Any Other Way ♥ (Final Part to Sooner Than Later)

I parked in one of the few spaces behind Stone Circle and made my way from my car around to the front of the brewery, checking my texts. Jackson and I had exchanged numbers before I left the gym earlier this morning and he had texted me that he was waiting inside for me during my drive over. I approached the heavy wood doors, pulled one open, and was immediately met by a smoky, salty scent: bar snacks mixed with the rich food fare served inside. It was heavenly, and also made me feel a bit dangerous, like I was an undercover agent meeting up with one of my fellow associates to debrief on a secret mission. I don’t know why. My brain worked in strange ways sometimes. I liked feeling like the main character in some grand plot rather than just an ordinary 25-year-old living in a super obscure town in California. Oh well. Maybe ordinary was better.

I entered the small waiting area where a member of the waitstaff would greet guests, ask for the number of people in their party, and then escort them to a table or to the barstools depending on their preference. I blinked a bit as my eyes adjusted to the darker interior of the restaurant, and then noticed a figure getting up from one of the cushy booth seats just inside of the door. It was Jackson, who smiled at me. 

“Hey, you made it!” he said, sounding incredibly grateful, almost as if he couldn’t believe I was actually there.

“Of course I did, I wasn’t gonna leave you hanging!” I replied, exchanging a brief hug with him. 

“Well, thank goodness,” he said, laughing a bit. “You don’t seem like the ghosting type.”

“Nah, I’m more of a benevolent spirit who haunts politely,” I joked, waving my fingers in the air.

He laughed and then turned to the girl who was standing behind the podium, who had been watching our antics. 

“Is this the other member of your party?” she asked him, looking between the two of us with a pleasant smile.

“Yes, it’s just us two,” he replied, looking at me. “I didn’t know: did you want a table or did you want to sit at the bar?”

“Hmm…” I thought for a second. “Well, I always prefer booths when I go places because it’s easier to talk. Do you have any booths available? Preferably any corner ones?” 

Corner booths are always the superior seating choice in restaurants, and nobody could change my mind about that fact. 

“Let me go check,” the hostess said pleasantly, quickly turning and disappearing into the din of the restaurant.

Jackson and I waited patiently for her return, which came only a brief moment later.

“I do!” she exclaimed, gathering a few menus from under the podium into her hands. “Right this way,” she said, smiling at us both and making her way back into the main dining area.

Jackson and I exchanged a smile before we followed her into the restaurant. We walked past the bar area, where a few people were lined up at the counter, chatting and laughing and dipping pretzel bites into warm cheese or sipping beer. We also passed the tables that were more in the center of the main area, where parties of various sizes were eating, talking, and laughing. And finally, along the farther side of the restaurant along the wall were the booths, mostly occupied by gangs of teenagers and twenty-somethings. There was even a cute elderly couple sipping wine and talking lowly to one another.

Our hostess led us up to the corner booth she had found for us, and she stood by as I slid into one seat and Jackson sat down across from me. She laid our menus down on the table with a flourish and a friendly smile. 

“Thank you for joining us tonight. Your server will be with you shortly!” she chirped, and then walked away back to her podium to greet and seat other guests.

“Thank you!” Jackson and I both said before she walked away, and then we each took menus for ourselves: one for food and the other for drinks.

“Ahhh, alright,” I sighed, settling into my seat and leaning back against the soft cushions as I began scanning the drink menu. I kind of already knew what I felt like having, but I wanted to look busy. 

“So, how was the rest of your day?” Jackson asked, glancing up to me from his own drink menu.

“Eh, it was alright!” I responded, shrugging lightly. “I got home from the gym, Kyrie took forever in the shower, I finally managed to get in there, I got ready, I chilled out, and now I’m here!” I said, smiling. “What about you?”

“Same, it was okay,” he said, also shrugging. “I got home, showered, listened to music and chilled out, and then talked with Elliot for a little while. He was working on something though, so I didn’t really want to bother him. I don’t know where Chase was.”

“Probably with Little Miss Redhead,” I said with a half-smile and a light laugh. “I still feel bad I blew their cover.”

“Nah, it’s alright. Like I said, I won’t tell, and I don’t think it’s too big of a deal anyway,” Jackson said, waving his hand. “It’s not like you spilled some major secret. I think we all knew they would end up together eventually anyway, though that doesn’t take away the fact I’m super happy it finally happened!”

Jackson smiled contentedly before scanning his menu one last time as a small, petite girl approached our table with a pleasant smile.

“Good evening! My name is Penelope, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” she said, her voice light and pretty, almost like little silver bells. She had her dark brown hair twisted up into a bun, a light smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and big hazel eyes. “Can I get you started with anything to drink?” she asked, looking between Jackson and me.

“Hi, Penelope!” I said, smiling up at her. “Hmm…I personally haven’t made up my mind if I want a cocktail or just a glass of wine,” I said, looking back up from my menu with an apologetic look.

“That’s okay!” she said cheerily. “What is your go-to liquor?”

“I usually go for tequila,” I responded. 

“Then might I suggest our Sierra Song margarita? It’s one of my favorites,” she said, using her pen to point to a spot on my menu. “It has a mix of two gold tequilas, grapefruit juice, a touch of orange juice, and we usually put tajín on the rim, unless you wouldn’t prefer that,” she finished, searching my face for my reaction to her description. 

