Losers: Part II
: Chapter 35

Although we had to take Jess home that night, we all slept in the same bed anyway. Usually, Manson’s bed was the one we all congregated in; tonight, I wandered up to the attic after I’d returned from dropping her off.

Vincent and Manson were both showering. Jason was sprawled on the bed, his hair damp, wearing sweatpants and nothing else as he played a game on his phone. Lying down beside him, I reached up and patted my hand on his head.

He slowly put down his phone, giving me a questioning look. “What are you doing?”

I smirked. “Aftercare.”

Laughing softly, he repositioned himself to snuggle closer. “You dumbass. Aftercare, right.”

His finger tapped rapidly across the screen as he played through the next level of the game. I didn’t know how he kept track of all the explosions, abilities, and sparkly graphics. I could handle games that were straight forward: go somewhere, shoot something, pick up items. That’s it. Some games he played were ridiculously complicated.

It was a good feeling — lying there with him. We’d been living together for years. He was one of my best friends. But our relationship was one I’d neglected, almost taken for granted. It was complicated to admire someone as much as I admired him, while also feeling this almost irrational need to protect him. From the world — from myself.

I’d felt like a threat to him when I’d first met him. Like I’d fuck up his life. I supposed, subconsciously, it made me keep him at a distance.

But feeling lonely and isolated for so damn long was exhausting; I didn’t want to do that anymore. Being cared for was frightening, so I pushed away the very people who cared about me most. In an effort not to lose the love I’d found, I almost destroyed it.

I’d heard the pain in his voice that night I’d called him after the sideshow. The idea of me being hurt, the idea of possibly losing me, had clearly shaken him. I wasn’t good at reading people’s emotions, I couldn’t always discern hidden meanings like Vincent or Manson could. But the anger and fear in his voice had been obvious.

This man I’d tried so hard to protect wanted to protect me in return.

My fingers were tangled in Jason’s hair when I said, “You know I love you. Right?” That was a shitty-as-hell way to frame that. Can’t just say “I love you” like a normal human, hell no; I had to go and qualify it like a demand.

Jason tipped his head back to look at me. “Of course I do. You know I love you back.”

I knew that, but it still felt damn good to hear it.

***

I hated avoiding confrontation. It was the opposite; I relished it. If someone had a problem with me, I wanted to have it out. I’d take yelling, swearing, fighting, anything other than simply trying to ignore it.

Hanging my cigarette out the window, I stared up the street toward Jessica’s house. Her mom was outside, wearing a massive sun hat as she pruned the rose bushes. She had long acrylic nails, like her daughter, and even while working in the yard, she was dressed like she was about to go to a fancy brunch. She’d probably been a party girl in her younger years, the woman people were irresistibly drawn to. Big hair, big personality, and an even bigger attitude.

Avoiding Jess’s house so we wouldn’t rile up her mom was something I did for Jess’s sake and no one else. But it grated on my nerves. If Mrs. Martin had a problem with me, I’d rather have her say it to my face. Let’s get the yelling and screaming out of the way already; none of this sneaking around.

Jess would probably be pissed, but I’d made up my mind. I wanted to see her and I didn’t want to wait for her to sneak out of the house and formulate some ridiculous excuse for her mother.

Jess was stuck with us. She could make whatever plans she wanted; move across the state, the country, the goddamn world. We’d just go along with her. It didn’t make much sense, but even my best laid plans rarely did. I didn’t “think things through”; I made a decision and went for it.

There was no way in hell I would lose Jess now; I’d already made up my mind she was ours. So her mother would have to get with the program.

Discarding my cigarette in the ashtray, I got out and took care not to slam the door for once. This neighborhood was too damn quiet, and it made me uncomfortable. There had been noise at the trailer park constantly. Dogs barking, babies crying, music playing — always someone shouting. Jess’s neighborhood felt like a muted version of WhoVille.

It was like Mrs. Martin could sense me coming. She glanced over as I came up the sidewalk and immediately straightened. She turned to face me, gripping her pruning shears like a weapon as I came to stand at the end of her driveway.

“Morning, ma’am.” I nodded my head but didn’t step closer. I wouldn’t put it past her to throw those damn shears at me. She looked about as horrified as I expected, but she also looked angry. Now that was an emotion I could work with, something I could get behind.

