#heartmatch Page 2

  “And the spade too?” He smirked as he thought about the card game his grandma played by herself online. “Games for the bored.”

  “Oh, this one does everything but bore me.”

  “I’m not impressed.”

  Another smiley face and an emoji with horns. “I shot a guy.”

  Headlights glared, lighting up his room as a car moved into the driveway.

  Mom.

  Jason turned back to the computer.

  “You killed someone dead?”

  “Yep. I recently got this new computer. I’ve been experimenting.”

  “With games?”

  “Games, research, chat rooms. Hashtag Heart Match where I found you.”

  A car door slammed.

  “I was surfing some sites when you stumbled onto me,” Jason explained.

  “And your name accidently got typed in?” Smiley face.

  “Jeez. Will you cut the crap with the fricking emojis?”

  The front door opened.

  “Hey.” Sad face emoji popped up.

  Door slammed.

  “Jase, you awake? Your light’s on.”

  A pause. He could picture his mom slipping off her coat and hanging the fake fur jacket on the tall wooden post. Next, she’d probably toe off her ankle boots.

  “Sweetheart? Are you still up?”

  His bedroom door stood wide open. He powered off and closed the laptop lid.

  “Five, four, three, two, one,” he said under his breath, then jumped up and pivoted around.

  “There you are.” His mom stood in the door frame. She strode over and encased him in a bear hug. “Are you looking at colleges?”

  He nodded. “Yup.”

  “Anyplace I know?” she asked hopefully.

  “Been talkin’ to Sam.” His chin jutted toward his desk. “Don’t know more than that.”

  His mom squeezed him tighter. “A new friend. That’s nice. I’ll fix you some bacon and eggs,” she whispered.

  Seconds later she let go and held him at arm’s length. She then tilted and hiccupped.

  Shit. Damned vodka.

  A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “My adorable son. You waited up for me. What would I do without you?”

  That’s what she usually said. He always answered the same thing.

  “You’d find someone who deserves you and get married again.”

  His mom’s head bobbed. She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the room.

  “And what would you do if I remarried?”

  Jason shrugged. “How about French toast today?”

  He grasped her shoulders from behind and with a gentle shove, directed her towards her bedroom. “Go shower, mom. Breakfast in fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay,” she said sleepily as she weaved her way down the hallway, bracing herself along the walls for support.

  The shower ran as he cooked. Jason poured orange juice into long-stemmed goblets, made a fresh pot of coffee, and flipped the bread in the iron skillet.

  The shower water turned off. He’d be lucky if his mom came to the table. She’d worked her usual all-night shift at the hospital emergency room. On her drive home, she’d probably emptied her sleep aid from the flask she hid in her bag. No conversation with her lasted very long when she drank. He’d give anything to have his dad here. There’d been no word from him since he’d left with that young bitch and headed west.

  Bastard.

  He pulled the kitchen curtain aside. The snow continued to fall. Icicles hung from the garage roof. Jason could breathe easy now.

  She’s home and safe.

  He cocked his head to listen. No sounds indicated she would join him in the kitchen.

  The heater kicked on and blew out air, making the house more cozy and warm. His mom would sleep under a mound of covers until late afternoon. At least she was home now and under his watchful eye. She worked long hours so she could pay the bills, keep the house in her name, and take care of him. Jason never complained about the alcohol she downed every day, but her vodka consumption gnawed inwardly at him.

  He glanced at the clock over the stove. In a couple of hours grandma would do her unannounced pop in, bringing with her a warm lunch in a basket. Jason forked a slice of his breakfast from the pan, plopped down on a stiff wooden chair at the table, poured syrup, and ate. After he downed the last 0f his juice, he rose and carried the few dishes to the sink.

  He tiptoed down the hallway to the master bedroom. He lingered in the doorway, assessing the scene before him. Empty glass on the nightstand next to his mom’s cell phone. Towel dropped to the wooden floor, along with a nightgown.

