Living with Jennifer Lawrence

[11:] Helpless

I told myself I wouldn't do this, but too many people have wanted it to happen... so, here you go.

Maddie's P.O.V.

Throughout the day I've been wondering about Jason. Trying so hard to remember him, but I can't.

We were only four when we were separated, and to think I would remember something. But no, my mind is a blank space. Hardly any memory of him whatsoever.

When the final bell rung, I exited Spanish class. So far, it's hard. Miss Perez, or should I say, Señora Perez doesn't make the class any easier. This week I had to have the entire spanish alphabet memorized, and then recite it to the class. Why do the weird letters such as ñ, even exist?

Sure enough, Jason was waiting for me in our usual spot in the back, his head resting against the window.

“A few minutes, remember?” I remind him. “Then I'm going home and hopefully won't speak of this again. I'm happy where I'm living at, and you should be too.”

He nods in response.

“I think Macy is excited to see you, she hasn't seen you since we were four, and our mother gave me away, and you got to stay.”

“You know, I don't get that,” I say. “Why did you get to stay with our aunt? Why didn't she take both of us?”

“Easy. She couldn't afford it.”

“So for all of these years, you've been in Chicago?”

“Pretty much,” he sits back. “You didn't tell your legal guardian about this, did you?”

“Why? Would that be a problem?”

I was testing his limits. I didn't tell Jen yet but am planning on to this afternoon.

“N--No, not at all.”

“Good.”

***

Their house isn't as nice as our place.

It's two stories tall, and had a small palm tree in the front yard. Paint was chipping in some spots, the windows a tad dirty. The flowers, dead and wilted.

The grass could use a trimming, that's for sure. And to think Jason being a boy and all, he'd help out with the yard work.

My phone was in my pocket, in case of emergencies.

I felt uncomfortable being here. It wouldn't be too late to turn back. . .

Jason knocked on the door and a woman answered.

Tears welled up into her eyes. “Madison, is that really you?”

She looked like my mother, just a tiny bit. Other than the pale blue eyes and light complexion, she made little resemblance to my mother. Her hair was dyed brown, I could tell, her eyebrows were fairly light. She wore a plain white tee with baggy, ripped jeans.

The house wasn't so bad, could've been a little more clean, but whatever.

The hissing of a kettle startled me a bit.

“Oh, that must be the tea!” Macy said. “Sit down, Madison, make yourself at home.”

Home? Home is where the people I love is. Home is where Jen is, waiting for me.

I sat on a chair in the kitchen, just as Macy poured some tea into a mug.

She placed the cup in front of me, and I was hesitant to drink it.