My mouth was watering at her words.

“Yes, please, I’ll do that,” I said, nodding. “That sounds heavenly. And I’ll do the tajín, too.” 

“Oh yes, it’s very good. And strong,” Penelope said mischievously, her eyes shining as she wrote down my request. “It’s, like, very light and refreshing, yet also smooth and a bit heavy. I don’t know how to describe it, it’s just delicious,” she said, giggling and looking a bit flushed. She turned her attention now to Jackson, who had been patiently waiting his turn. “And for you, sir?” 

“I’ll just do beer, please,” Jackson said with a light smile. “What do you recommend?” 

“Well, to be honest, I’m not much of a beer drinker,” she said, laughing a bit. “But I can go ask the bartenders what they recommend if you would like.” 

“Hmm…you know what, I’ll try to keep it simple,” he said, pointing to the menu. “I’ll just go for your IPA on tap.”

“For IPA, we have Sierra Nevada’s Hazy Little Thing,” she said pleasantly. “Does that sound good?”

“I personally have never had that, but if that’s what you’ve got, that’s what I’ll do!” Jackson replied with an amicable smile.

“Perfect! So, Sierra and Sierra?” she asked, pointing between the two of us with her pen. 

“Yes, please!” I said, and Jackson also affirmed his choice. 

“Perfect! And I’ll bring you both waters, too. And were we ready to order any food?” she asked as she took our drink menus. 

“I don’t think we’ve had a chance to look at that yet,” I said, glancing over the food menu quickly.

“That’s just fine! Were you thinking of getting any appetizers tonight?” Penelope asked, tilting her head slightly.

“I think just food,” I replied, glancing at Jackson and then looking back at Penelope. “I mean, not that appetizers aren’t food, I just mean like, the main food.”

“I understand,” Penelope said with a little laugh. “I’ll go get your drinks started and I’ll be back!” 

“Thank you so much,” I said with a nod and smile as Penelope made her way off to the bar. 

I turned to Jackson, who seemed to have tucked in on himself a bit, hiding behind his food menu. Maybe he was getting cold feet about opening up, or was psyching himself up. I had no clue, but I was curious to know what was on his mind. 

“So, what did you wanna talk about?” I said, deciding to just employ my usual tactic and get straight to the point. 

“Uh, well, I,” he stuttered, looking a bit unsettled as he fumbled with his menu.

“Oh, sorry, I kind of go in for the kill,” I apologized, looking sheepish. “Let’s order our food first and then we’ll talk. That good?”

“Yeah,” Jackson replied with a small smile, resuming his reading. 

We sat in silence for a little while, making our choices as the chatter, clink of dishes and glasses, and the quiet music went on in the background.

I was arguing with myself on whether I wanted the bison burger or my comfort go-to of fish tacos when Penelope arrived back at our table holding a serving tray with our drinks.

“Here we are!” she said happily, placing a bright, sunrise-colored cocktail in front of me, rimmed in red spice. She then put a water down for me as well, the glass nice and frosty. “One Sierra Song, one Hazy Little Thing, and two waters,” she finished as she placed Jackson’s glass of water down and then a large glass of golden beer with white frothy foam on top. I eyed it curiously. The beer looked super refreshing, but in truth, it was only aesthetically pleasing to me. In regard to beer, I wasn’t a fan of the taste or the bloat that came after. 

I turned my attention back to my margarita, eager to take a taste, but I waited as Penelope pulled her pad and pen back out of the half apron she had tied around her waist. 

“Alright, were you guys ready to order some food?” she asked pleasantly, looking between the both of us.

“I’m ready,” I said, nodding up at her. “Are you, Jackson?” I asked, looking over at him.

“Yeah, I’m good to go,” he affirmed, smiling up at me.

“Perfect!” Penelope said, poising her pen over her pad. “Let’s start with you, what would you like?” she asked, looking at me.

“I’ll do the fish tacos,” I said, having decided those sound absolutely bomb with a margarita. “I’ll do three al la carte.”

“Grilled or fried?” Penelope inquired as she scribbled down my order.

“Grilled, please,” I said. 

“Awesome! Those are my favorite, hands down,” Penelope said, nodding at me with a look of approval. “And for you?” she asked, turning to Jackson.

“I’ll do the bison burger, please, Everything on the burger is fine, and I’ll do the regular tater tots for the side,” he said with a smile. 

“How would you like that burger cooked?” Penelope asked, jotting on her pad.

“Just medium, please,” Jackson answered, smiling up at her. 

“Perfect, good decision,” she replied, smiling back at him. 

I looked between the two of them - they kept their eyes locked for longer than normal. 

It was cute.

“Hey, that was my other choice!” I laughed, grinning at Jackson, breaking up the moment and keeping the flow going. “A burger sounded sooo good, but I figured tacos were more appropriate with my margarita.”

“Heck yeah, tequila and tacos all the way,” Penelope said, turning her attention to me. “And Mr. Macho made an excellent choice with the beer and bison burger combo, too,” she nodded. She then nearly immediately blushed and looked a bit embarrassed, glancing at Jackson. “I apologize, that wasn’t professional of me to say.”

“Girl, you work in a brewery, you’re just fine,” I laughed, smiling at her reassuringly. 

