The Way Back Home
Chapter One
Somewhere in the country
There's a place
Where nobody knows your name
When I'm feeling lonely there's a train
That helps me run away
[Chorus]
I know my mother She always told me
The road would get cold
I never listened
Always forgettin'
The way back home
Somewhere in the city
There's a face
That makes it hard to stay
He never listened to me
When I'd say
That things would never change
[Chorus]
The way back home
The way back home
[Chorus]
I never listened
Always forgettin'
The way back home
The way back home*
* Lyrics by The Wreckers from their album Stand Still, Look Pretty
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jakob sat in the corner of the bedroom. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on his knobby knees. He wasn’t going to cry. He was determined not to cry.
“Jakob!”
He could hear them calling his name but perhaps if he stayed quiet they would just go away. He didn’t want to see them. He didn’t want to see another living soul as long as he lived. He didn’t even want to be living.
“Jakob we need to talk about this!”
It was a different voice this time but Jakob knew exactly who it was. He shook his head, salty wetness threatening to overflow from his tightly closed lids. He bit his lip.
He would not cry.
He was in pain internally and he knew it would never go away, ever. The pain was there to stay, there to remind him of the mistake that ruined everything.
“Jakob, seriously, where are you?”
Jakob plugged his ears with his fingers, he couldn’t listen to this now, not now, not ever, never. The door to his hideaway opened, he would soon be discovered. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly and plugged his ears harder. Perhaps if he didn’t see or hear them they wouldn’t see or hear him.
He would not cry.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around him firmly and began to softly rock him back and forth. Jakob bit his lip harder, he could swear he tasted the coppery taste of blood. A pair of lips kissed him on the top of his head and a tear fell on his hair.
Jakob’s breathing was getting quicker until a sob escaped his lips and the tears flew down his cheeks. Jakob clung to Mike as he cried openly and shamelessly. This could not be real.
“It’s not real Mike,” Jakob cried, “tell me it’s not real and I promise I’ll believe you. Just say it isn’t real.”
Mike opened his mouth and a shudder of a sob came out. “I wish I could tell you that but I can’t. I can’t believe it either, but it’s real.”
Jakob turned and cried into Mike’s shirt. “No, no, no, no. They can’t be gone.”
Mike gripped Jakob harder and tried to control his own emotions. “They are Jake. They’re gone and they’re not coming back,” Mike had to stop before his sobs over took him completely. “Tre’ and your grandparents and Aunt Anna are downstairs. They want to see you. Can you handle that right now?”
Jakob bit his poked lip and wiped his eyes. “Yeah, I guess,” he followed Mike down the stairs.
“Jakob, honey, how are you?” Brenda, Jakob’s grandmother and his mother’s mother hugged him tightly. Jakob returned the hug loosely and shrugged.
“Your parents’ lawyer’s on his way,” Tre’ said as he gripped Jakob’s shoulder. “Everything is going to be taken care of. You don’t need to worry about anything.”
Jakob nodded, the tears were trying to come back and he was trying to control them.
“This is horrible. How did it happen? Why did it happen?” Anna asked to nobody in particular from her seat on the couch.
Mike shrugged. “They don’t know yet. All they know is that the plane crashed somewhere over Iowa and there weren’t any survivors. They just wanted to get home. All Billie, Adie and Joey wanted to do was get home,” he whispered to himself.
Jakob said nothing but sat on the floor in front of the bare fireplace. His parents were supposed to have been home an hour ago. Joey, his older brother, should have all ready made a mess in the kitchen, thrown at least three towels on the bathroom floor and ripped his room apart from one end to the other. Needless to say Joey was not always the cleanest of the family.
The lawyer came and went and Jakob noticed that nobody bothered to turn on any lights other than the lone lamp on the end table. The darkness suited the mood.
Everything had been left to Jakob in an iron clad will that Billie Joe and Adrienne had cleverly left behind.
Jakob was to get an allowance every month until he turned 21 and had full control of his inheritance. He was to be fully taken care of by care of an appointed guardian as long as he was in school. The guardian would get a small penance for having Jakob live with them but that would be as far as they could get with the Armstrong money.
The only problem was that Billie Joe and Adrienne did not specify where Jakob would go in case of something happening to them. Arguments erupted once the lawyer left and the bottom line was that Jakob didn’t really care. He just wanted to get away as soon as he could to maybe begin to heal.
Jakob got up and left the room, unnoticed by everyone else, and went downstairs to the basement where his dad had set up a recording studio and kept his guitar collection. Jakob’s eyes swept past the Grammies, awards and shiny records to the guitars.
There was Blue, a guitar Jakob’s grandfather had given his father before he died. Jakob’s fingers traced over the stickers and up the strings. One was broken. Billie Joe had complained about it before he left.
Jakob left Blue alone and went to the guitar a few down. It was a plain black guitar with two red and blue handprints. The small red one was his and the bigger blue one was Billie Joe’s.
When Jakob was three he had gotten into some paint and wanted to be artistic on Billie Joe’s newest guitar. As hard as Billie Joe tried, he could not stay mad at his youngest son and resorted to being a bad influence and mimicked Jakob by imprinting the guitar as well.
Jakob took the guitar down and strummed it softly. He backed up into soft chair and continued to strum to himself.
