right.

"You gonna talk to your daddy like this?"

Fuck.

Until this moment, Jake had erased his father from any possible conversation about the night.

Oh, I'm so getting the shit beat out of me when he hears about this one.

He closed his eyes to level himself.

Take a deep breath.

Nothing would come out of yelling at her besides pissing her off even more. Jake knew better at this point than to let his anger get the best of him, but somehow tonight it felt like she crossed a line. He didn't feel bad about lashing out when he did because he felt entitled to that rage. What he didn't feel entitled to was the repercussions of acting out of pure disrespect. Fucking two-sided bullshit.

"No, ma'am." He muttered through a clenched jaw.

Calm the fuck down.

"That's what I thought." She nodded, not in any sort of sick satisfactory smugness like his father would have, but in resolution of what could have been worse. "Your daddy can deal with the rest of this when he gets home. I'm tired."

Jake tried to settle the dispute by agreeing to something so simple he would be a fool to counter it.

"Me too."

However calm the words might have left him, his blood still boiled underneath the skin that was too hot to touch. It wasn't a lie to agree to being tired, but whether or not he would get any sleep thinking about his dad coming home would be the ultimate test of his frustration. Some intrusive thought in the back of his mind couldn't help contemplating how much easier it would be if his father never came back. It made him feel even more ill that he let his mind wander there so comfortably.

That's not a real solution.

His eyes darted over to the alarm clock beside his bed, reading off the numbers 6:31 AM in blocked red font. Eight hours. Eight hours to find a solution. Eight hours, and he anticipated spending them all in bed.