A Not So Sweet Fairytale

We arrived a bit later than expected so it was about dinnertime, so I suspected that Jeffrey would already be in the kitchen making a meal for everyone, as he seemed so fond of doing. Before slamming the door of my truck shut I stole a glance at Mike and Billie Joe and hoped I could communicate to Jeffrey to be quiet. Tre` and I wanted them to “get some stuff from the store” and then and only then would they find out what had happened. I just barely turned my back to them in time to hide a huge grin that would have been a dead giveaway and I saw Tre` do the same.

I ran to the door, unlocked it and didn’t wait for the guys to come through with their luggage. I tried to find the kitchen, but I got lost [again]. I had had so much trouble with this house and finding all the rooms that I was getting frustrated. Then I head the guys shut the front door. I had to find Jeffrey. I really didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I veered off to a room that seemed familiar and soon enough I found the kitchen, at the same time as Mike, Billie Joe, and Tre`. I quickly started presenting the international sign for be quiet, but Jeffrey didn’t look up. In fact, all he did was say, “Hey.”

“Uhhh… hi. So what are you making?” I asked, surprised. I would have thought that he would be staring at Billie Joe like mad by now.

“Just some spaghetti stuff-don’t worry it’s a vegetarian sauce. But I also have meatballs for those of us not dedicated to that sort of thing,” he continued, still not even glancing up.

“Alright well then. Wanna watch the tube?” Tre` suggested sensing that there was something wrong. Billie Joe and Mike shrugged, but I stayed.

“I think I’ll just help Jeffrey make dinner,” the trio shuffled towards the tube as I sat down on the only part of the immense countertop that wasn’t being used.

“Don’t you want to watch the tube as well?” He asked, still refusing to look up at me.

“Nah. I’d rather find out what’s going on with the chef,” I murmured.

“Nothing.”

“Then why won’t you fucking look at anyone?” I questioned.

“What are you talking about?” He demanded, still not looking up at me. I just glared at him and I saw him flinch, feeling the piercing gaze without even looking at it.

“Fine,” he sighed, looking up at me, but afraid to look straight into my eyes. “I just want to get through this dinner, okay?”

“It’s just dinner. There’s nothing to get through,” I told him, still confused.

“Yeah, maybe not for you. You don't know how hard it is for me to be there, next to Billie Joe and all he talks about is his wife and kids. Look, never mind. Dinner’s ready,” he mumbled, looking down again. Shaking my head, I made my way to the TV room with three plates piled with noodles. Two without meat and one with the meatballs that I had been drooling over. After they’d each managed to grab a plate I headed back into the kitchen to get my share. I dragged a reluctant Jeffrey into the TV room since he was being annoyingly quiet and making Mike and Tre` suspicious, each for different reasons.

After ten minutes of silent, I suggested a game of poker.

"Fine,” they agreed and at last Jeffrey looked up at Billie Joe and Mike for the first time since they'd entered the house.

"What the fuck happened to you?” He exclaimed, jumping up and I barely managed to catch his nearly empty plate of spaghetti.

"What are you talking about?” Billie Joe questioned, looking a tad bit concerned and me and Tre` did the best we could to keep straight faces after glancing at each other.

"I'm talking about those penises drawn all over your face,” Jeffrey told him.

"GET THEM OFF!!! GET THEM OFF!!!” Billie Joe screamed, jumping off into the air and rubbing his face in vain, then stopped when he spotted Mike.

"Dude. You have the word PUSSY branded to every part of your face,” Billie Joe stuttered, completely forgetting his own penis problem.

"Tre` you are a dead man,” Mike seethed and I saw Jeffrey eyeing Billie Joe's ass as he turned around to watch Mike tackle Tre` to the ground.

"H-hey. It wasn't my idea,” Tre` managed underneath Mike.

"Yeah, then whose was it?” Mike asked.

"Your d-daughter's,” Tre` replied, flipping Mike underneath him.

