CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Jackson severely underestimated the distance of the gas station. The walk was a lot further than either of us were anticipating. But turning back now after how far we had already journeyed was not an option.

Besides, it wasn't all that bad. The company was good. The bad vodka was getting better. And we found a way to keep ourselves entertained.

"Okay, I've got another one." I exhaled, trying my best not to put all of my cards on the table at once. "He's on the second floor and has very strong opinions."

"Mr. Anderson."

My lips moved from the bottle. "Wow," Jackson's winning streak remained untouched. "You're really good at this; it's kinda scary."

"I know all about Mr. Anderson's opinions; he was my global studies teacher junior year."

I could feel the warmth crawling back to me, working its way from the inside out. Except this time, the intoxication was gathering differently.

My eyelids felt the way they always did in this state, weighing five pounds each. But my body and all of its processes were working at a much different tempo.

This time, it wasn't white noise that hummed in the back of my mind, but instead, a lullaby. It sang me softly to the other side, coaxing me towards the rapture.

"He should run for president." There was no longer a system organizing my thoughts from my speech.

Anything that came to mind was fair game, and my mouth was just impulsively spitting them out without hesitation.

Jackson slid the bottle out of my grasp and twisted the cap back on. "Why?"

"He's very wise."

He laughed, "Haven't you heard the rumors about him?"

"Yeah, you're right. Nevermind."

People were always going on about the skeletons hiding in our teachers' closets; Mr. Anderson's in particular involved his special interest in graduating senior girls.

"Guess I'm just gonna have to run."

"That's what it's looking like." He replied in his usual, stiff disposition. "Thank you for your service."

Seeing Jackson from this new perspective was like taking a peek behind the curtain. I still saw the quiet boy who sat by himself in my advanced chemistry class; he was never going to be able to escape that image.

But there was more to him now. His mystery was unraveling. I didn't know why I needed to understand him so badly. I just did.

"If I tell you something, do you promise you won't get mad?"

His sudden question made me tense. The gas station was in sight now; its canopy of lights was our salvation from darkness.

I nodded. But I knew that I couldn't be faithful to a promise like that.

"I was starting to think I got us lost."

The corners of my mouth crept upwards. "How far were you planning on taking us before you said something?"

"Probably another half a mile."

My head turned instinctively to face him, my thoughts preparing to lose another battle to my mouth, when I saw a faint image.

It wasn't there for long. But it was long enough for me to make sense of what I had seen. There was light waiting for me at the end of the dark, never-ending tunnel I was trapped in.

The light was too far out of reach now, but it made me hopeful that some day my winter would fade away into spring.

Despite Jackson's failed attempt to take us both out, I smiled. "Next time, I'm going back to the car."

Except that wasn't the truth. I would've walked the entire earth if it meant finding the one silver lining in my world of gray.

We made it to the two glass doors without further disaster. I knew better than to voice the strange comfort that he and his, now unraveling, mystery brought me.

Not that long ago, his hand was swinging Nathan's car door in my face. Besides, I wasn't looking for another situation; I just wanted relief.

"Are you hungry?" After hiding his bottle behind a garbage can, Jackson pulled the door open for me.

Inside, the air conditioning was on high, and I could feel the bumps forming on my exposed flesh. The universal scent of grease, that was specific to all convenience stores, hit my nose. And I was now very aware of just how empty my stomach was.

"I could eat."

No one was at the front counter when we approached it. Instead, there was a bell that instructed customers to ring for service. So I did.

We waited. Mentally, I was trying to shake off the liquor brain and get myself back to a more stable state. But even after a few quiet moments, no one came.

I looked over cluelessly at Jackson. And he looked cluelessly back at me. So I rang it again.

Finally, a man came out from the back. I didn't expect five-star hospitality this late in the night, but the way he stood in front of us, not uttering a word, was a little off-putting.

"Do you guys have a bathroom?" I said, trying to break the discomfort between the three of us.

"The women's room is outback on the left." He reached beneath the counter and handed me a screwdriver with a small key attached to it.

I felt guilty leaving Jackson in there to fend for himself. But after only filling my body with liquids for the past few hours, it was necessary.

I'm not sure what it is about the bathroom. Not just this bathroom but all bathrooms' alike. They always found a way to make the intoxication feel more intense.

My feet felt like they were floating above the concrete as I rinsed the soap from my hands. I could feel my reflection in the mirror, begging me for a glance.

Usually, I could resist the urge. There was no point anyway; I never saw myself anymore. So, when I finally built up the courage, I was half expecting to find that someone had swapped faces with me.

That was not the case. It was me standing in the glass. Except, my heavy eyelids made it feel like I was staring at a photograph of myself instead of the real thing.

I felt sorry for her, the girl in the glass. All she wanted was for things to be okay again.

My heart was starting to feel heavy in my chest. I wasn't ready to go back to the dark place, so I pointed my thoughts in another direction.

It turns out the long journey was worth it after all. There was service in this part of town. It must've been Jackson's luck that made it possible, because it certainly wasn't mine.

My hands worked to dial the rescue team. But while staring at Avery's name, my drunken mind started spiraling.

How, in my—sort of—right mind, could I place the call knowing that everything I was running from would be waiting for me?

What if I wasn't ready to go back to all the noise? What if I want to play pretend for just a little while longer?

When I left the bathroom, Jackson was waiting for me on the curb outside the store.

"Is that dinner?" I asked, sitting beside him on the concrete, motioning to the opened bag of gummy bears in his lap.

"Yeah, help yourself."

It wasn't exactly what I had in mind when he asked me if I was hungry. But anything was better than nothing at this point. I took a few from the bag and chewed each of them slowly.

"What are those?"

There were two small pieces of paper in his hand, and he was examining both of them very closely.

"Lottery tickets." He said, before handing one over to me. "I got one for you too."

"Don't you have to be twenty-one to buy lottery tickets?"

"He didn't ask for my ID. Just when my birthday was." Jackson shrugged. "I told him I was twenty-five."

After finishing off the last of our meal, I reached into my pocket and took two keys off of my keychain.

We spent a few moments in silence, scratching away at the letters on our papers with the metal keys.

"Can I ask you something?" The vodka word vomit found its way back to me.

Jackson nodded without looking up from his ticket.

"Why is your mom in jail?"

He stopped scratching. He didn't say anything at first. His eyes staring out into the night that expanded out in front of us.

"Drugs." Was all he said.

And that was enough for me to understand. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. This isn't the first time." He said, his tone surprisingly free from any sadness. "I'm just glad my uncle isn't on our couch anymore."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. He would just be there all the time. Just on our couch. Everyday." He was laughing now, and so was I.

"That's awful."

"Tell me about it."

We composed ourselves enough to finish off our tickets. Checking in every now and then to see if either of us were about to become the next millionaire.

"I got nothing." Jackson said, ripping the paper in two.

"I think I won two dollars."

He leaned towards me; I could feel the closeness like electricity on my skin.

"Yeah, you did. Congrats."

I kept it in my hand, still staring at it even after Jackson pulled away. It wasn't much. I couldn't even legally cash it in. But it made me want to hold on to that hopeful feeling just a little while longer.

It got me thinking that maybe things were turning and luck was finding its way back over to my side.

My phone rang then. I folded up the lottery ticket and put it into the pocket of my jacket. The rescue team was coming whether I wanted them to or not.

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