“I’m not offended,” Jackson laughed, flexing his left arm slightly. “I work hard so I can look like this and eat like I want.”

Penelope widened her eyes at him. She seemed very impressed by the size of his bicep. 

“Good attitude! I like that,” she giggled, sweeping up our food menus. “Alright, let me go get this started. I hope you enjoy your drinks!” she said as she departed once more.

I picked my glass up off of the table and held it in the air towards Jackson.

“Cheers!” I grinned, looking at him invitingly.

He smiled and picked up his own glass, tapping it with mine.

“Cheers,” he said, his tone a mix of content and what sounded like sadness. Maybe even nervousness.

I took a sip of my drink and was immediately sucked up into a world of sweetness and tartness, the strong zing of the tequila zipping across my tongue.

Oh, yeah.

This baby was strong. 

“Oh my gosh, this is good,” I breathed, taking another sip. “How’s yours?”

“Good,” Jackson replied, looking content as he sipped his beer. “It’s light, but good.”

He glanced down into his glass, then extended it towards me.

“You wanna try it?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Nah, I’m good,” I smiled appreciatively. “I’m not too much of a beer drinker, but thank you! Do you wanna try mine?”

“Hmm…if you don’t mind,” Jackson said, accepting my margarita from my hand and taking a small sip. His light brown eyes shot wide.

“Damn, that’s strong. But sweet. I like it,” he said, looking impressed and handing it back to me. 

“Right? I’m gonna have to go slow, I haven’t eaten in a while,” I laughed, setting down my drink.

I was ready to get down to business.

I felt a slight buzz, so I felt shaken loose and ready to talk. 

Jackson took another sip of his beer as I straightened up and leaned against the back of my seat.

“Alright, so, what did you want to talk about?” I asked, tilting my head and regarding him with curiosity. 

Jackson paused with his glass to his lips, then sighed and put it back down on the table.

“Sorry, I know I’m the one who asked you here, I’m just…nervous,” he said, his eyes on the table. 

“That’s okay, no biggie, take your time,” I said, waiting patiently for him to start.

He kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the table for a little more as I toyed with my glass, spinning it slowly in a circle. Finally, he looked up at me and let out a deep breath.

“Alright. So…like I said earlier, I know we aren’t, like, super close or anything, but I’ve always admired you. I don’t know if Chase has ever told you that we all think you’re really cool and someone who is just…easy to talk to. Someone who seems like they have really good advice.” 

He smiled at me shyly, and I took his pause to speak.

“Aww, that’s really sweet of you, Jackson,” I said, smiling back. “Yes, I’ve been told that I’m…motherly. So, I guess that means I’m someone that the others look up to and, like you said, feel they can get advice from. Though, no one is exactly physically looking up to me, except Jade,” I laughed, trying to dispel some of Jackson’s nervous aura.

He laughed too, a genuine one. That felt good.

“Yeah, like that. So, I thought maybe…you could help me. I don’t know, it just felt right to ask you, so I did. Thank you for being willing to hang out with me,” he said, pausing once more.

“You’re welcome,” I said easily, meaning it, keeping a smile on my face. 

Silence. 

He was staring down again. 

I waited, taking a sip of my drink to give off a sense that I wasn’t rushing him. The background noise continued.

Then, just as it looked like he was finally about to get to the topic that was bothering him, Penelope arrived at our tableside with our food in her hands.

“Alright, here we are!” she chirped cheerfully. “An order of three grilled fish tacos, and one bison burger, medium, with regular tots!” 

She placed our food down in front of us with a bit of a flourish, then looked between us both with a smile. 

“Can I get you two anything else? How are the drinks?” she asked, looking a bit longer at Jackson than at me.

“Girl, did you make my margarita? ‘Cause dang, it’s strong,” I said, gesturing to my glass. 

“Oh no, not me,” Penelope said, waving her hands a bit. “Sometimes I get back there and pour wine or beer, but I’m not the cocktail concocter. However, I do occasionally put in a word to our bartenders to make some patrons’ drinks a bit more...intense,” she said, winking at me and then looking up at the ceiling innocently, whistling lightly.

Jackson and I both laughed, and she grinned at us mischievously.

“And you, how’s the beer?” she asked, smiling sweetly at Jackson.

“Refreshing. Light. Goes down easy. I like it,” he answered, lifting the glass and twirling it in a circle, grinning up at her.

“Sounds good!” Penelope laughed, clapping her hands together. “Well, if you need anything else, let me know. I’ll be back around to check in on you!” And with that and one last smile at us, she left again. 

“Oh my gosh, this looks amazing,” I said as I looked over my food: three good-sized tortillas piled up with soft white fish, pico de gallo, shredded purple-colored cabbage, and drizzled over with baja sauce.

They looked and smelled heavenly. 

I picked one up, took a bite, and then fluttered my eyes in ecstasy.

Oh. hell. yes.

I glanced over at Jackson, who had taken up his massive burger and managed to get his mouth around it just enough to take a bite. He too looked incredibly pleased by whatever flavor party was now commencing on his tongue. 

“Good, right?” I said, sighing with contentment before taking another bite.

Jackson swallowed and then grinned at me, a bit of mayo on the corner of his mouth and dripping onto his chin.

“Mhm, holy crap, it’s amazing,” he replied, wiping his face with his napkin.

