Meant To Be

Chapter seven - Bell Buckle, Tennessee

Jacob had his hand on the knob of the door. He let it go. The smell of coffee drifted above the chatter, pulling his attention towards the stairs. He thought about going back there, sitting among the locals, picking up the small talk like the world was a simplistic place.

Jacob puffed his cheeks and blew out, his face thinning. He knocked on the bedroom door. Time changed but nothing stirred from the other side. He placed his ear on the dark wood. "Zac?"

"Come in."

Jacob's boots on the wooden boards bounced off the emptiness held hostage inside the four walls. His eyes came off the floor. He glanced around, seeing the bare minimal; the bed, a chest of drawers, an old desk; like it was waiting for someone to move in. Zac was sitting on the edge of the bed, his spine humped, shoulders sulking.

"Maria took her things," he said.

"Why'd she do that for?"

"Because I asked her too."

Jacob continued to look around. He rode a shiver in through one end of his spine and out the other. "You shouldn't have got rid of Dena's stuff."

"What was I going to do with it?"

Jacob sat down next to Zac. The bed creaked. "Have you been here all day?"

"I was working."

"Working?" said Jacob as if he misheard him.

"That's what I said Jacob. Working. This place can't take care of itself." Jacob's chest shrunk when Zac pulled his savage stare off him. "Are there many downstairs?"

"A few. I only recognised Mrs Watson from the shop in town."

"The only thing she's here for is her supper."

"She's not the worst," defended Jacob. He loved the lemon sweets she gave away when they were kids. "Where's Dena's parents staying?"

"In town."

"Maria too?"

"Yeah. Mum offered them to stay here but they wouldn't."

"Good. I couldn't handle being stuck with her."

"You and me both."

A load of laughter bumped up against the floor. Jacob's eyebrows pushed on top of one another, unable to understand it. "Who...," Zac knotted his fingers together; cleared his throat. "Who lifted you?"

Jacob's airways tightened. He forced a spit of salvia down his throat before it was needed, gazing at his boots. The right one was freshly scuffed at the toe. He was sprinting through arrivals, his sports bag in one hand, trying to slip through bodies like he didn't have the additional weight to carry. His foot caught on the corner railing by the exit. He put his hands out to save himself and got up like it was meant to happen, grabbing his bag as it slid along the tiles. It was hotter in Austin. That was the first thought Jacob had when the automatic doors opened. Then he saw the strange red car sitting in the space across from the exit and Helen was in his ear again forcing the news into his world. "I got the bus back."

Zac got up. "I'm going to bed."

"Right. Ok." Jacob copied, getting up too, awkward in his body. "I'll see you in the morning." Zac began to unbutton his shirt like he was already alone. Jacob crossed the room in two strides, his tongue in his cheek. He thought he'd learned the first time, after his father, to appreciate the little things, like his lift always being there, waiting for him when he walked out of the airport. Jacob closed Zac's bedroom door behind him, the chatter still chasing him up the stairs. He turned away from it, taking refuge in his room across the hall.