Chasing Sunshine | JJ Maybank

35 // Dead Calm

The Wreck was blissfully close to empty with it being that awkward time of day: just late enough the last of lunch crowd had left but still too early for even the early-bird specials to have started. Kie had disappeared into the back for a minute or two, coming back with a tray of waters which she passed around the table, eyeballing us apprehensively as she did.

Only a few short sentences had been spoken the entire ride over as all conversation puttered out quickly and none of it was constructive. She sat down next to me, taking in my curled-up form perched on one of the dining room chairs and I glanced up to smile in thanks as she slid the glass over to me; she looked almost as upset as I currently felt. John B cleared his throat, finally piercing the silence to address the fairly obvious source of discomfort.

"Look he'll come around, all right? It's..." he hesitated, struggling to find the right words as I squinted at him irritatingly over the rim of my glass, "He's doing a JJ thing."

"You think he'll go home?" Kie asked to no one specific, staring off into space with her line of sight focused on the surface of the table. Her question only served to heighten the overwhelming sense of dread that had sat heavy in my gut ever since we left Barry's, mostly because it was the same question that kept an annoyingly persistent presence at the forefront of my mind.

Pope scoffed from his position standing and staring out the windows. "There's about a zero percent chance that JJ goes home."

His lackluster attempt at reassurances did nothing for my anxiety, but apparently it was enough for everyone else, because just like that, the discussion was over. John B looked over at Sarah, who sat across from me, appearing rather exhausted over the events of today.

"You okay?" he asked her softly, to which she nodded with a strained smile.

"Yeah...are you?"

He flashed her a charming smile back. "I mean, I'm in one piece so-"

I slammed my glass back down onto the table forcefully, their nonchalant, mild-mannered flirtations only serving to irritate me and everyone's eyes flew upwards in suprise at the harsh thud. "Are you kidding me?" I snapped, bringing the conversation screeching back to the only topic I was interested in discussing. "Am I the only one that's even vaguely concerned about where he is right now?"

"Meg, he just does this sometimes. You know that as well as I do," John B said slowly, analyzing my demeanor carefully, "He gets pissed off and he dips for a while. He'll show up eventu-"

I nearly lept to my feet, the legs of my chair screeching against the hardwood floor as it slid backwards and I irrationally directed most of my outrage on him. "And that doesn't bother you? We don't know where he is, or what he's doing-" I exclaimed, waving an angered hand in the air as his eyes went wide, "-for fuck's sake John B, he just left a drug dealer's house with 25,000 dollars worth of stolen cash. A drug dealer who, mind you, just had a shotgun pointed at our heads like what? A couple hours ago? He could be dead in a ditch somewhere for all we know!"

"Look, I don't know why you're yelling at me, I didn't make him leave," John B retaliated, his voice also rising defensively.

"Yeah, well you didn't make him stay either," I snorted.

"As I remember, he ignored you just as much as he ignored me, so I hardly think I deserve you bitching me out-"

"All right, that's enough," Pope interjected quickly, cutting us both off right as I had opened my mouth to let loose some more. Kie tugged on my wrist gently and I let her tentatively pull me back down into my seat while John B and I continued to seeth quietly. She kept her fingertips on the sun-faded yellow, green, and blue friendship bracelet tied above my left hand. It was part of a set; the others were wrapped around the wrists of the other four Pogues, all in different colors but all braided by Kie and I as a Christmas present for all of us one year in middle school. "Meg," Pope added, making me break eye contact from my staredown with John B to look at him instead, "JJ can handle himself, you're not his mother."