Jake takes a Stand

Jake Harvey climbed up the rusted fire escape to the rooftop of Ol’ Fisherman’s Wharf. He pulled out a six-pack of beer that he had purchased with a fake I.D from his backpack and took a seat on the ledge, letting his legs dangle over. This was his quiet time, a place where he could escape all the chaos in his life; his only piece of heaven in his very own private hell. 

The sunset lit up the sky in fiery hues of orange and purple and he knew he‘d have to return home soon. He hated it there. After he swung back a couple of beers he started to feel slightly buzzed. What if he was to jump? The thought suddenly crossed his mind. He looked down below toward the slick cold pavement. Would it even matter? Would anyone really miss me if he was gone? He wanted it all to end, all his pain and suffering. He was up to his ankles in shit and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to pull his way out of it. It would be so easy, he thought, just to fall, “accidentally” slip. 

He took a long swig of his beer he had drank quite a few bottles by now. What was this? His fourth beer? His vision was a little blurred and he had to focus on the bottles that he had carefully aligned on the edge. There were five empty bottles and a sixth in his hands. He let it slip through his fingertips and watched as it struck the ground below and shattered into pieces.  Jump, jump, jump, the thought raced through his head as he stood close to the edge. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst through his chest if he didn’t do something to end it. 

Then suddenly a sense of calm washed over him and he took a step back. Not yet, he thought. He wouldn’t give up without a fight. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to turn things around and make some changes. Things had to get better, they just had to, he thought as he started to make his way back home.      

He returned to the dark and dreary little house and shuffled over to his bedroom and with a deep sigh flung himself onto his bed. At first, he assumed no one was home, but then he could hear his parents going at it in their bedroom.

         "Great." He muttered under his breath. Didn't they know this was the time he was usually back from school, give or take a few hours after?

The squeaking of the bed followed by the pounding of the headboard hitting the side of his wall was more prominent in his bedroom, seeing as they shared a wall. He could hear his mother’s muffled moaning and the grunting of his father from the other side. Throwing on his earphones and blasting rock music in his ears was just enough to drown out the sounds as he smothered his face into his pillow and drifted off to sleep. 

Jake awoke to the sound of the fire alarm going off and the smell of smoke. How long was he out? He checked the clock on his bedside table but it was only eight o’clock and the sound of the smoke alarm meant it must be dinner time. His mother must have been cooking one of her famous burnt or charcoaled something or other. He got out of bed and headed out of his room to find his mother and father in the kitchen.

“Oh, I burnt it. Darn thing.” His mother cried out, taking the burnt meatloaf out of the oven. 

“Well, weren’t you paying attention?” His father John huffed at her from the small dining table.

“It’s not that much, I’ll just scrape off the top.” 

Jake went over to the fridge.

“Where the hell have you been?” His father grumbled.

Jake ignored his father’s comment and raided the fridge for some orange juice. He started to drink out from the carton until his mother scolded him.

“Jake use a cup.” She got a small glass for him and he used to pour himself some juice.

His mother’s name was Rebecca, she was a tall thin woman with a shrill voice. Jake often felt sorry for her, she was too gullible and too eager, please.  She often reminded Jake of a lost child trapped in a woman’s body. 

Jake took a seat opposite his father and Rebecca started to prepare their plates of mashed potatoes, peas, and burnt meatloaf. Jake always tried to encourage his mother and compliment her when he could, hoping one day she’d have some sort of confidence boost to leave his father. 

“Looks, great mom.” He told her.

His father gave a sarcastic chuckle but no one paid it any attention. 

“Oh thank you.” She smiled excitedly as she took her place in between the two men.

No one really talked at the dinner table. They ate in awkward silence. Rebecca tried to start little conversations here and there, but her efforts were wasted. Jake was eventually saved by the sound of the doorbell. His friends Mitch, Todd, Chris, and T.J were at the door, he forgot they were all supposed to do something tonight. He let them inside and the boys all gathered inside his bedroom. 

“We're gonna go out tonight or what?” T.J asked.

“Heard Tiffany Sanders is throwing a party at her parent's house, we can go crash it,” Mitch suggested.  

He felt some relief having his friends drop by unexpectedly, though they raided his room for forms of entertainment. They all talked and joked around trying to decide what to do with their evening when suddenly there was a loud crashing sound. Everything came to a standstill. Jake’s father was heard yelling and his mother was crying and shouting back. Jake felt himself go completely numb. 