We both ate a bit more, occasionally sipping our drinks, before I got back to the conversation we had almost got rolling with.

“So, back to before,” I said after I swallowed the bite I had just taken off my second taco. “What were you about to say?”

Jackson swallowed the food in his mouth, took a swig of beer, and finally sat up straight, looking me in the eyes.

I guess he now felt invigorated by the mix of burger and beer in his body to finally open up.

“Yeah. Okay,” he breathed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Basically, I need advice. I’ve been feeling…bad lately, and I just don’t know what to do. I don’t really feel like I have anyone to talk to about it, and then you were at the gym and…just chatting with you felt so easy. So, that’s why I asked if you could hang tonight.”

He looked me square in the eyes.

“I hope you don’t mind if I get a bit heavy,” he said, looking serious.

“I think you’re already heavy enough,” I joked lightly, trying to keep the mood lightened. 

He cracked a small smile, and then he continued.

“Basically…I feel useless. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I feel like everyone sees me as the ‘buff dumb guy,’ just someone who has no brains in his head. I guess, like…everyone just sees me as the stupid meathead who isn’t smart or anything.”

I felt a bit stunned - his initial words had caught me off guard.

Useless?

Damn, what a way to view yourself. 

“Who is ‘everyone’?” I asked gently, folding my hands on the table.

Jackson genuinely looked sad.

“Like…everyone. My dad, my older brother, Elliot, maybe even Chase,” he said quietly, breaking eye contact and looking back down at the table. “My dad always says I’m lazy and sloppy, that I’m late to work nearly every day and I’m unmotivated and unreliable. Even Elliot says some of that stuff sometimes. Chase hasn’t said anything out loud, but I worry he thinks it. And my older brother…he’s a lawyer down in L.A. Really successful, makes a good amount of money. He is always on my ass, but no one is more on my ass than my dad,” Jackson said, his voice suddenly sounding watery. “I think you know that I work for him in his mechanic shop. We do tune-ups, enhancements, all around car building and stuff. He’s really into all of that. When I graduated high school, I seriously had no clue what I wanted to do, so he put me to work for him. He makes decent money, too, ‘cause, like, trades aren’t half bad either. He thought I could even try out construction because he said I’m built for that type of work: heavy lifting, building, y’know…but…” he paused, looking defeated. His bottom lip quivered. “But I don’t feel passion for that. No excitement. I mean, to be honest, Christina, I’m not really excited about anything.”

He grew quiet again. His voice had started to quaver, so I’m guessing he was trying not to cry.

I was still processing all he had just said, so I didn’t say anything. Instead, I took another sip of my drink and mulled over his words, trying my best to not appear insensitive. In reality, my heart was aching for him. 

He took a sip of his beer himself, and then another bite of his burger. I took a bite of my tacos, and I watched him for any cue or sign of if he was going to continue talking.

He swallowed, sighed, and then glanced up at me briefly.

“So…I don’t know,” he said quietly, staring down at the table. “I’m just constantly feeling like some sort of failure. I didn’t go to college, I work at my dad’s shop, I work out, I manage to pay my bills and rent, and I just…exist.” 

He went silent again.

I waited to see if he was going to continue, but there seemed to be more finality in that statement. 

So, I guess it was my turn. 

“Jackson, can I ask you a question?” I said gently. 

He looked up at me, his eyes slightly shining with the hint of oncoming tears.

“Do you think that I think you’re useless?” 

He remained silent, but continued to keep his eyes on me.

“What about Avery? Or Grayson? Or Jade? What about your mom?” I asked, keeping my tone as soft as I could.

“My mom died,” Jackson said in a voice so low it was practically a whisper.

My heart froze in place. 

Shit.

I immediately jumped to apologize, but Jackson continued speaking.

“So…it’s just been me and my dad for a long while. My brother moved out ages ago, and I just couldn’t stand living alone with my dad, so I moved out, too. He lives with my stepmom now,” he finished. 

I let out a breath. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said, feeling like a jerk, but also knowing I had no way to know she had passed. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “But…” he shifted slightly in his seat. “I guess to answer your question…I guess no, I don’t think you or Avery or Grayson think I’m useless…I guess I just fear that you do. My mom didn’t think I was…I hope,” he finished quietly.

I smiled gently.

“So, it’s a fear then? Or a belief? Do you believe that your dad and brother and Elliot and Chase think you’re useless and a failure?” I asked in a soothing tone. 

He thought for a moment.

“My dad and brother…yes, I believe they think that of me. But Elliot and Chase…I guess… I guess, that’s more of a fear,” he said quietly.

I regarded him with a soft expression. 

“Okay, that’s a good distinction to have,” I said. “It’s important to define your terms and evaluate your feelings and thoughts. But before we go further, let me tell you a little something.”

Jackson looked up once more. He seemed to be fighting to maintain eye contact. I think he felt embarrassed. 

I greeted his eyes with my own, trying my best to appear soothing and reassuring. 

“So, when I graduated from high school, I had no clue what I wanted to ‘do with my life’ either. In fact, I was just thinking about this yesterday: how my life is really simple, and according to some peoples’ definitions, it’s not really going anywhere. When I was in high school, I had been labeled as ‘loud’ and ‘bossy’ and ‘unladylike’ because I spoke my mind so often. I was a bit rough-and-tumble. I even got into a lot of fights, and some turned out physical,” I said, raising my eyebrows. 