Before she could open her mouth to tell me off, I said, “Now I know you don’t want me on your property. And I’m not, see?” I motioned to the ground, where my boots were solidly on a public sidewalk. “I’m just here to pick up Jess.”

Mrs. Martin scoffed, folding her arms with her shears dangling from one hand. “Oh, is that what you’re here to do? You think you can just show up and drive off with my daughter?”

If only I was the type who could fake a smile. Instead I stood there looking hateful as hell, trying to sound polite. At least the politeness was real. My father had instilled some basic manners but not much else.

“I didn’t think it would be all that easy, ma’am, to be honest,” I said. “I figured I’d need your blessing first.”

She raised her eyebrows, widening her eyes that were the same color as her daughter’s. So many of Jess’s mannerisms were reflected in her, it was a little uncanny. The apple didn’t fall far from the stubborn tree.

“Bonica roses?” I said, motioning to the thick bush behind her. “My mom had some too, she loved them. She used to keep big bunches of them on the kitchen table. I always liked the color of them.”

“The color of them…yes, that’s why I chose them,” she said primly. “Lovely color.” She’d been surprised, and she loosened her grip on the shears, although her gaze grew no less sharp. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Lucas Bent,” I said. “I’d shake your hand but…” I motioned to her driveway again. Until she told me I could, I wasn’t taking a goddamn step over her property line. I’d stand there all day if I had to.

“You were arrested several years ago,” she said, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Yes, ma’am.” I didn’t tell her no charges were filed. I’d sat in juvie for a few days after bashing Alex over the head, until my dad eventually came to get me. Personally, I would have rather kept sitting in jail.

“What did you do?” By the way she was looking at me, she already knew. Maybe she was pressing to see if I’d lie.

She’d get the truth from me, even if it was ugly and unpleasant.

“I broke a glass bottle over another student’s head,” I said. “Split his head open about an inch. He needed stitches. He was speaking disrespectfully about someone I…someone I cared about. And I lost my temper.”

She wouldn’t believe me if I told her Alex had been talking about Jess; it would seem like I was trying too hard.

“Do you lose your temper often?” she said.

“Not as often as I used to.” I managed something like a smile then, at least it felt like I did. “I wouldn’t hurt your daughter, ma’am. I’m not like that. I know I look like shit, and probably sound like it too. But all I want from Jess is some of her time and company. She’s safe with me.”

She nodded slowly. “Oh, yes. Isn’t that what they all say?”

The door opened, and Jess poked her head out, an expression of stunned disbelief on her face. “Lucas? What are you…” Then she spotted her mother and her face plummeted. “Oh. Uh…Mom…”

“He says he’s here to pick you up,” she said, turning back to her roses without another glance at me. I couldn’t be certain, but it seemed there was a little less venom in her voice. She went on pruning, snipping each limb with particular enthusiasm.

Catching Jess’s eye, I jerked my head toward the El Camino parked back along the curb. She nodded quickly. “I’ll be right back, just need to grab my bag.”

She disappeared inside for a minute. Mrs. Martin kept her back turned, continuing to snip without a word. Her message was loud. And perfectly clear.

***

“I can’t believe you walked right up to her!” Jess exclaimed. She wasn’t angry; she seemed to be in stunned disbelief. “You’re seriously lucky she didn’t call the police. She’s going to be pissed at me.”

“No, if she gets pissy with you, call me and hand her the phone,” I said. Jess laughed out loud.

“Lucas, you can’t just…you don’t know my mom.” She shook her head. “She’s even more stubborn than I am, trust me, there’s no wearing her down.”

“No? Try me. I can wear down goddamn diamond.”

Even though she sounded exasperated, I liked the way she laughed. “Where are we going anyway? What’s the big surprise?”

“I wanted to show you something,” I said. “It’s…it’s difficult to explain but I have some friends I want you to meet.”

“Ah, shit, Lucas, I don’t have any makeup on!” she groaned, scrambling for her bag. Reaching over, I grabbed her hand, pulling it close.

“Don’t start fussing,” I said, kissing the back of her hand before I held it in my lap. “Trust me, they’re not going to care if you have makeup on, or what your hair looks like, or what you’re wearing…although I like what you’re wearing.” I was such a sucker for her in a skirt. It made me want to push it up her thighs and bury my face in her. It was yellow plaid and her shirt was white, hugging her chest like a corset. “You look sexy as hell.”

I leaned over and kissed her, and she cried out that I was going to get us into an accident, but I wasn’t worried.

