Mr.Brightside

Chapter 51

 Jack's Resolve

The next few days, I threw myself into work, hoping the rhythmic sound of saws and sanders would quiet the thoughts racing through my mind. But no matter how much I tried to focus on the bookshelf or Greg's endless revisions, I couldn't shake the conversation Clara and I had. I wanted to believe everything would work itself out, but the truth was, I felt lost—like I was stuck in the middle of a storm without a compass.

It wasn't just Clara and Ethan. It was this gnawing feeling that I was slipping into a rut, and everyone else around me was moving forward. The more Clara grew into her own, the more I felt like I was losing my grip on who I was supposed to be.

But standing here in my workshop, the smell of sawdust in the air, I realized something. I couldn't just sit around waiting for things to change. I had to do something about it.

A New Idea

That evening, after Olivia went to bed, I sat down at the kitchen table with a stack of papers in front of me. Clara was in the living room, going over more sketches, and I could see the concentration on her face from where I sat. She was in her element, lost in her work, and as much as I wanted to be jealous, I couldn't be. She deserved this.

I flipped through the stack of papers, the beginnings of an idea forming in my mind. For weeks, I'd been doing nothing but working on Greg Caldwell's endless demands. But it wasn't what I wanted. Sure, the money was good, but I'd lost the joy of creating something that was my own. I had forgotten what it felt like to make something that meant something to me.

Maybe that's what I needed to do.

I picked up my pencil, staring down at the blank sheet of paper in front of me. The idea was vague—just a whisper in the back of my mind—but I could feel it starting to take shape. Something different. Something that wasn't about Greg or his vision or even paying the bills. Something that was mine.

As I started sketching, the lines were rough and imprecise, but with each stroke, the image began to emerge. It was a table—an intricate, custom-designed piece that was more than just furniture. It was art. I'd been wanting to experiment with combining different types of wood, inlays, and carving styles, and now seemed like the perfect time to do it.

Clara glanced up from her work, noticing what I was doing. "What's that?"

I smiled slightly, holding up the rough sketch. "Just an idea I've been playing with. I think it's time I make something for me."

She got up from the couch and walked over to me, her eyes scanning the drawing. "It's beautiful, Jack. I love the design."

"Thanks," I said, feeling a surge of pride. "I think I need to step back from Greg's project for a bit. I need to focus on something that feels... like mine."

Clara nodded, her hand resting on my shoulder. "I think that's a great idea. You deserve to create something that brings you joy."

I exhaled, realizing how much I'd needed to hear that. "Yeah. I do."

A Shift in Focus

The next morning, I woke up with a new sense of purpose. I was done letting other people's expectations dictate my work. Greg's bookshelf could wait; it wasn't going anywhere. But this table, this new project—it was exactly what I needed to get back on track.

In the workshop, I laid out the materials I'd been hoarding for months—walnut, maple, and cherry wood, along with some exotic inlays I'd found on a whim at a flea market. I could already see it coming together in my mind. The tabletop would be a mosaic of different woods, each piece cut and arranged meticulously to form a pattern that was both geometric and organic.

As I started cutting the wood, I felt that familiar spark of excitement that had been missing for so long. This wasn't just work—it was art. It was something I could pour my soul into, and for the first time in weeks, I felt alive.

Olivia's Project

Later that afternoon, Olivia wandered into the garage, her tiny hands clutching a handful of crayons. "Daddy, can I help?"

I smiled, setting down my tools. "Of course, sweetheart. What are you working on?"

She climbed up onto a stool, her face serious as she laid out her crayons. "I'm making a picture of a rainbow, but I want to put it on something special."

I looked around the workshop, trying to think of something she could use. Then an idea hit me. "How about we make a frame for your picture? We can carve it out of wood, just like the ones I make for my projects."

Olivia's eyes lit up. "Really? I can have my own frame?"

"Absolutely," I said, grabbing a small piece of wood from the scrap pile. "We'll carve it together, and you can color it however you want."

She clapped her hands excitedly, and we spent the next hour working on the frame. I showed her how to use the smaller tools, guiding her hands as she carefully helped me carve the edges. It was slow going, but she was focused, her tongue sticking out in concentration as she worked.

When we were done, Olivia proudly held up the frame, beaming. "It's perfect, Daddy!"

"It sure is," I said, feeling a sense of pride that had nothing to do with my own work. "You did an amazing job."

As we cleaned up, I realized how much I'd missed moments like this—just being with Olivia, creating something together. It reminded me that there was more to life than the stress of work and deadlines. This was what mattered.

A Late-Night Conversation

That night, after Olivia was asleep, Clara and I sat on the back porch, the cool breeze rustling the trees around us. We hadn't talked much since I'd started my new project, but I could tell she noticed the change in me. I felt lighter, more present, and less weighed down by the things I couldn't control.

"You seem happier," Clara said, breaking the comfortable silence between us.

"I am," I admitted. "This new project—it's exactly what I needed. I didn't realize how much I'd lost myself in other people's expectations."

Clara nodded, her gaze soft. "I'm glad, Jack. I've been worried about you."

"I know," I said, reaching for her hand. "But I'm figuring it out. I've just got to take it one step at a time."

She smiled, leaning her head against my shoulder. "That's all we can do, right? Just keep moving forward, one step at a time."

For the first time in a long while, I felt like we were both on the same page. We weren't perfect, and we still had a lot to figure out, but we were in it together. That was what mattered.

As we sat there, the stars twinkling above us, I felt something shift inside me. I wasn't lost anymore. I had found my path again, and I was ready to walk it—step by step, with Clara by my side.

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