Jason is moving

Jason put the tiny vase with the porcelain flower back on the shelf. It was a kitschy thing. And yet it reminded him of grandmother. She had lived in this room for 30 years. Even when she found it more and more difficult to climb the steep staircase. Without her ornamental doilies on side tables and flower curtains in front of the windows, the room seemed strangely unfriendly and empty. Even before the furniture had been removed, he had noticed it. Jason closed his eyes. It was cold. Dust tickled his nose. He felt a breeze coming in from the outside, blowing through inbetween the old beams of the timber frame. Very lightly. It was winter and it was raining outside. Besides the drops pattering on the roof tiles, he heard the creaking of the old house, the gurgling of pipes. He felt strangely detached from the world. As if he had stepped out of his shadow and thus stopped time for a moment. Or maybe it was running on, but he had been left behind.

He was equally glad and sad that they were moving away after Grandmother had had to move into a nursing home. On one hand, he had grown up here and it kind of hurt to leave the house behind. On the other hand, it wasn't the same without her here either. He had often come upstairs and watched her knitting. She had asked him how his math test had gone and he had proudly shown her his A, but also his D in French. Then she had wanted to know if Peter ("that bastard") had insulted him again.

Jason carefully ran his sleeve over the violet that still blossomed on his right eye. If only it had stayed with the insults.

"Jay? What are you doing up there? Get down here and help me with these boxes!"

His father had been irritable all morning and his wife and kids had been avoiding him for the last hour. The move was stressful enough without Dad losing his mind over the movers' punctuality and acting like a child.

Jason clenched his fists. This week was just unbearable.

"Yes, I'll be there in a minute!" he shouted down the steep, wooden stairs to the ground floor, a little more aggressively than he had intended.

"Not 'in a minute', but 'now'!" his father yelled back, no less irritated. "Help me with this stupid fridge!"

"Man, just freaking … leave me alone for five minutes!" Jason slammed his fist against the wallpaper. All the frustration and anger had boiled over inside him all at once. Grandma's condition. Peter and his friends who had beaten him up. The F in English and that heated talk with teacher and parents about the transfer... and then this stupid move. The ground floor became abruptly quiet. The shelf next to him had not withstood the shock and a loud clang brought Jason back to his senses. The kitschy vase lay on the floor. The belly of the modeled watering can, which formed the body, had burst. The porcelain flower had broken off at the stem. Jason stared at it. It wasn't much. He knew Grandmother hadn't cared much or she wouldn't have left it behind, but still. It had been something nice and innocent after all. And he had broken it. His eyes filled with tears. What was happening to him? He wasn't usually this angry. Sobbing like he hadn't cried in years, he squatted down and picked up the pieces. Behind him, he heard careful footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Jay, what is it?" his mother asked in a soft and concerned voice, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I don't know, I have no idea," Jason sobbed and she took him in her arms.

His father was also watching from the landing and seemed to have calmed down. After a few minutes Jason had regained his composure and was already ashamed of his outburst.

"Come on," his father took him in his arms as well. "We're almost there. And afterwards," he held Jason at arm's length from him to look him in the eyes, "we have some plans."

Jason wiped his eyes dry. "Like what?" he muttered, less than enthusiastically.

"It's a surprise. But I think you and your sister will like it."

Jason helped his father carry the refrigerator out of the house and heave it into the moving truck.

His little sister and his mother came out of the kitchen with the last of the chairs. Then they signaled to the removal men and the family headed for their Renault station wagon to follow the truck.

"By the way, Jay," his mother called over the radio from the passenger seat, "The director called. He told me to let you know, Peter's parents have been informed. If he gives you any guff again, please pass it on to a teacher straight away. They always want to know about it now, okay?"

"Okay," Jason mumbled, his gaze fixed on the window.

He was lost in thought until he noticed that his father was no longer following the truck.

"Uh, Dad, weren't we supposed to turn a right here?"

"That's the surprise!" his mother turned to the back with a beaming smile. Jason exchanged glances with his little sister. He noticed that she was shivering slightly.

"Hey, are you cold?"

She nodded.

Jason reached into the mess behind him in the boot and pulled out his ski jacket with some force. This he placed over the seven year old like a blanket, since the seat belt was in the way. In return, she held on and snuggled close to his arm. She always did that when she was tired.

After a while, her father steered the car into a car park surrounded by trees and bushes.

"Where are we?" asked Jason, but his question was immediately answered as he got out of the car. Their arrival was met by the resounding barking of dogs that rose from behind the bushes and a high chain-link fence.

Immediately, with their hearts beating a little faster, teenager and child followed their parents into the reception area of the shelter. They almost forgot to put on their masks in time. The staff member at the entrance immediately welcomed them by name and led them to the back aisles. Sad eyes looked up at them from all directions and Jason again felt strangely detached from reality as he followed his parents.

The staff member led them into a small room with a green couch. There were toys scattered on the carpet floor. The staff member asked them to wait a moment and left. Jason looked at his mother in disbelief, but she only winked at him with equal excitement. His sister was about to squeeze his arm to a crisp, but he barely felt it.

Finally, the door opened and the staff member led a dog in. She let go of the leash and pulled the door shut behind her. Before f them stood a somewhat shy-looking pit bull, almost still a puppy. But when she saw their parents, she wagged her tail wildly and scurried over to them in a crouched position, wiggling her hips wildly. Or maybe it was more of a hop, because the animal was missing a front leg. It didn't seem to bother her though, while she almost licked the mask off their mother's face.

"We've only seen her once," their mother laughed as she tried to calm the dog a little.

"Jay, Anna, this is Lina," her father introduced them to each other. "She's been through a lot even though she's only a year old. We picked her out, but we didn't want to make the decision without you guys, so-"

"Yes!" cried Jason and Anna in unison. When Jason took Lina in his arms for the first time, he felt tears in his eyes again. But this time he wasn't ashamed. This time it wasn't bad. And maybe things weren't so bad outside this room. He would just let it come to him. But one thing he knew: he would never forget this moment.

Three weeks later, Jason quietly closed the door to room 215 behind him.

"Hello, Grandma."

Carefully, he sat down next to her on the couch.

"Hello,-" She looked him straight in the face, but hesitated. After a while, she lowered her head in shame and whispered, "I'm sorry..."

"Jason," said Jason.

"Jason, yes of course!" She gave him a light pat on the knee and her eyes lit up. "How's school?"

"Pretty good," Jason nodded. "I brought you something." From his pocket he pulled out the kitschy porcelain flower vase.

"Ooh," his grandmother made. "How nice. Where did you get this?"

"From your old room. It was on the shelf. I'm sorry, I'm afraid it broke. I've been trying to glue it back together. I hope it holds."

"Oh, it doesn't matter. How sweet of you."

With trembling hands, she slowly took the piece from his hand.

"How lovely. I'll put that on my bedside table."

Jason watched as she very slowly got up and walked to the bed. But for the first time, it didn't make him sad that she hadn't remembered his name or that she had a few more pills in her dosage tin on the table again. Sometimes things came as they did and he could only take them the same way. One at a time. Jason stood up and set the table. From his backpack he took two pieces of cake that his mother had given him.

The old lady sat down and waited while he made coffee for them both in the kitchen. When he returned to the table and was pouring the second cup, his grandmother suddenly asked with a trace of excited curiosity:

"How is little Lina?"

Jason faltered. Then he smiled.

"Good. She's doing very well."

(note: if anyone can help me find titles for my stories, please. I beg you.)