Emergency Medical Dad

VI: 5:15 am, present

yo

JESSIE

"I hate to offend you if I'm wrong, but am I... involved?"

Jorgen's eyes rest on me, eight years later but still harboring the same intimidation.

I swallow, hard, knowing how he reacts to this very much could be my end-all be-all of survival. I get support from him and Connor and I are better off. I don't get support from him and it's all an uphill battle from rock bottom.

"I didn't mean for it to happen, I just, one day and then I couldn't do anything-"

"Jess," he clears his throat, "you're not at fault."

"I-I-" I shut my mouth, knowing nothing good is going to come out if I keep blabbering at him.

"Winter break of senior year?"

I nod.

"No offense, you weren't seeing anyone else?"

I shake my head.

"Just me?"

Nod.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to seem rude or accusatory with that I'm just processing," he runs his hands down his face, "and why are you here of all damn places? You seem to be living here."

I wince.

"Is it family? Did you run out of money? is there another reason?"

"My mom, uh," I clear my throat, "it's just, Connor is... you know... like you, and she didn't..."

"What do you mean Connor is like me?"

I look up at him. I'm a redhead. Pure irish. So are my parents and their parents and their parents. We look like we have more to talk about with a bartop than another person. Sunburns and a prominent alcoholism gene, that's me.

Jorgen, Jorgen I don't even know. He's so not. He's tall and sturdy, nothing but a demand for attention, Michaelangelo's muse. He's interesting in all aspects, the only thing people find interesting about my family is our hair and anger issues.

"Nevermind," he says, "I know what you mean."

"And so she's been... mad," I clear my throat, "and, I don't know, the situation snapped."

He stays quiet, neverending eye contact with me.

"It's my fault, really-"

"If she's a racist then it wasn't ever your fault," he stops me.

"But that's not..." I shut my eyes and try to force myself to forget that he's here, that it's him. "I caused the argument, I was abrasive, I should've been self sustaining by now and-"

"You're twenty five. Not many twenty five year olds can self sustain much less self sustain with a child in Chicago, I'm assuming she wanted you to take him with you."

I swallow, "you self sustain." The only reason I know that is because when I moved here they told me as much about his situation as they could. He's working for an NHL team, he's a trained paramedic, he lives alone in Canada, he works with his uncle, he got taller since high school, he has an insanely well paying job, he keeps the Barn afloat when they can't.

His eyebrows go up, "I have had absurd luck, I live in a city a lot cheaper than this one, I have specialized education from a freedom of opportunity, and I do not have to sustain myself and a child. I am a fluke and I have entirely benefited from everything thrown at me. You, I assume, have not."