Jackson looked surprised, and now fully looked up at me. 

I had his attention.

“Crazy, right? Can you imagine it? Little ol’ me getting into fights with boys? And even more than that, I won...most of them,” I grinned, shrugging lightly. “So, I was also seen as scary. Too tough for a girl. All those stupid little categories that people stuff you into. Same for you, right? You’re carrying around some labels, too.”

I paused and looked at him, and he nodded. 

My smile went even softer.

“So, I graduated from Cragright last year. I got a degree in Communications because I figured I might as well put my talents and labels to good use. I’m loud? Fine, let me use my volume to reach out and help others. I’m bossy? Okay, then I’ll go be a co-manager at Rejavanate and use my bossy-ness to get things done, run the place smoothly, and also find ways to help my fellow employees. I’m unladylike? Well, to put it simply, I don’t give a rat’s ass about how other people define femininity. Because guess what? Their definitions, unless I choose to let them, do not and never will define me.” 

I grinned like a Cheshire cat and Jackson looked even more surprised.

“Kind of like what happened with Elliot, right? I’ve heard bits and pieces of his past. He used to get teased for being ‘girly’? More specifically, people said he was gay because he liked drawing and dancing and acting and baking? They decided he was faulty or inferior as a guy because of what he enjoyed? How stupid is that? It’s the same kind of thing for me: I was considered too strong and manly for a girl because I like taking out my feelings on a punching bag…and sometimes on the stupid boys at school who picked on my brother.”

“Wait, what? Kyrie got picked on? He’s kind of…scary. Who would pick on him?” Jackson said, looking bewildered.

“Yup, he did. And why assume that just because he looks a certain way he’s not actually a softie who struggled with standing up for himself?” I said gently. “Same for you, right? People think that just because you’re muscular you must be confident and sure of yourself, or that because you didn’t go to college that you’re automatically less intelligent or you suck at school?”

Jackson was quiet. 

“Yup. And they hurt, right? Those flimsy assumptions based off of a stereotype that could apply to you, but don’t completely describe or make up who you are as a unique individual?”

Jackson nodded. 

I reached over and placed my hand on his. 

He looked up at me in surprise once more.

“Jackson, I don’t think everyone thinks that way of you,” I said gently, patting his hand. “And even those who might think that way of you aren’t even correct. Even those who actually voice their opinion of you. Whatever others think or say about you is their perception of you. Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. But when it comes to their opinions of you that are based on superficial standards and stereotypical views, they’re all meaningless. I know they can hurt, and sometimes even when we try to fight or deny that they hurt, they do,” I smiled softly at him. “Even I, oh mighty and manly Christina, was hurt by how others treated me based on their perceptions of me, and of course by what they actually said. Words impact us all, whether we want them to or not. It’s just the way we are as human beings,” I said, still keeping my hand on his and maintaining eye contact with him. “However, we’re not completely powerless even in light of that fact. We do have the power to choose what we take on and how we react to it. We have the choice to let people get to us, or to let their words and insults and opinions slide right off our backs and into oblivion. You have that power, Jackson. It may not feel like it, but you do.”

He stared at me, completely silent, his expression a mixture of hurt, surprise, and even a little bit of hope. 

Then he spoke.

“But…how do I do that?” he whispered, looking sad. “How do I make that choice? Because it hurts so much, all of the time. It’s like I can’t escape it ‘cause I always hear it in my mind. And of course, I go to work and my dad is there, always on my case, making me really believe I am the worst person ever. I can’t stand it anymore.” 

A couple of tears slipped down his cheeks.

I smiled sadly and squeezed his hand.

“Start by remembering this: most people barely know themselves. So why does it matter what they think of you? Yes, your dad is your dad, but does he really know you? Does he know how you feel about yourself, your life, what you like as a person? Why is he refusing to acknowledge the fact that you still show up to work even though you dread it, that you work out and take care of yourself, that you even live ‘on your own’ with two room-mates who obviously don’t see you as so annoying or useless that they would choose to live with you? If I was in your shoes, I would be late to work all of the time, too. It sounds awful, to go in and do something you don’t even really care about while your boss is criticizing your every move? If going to work at Rejavanate was like that and if Chase was an asshole boss, I’d punch him in the face and tell him what for, and I’d quit.” 

Jackson barked out a laugh at that, and I smiled big. 

“Of course, I don’t recommend punching your dad, and I wouldn’t actually punch your roomie either. But what I do recommend is working through your thoughts and feelings towards yourself, your life, and those around you. Ask yourself what you believe and what you feel about all of those aspects of your life. What do you know to be true, and what are the things that you adopted as truth, but are actually lies that were told to you so much that you took them on? Try practicing that, and then, when you’re ready, talk to your dad about them.”

Jackson froze, looking terrified.  

“I can’t do that,” he said, his face twisted with pain.

“I know you can,” I countered, looking at him slyly. 

