Overcast Night Stars

34: Wishing Jar

Chapter 34- Wishing Jar

A light breeze flew around the house as Jughead pulled into the driveway. He and Cheryl took turns ranting about what's better. Cherries or Burgers. Betty wanted to stab her eardrums with toothpicks as she listened to them debate over and over it. It was like she was re-living the friends date jug and her mother had before she gave birth to Koel.

Betty helped Cheryl wake Fp. He had fallen asleep at his break down. She couldn't blame the poor man. Losing a child is devastating. She hopes that they will find him soon. Fp jolts awake by the sound of a dying engine. He wasn't ready to come back to reality yet. He was dreaming about his son. They were at the park and his son was a year old. His was toddling around carrying his stuffed dog which was caked in mud under his arm.

He only wished that his son was there for real and not under the ground. His stomach jolts as the thoughts enters his head. He can't—no he's alive, he keeps telling himself. His son was alive until it was proven so.

His feet brace the floor as he dreads walking into his home. The home he shares with his family. It's also the place he last saw his little man. He doesn't even know if he'll see him again. He tries so hard not to let the negativity rot his brain cells but it's getting impossible to ignore his inner demons. Drinking was one.

As much as he craved a drink, to end the misery and just run away. For once the father in him gripped and held by one hand to the vine. Everything felt like gravity crushing him into a pressurizer. His lungs lacked oxygen he need to breathe and survive. His heart lacked a thing called; hope. Hope was running low for him. The longer his son was gone. The less hope he had to live on. His stomach craved food and booze.

He wishes he could wish on a wishing jar. A wish could make his day a little brighter and the glow would make his son appear. He wishes he could find his son hiding in a laundry basket under the all the clothes and pop out and squeal. A squeal that would make him scoop up and give him a squeeze. He wishes his son was just playing a risky game of hide and seek. All he wants.

All he needs. All he desires was his son in his arms, safe and sound. But unfortunately, life has cruel intentions. All his life was filled with cruel intentions. Nothing but disappointments after disappoints. From his father, mother and finally him.

He caused a number of himself. He was a drunk for one. Two: he always caused problems. He joined football to escape from his abusive father at the age nine. His mother left him. He always felt like it was his fault. Like he was destined to be broken. A drunk, abusive and a deadbeat like his old man.

He glances over at Alice. He could see that she was baking. Baking? Why was she baking? Not like there was something wrong with her baking. Not at all. What made him curious was on how she smiled. She hasn't smiled in days. And god he missed her smile.

"What's all this?" He questioned as he lumbers over to the stool by the island.

Alice's eyes flicker over to her boyfriend and she instantly raced up to him. "Where have you been? You had me worried sick, Forsythe!" She exclaimed as she slapped him on his shoulder.

He steps back and catches the wooden spoon by its handle and retrieves the spoon from her tightly locked fingertips. She rolls her eyes at him and snatched the spoon back.

She's tired of the games and wants to know where he's been. She can't keep up with his lies. First to his father! What on earth would it be now?! He smells like a bar and she instantly wants to slap his head again.

"Easy, Al.." His voice trails on as he smoothed his palm on her back. She feels his hand right along her spine and sparks ignite with her nerves.

"Where have you been?" She demands this time. Her tone cold and pointed as she pushed his hand back like he burned her.