  He edged over to the bed and watched the rise and fall of the covers. A slight snore erupted as she changed her position under the comforter from side to back. Damp red hair lay splashed across the pillow. Below her earlobe, on her neck, he saw the tick of her heartbeat.

  Where’s the bottle?

  Jason bent over to look under the bed. There lay an empty glass container, a sure sign his mom had guzzled the contents dry.

  Another day, another bottle.

  His parent’s black and white wedding picture, in a decorative silver frame, stood on her dresser. His grandma talked about how, in the eighties, their contrasting skin colors tore his family apart. Regardless, his parents had remained together through it all until this previous year. Jason got the news about their divorce the day after he graduated from high school. He’d been shattered as he watched his dad leave, car loaded to the hilt, on his way to California.

  “Come with me” his dad had yelled after pulling away from the driveway. Jason shook his head. “Your loss” his dad shouted then waved from the sunroof as he shot down the street, leaving everyone who loved him behind.

  Jason had fallen to his knees and sobbed. Afterward, he had gone inside to the bathroom and spent the entire night with his head in the bowels of the toilet, vomiting his guts out.

  No matter what happened, Jason would never leave his mom. The day his dad left had destroyed his mom’s lust for life. The world he knew changed. No more family vacations. No more friends. No college. Nothing. That’s when he’d taken up blood and guts computer games.

  “Yeah, crap on ‘til death do us part,” he mumbled.

  With the empty bottle under his arm, Jason headed to his room and the games he’d come to rely on to purge his anger. He’d trash the empty bottle sometime before his grandma came to check on them. Now he had to kill someone on the screen and vent his animosity for those in the orbit of this world he hated.

  FEBRUARY 6

  Monday

  “What kind of tea you makin?” Jason flipped two burgers in an iron skillet before he turned from the stove to face his mom.

  He watched as she ran fingers through her coppery curls and raised her gaze to his. Her hazel eyes sparkled as a smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

  “Since when do you care about what I’m drinking?”

  “I pay attention to everything you do.”

  If you only knew.

  He turned around to take the hamburgers out of the pan with a spatula, put them in buns, and load their plates with fries fresh from the oven. He placed the dishes on the table and plopped down in the chair opposite his mom.

  He pointed a fry at the china cup. “Mint?” And then bit into the potato.

  “Chamomile.”

  She turned her head but not before he saw a tinge of color on her cheeks.

  His mom bit into the burger, chewed, then turned back to search Jason’s face.

  “Have you heard from your dad?”

  Jason shook his head before pouring ketchup over his fries.

  “Why don’t you call him?” She took another bite.

  “Now why would I wanna to do that?” Jason never answered his dad’s incessant texts or phone calls.

  The bastard.

  “Jason, look.” She took in a deep breath and slowly expelled the air. “He’s not coming back. He chose to start over somepl
ace else with another person.”

  He studied her. Even though she’d said the words, she didn’t sound like she was totally convinced herself.

  “You can’t go on hating him for that choice.”

  Oh yes, I can.

  “We loved each other to the end, at least until our roads separated.” She pushed her meal away. “He went his way and I went mine.”

  A sob caught in her throat, confirming she still had pain. So did he. They dealt with their pain in different ways. Jason chose to lock himself in his room and play violent games to forget about his fricking dad, while his mom drank herself into oblivion. Right now, she appeared halfway rational. Four hours from now she’d be unsteady on her feet.

  Because of these changes, Dad will forever be a damned bastard, at least in my mind.

  “Now let’s talk about what’s next for you.” She rested her elbow on the table and cradled her cheek in her open hand.

  His gut twisted. Jason wanted to avoid the speech he got every other day. Sonic whined, probably from the rise in tension. Jason rose to let him out and then lit the fire under the tea kettle, avoiding her glare.

  “Either you go back to school or you get a job.”

  He turned at her sharp tone just as she got up, clutching the lapels to close her robe.