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Christina, I-”

“Jackson, wait,” I cut him off gently, squeezing his hand. “Wait. You don’t have to do it right now. Or tomorrow. Or even this week. Just relax. Take your time, work through what I told you, and then, when you’ve mustered enough courage and clarity to understand what you want to say, then talk to him. It’s needed. If there’s one piece of advice I could give you or anyone, it’s this: things don’t get done without communication. People don’t get helped without communication. Life can’t go on without communication. I would know. I’m a Communications major, remember? Plus that’s just the truth. You don’t need to pay an ungodly amount of money to learn or know or apply that,” I grinned. “Communication is key. Tell your dad what he says hurts you. Tell your brother to shove it. Tell Elliot to chill the hell out, maybe knock back a shot or two and dislodge the stick up his ass. I’m kidding, I'm kidding,” I said, laughing lightly as Jackson went to protest. “I like Elliot, don’t get me wrong. I’m just joking around. But see, you went to defend him. Now, would he defend you if I said something critical to him about you?”

Jackson paused. He looked down and thought for a moment. 

A small smile came to his face.

“I actually think he would,” he said quietly, looking happy. “Despite his comments and personality and outlook, I think he really would.” 

“See? Then Elliot doesn’t truly think you’re useless or a failure. I doubt he sits around criticizing you in his free time, I think he just says those things to pester you. He’s probably got his own insecurities he worries about,” I said gently.  “And on that note, remember this, too: everyone is their own worst critic. I can guarantee that, at least ninety-nine percent of the time, nobody is noticing or judging you on the things you’re tearing yourself apart over in your mind. I know it doesn't feel or seem that way, but I promise, you don’t have a panel of critics watching your every move and writing down everything wrong they see. Most of the time, people are worrying about themselves. They don’t have the time or energy or headspace to worry too much about you,” I said, giving him one last squeeze and then releasing his hand. “I don’t think you're useless. I don’t think you’re a bad person. I don’t think you’re a failure. I think you’re a sweet, gentle, and smart guy who has a lovable personality and a good heart.”

He looked at me like he was in a bit of shock.

“Really?”

“Really,” I affirmed, smiling softly. “I truly do think that of you.”

“Wow…thank you,” he said, his big brown eyes shimmering with a fresh batch of tears. “Thank you so much, Christina. This…this is more than I could have hoped for. You really helped me. Thank you so much,” he repeated as a couple of the tears danced down his cheeks. 

“You’re beyond welcome, Jackson. Don’t hesitate to reach out again, okay? I’ll always be willing to talk more and help you out,” I said, beaming at him before turning my attention back to our dinner fare. “But for now, let’s finish eating. I feel bad - it’s probably cold by now.” 

“No, it’s okay. I don’t even care,” Jackson replied, picking his burger up and wolfing it down in a few bites. “See?” he managed to mumble as he chewed, swallowed, and then took a quick sip of water. “It was still good,” he grinned, taking up his glass to finish off his beer as well.

“You know, I’m gonna be blunt. That was kind of hot,” I said in awe. 

He laughed hard, bending over towards the table, his cheeks red with a bit of embarrassment.   

“You think so?” he chuckled, sipping his beer.

“Oh yeah, dude, guys who eat a lot and look the way you do? Hella hot,” I laughed, picking up my final taco and taking a huge bite. I felt relaxed and at ease. 

As Jackson sipped the last of his beer and I finished off my final taco and went to polish off my margarita, I glanced at my phone and noticed it was about 7:30. I felt a bit surprised: only an hour and a half had passed? It felt like we had been talking forever. Not in a bad way, I had just been engrossed, so it felt like more time had gone by. I looked back up and scanned the restaurant for no other reason than to see what was going on, and where Penelope had gone. 

My eyes widened and I gasped. Jackson looked up in surprise at my sudden reaction.

“What is it?” he asked, sounding a bit worried.

“Look,” I whispered, pointing to the front of the restaurant. 

Jackson followed my gaze and finger and did his own double-take.

Chase was standing at the podium, talking to the hostess, and Avery was standing beside him.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” I said with a grin, watching as the hostess gathered some menus and walked them both back to the booth farthest from us. Now that they weren’t obscured by the podium, I could see that they were holding hands as they followed the hostess to their seats. 

They hadn’t seen us.

“Okay, wow, they look adorable together,” I said, feeling a goofy smile on my face.

“They really do,” Jackson said, grinning himself.  “They look happy.”

“They are,” I said, continuing to watch them.

Chase slid into one side of the booth, and Avery on the other. She was smiling at him with all the love in the world in her eyes. It was too cute.

I stared for a bit more before I finally shook myself out of reverie and heeded my body’s call. 

“Well, I’m gonna go use the restroom super quick, but I’ll be right back,” I said, turning around back to Jackson. 

“No problem,” he answered, having finally finished his beer. He smiled up at me. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

“Ha, okay,” I laughed, shaking my head as I got up and headed off to the bathroom.

I slipped inside, did my thing, and as I left the stall to wash my hands, lo and behold, there stood Penelope at the sink.

“Oh, hey!” I said, walking up to use the sink beside her.

“Hi!” she said, smiling at me as she finished washing her hands. “How was the food?”

“Absolutely delicious. We loved it,” I said, giving her a thumbs-up before turning the sink on. “And like I said, my margarita was freaking amazing.”

“I’m really glad to hear that. You two are really cute together,” she said, drying her hands with a paper towel and looking at me warmly.

“Oh, we’re not a couple,” I laughed breezily, rinsing the soap off my hands. “He’s just a friend.”

“Really?” Penelope said, looking a little shy. 

“Yeah!” I affirmed, turning off the faucet and going over to dry my hands as well.  

