Spring [Completed]

SIX

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HIM

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"Softness is not weakness. It takes courage to stay delicate in a world this cruel."

—Beau Taplin

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Night shifts always leave my body out of whack. They're stressful, unpredictable, and most of all they throw off my sleep schedule—not that I really have much of that nowadays.

I was ecstatic to learn that my day off this week would be Sunday. I'd planned out the whole day. I'd finally get to go to Sunday service, I'd do my laundry, and best of all I'd get to rest. But, as I roll over in bed and take a glance at my clock, I realize rest is the only thing I'd get accomplished today.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, considering that by the time I got home, the sun had already risen. I told myself I'd only sleep for four hours, but here I am, lying in bed with half the day gone, still feeling utterly and completely exhausted.

My bedsheets pool at my waist, as I sit up in bed. I groan at the light peeking through my dark curtains, smoothing my hands over my tousled hair as I stare blankly at the floor.

Sleep beacons me back to bed, but I ignore it, wiping at my tired eyes and throwing my sheets off my body. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I feel somewhat awake.

With a newfound motivation, I throw on a pair of basketball shorts and shoes and make my way towards the gym in my apartment complex. I should at least do something productive today.

I'm halfway through my last set when my music suddenly stops playing. I frown, confused, as I search my gym bag for my phone. My frown quickly evaporates when I see Jonah's picture flash across the screen.

I lean against the squat rack and answer the call. "Hey, Jo. What's up?"

His voice is soft and anxious, a stark contrast to his normally assured demeanor. "H-hey Dad. You, um, you busy?"

"No. Never for you bud." I frown, growing concerned. "Is everything okay? You don't sound like yourself."

He's quiet for a moment, the only sound emitting from the speaker is his soft breathing. I can hear him take a deep breath, as he steels himself, finding his voice again. "Yeah Dad, I'm fine. I um, I just wanted to ask you a question about this, um...um this bruise I have on my foot...Yeah, this bruise."

I smirk, taking a seat on the discarded bench. "A bruise, huh?" I wipe the sweat dripping from my brow. "Send me a picture."

After a moment of shuffling, Jonah's voice crackles through the speaker once more. "Okay, I sent it."

I glance at the picture and laugh lightly to myself. "Jo, when was the last time you got new cleats?"

"Um," his voice trails off as he thinks. "I don't know, a couple months ago?"

"Well," I say, standing and gathering my belongings into my gym bag. "Your cleats are too small. Tell your mom to buy you some new ones." I take a sip of my water as I wait for his response.