  “You can’t stay on your computer all night long and sleep all day.” Her eyes caught his. “And all of that other stuff young men like you do.”

  And smoke weed, look at porn, and call sex chat.

  The kettle whistled.

  Jason picked up his mom’s cup and returned to the sink. “I’ll add some water to this bag.”

  With his back to her, he sipped. According to his research, his mom had chosen wisely.

  Vodka—the colorless, tasteless, odorless drink.

  He swirled the few drops around in his mouth.

  Not tastin’ like straight tea.

  When he turned to comment, his mom’s expression chilled him to the bone. One he’d seen before. A ghostly, fragile look that could easily crumble into pieces. The same countenance as the day his dad had abandoned them.

  Yeah, mom. I know.

  A knock at the back door interrupted their unspoken conversation. The door opened. Sonic came in, followed by Jason’s grandma Rosie.

  She took in their stances before speaking. “Did I interrupt something?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she put the large pot she carried onto the stove. “Ham and beans. Make sure you eat Elizabeth.” She commented, scanning his mom’s thin body. “You’ll blow away if you get any thinner. And you Jason,” she enveloped him in chubby arms, “can add all the hot sauce you want. It’s home-cooked. Do I get a thank you?” His grandma stared at his mom.

  “I’ve eaten. I’m going to shower.”

  Grandma glanced at the table. “You already ate lunch? Okay, my next choice. We’ll all sit down at the table for dinner before you leave for work, Elizabeth.”

  “I might not be hungry—”

  “We need to talk,” grandma interrupted his mom.

  “About what?” His mom frowned.

  “What’s going to happen next in this household.”

  “We’re stayin’ here, right mom?” Jason looked from one to the other. Before his dad disappeared, his mom and grandma had a liking for each other. Not so much now.

  Jason watched as his mom, hands on hips, took a defiant stance and glared at her mother-in-law. “I pay my bills and I own this house. There’s nothing to discuss.”

  “I have a few things I’d like to say. Afterwards, you can tell me to get lost or not.”

  “Okay. What you say usually goes anyway. We’ll eat together.” A flicker of sorrow crossed his mom’s eyes before she turned and darted out of the kitchen.

  “I have to do some computer work,” Jason commented before he hurried away from his grandma and down the same hallway as his mom.

  “Wait, mom.”

  She stopped, although she didn’t turn.

  Even though Jason knew his mom would consume alcohol before leaving for work, he didn’t want her to get sad all over again. Grandma could be a toughie when she wanted. “Just wanted to tell you I love you.”

  Her head bobbed in acknowledgement before she turned to her room. He heard the door lock turn.

  Jason’s phone vibrated. He pulled the cell from his pocket and glared at the name that appeared on the screen. “Go to hell, dad,” he muttered. He shoved the unanswered phone back into his sweats.

  His phone double-dinged. His dad had left a message.

  Jason closed and locked his bedroom door before dropping on the chair behind his computer. The vacuum sounded in the distance.

  Grandma.

  He opened the lid. Checked into the #heartmatch site. “What the heck did Sam mean yesterday? Kill a woman?”

  Sam wasn’t online.

  Jason tapped in a message. “Where’d you go, Sam? Get back to me.”

  He pulled out his phone, took a smiling selfie, plugged the cell into his computer, changed his profile picture, and logged out.

  ###

  At the dinner table, several hours later, grandma shook a fork at both of them as they ate, talking about how good things had been when grandpa was alive and how everything functioned when Matthew had lived in this house.

  His mom interrupted her. “Your son is the one who left. There’s nothing more to say.”

  “True. That doesn’t mean your life has to be over.” She caught Jason’s eye then turned to his mom. “You both act as if there’s been a death in the family.”

  “Well you know what?” His mom got up so fast, the chair tipped over. “That’s the way the breakup feels to me.” She turned the radio on and covered her ears.