“Oh…” she replied, tossing her crumpled towel away. 

I paused briefly, looking at her. She had the faintest tinge of pink on her cheeks.

Yup, I knew it.

“He’s single as a pringle,” I said, waggling my eyebrows at her. “Sweet as pie, a darling.”

“Oh, yeah?” she giggled, looking at me nervously. “He’s really cute.”

“He is! A total sweetheart. His name is Jackson,” I said, smiling at her. “I’m Christina by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, beaming. “I’m Penelope, but you already knew that,” she laughed. “I’m new to the area, actually.”

“Oh, really? That’s cool!” I said, grinning at her. “I’m from here. So is Jackson, I think.”

“Oh, nice!” she smiled, fidgeting a bit. “I moved up here from Crestline with my family. We didn’t like how crowded it was getting, and we wanted a fresh start. Plus, I want to go to Cragright, so it just made sense, I guess. I’ll be a junior starting in the fall - I’m just doing online courses for now, and I worked at a different bar and restaurant, so I kind of just transferred over. It’s way too early for me to be looking for a guy though,” she laughed, still looking shy.

“Girl, if your heart is into him, then that’s just the way it is,” I said, shrugging and raising my hands in a surrender-like gesture. “He’s up for grabs, and he’s truly a good guy. Feelings don’t have timeframes,” I laughed, winking at her. “I’m sure we’ll see you around, especially if you are going to Cragright.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Do you guys go there, too?”

“No, I graduated last year and Jackson didn’t go to college, but we both live in town and I work at Rejavanate. It’s the coffee shop on campus.”

“Yeah, I have heard of it! I was excited to get a chance to finally try it out,” she said, smiling at me. “I’ll stop in one day soon for sure.”

“Please do! Jackson isn’t there often, but he works at a mechanic shop in town, so if your car ever sounds funky, or if it just conveniently needs a check-up, you’ll know where to find him,” I grinned. “But I gotta go, I don’t wanna keep him waiting.”

“Oh, no problem, I was just about to bring your guys’ bill over,” she said, following me to the door. “I was going to come over and ask you guys how the food was and if you needed anything, but it looked like you guys were having an intense conversation, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Yeah, he’s going through a bit of a rough patch right now and asked me for advice, but all is well now,” I said, smiling at her. “But like I said, we’re not together, so feel free to make a move,” I giggled, pulling open the door and holding it for her.

“Thank you,” she said, blushing a bit and exiting. “I’ll think about it,” she whispered as we both approached our table where Jackson was waiting, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey, I’m back! Sorry I took so long,” I exclaimed, sliding back into my seat as Penelope scurried off to get our bill.

“I was getting a bit worried,” he laughed, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Nah, it’s all good. I was just talking to Penelope a bit in the bathroom. You know how girls are when it comes to restroom trips. They flock together, gossip, fix their hair and makeup, sketch out plans to take over the world. All very important business,” I rolled my eyes and dramatically flipped my hair. “Men just don’t understand.”

He laughed and nodded, and Penelope reappeared with our bill.

“Here you go!” she said, setting it down and then collecting our plates and cutlery. “Thank you so much for coming in tonight. I hope you enjoyed everything!” she exclaimed, smiling at us both. “Christina, it was really nice to get to know you. Hopefully I’ll see you around soon! I’ll try to stop by at Rejavanate this week.”

“Sounds good! I work practically every day, so I’ll look forward to it,” I said, returning her smile. 

“And you as well. Jackson, right?” she said, looking shyly at him.

“Yup, that’s me,” he grinned. “I don’t often go to Rejavanate, but maybe I’ll see you around.”

“That would be great,” she said with a small smile.

As they were wrapped up in talking, I pulled out my card from my wallet and placed it on top of the receipt, handing it to Penelope.

“Here you go,” I said with a pleasant smile. 

Jackson widened his eyes and went to fumble for his wallet. 

“Hey, wait, let me-”

“No, no, it’s on me, Jackson,” I cut him off gently. “My treat. For the unplanned hangout, great food, and good conversation,” I said, smiling at him. 

He stopped trying to dig his wallet out and looked a bit embarrassed, but happy.

“You’re sure?” he asked, looking into my eyes.

“Absolutely,” I answered, feeling a softness about my heart. “No problem at all.”

“Wow, thank you,” he said, smiling gratefully. 

“I’ll be right back with your card!” Penelope piped up, having waited to make sure our payment plan was in order. 

“No rush!” I called after her as she went off to the bar area. 

My brain slowly mulled over the events of the night, mainly my conversations with Jackson and Penelope, before a lightbulb went off and I remembered that Chase and Avery were also here. I whirled around and peeked past our booth divider over to where I had seen the two lovebirds. Sure enough, they now had drinks and what looked like an appetizer of a garden salad and mozzarella sticks. Chase was currently feeding one to Avery, the cheese stretched out long from her mouth to the stick in his hand. She was giggling madly, her cheeks bright red with embarrassment, and Chase pinched off the cheese so she could get the piece she had bitten off into her mouth. He was also laughing, and managed to pop the remainder of the stick into his mouth, giggling as he chewed. 

Good Lord, they were ridiculously cute. 

I turned my attention back to Jackson, who was sitting quietly, also leaning to the side to watch them with me. He looked at me when I smiled at him.

