The Hateful Heavy Heart | 18+

09 - Vulnerability

"Jace," my mother started, "are you alright?"

It was nine o'clock and the food was mostly gone. I was doing my best to keep a calm composure, but everything was bothering me. I was irritated. I was irritated with myself and with my past and with the fact that I couldn't bring myself to be vulnerable with a man that I knew wouldn't hurt me.

I nodded my head but stayed silent. From across the table, Jackson was eyeing me, but he didn't say anything. I knew he was worried, too. I could tell by the sad-ass half-smile he was offering to me.

My mother licked her lips and pushed her hair out of her face, turning her attention back to the food Ruggiero ordered. "Well, this—" she paused to look at the label, "—penne alla vodka was good. Dessert anyone?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding my head. The tiramisu, as it was labeled, looked delicious. "I'll take some."

"Yeah, me too," voiced my brother. "Sooo, Jacey, how's work?"

"Work...is work. Cleo's doing fine. I have a new patient as well. I can't remember her name," I paused. I sighed as my mother slid a plate of the dessert toward me. "God, I'm so tired." I brushed my hand over my face and picked up my fork. "But yeah, she's a cute little old lady. She's blind. I feel bad for her. What about you, Jackson?"

I looked up to see him offering me another sad-ass smile. Yeah, he was definitely worried. "Work has been great, actually. I have a new client. His a heavier dude, but he wants to tone up, we've got a plan to replace a bit of that body fat with muscle."

"A heavier dude?" my mother repeated.

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, something like that. I also hooked him up with my buddy Thomas Fairbanks. He's a nutritionist. I like working with Thomas, so I'm pretty fucking excited."

"Okay, Jackson, watch the language, please." My mother then took a bite of her tiramisu.

"Sorry, mama."

We fell into another silence, save for the occasional small talk that Jackson and my mother would try to make to me. I laughed a bit. I tried to be animated with them.

I would admit to the unspoken truth of the night; dinner just didn't feel the same tonight.

"Jace, you've been awfully quiet." There it was. My mother had done it. The elephant in the room had been brought to attention. "I almost miss hearing you two exchange crude jokes and tossing indirect insults at me."

I laughed lightly. "The insults are never indirect."

"You know what I mean, Jace." She then reached her hand across the table and placed it over mine. "I know we don't always get along, Jace, but you're my daughter and I care about you. You don't look well tonight. Are you feeling sick?"

I averted her eye contact. "No, I'm in good health."

"How are you mentally?"

"I am mentally sane."

"And emotionally?"

"Mom," Jackson spoke up, "I just don't think tonight is her night."

I laughed again, without humor this time. "It's not. I swear to god it's not." I laughed again before standing up to leave the table. "Excuse me, please."

Trying to keep it together, I hurriedly walked to the restroom. Nothing had been going my way today and that terrible dream was just the icing on the cake. Once to the bathroom, I shut the door behind myself and locked it. I turned the faucet on cold, pushed my hands underneath the water, before wiping my face with my cold, wet hands.