Miss Jackson {b.u.}

{15}

I walked down the aisles, trying to find the perfect tomato paste for the pasta my mom was always so good at making, but not finding any that were the ones she uses. I pulled strands of hair behind my ear and I furrowed my eyebrows, "you need help looking for anything?"

My eyes darted to him and I smiled softly at him, "actually, yeah," I began and pulled out the list, pointing at the sauce on the paper, "that sauce."

He squinted his eyes at the name and tilted his head back. His finger pointed at the aisle, "down two aisles to the right."

I turned and walked away, but turned my head back, "thank you!"

He put his hand up and I hurried back to the cart, but Brendon was standing their. His arms crossed in the infamous leather jacket he wore. I looked into the cart, and the sauce I needed was sitting in there, "whats the problem? why're your arms crossed?"

Brendon scoffed and I could tell he was enraged, "you couldn't just wait for me? You had to talk to some guy?"

"Sorry, I didn't know it was such a big fuckin' deal, Brendon."

He started pushing the cart, walking away from me. I crossed my arms and quickly uncrossed them when I realized he wasn't waiting for me.

**

Brendon and I walked into our house. Yes, our house. Alex moved out and she sold the house to Brendon and I—so now Brendon and I own the house. Funny how the world works in my favor.

I set the paste of tomato sauce on the kitchen counter, my mom quickly swiped them away and I turned quickly to my mom plopping it all onto the pasta. Brendon walked past me, side eyeing me for a moment and then turning away. Was he really mad over a stranger I was talking to about pasta sauce? That is ridiculous. I scoffed, rolling my eyed and setting up the trays of food outside in the tent. My family started pouring in. My friends, Alex, my dad, my mom, my aunts and uncles, cousins. Anyone you could think of.

The sky was dimming into the dark of the night, I walked inside after Brendon had been staring angrily at me. I slammed the back door behind me and grabbed a shot glass, pouring myself a shot. Before I could even take it, the back door opened and then slammed again, "put that shot down."

I raised my eyebrow and rolled my eyes, "no! You don't get a say so in what beverages enter my body."

Brendon walked over to me and grabbed the shot from me. Tilting his head back and gulping every last bit of if. He set it down angrily and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "so, tell me about this guy at the store."

"He was a stranger? I didn't know asking a stranger where pasta sauce was—was a crime."

He chuckled a bit, "no," he began and brushed his hand against his chin, "you don't listen, Joanne."

"So," I began and came face to face with him, "this is all because I spoke to another guy, huh?"

Brendon scoffed and he slammed his hand on the table, walking away before I could get another word out. I heard the front door open and slam shut, and I followed him out there.

When I opened the door, Brendon was sitting on the porch, his leather jacket draped over his shoulders and he was tying his black converse. He looked up at me as he was tying his shoes, "oh, what the fuck are you out here for?"

"Fuck you! I'm out here to find out why you're bitchin' and moanin' about some stranger I spoke to about pasta sauce!"

He finished tying his second shoe and got up, waving me off. He turned after stepping down from the porch steps, "this isn't about some fuckin' pasta sauce, Joanne."

The street lights saturated certain parts of the sidewalk and I watched as he walked away from the house. I quickly got down from the porch and ran after him, "where the fuck are you going?"

"I'm goin' home."

I stopped walking with him and crossed my arms, "we live on this street, dumb fuck."

Brendon turned around, "oh, right,"

"Yeah. Oh fucking right."

"Joanne-" He put his hand up, "don't fuckin' start."

"Fuck you!"

He walked by me, hitting my shoulder with his and he turned around and flipped me off. When I realized he wasn't waiting for me once again, I ran up to the house, shich felt like it took eight years and stood behind him, "took you long enough."

"You could've at least waited."

"That's the most I could've done for you."

He opened the door and he threw his hands up in the air, "alright! Who is ready for a party?!"

What a phony, "fuck you, Brendon!"

I yelled that and walked upstairs to my room.

**

Everyone left and it was nearing ten o'clock. I smoked a cigarette outside on the porch on one of those rip off chairs you get at the dollar store. I put my cigarette out on the ashtray and Brendon picked up my lighter. I grabbed it out of his hand and he looked at me as if I had no brain, "fuck you, Jo."

"Be a prick—you get pricked back."

His jacket still draped over his shoulders, he walked off of the porch once again and I followed him off. When we finished walking, he stood under a street light, "sit the fuck there and dont you say a goddamn word."

I looked around, not wanting to sit on the curb, "where the hell am I supposed to sit?!" I said, waving my arms around.

"You're mine. Don't ask another guy for help. Period."

"Fuck you! I didn't know where you were, Brendon."

"Whatever, Joanne."

"What do you want me to do-"

"There's nothing you can do!" He yelled over me.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I walked away from him. I walked to the front door and opened it, running upstairs into the room and shutting the door behind me. I took my shoes off and I heard footsteps downstairs and Brendon was slamming things around. I shook my head and slipped right out of my sundress, changing into pajamas. I heard the doorknob turn, but stopped and footsteps walked away. I stared at the door and sighed for a moment, then moped over to my bed. I pulled the covers over my head and closed my eyes—everything turning completely back.