Family Don't Break

CHAPTER 4

JACK'S POV:

It's become a tradition to go get a soda and sit on that corner after working at the theatre. We always walk over together, hand in hand. Sometimes I pay, sometimes Alex pays. We sit and talk until the sun starts to set and Alex has to head home. I've offered to walk her, but she says she'll be fine on the bus. Weeks pass, the same date every time. We haven't even kissed yet, and honestly I don't mind.

Usually I'm the type of guy who moves fast, and I'm not ashamed of it. But with Alex, I want to take it slow. I enjoy her company, just being by her side. I don't feel like I have to put on a facade, act all tough, turn on the charm. With her I'm just plain old Jack. And surprisingly, she doesn't seem to mind.

"Jack!" I'm startled from my thoughts by Alex yelling for me from the costume room. "Coming," I shout back. I walk over and see her jumping to reach a box on a high shelf. "I can't reach it. Can you get it?" she asks. "Sure thing, Al." I reach up and grab it, pulling it down and handing it to her. "Al? I thought I told you to stop calling me that." she says with a smirk. "Aw, you know you like it. Trust me, it'll grow on you."

"Oh, while you're here, I wanted to ask. My mom was hoping you could come over for dinner tonight, she's making soup." Oh. Oh no. She wants me to meet her parents. That's not ideal. Parents don't like me. Ever. At all. As if she can read my mind, she says "They're not mean. They won't throw you out a window or poison your food or anything, I promise." she chuckles.

I take a deep breath. I really like Alex, and that means taking a risk and meeting her parents. "I'd love to come."

**************

The bus pulls up, the metal screeching as it stops. Alex and I pop our coins into the slot and climb on, squishing in between people. The bus is overcrowded, with people in every available space. People chatter, the noise almost too loud. The doors close and the bus starts to move with a jerky motion, causing Alex to fall into me. I catch her and lightly push her back up, holding her arms while she gets her balance.

"Sorry." she chuckles, dusting herself off. "Heh. Don't worry about it." The bus bumps as it goes over the cobblestone road, making everyone inside jerk about like rag dolls. "How do you do this every day without getting sick?" I mutter. Alex shrugs, saying that she's just used to it.

After a few more minutes, we get off among the flood of people entering. "This way." Alex leads me down a quiet street, the lamp lights flickering in the dark. As we get farther into her neighborhood, it starts to get seedier and seedier. We pass multiple bars, drunk people sitting against the building, bottles in hand.

"Hey! Girlie! How much for a kiss?" one of the men calls out. "Piss off, Eric. Go home, your wife will be looking for ya." Alex shouts back. "You know that guy?" I ask. She nods. "He lives in the same tenement as us, two floors below. Well, his wife lives there. He's pretty much always at the bar."

Eventually we get to her tenement, a large brick building with windows every couple feet. Lines of washing hang out of some of them, pots and pans sit on the sills of others. I can hear people yelling from inside the building, children crying. "We're right up here. C'mon, this way's faster." she jumps and pulls down a rusty fire escape ladder. It slams into the ground with a bang, the whole escape shaking.

She begins her climb and I follow behind her. We reach a window and she pushes it open, climbing through. It drops us out into a small room. An oven sits against one wall, a furnace pushed up against it. A sink full of dishes is across from it, a wooden cabinet above it. Some drawings and photos are framed on the walls.

"Mama! We're home!" Alex calls out. A short woman comes out of one of the rooms, an apron tied around her waist. "Alex! And you must be Jack. I'm Rachel." she has a warm smile, the crows feet on the edges of her eyes crinkling as she grins. Her graying hair is tied back in a loose bun, her hair frizzing out behind her. She has a faint accent but from where I can't quite tell.

I stick out my hand for her to shake, but she wraps me in a hug instead. I tense up in surprise, but hug her back. She pulls away, going over to kiss Alex's cheek. "Come, come, sit. The soup is almost ready." I take a seat at the wooden table, nervously bouncing my knee beneath it. Alex sits next to me, giving me a comforting smile. "They don't bite, I promise." she whispers.

"David! Komm essen, mach eine. Pause von deiner Arbeit!" Rachel calls out. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" a male voice shouts back. A stout man enters the room, a brown vest covering his shirt. His lower face is covered with a bushy gray beard, a pair of wire glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

He takes a seat across from me, pulling his chair in. "You must be Jack." his accent is thick, decidedly german. "Yes. Nice to meet you." I stick out my hand and he shakes it. His palm is rough and calloused.

Rachel brings over some steaming bowls of soup, placing them in front of us. She gives us spoons and napkins before taking a seat next to David. "How was work, Alex?" she asks. "Good. I finally finished the stitching on that shirt I told you about. I used the stitching you taught me." Alex says proudly.

"Alex tells us that you paint the sets," David continues. "Yeah, I try to do it after I finish selling all my papes." I explain. "Ah, you're one of the newsboys! I used to do that when I first got here from Germany, it was a good way to make money. It's actually how I met Rachel." He smiles at his wife, softly squeezing her hand.

"He was delivering on my corner, and I accidentally bumped into him on my rush to get to the factory. Knocked him flat on his tuchus." she chuckles. " I hear this story all the time." Alex says quietly, smirking. "Oh, but it's so romantic! We met by accident, quite literally," Rachel adds.

As I sit here with Alex and her parents, I feel a strange sense of comfort. I don't feel nervous. I feel like me. I laugh with them, trade stories. The conversation flows easily, without awkward pauses or stops. I don't know why I was so worried about meeting them.