Finding Jaime

Chapter 36

I decided to give Jaime some time to himself. He had to work through whatever he was working through himself before I could even begin to try talking to him.

I went into the kitchen and got myself a drink before tackling the pile of emotions that was my eldest son.

Sighing, I went upstairs and knocked on Jaime's bedroom door.

"What?!" He growled from beyond.

"It's me. Can I come in?" I asked.

"Can I actually stop you?" Jaime snarled as I opened his door. He was sitting at his desk, a textbook open in front of him.

"Hey," I said. "What're you up to?"

He looked at me as if I'd asked him if he'd like to chop a leg off.

"What exactly does it look like I'm doing?  Solving world hunger obviously," he rolled his eyes.

I peered at his textbook.

"Solving world hunger with math? Interesting," I smirked. Jaime frowned and rolled his eyes again.

"Jaime, talk to me. What's up? Why'd you come home in such a mood?"

"You wouldn't understand," he said, turning back to his homework.

"You don't give me a lot of credit," I said. "I know it's hard to believe, but I was a teenager once."

Jaime sighed.

"Oh yeah? Were you the illegitimate son of a famous rock star who didn't know you existed because his mother hid it from you? Did you suddenly become 'popular' because of who your dad was?"

"I - ah - no," I answered simply.

"Thought not. So I don't think you can be of much help now can you?"

"Jaime, this is new to me, too."

"So? Did you have a bunch of girls throwing themselves at you when two weeks ago they wouldn't even give you the time of day?"

"Well, not today exactly. But it happens."

Jaime rolled his eyes.

"You know they aren't actually trying to do anything," he said.

"True. Why? What happened at school?"

Jaime stared at me.

"Girls. Threw. Themselves. At. Me. When. Two. Weeks. Ago. They. Wouldn't. Give. Me. The. Time. Of. Day," he spelled out, rather sarcastically.

"I thought teenage boys liked when girls threw themselves at them," I said.

"Wow, Dad. Way to perpetuate rape culture," Jaime frowned.

I frowned.

"That's not what I meant."

"Still..." Jaime said. "Anyway, the point is, until you showed up at my school, the girls who were throwing themselves at me are exactly the same girls who ignored me two weeks ago. Now, suddenly, I'm the most popular guy in school. Everyone wants to know me now. And I wonder why. What could I possibly have now that I didn't have then?"

"Oh," I said, sheepishly.

"Yeah. 'Oh'," he said, frowning at me.

I sighed.

"I didn't think of that angle," I frowned.

"Clearly," Jaime rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to switch schools? Go to one up here?"

"I'm not switching schools because suddenly my dad is in my life, and is famous. If I go to a school up here, it'll be day in and day out of spoiled rich kids and their spoiled asses. I'll deal."

"You're doing a bang up job so far."

Jaime frowned.

"If you're going to come home every day like this, then Santa Monica isn't where you should be."

"I'm not switching schools because of the stupid girls. I'll handle it. It just pissed me off today."

"Jaime, you can't come home like this every day. It's not healthy."

"Dad, I've managed 15 years without your advice. Excuse me for ignoring you now. I'll deal."

That stung, just a bit.

"Look, Jaime, I can't change the past. I can't change who I am. I can't change how other people treat you. I can't control how you deal with how people treat you. Only you can."

Jaime stared ahead of himself, not looking at me.

"I just need to figure it out. It'll be fine," he said,

"Jaime, we can help you," I said. "Me, Meagan, the guys, we can help you navigate some of this."

"It's fine, Dad," Jaime seethed. "I'll figure it out. Hey, tomorrow, is it okay if I hang out with my friends for a little while after school?"

"Which ones?" I asked.

"Emmanuel, mainly."

"I don't see why not. Where should I pick you up from?"

"I'll text you when I'm ready to come home,"

"No, dinner is six. I'll pick you up at five thirty. Just tell me where."

"Fine. I'll text you when we figure out where we're going."

"Okay. I guess. Will you be okay?"

"It's my old neighborhood. I'll be fine."

"Alright. Just let me know by five where to pick you up. I have to drive down there,"

"Fine," Jaime said.

I left Jaime to finish his homework and went back downstairs. Saint was playing Xbox and Meagan was getting dinner ready and Marvel was drawing at the table.

"Hi Daddy!" Marvel said.

"Hi baby. Whatcha doing?"

"I draw pitchers for Jaime. He was sad and I want him to be happy."

"Well, those are beautiful. He's going to love them."

"Is he okay?" Meagan asked.

"He will be. He just needs to come to terms with some of the changes in his life. Things will calm down for him soon. By the way, he asked to hang out with some friends after school tomorrow. I'll pick him up at 5:30 and we'll be home for dinner."

"Is that a good idea? I mean, with everything going on with him right now, the kids learning who his dad is, and all that?"

"I think he just wants to hang with a kid from his old building. I told him we weren't going to change too much in his life. I can't keep him from his friends."

"I guess not," Meagan sighed.

When dinner was ready, I went back upstairs to get Jaime.

"Hey, dinner is ready," I said.

He sighed, dropped his pen and grabbed his crutches. He pushed past me and headed downstairs.

I sighed. I was trying to be patient, but this kid's moods swing back and forth so fast, I can't keep up. One day he seems fine, the next, he's pissed off at me again.

By the time I got myself downstairs, the rest of the family was sitting down. Jaime was beside Marvel, as seemed to be his place now. He was smiling and talking to her and Bronx and Saint were interjecting. It was nice to see my four kids. All four of them, talking and relating. Jaime may hold some animosity towards me, but at least he seemed to get along with his siblings.