“Sorry, just being a weirdo Mom Spy,” I laughed, shrugging lightly. “I’m undercover Agent Christina, special ops Team Mom, keeping an eye out on my two targets,” I grinned, pretending to pull my jacket aside to reveal a non-existent badge.

Jackson laughed once more at my humor, a hazy smile on his face. He looked tired, happy, content, and loose. I’m guessing the beer did him good. 

Penelope returned with my card and receipt and gave us a final goodbye before departing us for the last time. I tipped her a good amount, signed off on the receipt, tucked my card away in my wallet, and then gestured to the door.

“Should we get going? You good to drive?” I asked Jackson, who began to scoot to the end of his seat to stand up.

“Yeah, yeah, I am, just tired. A little overwhelmed, I guess,” he said, smiling down at me. “You…you told me a lot tonight. Just trying to remember it all. I was jotting stuff down in my phone while you were in the bathroom,” he laughed, looking a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t wanna forget any of it.” 

“Well, if you do, I’ll be here to remind you,” I said gently, patting his arm. “I’m excited to see what progress you make.”

“Me too,” he grinned, walking beside me as we made our way back to the front of the restaurant.

I snuck one last glance over at Chase and Avery. My jokester side of me wanted to go up and surprise them, but my logical side didn’t want to interrupt their date. Jackson must have noticed where my attention was because he paused.

“Did you wanna go say hi?” he asked, gesturing to the couple.

“No, I don’t wanna intrude or embarrass them,” I said, looking up at him with a smile. “I’ll leave them be…this time,” I said mischievously.

He smiled and nodded and we continued on our way, saying goodnight to the hostess and then stepping out into the cool spring evening. 

“Well, it really was lovely talking to you, Jackson,” I said, turning towards him after we exited the door. “I really hope I was able to help, and I hope you start to feel better, too.”

“You helped me more than I thought,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, like, not that I didn’t think you would help, but I didn’t know what to expect,” he babbled, blushing a little.

“I know what you mean,” I laughed, smiling reassuringly. “No sweat. I’m super glad. Maybe we can hang out next week and chat about how things are going! Let me know how you apply what I told you and how it’s working out for you.”

“That sounds great,” he grinned, nodding. “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“Hey, I don’t expect anything from you, so you won’t let me down,” I said gently. “Just be yourself, do your best, and try what I told you out. It might be difficult at first, but don’t give up. I believe in you.”

“Really?” he said, smiling wide.

“Really. I’ll see you around, okay? Shoot me a text if you need anything,” I said, stepping in for a hug.

We embraced each other briefly, and then I began to make my way back to my car. 

“Good night, Jackson!” I called out, waving to him.

“Night, Christina,” he replied, a huge smile still on his face. He looked much more relaxed. It made me happy. 

He turned and began walking off - I assumed he scored a parking spot in the front somewhere. I continued my way to my own car, swung into the driver’s seat, started it up, and began heading home. 

Tonight was especially clear, the moon glimmering and the stars twinkling prettily, a feeling of calm wrapped over the world. It was nice. 

I smiled to myself and continued to quietly reflect on all that had happened today and tonight: it had been quite an adventure. An unexpected one, but one that was very welcome.

I felt tired.

I finally turned onto my street, parked in our garage, and made my way inside. Kyrie was sitting on the couch in the living room watching TV, looking tired himself. He was probably heading to bed soon.

“Hey,” he mumbled, looking up as I made my way to the stairs. “How was your date with Muscle Man?”

“Once again, it was not a date, you scarecrow-looking twit,” I quipped, turning my sibling teasing back on. “And it went very well. It was fun. I had a bomb margarita, we had a good conversation, and I might have encouraged our waitress to make a move on Jackson herself. She was making eyes at him all night.” 

“You playing matchmaker? Well, shit, she’s doomed,” Kyrie mumbled, turning his eyes back to whatever he was watching.

“Not as doomed as you, you’re cursed to walk this earth alone forever it seems,” I retorted, turning back towards the stairs.

“People are disappointing, so I see that as a blessing,” he said, his eyes on the screen. 

“They can be, but they can also be pretty cool. I mean, look at you, despite all odds you seem to have turned out all right. Just not as good as me, but hey, we can't all be perfect,” I joked, tossing my hair. 

He glanced over at me, his eyes drooped. He looked too exhausted to crack a reply.

I smiled at him and winked, turning back towards the stairs.

“I'm heading to bed, K," I said, beginning to go up. “Love you.” 

“Love you, too,” I heard him mumble. 

Enthusiastic as always. 

I finally slipped into my bedroom and kicked off my shoes, ready to get to sleep. I quickly gathered up my pajamas, went to the bathroom, took off my makeup, brushed my teeth, showered, dried off, and got dressed, eagerly making my way back to my room. I put my stuff away, smoothed out my hair, and got into bed, plugging my phone in and finally resting my head on my pillow, continuing to reflect on how the day had played out. 

Never in a million years did I ever think I could give good advice. Or have someone as unlikely as Jackson ask me to give them advice. Or overall have advice to give.

I never really thought of myself as anyone super special, but after tonight, I kind of felt like a badass. Like someone that people could look up to. It felt strange, but really good.

I smiled to myself, rolled over, and closed my eyes.

Life was really effing weird. 

I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

♥

Image source: On Doorstep by CTK