The Earth Begins to Sway || Falsettos

Jason's Room

(author's note: sorry to intrude again but why did chapter 9 have such Trina's Song energy- and then I guess the little spicy Mendel break stood in for MOTF) 

It may just be the exhaustion from all my worrying, but I think the drugs are starting to work. I've been able to tack a few more hours onto my nights of sleep lately. 

Anyway, I spend a lot of time playing chess by myself. Back when I didn't have any friends, that's what I would do. And now I guess that's the case. Rose and I still talk sometimes, but I don't know how to properly apologize, so I guess I'll just have to live with the shame of never being forgiven. 

"Hey, Jason?" Mom asks me once at the end of April. I said I was going to help her with dinner, but I'm just at the table reading right now. "You've finished going through your room, right?" 

My grip on the book softens and it slams shut. I've just realized that I didn't even finish my closet. I'd gotten distracted by the second box (and the first, of course, but that didn't last forever). 

She can see me staring ahead in shock. "Jason?" 

"Yes, I did," I answer finally. Lying to my parents has become easy. I still use my insomnia to hide behind the "I'm just tired" excuse whenever I'm actually sad. 

"Oh, okay, good. Where did you put all the stuff you were getting rid of?" 

"Um... I decided not to get rid of any of it." 

She turns to me from the pot in which she's cooking linguine. "Honey, I asked you to clean!" 

"I cleaned up... the ants?" 

"Could you double-check the place, maybe? I'm sure there's some stuff you won't need," my mom says, turning back to the pot. I think she's onto my lie of having finished looking. 

"All right. Guess I should do that right now, before dinner's ready." I get up, leaving my still-closed book on the table, and force myself to go through with the cleaning. I intentionally don't sort through the rest of the box with my name on it. 

-

It's become close to the time of year when Mom and Mendel are planning their wedding anniversary. It's going to be the fifth one. Damn, that means there were already four before this? I kind of remember all of them. 

In 1980, they went out somewhere. I didn't ask for the details. I just remember them leaving me with Dad and then I got, like, really sick. The next year was just around when Whizzer had gotten sick, so obviously they didn't really do anything. Then the year after that, 1982, since they were doing something again, I was visiting Charlotte and Cordelia—this was months before we even met Rose. And then last year, I finally convinced them to let me stay home alone. Because, come on, I was going on fifteen. 

So I assume it'll be the same this year. Sometimes I ask one of them about it, but other times, like this time, they eventually tell me. 

"So we've been planning something," Mendel begins, after having asked me to sit down at the kitchen table with him. 

"All right." I couldn't be more bored. This is the one night my parents have reserved in the year to be alone together (excluding 1981, of course). Why is it my business what they do? 

"Do you think you'll be able to stay home by yourself for a few hours?" Mom puts in. 

"Of course, why not?" I shrug. 

"Well... I don't know. Just checking." 

It's a little uncomfortable to have them looking after me so closely, but I understand why. I haven't been acting perfectly fine. 

"Yeah, of course I will. You guys have fun." 

Mendel glances at Mom and smiles slightly. "Oh, we will." I do not want to know what they have planned. 

"Here, could I go to my room? I still have... organizing to do," I excuse myself. 

"It's already two months into spring!" Mom gasps. "I thought you'd have finished that time you were helping me make dinner!" 

"I purposely put one thing off," I assure her. "I'm just going to finish with that, if it's okay..." 

So I've disappeared to my bedroom. I know I just said I was going to go through the box, but my mind is starting to change. Unpacking it will feel like the end of something. Like it'll give closure. And for some odd reason, I don't exactly want closure. 

So I just sit on my bed. Again. Man, I wish Rose were here. I decide to give her a call. 

The phone rings for a while, but isn't picked up. Since there are other people in the house, I'm guessing that they're just all out right now. But the anxiety tells me that Rose really is still mad at me. Which is dumb. I mean, how would she even know who was on the other end? 

I give up, retreating to my room. It's time to start going through the box. 

There are a lot more clothes than I would've thought. Like this blue jacket of his, although I never remember him wearing it. He probably had it before memories started forming in me. 

No, no, no. I remember seeing it. This wasn't Dad's jacket. This was Whizzer's. Oh, right. Whizzer. I kind of forgot about him for a while. Which is really scary. What if one day it happens forever? 

"I guess I should tell you what's been happening, huh?" I mutter. Out loud—quietly, but out loud.  I grip the blue jacket's sleeves. "Rose and I have kind of changed. She kinda stopped letting me vent, and I blew up at her. I just want to make things right." I shake my head, helpless. "You know how much I like her, Whizzer.

"And even if I didn't... Jesus, I might have lost another friend. Maybe I'm just too unstable to keep one." I sigh. "Hey, maybe I can find that green shirt of yours!" I start sorting through the box as a distraction. The shirt isn't there, though. At least I have the jacket. And, y'know, memories. 

As mad as I am at Rose, she had one point. That's kind of happy.