“Sorry man.” Todd broke the silence in the room after some time.

“Yeah.” T. J agreed. “Me too.”

They were his closest friends and knew Jake had it rough there. They had each been with him under similar circumstances before, but this time was different.  Jake was about to lose it. He wrung his hair with his fingers and tried to fight back tears of frustration. He clenched his fists and started to pace back and forth. He couldn’t stand this any longer and it needed to stop. Suddenly the adrenaline and years of frustration kicked in. A quick sudden outburst and he was out the door charging toward his father. His friends quickly came tumbling after him.

John was holding Rebecca by her hair with one hand and had his fist ready to slug her again. Jake without a second's hesitation grabbed his father from his shirt collar and punched him right across the jaw, giving him a busted lip. Rebecca quickly scrambled back to get out of the way. Jake started after his father once more with his adrenaline running high, but Chris and T. J jumped in and held him back. Jake tried to calm himself and eventually shook his friends off him. John hadn’t seen Jake coming and was still in disarray as he touched the blood on his lip with his fingertips.

“Jake? What the hell?” He mumbled a little dazed, he shook his head in order to see straight.

“I’ve had it!” Jake shouted. “I’ve had enough of you! Don’t you hit my mom again, you hear? You better not ever lay a hand on her ever again or I‘ll-” 

“Or you’ll what? Whatcha’ gonna do? You wanna fight me, boy, is that it?" John rolled up the sleeves of his work shirt a bit more and clenched his hand tightly into a fist. “You don’t have the guts.” 

Jake started forward once more his eyes focused only on his father, but his friends held him back. He calmed himself down once more and shook his friends off.

“You hit my mom again and I swear I’ll kill you!” He looked his father dead in the eyes, and then stormed out of the house.

John turned to Rebecca her nose was dripping with blood

“Go clean yourself up!” He spat at her.

Rebecca immediately stumbled to her feet and rushed off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. John rubbed at his jaw and went to the kitchen sink to spit out blood. Feeling around his mouth, he pulled out a tooth.

Jake shoved his hands deep within the pockets of his jacket as he walked down the road with his head down. His friends tried to cheer him up, but his heart was still racing and his blood was still boiling. It was the first time he ever stood up to his father.

“You know what we should do?” Todd broke the silence. “We should get super wasted!” The five guys burst out with laughter as they headed down the road. 

Jake’s friends thought it would be best to blow off some steam, so they took him to Bob’s bar, where they drank some beer and played some pool. Bob was Chris’s stepfather and though he knew the boys were all underage, he didn’t care so long as they were all being somewhat supervised. He figured boys will be boys. They all got super drunk and then headed over to the park where they hung out and got high. It wasn’t until the sun started to rise that they decided they should start to head home. It was a school night after all. They all offered Jake a place to crash for the night, but there was somewhere else he would rather be tonight.

Down on Suffix Lane, he came to the Della Rosa Mobile home park, found the little pink and white mobile home with the planters in front and knocked on the pale blue door. When no one came to the door, he knocked harder and louder. Within a few moments, Mrs. Huttson came to the door.

“Jake? Jake is that you?” Her eyes squinted in the dark. “What are you doing here? Someone could have seen you.” She scolded as she took hold of his shoulders and pulled him inside the trailer.

As soon as he stepped inside the entryway, he kissed her roughly and started pulling at her robe, kissing her neck and shoulders, cupping her breasts. Mrs. Huttson was a teacher at his school. He had begun having an affair for two months now. She was a rather lonely soul, especially since most of the time her husband wasn’t home. He was often away getting loaded at the bar down on Briars Street. She had taught him a great many things, but hardly any of it happened in class. 

“Wha- what happened to your face.” She asked, taking notice.

“Were you in a fight? Jake? Jake? Was it your father again?” 

She pulled away despite his disappointed groan and led him into the bathroom. 

“I need to get a good look at that. Jake, you should really report him to the police.”

“Well, why don’t you leave your husband? He’s no better.” He grumbled. “Or better yet, let’s run away together.” Though there was sarcasm, he partially meant it.

“Pfft, yeah right, cause that’ll happen.” She nervously chuckled. “Listen you can't stay here tonight.” She dabbed the dried blood off. “Billy just went out to get some smokes. He’ll be back soon.” 

She patched him up and quickly turned him out just in time to see her husband’s rusty truck turn the corner. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and with no other place to go, ended up back to the place he often dreaded the most. Back at home, the porch light awaited him.