“Wake me up when September ends.”
There's a place
Where nobody knows your name
When I'm feeling lonely there's a train
That helps me run away
[Chorus]
I know my mother She always told me
The road would get cold
I never listened
Always forgettin'
The way back home
Somewhere in the city
There's a face
That makes it hard to stay
He never listened to me
When I'd say
That things would never change
[Chorus]
The way back home
The way back home
[Chorus]
I never listened
Always forgettin'
The way back home
The way back home*
* Lyrics by The Wreckers from their album Stand Still, Look Pretty
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jakob sat in the corner of the bedroom. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on his knobby knees. He wasn’t going to cry. He was determined not to cry.
“Jakob!”
He could hear them calling his name but perhaps if he stayed quiet they would just go away. He didn’t want to see them. He didn’t want to see another living soul as long as he lived. He didn’t even want to be living.
“Jakob we need to talk about this!”
It was a different voice this time but Jakob knew exactly who it was. He shook his head, salty wetness threatening to overflow from his tightly closed lids. He bit his lip.
He would not cry.
He was in pain internally and he knew it would never go away, ever. The pain was there to stay, there to remind him of the mistake that ruined everything.
“Jakob, seriously, where are you?”
Jakob plugged his ears with his fingers, he couldn’t listen to this now, not now, not ever, never. The door to his hideaway opened, he would soon be discovered. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly and plugged his ears harder. Perhaps if he didn’t see or hear them they wouldn’t see or hear him.
He would not cry.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around him firmly and began to softly rock him back and forth. Jakob bit his lip harder, he could swear he tasted the coppery taste of blood. A pair of lips kissed him on the top of his head and a tear fell on his hair.
Jakob’s breathing was getting quicker until a sob escaped his lips and the tears flew down his cheeks. Jakob clung to Mike as he cried openly and shamelessly. This could not be real.
“It’s not real Mike,” Jakob cried, “tell me it’s not real and I promise I’ll believe you. Just say it isn’t real.”
Mike opened his mouth and a shudder of a sob came out. “I wish I could tell you that but I can’t. I can’t believe it either, but it’s real.”
Jakob turned and cried into Mike’s shirt. “No, no, no, no. They can’t be gone.”
Mike gripped Jakob harder and tried to control his own emotions. “They are Jake. They’re gone and they’re not coming back,” Mike had to stop before his sobs over took him completely. “Tre’ and your grandparents and Aunt Anna are downstairs. They want to see you. Can you handle that right now?”
Jakob bit his poked lip and wiped his eyes. “Yeah, I guess,” he followed Mike down the stairs.
“Jakob, honey, how are you?” Brenda, Jakob’s grandmother and his mother’s mother hugged him tightly. Jakob returned the hug loosely and shrugged.
“Your parents’ lawyer’s on his way,” Tre’ said as he gripped Jakob’s shoulder. “Everything is going to be taken care of. You don’t need to worry about anything.”
Jakob nodded, the tears were trying to come back and he was trying to control them.
“This is horrible. How did it happen? Why did it happen?” Anna asked to nobody in particular from her seat on the couch.
Mike shrugged. “They don’t know yet. All they know is that the plane crashed somewhere over Iowa and there weren’t any survivors. They just wanted to get home. All Billie, Adie and Joey wanted to do was get home,” he whispered to himself.
Jakob said nothing but sat on the floor in front of the bare fireplace. His parents were supposed to have been home an hour ago. Joey, his older brother, should have all ready made a mess in the kitchen, thrown at least three towels on the bathroom floor and ripped his room apart from one end to the other. Needless to say Joey was not always the cleanest of the family.
The lawyer came and went and Jakob noticed that nobody bothered to turn on any lights other than the lone lamp on the end table. The darkness suited the mood.
Everything had been left to Jakob in an iron clad will that Billie Joe and Adrienne had cleverly left behind.
Jakob was to get an allowance every month until he turned 21 and had full control of his inheritance. He was to be fully taken care of by care of an appointed guardian as long as he was in school. The guardian would get a small penance for having Jakob live with them but that would be as far as they could get with the Armstrong money.
The only problem was that Billie Joe and Adrienne did not specify where Jakob would go in case of something happening to them. Arguments erupted once the lawyer left and the bottom line was that Jakob didn’t really care. He just wanted to get away as soon as he could to maybe begin to heal.
Jakob got up and left the room, unnoticed by everyone else, and went downstairs to the basement where his dad had set up a recording studio and kept his guitar collection. Jakob’s eyes swept past the Grammies, awards and shiny records to the guitars.
There was Blue, a guitar Jakob’s grandfather had given his father before he died. Jakob’s fingers traced over the stickers and up the strings. One was broken. Billie Joe had complained about it before he left.
Jakob left Blue alone and went to the guitar a few down. It was a plain black guitar with two red and blue handprints. The small red one was his and the bigger blue one was Billie Joe’s.
When Jakob was three he had gotten into some paint and wanted to be artistic on Billie Joe’s newest guitar. As hard as Billie Joe tried, he could not stay mad at his youngest son and resorted to being a bad influence and mimicked Jakob by imprinting the guitar as well.
Jakob took the guitar down and strummed it softly. He backed up into soft chair and continued to strum to himself.
“Wake me up when September ends.”