Miss Jackson {b.u.}

{56}

I glanced at the clock from my cell. Joanne had ten minutes to get here. I never pray, but this is one of those times where I needed to. I can't be in jail. I have to be there for the kids. For Joanne. I took a deep breath, hanging my head low. My hair was wet from the sweat that had been dripping from my forehead. My shirt was sort of soaked—again, from the sweat. The once white medical tape on my hands stained yellow from all the dirt and sweat. I didn't mind it though. It brought me back to the times where I used to get arrested every other day.

I never wanted to hurt Joanne. I never wanted her to feel like I loved her any less or had interest in anyone else. I used something that she kept so secret...something that she trusted me with, against her. I don't know why I said it. I didn't care that she was a hooker, I wasn't worried about her cheating. In fact, I wasn't bothered by anything she had told me. I know she hated it, but she did it for quick and good money. I'm not one to judge. So, why did I?

I glanced at the clock. Down to three minutes. I give up. She's not coming. I hit my fist against my open palm. I heard a door open—which didn't make me look this way. The seconds were fading away, "Urie. You're out. Again."

My eyebrows furrowed and my mouth hung open slightly. I got up, "what? Who paid?"

The officer looked me up and down, "man. Get the fuck out of this jail."

I turned my head from him and walked out. My head bobbed. Joanne got up from the seat. She still seemed pissed, but not as bad. I ran over to her, embracing her closely. My hand was on the back of her head and my other arm was around her back. She barely hugged me. I felt tears in my eyes, but I swallowed my pride, "i'm so sorry baby...i'm so sorry for everything i've done."

Joanne pulled back. My hand rested on her cheek and I saw her eyes gaze along the medical tape. She grabbed my hand lightly, looking puzzled, "what happened to your hands?"

I turned my head slightly, "Just a few broken knuckles."

Joanne moved my hand away from her and scoffed, leaning in to whisper, "what the fuck did you do?!"

"They called me a deadbeat father, Joanne."

She rolled her eyes, grabbing my arm and dragged me out of the police station. We got to the car and stood beside it. She sniffled and turned to me, "I was wrong for accusing you."

"No," I began and pulled strands of hair behind her ear, "no. I'm sorry. It's my fault for making it seem like I was cheating. And i'm extremely sorry for using your past against you. I-I don't know what got into me..."

Joanne pulled her face away from my hand and turned, getting into the car. I took a deep breath and got into the passenger seat. Joanne didn't want to say anything to me. All she wanted was to ignore me, "baby, please talk to me."

Joanne turned the radio down and cleared her throat, "how was your time in jail?"

I leaned my head against the seat, "not about that, Joanne."

Joanne turned down two streets before the house, not taking her eyes off of the road. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Okay," I began, "we'll talk at home."

——-

Joanne walked in before me. I barely had gotten out of the car before she left me outside. I heard the front door slam behind her and I jogged inside. I walked into the kitchen. She was making an italian pastry. I knocked on the wall, wincing in pain as I forgot that my knuckles were broken. Joanne glanced up at me. I leaned against the wall, "can we talk now?"

Joanne looked down at the mixing bowl as she cracked an egg, not even looking at me, "can't you see i'm busy?"

I tilted my head at her, pushing myself off of the wall and walked over to the counter. I took the mixing bowl away from her, setting it on the dining room table. Joanne tried to reach for it, but she was too late. I sat down at the bar and she stood across from me, "you can't keep avoiding this conversation, Jj. I need to fix this."