I hated this town, but I knew its roads like the back of my hand; even the old rutted ones that led through the unsavory parts of Wickeston.

“You used to live there, didn’t you?” she said, pointing to Montgomery Park as we passed it.

The trailer park used to be nice, back in the 70s when it was mostly full of retired seniors. But many people had come and gone over the years and worn the place down. The paint had peeled off the old sign in front of it, and water stains leaked through the wood.

“Yep, home sweet home,” I said. The trailer park was backed up to a drainage ditch, where people had been dumping their trash for years. Old mattresses, broken furniture, glass bottles, and other pieces of refuse were scattered all over the area.

Turning down the narrow dirt service road alongside the ditch, I parked and turned off the engine. After several seconds of silence, curious little faces poked out from beneath the trash.

“This is it?” Jess said.

Nodding, I put my finger to my lips. “They’re a little shy, so try to keep your voice down.”

She looked confused, but she got out of the car after me. A few little faces darted back into hiding as I reached into the bed and pulled out the supplies I’d brought.

As she watched me open up a box of Friskies, Jess said, “Lucas…why do you have all this cat food?”

“For my friends,” I said, keeping my voice low as I motioned for her to follow me. There were several metal baking trays I’d hidden in the shade of the trees nearby, and I ripped open a bag of kibble to pour out on the trays. Clicking my tongue to encourage them to come out, I stood back from the trays for a moment and waited.

Cats, at least a dozen of them, came running out from hiding. Jess gasped as they rushed around us, tails in the air, meowing loudly for food. Some were brave enough to rub around my legs, but others held back, too wary to come close.

“Oh my God, are these all strays?” she said. She kept her voice down, but I could see how badly she wanted to reach down and pet them. The cats began to chow down, even before I added several cans of wet food on top of the kibble.

“They’re strays,” I said. “Most of them are feral and have been out here their whole lives. This colony has been here for years.” I stepped back, giving the more frightened cats a chance to feed. “I used to come back here to smoke so my dad wouldn’t give me shit about it. That’s how I found out they were here. They were hungry and no one was feeding them, so I started bringing them food. And I’ve been feeding them ever since. I try to come out once a week. But if the weather is rough, I’ll come more often to check on them. I used to have shelters out here for them, but people kept breaking shit.”

People were fucking cruel, especially to cats. When I discovered some teenage assholes were bringing firecrackers back here and trying to catch the cats, I almost went ballistic. But they never came back after they showed up one day and found me waiting for them.

“I’ve managed to trap most of them and take them to the vet,” I said. “The local shelter has a program to get strays spayed or neutered for free. But there’s some I’ve never been able to catch, so…” I motioned toward a tiny orange kitten that toddled out from the weeds. Jess squealed in delight, quickly covering her mouth to muffle the sound.

“It’s so tiny!” she gasped, watching the kitten get into the food. I’d suspected another litter was born recently, but with only one kitten making an appearance and no mother near her, I had a bad feeling they hadn’t made it.

Life was rough out here, and I couldn’t save them all.

Moving slowly, I plucked the kitten out of the bunch. She was immediately feisty, twisting in my grasp and giving me a vicious, spitting hiss. She put her little paws up and stuck out her claws. She fit in my palm, and I held her close against my chest, forming a cocoon with my hands for her to hide in while Jess gently stroked her back.

She felt too thin, too fragile in my grasp. She was obviously malnourished, too young to be weaned.

“No one else knows about this,” I said, and she looked up at me in surprise. “It’s not that I think it needs to be a secret. It’s just always been my thing. It makes me feel like I’m doing some good. If I can make their lives a little better, then it…it means something. But I never wanted to brag about it, or make some big show of it…”

I wasn’t sure why I’d suddenly brought her here. As I’d bought the food yesterday, the thought had come into my mind and never left. Something I’d never shared with anyone, that had only ever been for me, I wanted to share with her. No…I needed to share it.

So gently, she took the kitten in her hands. The baby looked at her with wide blue eyes, still milky with youth. But she didn’t hiss again as Jess held her close under her chin, talking to her softly.

“I think she likes you,” I said.

“She’s so soft.” Jess kept her voice a whisper. Opening another can of wet food, I set it down in the bed so the kitten could eat without competing with the adults. She had a massive appetite, and growled as she dug into the food, taking the largest bites she could fit in her tiny jaws.