"Torrie. You are dead,” Billie Joe breathed and I squealed (yes, squealed) and turned around and started running for my life with Billie Joe right on my trail.

I slid behind a doorway so that Billie Joe wouldn't see me until it was too late. It worked like a charm and before he could say 'ow' he was on the floor with my foot underneath his.

"Jesus. I think you broke my nose,” he muttered, clutching his bleeding nose.

"Now why would Jesus want to break your nose of all people's?” I asked sincerely and he merely rolled his eyes.

"Just help me up, would you?” Billie Joe asked, extending his hand.

"Alright. I guess I owe you that much,” I murmured, pulling him to his feet.

Silently, Billie Joe and I walked back into the TV room and saw Tre` sporting an ice pack held fast to his head, Mike with the heating pad I'd been making good use of on my sore abdomen for the past week on his shoulder, and Jeffrey giggling helplessly.

"What's so funny?” I asked him.

"I-it's j-just t-that they all s-still h-have the d-drawings,” he managed, barely.

I sighed and sat down next to him on the couch next to the couch containing the trio. We all sat through the Sailor Moon marathon with silent laughing fits, but after it ended it was just about four in the morning. So, Mike offered Tre` and Billie Joe a room each which they gladly accepted. Jeffrey and I slumped against the railing, but managed to drag ourselves up the stairs after the guys. I collapsed onto my bed after informing Jeffrey he’d have to explain the awkward evening in the afternoon or whenever we managed to get up.

When we got up the next afternoon Mike and I wandered down the stairs to the kitchen to find a gloomy looking Jeffrey sitting by himself.

“Seriously dude, what’s wrong?” I asked exasperated. He glanced warily at Mike who quickly took the hint.

“I just wanted a muffin. See, I’m gone?” Mike said giving me a look that conveyed hidden concern, but also a hint of suspicion.

“Now what is it that’s got you depressed?” I asked aware that his gaze had drifted to the floor once more.

“The hospital in St. Paul called yesterday while you were gone,” he sighed.

"How did they get this number for you?” I asked, not able to think of anything else to say.

"I called them a while ago to ask for my mother's body. I wanted her to be buried proper, you know? She was always real religious. It just wasn't right for her not to be,” he murmured, looking down at his feet.

"Well, what did they want?” I asked, sticking to the original problem.

"They called to tell me that my mother is in a coma. My father didn’t actually kill my mother, he managed to put her in a coma,” he explained. I didn’t know what to say. He could be taking it as a miracle or a disappointment, but he wasn’t giving me any hints on how he felt.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked, trying to understand.

“I dunno,” he said honestly and looked up at me with tear-filled eyes.

“Jeffrey,” I sighed with a heavy heart, put my arm around him and sat on the stool next to him.

“I mean, I should be happy. I mean my mom’s alive. Instead, here I am, trying to keep from crying. And not the happy tears,” he told him, burying his face in his hands.

“I hate to sound like a therapist, but I think I know what you’re thinking, or at least why you feel the way you do,” I murmured.

“Well then, Dr. Phil, please tell,” he sighed.

“First of all you think you should be happy because that’s a normal reaction, right? Okay, but you don’t, as you said. You don’t because you are either afraid that she won’t ever come out or that if she does she will have all the memories of your father,” I started, and he took it from there.

“And if she does come out of it she may not even have enough of a mind to remember anything or act like she used to,” he admitted, finally thinking.

“So what are you going to do?” I prompted as he traced the outline of the tile on the top of this island in the center of the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go out there and take care of my mother,” he decided finally and I felt like crying because that would mean losing my only friend, the only one who knew that I was pregnant, the only one who had made me truly happy since my mother’s death.

I looked away from him before telling him “I think it’s a good idea. She really needs you.”

“But so does someone else I know,” he said casually enough, but not enough that it would go undetected.

