Mr.Brightside

Chapter 49

Jack's Struggle

I could tell something had shifted with Clara, even before she told me about the phone call with Ethan. She seemed lighter, more focused, and while I knew it was a good thing, part of me couldn't help feeling like I was being left behind.

It wasn't that I didn't want her to succeed—I wanted nothing more than to see her thrive. But this new collaboration felt like a door she was stepping through, one that I wasn't entirely sure I could follow her through. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn't know how to handle this.

I spent most of the day in the workshop, throwing myself into the bookshelf, trying to lose myself in the details of the wood. Greg Caldwell's never-ending requests for adjustments were driving me crazy, but at least it was something I could control. Something tangible. With each cut of the saw, I tried to silence the noise in my head—the worry that Clara's world was growing, while mine was standing still.

A Visit from Greg

Around midday, there was a knock at the garage door. I wasn't expecting anyone, and for a moment, I thought it might be Clara. But when I opened the door, Greg Caldwell was standing there, wearing his usual sharp suit, the picture of someone who never seemed to relax.

"Jack," Greg said, extending his hand with a wide smile. "Thought I'd stop by and check on the progress."

I forced a smile, shaking his hand. "Hey, Greg. Yeah, come on in."

He stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanning the bookshelf. I watched him as he circled it, his expression hard to read, and I braced myself for whatever feedback was coming next.

"This is looking great," he said, nodding approvingly. "You've really outdone yourself with the carvings. The details are exquisite."

"Thanks," I said, relieved to hear something positive for once.

"But..." he started, and my stomach clenched.

Here it comes.

"I was thinking about the bottom half," Greg continued, running his fingers along the edge of the wood. "Do you think we could add some additional molding here? Something that ties in more with the top. It feels a bit... plain."

I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my frustration in check. "That's going to take more time, Greg. I'm already pushing the deadline with the other changes."

"I understand," Greg said, completely unfazed. "But it'll be worth it in the end, don't you think? I want this piece to be perfect. And I'm happy to pay for the extra time and effort."

I bit back the urge to tell him that no amount of money was worth the stress he was putting me through. But I kept my cool, nodding instead. "I'll see what I can do."

Greg smiled, clearly satisfied. "I knew I could count on you, Jack. I'll let you get back to work. Just keep me updated on the progress."

As he left, I stared at the bookshelf, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. It wasn't just Greg and his endless demands—it was everything. I was burning out, and the more I tried to push through it, the more it felt like I was falling behind.

Olivia's Questions

Later that evening, after Greg had left and I'd done all I could for the day, I headed inside, hoping for a quiet dinner with Clara and Olivia. But as I walked into the living room, I found Olivia sitting at the kitchen table, coloring furiously with her crayons.

"Daddy!" she called out as soon as she saw me. "Look what I made!"

I smiled, walking over to admire her drawing. It was a colorful mishmash of shapes and lines, with what looked like a rainbow in the middle. "That's beautiful, sweetheart. What's this here?"

"It's a picture of you and Mommy," she said, pointing to two stick figures under the rainbow. "And that's me! We're going on an adventure."

"An adventure, huh?" I said, ruffling her hair. "Where are we going?"

"To a magic castle!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "And we're going to fight dragons and find treasure!"

I chuckled, though my heart felt heavy. I wished it were that simple—just the three of us going on some grand adventure together, without all the complications of real life weighing us down. But Olivia's world was still pure, untainted by the worries and stresses that Clara and I were facing.

She paused, her little brow furrowing as she looked up at me. "Daddy, are you sad?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. "No, of course not. Why do you ask?"

"Because you look like you're sad," she said, her voice soft.

I forced a smile, kneeling down to her level. "I'm just tired, sweetheart. But I'm okay."

She studied me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to believe me. Finally, she nodded, satisfied with my answer, and went back to her drawing.

But her question stuck with me. Was I sad? Maybe I was. I didn't want to be, but the truth was, I felt like I was losing something—like Clara's new opportunities were pulling us in different directions, and I wasn't sure how to bridge that gap.

An Honest Conversation

That night, after Olivia was asleep, Clara and I sat on the couch together, the TV playing in the background, though neither of us was really watching it. I could feel the tension between us—the unspoken worries that had been building for days.

"I talked to Greg today," I finally said, breaking the silence. "He wants more changes to the bookshelf."

Clara looked at me, concern flickering in her eyes. "More changes? Jack, you've been working on that piece for weeks. When is enough enough?"

"I don't know," I said, rubbing my temples. "But I can't keep pushing back. He's paying well, and I need the money. It's just... exhausting."

Clara reached over, placing a hand on my arm. "You don't have to do this alone, you know. We're in this together. If it's too much, we'll figure something out."

"It's not just the bookshelf," I admitted, my voice low. "It's everything. You and Ethan, your new project—it's great, but it's also... hard for me. I feel like I'm stuck, like you're moving forward and I'm just spinning my wheels."

Clara's face softened, and she scooted closer to me. "Jack, I didn't realize you felt that way. I'm sorry. This project with Ethan—it's exciting, but it's not more important than us. You're not being left behind."

"I know," I said, though the words felt hollow. "I'm just... trying to figure out where I fit in all of this."

"You fit here," Clara said gently, resting her head on my shoulder. "With me. With Olivia. Everything else is just noise."

I leaned into her, feeling the weight of the day start to lift. "I'm trying. I just don't want to lose what we have."

"You won't," she whispered, wrapping her arms around me. "We won't let that happen."

We sat there together in the quiet, holding on to each other like anchors in a storm. For the first time in what felt like days, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we could weather this. Together.

---------------------------------

1176 words