“She’s a little fighter,” I said. She growled even more as I stroked my finger down her spine, her entire face messy with food. When I looked up, Jess was watching me.

“I think that’s the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on your face,” she said. “I had no idea you liked cats. Why don’t you have one at the house?”

There wasn’t an easy answer. It wasn’t the dogs I was worried about; Jojo was a softy who wouldn’t hurt a fly, and Bo might act tough but one whack from a cat and he’d learn to respect them.

“I guess it’s…I haven’t had a cat in a long time. I never really had one as a pet at all, not for very long at least.”

I wasn’t going to dig into the subject, but Jess was getting too damn good about seeing past my evasiveness. She laid her hand against my cheek, stroking her thumb over the stubble on my face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes. No. Both. Talking about it, disgustingly, felt an awful lot like vomiting. I didn’t want to — but it would probably feel better once it was over.

“There’s not much to talk about,” I said. “Pops didn’t like cats, but I found one when I was nine years old. A stray had a litter under our front porch, and once they started wandering around, my dad chased them off. One got left behind, the smallest. He had a weird face, a birth defect; it made him look like he was always frowning. I tried to hide him in my room, but you can’t really hide a kitten.”

My stomach felt like it was cramping. Manson would have called it a trauma response, but I tried to ignore it.

“He told me to get rid of it,” I said. “Told me to get it out of the house and that he’d shoot it if he saw the cat around the property.”

Jess sharply drew in her breath. Her expression was pained, horrified. This was something I rarely talked about, and I didn’t expect much of a reaction when I did. Most people I knew were raised similarly, so things like this wouldn’t strike them as shocking.

But Jess had experienced nothing like that; it was shocking for her. My knee-jerk reaction was to tell her it wasn’t so bad. I’d survived. I turned out just fine.

But maybe her reaction was normal, and the numbness and disconnection I felt around it…wasn’t.

I swallowed around the sensation of something stuck in my throat. My body felt strange but my brain remained a void, refusing any emotional input.

“I couldn’t let the little thing fend for himself,” I said. “So I took him and left. I planned to run away and never go back. I didn’t think it through; I was just a kid. Once night set in and I was still walking, I started to realize I’d have to go home. I had to eat. I still walked all night, with that cat’s little head sticking out of my backpack, bawling my eyes out because I thought I’d have to leave him somewhere.”

That memory cut through the numbness. It still felt real: the pain of being so alone, so helpless to do anything. I hated that feeling with every bone in my body.

“What did you do?” she said. She’d moved closer and it helped that she wasn’t looking directly at me but instead down at the cat. When she watched me, I worried too much about what my face was doing.

“There was an old lady who lived a few miles from us,” I said. “Mrs. Isabella Thorn. Most of the kids around town thought of her like our granny. I don’t know why the hell this old woman was sitting out on her porch at five in the morning, puffing on her pipe, but there she was. She took the cat and told me she’d keep him safe. That was that. I went home. Never had another animal until Manson got Jojo, and then Vincent moved in with Haribo.”

I finally looked at her again, expecting pity or sadness. Instead, there was fury in her eyes.

“Who the hell treats their kid like that?” she blurted. “Threatening to kill an animal? Scaring you so bad you ran away? What the fuck! If he wasn’t already dead, I’d —”

She cut off abruptly, her eyes going wide. But I stopped her before she could apologize.

“Trust me, if he wasn’t dead, I’d kill him again myself. I hated my father. Hated him with every goddamn bone in my body. He made me hate him. He thought that showing emotion or getting attached to things made you weak, made you less of a man. Toys, pets, my own mother — a real man wasn’t supposed to care about any of that shit.”

“You were a child!” She was so angry she sputtered, scaring a few cats. “Kids need comfort! Kids need toys! I just…I can’t imagine —” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry you went through that. It’s…it’s sick.”

Sick…yeah, I guess it was.

“I guess he was right, in a weird way,” I said. Despite how much I detested my father, he still raised me. He’d been the biggest influence in my life, after my brother was taken away. “You let yourself care too much about something, and it makes it that much worse when you lose it.”

“But it’s worth it,” she said fiercely. “Yes, we all lose things in our life. Things we love, people we adore, really important things. And it hurts. It absolutely sucks and sometimes the pain feels like it will never stop. It’s worth it even when it’s hard.”