“I’ll be okay. Just go take care of your mother. I’m sure Mike’ll pay for a ticket out there,” he looked at me again and I flinched since he was looking me straight in the eyes.

“Torrie, you need to tell Mike, Billie Joe, Tre`, somebody about a certain little thing because you’re gonna need help and I don’t know when or even if I’m coming back,” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from letting the pooling tears fall, but nodded all the same.

“I know,” I admitted and looked down at my turning stomach and was unintentionally reminded that I needed to get to a toilet, and fast.

“When do you want to leave?” I asked on my way to the nearest bathroom.

“As soon as possible I suppose. Could you talk to Mike for me?” He asked and I nodded, not trusting myself enough to speak.

As soon as I’d finished hurling I found an anxious looking Mike pretending to watch the tube. But he sat up and looked at me even more anxiously as soon as he spotted me.

“So what’s going on?” He asked, purely concern in his voice.

I sat down, exhausted. "Well, his mom’s not dead. She’s in a coma,” All Mike could do was stare at me.

“That’s awesome!” He exclaimed after a pause.

“I s’pose. Well anyways, he wants to be there for her and was hoping you could help him out by getting him out there,” I managed.

“Sure. Anything,” he said, the suppressed smile surfaced for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to let me know that he was thinking of how great it would be to get his 'daughter’s boyfriend' out of the house.

“So should I be getting Jeffrey a plane ticket to where?” I thought for a moment.

“You know, I think he’d do better if we were to give him my truck instead. That way he could get around and on the trip back to his mother he would have some time to think,” I reasoned sorry that I’d have to give up my truck.

“Or we could get him his own car,” Mike observed.

“Nah. He’s gonna want to get outta here as soon as he can. He… can have my… truck,” I managed.

Let him take a piece of me and never forget me.

“If you’re sure-” Mike started, but was interrupted.

“I told you it’s black, not blue dude,” Billie Joe was complaining, extending his tie.

“No way that’ s black. It’s blue, derrrrrrrrrr,” Tre` told him, rolling his eyes at Billie Joe.

“Torrie’s a non-biased judge,” Billie Joe pointed out.

“Fine. Ask her,” Tre` said, then waited until Billie Joe looked to me before silently waving a twenty in his hand. I nodded in understanding.

“Well is this black tie black or blue?” Billie Joe asked holding out his sure as hell black tie.

“Definitely blue,” I responded and I saw Tre` grin and then nod.

“What? Seriously? But they said it was black… Ah well. I give up,” Billie Joe mumbled.

"See man? You are definitely color blind, or maybe just gullible. Perhaps a little of both…” Tre` rambled.

“I’m gonna go check on Jeffrey,” I said, not having a bit of difficulty keeping a straight face as Tre` secretly slipped me the promised twenty as I passed. I made my way slowly to the kitchen, trying to think of what to say to Jeffrey, but still coming up with nothing. In the end, I decided just to let the words flow.

“What did he say?” Jeffrey asked. I handed him my truck keys and hoped I’d cleaned it well enough the night before I’d picked up the guys from the airport.

“What is this for?” He asked slowly.

“Transportation and time to think,” I responded.

“But this is your truck,” he pointed out.

Gee, thank you Captain Obvious.

“Yours now,” I corrected, still wary of the fact.

“I can’t accept this,” Jeffrey decided in a pathetic attempt to shove the keys back into my hand.

“Don’t be stupid,” I sighed and he looked at the keys again before shoving them into his pocket.

“Thanks Torrie, for everything,” he told me sincerely while getting up to embrace me.

“Hey you too,” I said, returning the hug.

“Good luck with your stomach.”

“Good luck with your mom,” I countered as Jeffrey started off towards the front door where I realized his packed suitcase was already.

“Goodbye,” I whispered to myself knowing he was taking a part of me with him because it ached to watch him open the door, let alone walk through it. He turned around to regard me one last time before waving, disappearing through the door, and gunning my noisy diesel engine.

I never saw from him again.