  “Grandpa died. He’s never coming back. And Mathew—he’s going through the change of life. If he’s smart he’ll realize he’s wrong and come begging,” grandma bellowed over the music.

  “And maybe I don’t want him back anymore,” his mom yelled, turning the knob even higher and then humming to shut out any probable response.

  “Hey, you two.” Jason hit the button on the radio, turning the machine off. He heaved a deep breath. “Can you stop the bickering and yelling?”

  “I’m done here,” his mom left the kitchen and went back to her bedroom.

  ###

  The smell of ham and apple pie hung in the air as his grandma readied to leave. She’d cleaned the house, done the laundry, packed up her dishes, and slipped into her long wool coat. Darkness engulfed Sonic as he ran out the open back door into the fenced-in yard. Jason flipped on the flood lights, waved to his grandma and yelled to her not to slip and fall as he closed the door.

  Jason’s mom stood in the hall doorway, dressed in her green scrubs, ready for her night shift at the hospital. She had puffy, bloodshot eyes. Hair sprigs stuck out from a carelessly made braid.

  “You leavin?” Jason stepped up to hug her.

  She backed away. “Are you siding with grandma?”

  “Mom,” Jason took a long breath. “We’re worried about you. Grandma calls you anorexic. And I think—”

  “I do the best I can,” she cut in sharply. “And you know nothing about what I go through, so don’t judge me.”

  “Can we sit down and talk before you leave?”

  “Yeah, so you can repeat the words your grandma told you to tell me?”

  “She has her opinion. She doesn’t speak for me.”

  “What are you trying to tell me, Jason?”

  Now’s my chance.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t drive to work and back.”

  She straightened. “Have you lost your mind? I can’t afford to take a taxi if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  “The roads have black ice—”

  She waggled a finger. “Uh-uh. You act like the adult admonishing me, the kid. You stick to your computer and I’ll take care of my own business.” She looked at Jason with a strained expression. “Grandma needs to stay out of th
is house if she’s going to influence you, and I call what you’re saying right now as siding with her on your part.”

  Jason’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

  “Answer it. If your dad pesters me one more time because you won’t talk to him, I’ll change my number.” His mom grumbled something under her breath, put on her fur jacket, and grabbed her work bag.

  “I told you. I have nothing to say to him.”

  “Just tell him what you want for your birthday so he’ll stop texting me.”

  “A new car. How’s that sound?”

  “Don’t get flippant. I’m just the messenger.”

  “I’m not his blood any longer. He can fricking die for all I care.”

  His mom paled. Her back stiffened. “Maybe those words are really meant for me instead of your dad.”

  “Don’t twist my words around. It’s dad I hate. Not you.”

  Jason never cried, but a lump stuck in his throat every time he remembered the day his dad left seven months before. He’d driven down the drive, waving and shouting goodbye. His mom had picked up her first bottle that day, downing the entire contents right there on the front porch. Jason had gone in the house to vomit the sadness out of his gut. He’d stayed on the bathroom floor all night long, listening to his mom cry and pace and then cry some more. After that night Jason swore he never wanted to see his dad’s face again.

  His mom put a finger to Jason’s arm. “Are you listening to me?” She stood ramrod straight and patted wisps of hair into place as she collected herself. “Pick yourself up and move on like I did.”

  “You didn’t move on.” Jason stood his ground and decided to tell her how he really felt. “I hear you crying every time you’re in your bed,” he blurted. “It’s all I can do to keep from punching a hole in the wall. I’ll never forgive dad for doing this to you.”

  “I just need some more time. That’s all.” She swiped at a tear. “Sometimes I’m tired from the long hours I work. I’m not angry at your dad anymore though.”

  “Your heart’s ripped open. You want things to be the same, like when dad lived here.”

  She bit her lower lip. “I drove him away.”

  “I’ll never believe that. It’s his fault. Not yours.”

  “We didn’t—I didn’t want—”