My intent hadn’t been to get emotional. But I was anyway, further confusing myself. Something in my brain had decided it wanted to be heard; it wanted to break down the wall that had kept me safe for so long.

Now I was surrounded by the rubble of my defenses and didn’t have a clue what to do with myself.

“We should take her home,” I said suddenly, nodding toward the kitten. “The boys won’t mind, and she won’t survive out here. Not alone.” I petted her gently, getting another vicious hiss before she went back to inhaling her food. “Damn, so angry. I’m trying to help you, you know.”

Somehow, my own words acted like a boomerang. I flung them out without a thought, only for them to come right back and smack me in the face.

The people that cared about me would always try to help me. Even when I reacted angrily, on instinct, they still picked me up and looked after me. Sharp claws and all.

Jess lay her hand atop mine, and my heart skipped a beat.

“You deserve so much better than what life gave you, Lucas,” she said.

Looking at her perfect fingers on top of my crooked ones, I said, “I don’t know what the hell I deserve, Jess. I don’t want to be angry all the time. I don’t want to always feel like I’m fighting the world. I just want to live. That’s all.”

“I know,” she said. “You won’t be angry forever. Only sometimes. And it won’t hurt forever either.”

“Only sometimes,” I echoed, and she nodded.

“I’m glad you brought me out here,” she said. “It means a lot that you wanted to share this with me.”

Fuck, my throat was getting choked up. Everything still felt tight and stifling — but it was like I was finally breathing.

“Lucas.”

She held both my hands in hers. God, she was terrifyingly beautiful. She was so tender it hurt, and when she looked at me, I felt like I could shatter into pieces.

“I love you, Lucas. I love you, even if you don’t love me back. Even if you don’t completely trust me yet. Even if —”

I put my fingers against her lips, stopping her. My heart was pounding a million miles a minute, and my brain was flying as quickly, too fast to grab a single thought — except one.

“Why would you love me?” They weren’t the words I wanted to say. They weren’t tender, they weren’t soft, they weren’t the words she deserved. But I needed to know, because if I didn’t, I’d convince myself it was all a lie.

I wasn’t the person that people loved. I was the person who was tolerated, the one who was begrudgingly allowed. I was detestable, unpleasant, rude, and temperamental.

“Because you’ve always told me the truth,” she said. “You’re honest, but you care so much. I know you try to pretend like you don’t. And you’re so strong. You’re brave. You went through so much shit and you’re still…you’re still kind.”

“You don’t mean that.” My voice was far too weak for my liking.

“Yes, I do. Look at what you’ve done, for creatures that can’t even do anything for you in return! Most of these cats will never let you touch them; they might never trust you at all. But you’re still here, every week, making sure they’re taken care of. Making sure they have a chance. You’re trying to give them what the world never gave you.” She swallowed hard. “You showed up and talked to my mom, knowing she didn’t like you, knowing she’d judge you. And you protected me, even when I didn’t know I needed to be protected.”

Closing my eyes, I bowed my head and folded my arms, trying my damnedest to keep it all in. It was too much. God, it felt like it would crush me.

“You deserve to be loved, Lucas,” she said. She was close, and her voice was low, holding me like she was protecting me. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to heal.”

“Goddamn it.” I hurriedly scrubbed my eyes before I put my arms around her and crushed her against my chest. I was holding her too tight, I knew it, but I feared that if I loosened my arms even a bit, she would vanish and this would all be a lie. Replaying her words repeatedly in my head, I tried to force myself to believe them, to stop questioning them.

I deserved to heal — what the fuck did I need healing from, I needed to just get over it.

I deserved to be happy — why the hell should I be happy?

I deserved to be loved — a person like me didn’t deserve love.

As if I could hide myself there, I pressed my face against her hair. It was a hell of a lot easier to be honest with her when I was angry, not when I was a blubbering mess.

“I love you too.” What fucking terrifying words. But they didn’t kill me to say, the world didn’t implode. So I said them again, to be sure. “I love you so much, Jess.” God, my stomach was in knots. “I fucking love you.” The more I said it, it was like I couldn’t stop. The words felt like weights dropping out of my mouth, making me lighter every time. “I love you so much that I can’t let you go.”

She nodded against me, and she didn’t need to say a damn thing. She loved me, and I believed her. She thought I deserved better things, nice things — and possibly for the first time in my life, I was beginning to think I deserved that too.