Jackson
DINNER HASN’T GONE quite the way that I was hoping it would. We are sitting in Claire’s favorite Italian restaurant and although everyone appears to be getting along, and there really hasn’t been a lag in the conversation, it has become slightly awkward as the evening has rolled on. There is a tension between the two women and that puts me smack dab in the middle as the peacekeeper. Which is not a position I am comfortable with. Protector…yes. Comedian…hell yes. Peacekeeper…fuck no!
Just as the waitress walks over to offer us dessert, Sasha rolls her eyes at something Claire has said, and quite frankly her blatant disrespect towards her mother pisses me off—big time. Peacekeeper be damned. I will not allow this attitude to occur in my presence for one more minute.
“Sasha, I realize that you are about to turn twenty-two and know the ways of the world. However, if you continue to treat your mother as though she is unable to comprehend the trials and tribulations in which your over privileged ass is going through, I will introduce you to what the world is truly like.” I say as the waitress walks away from our table.
Claire’s gasp draws my attention and I know that I have crossed the line. But really, I don’t care. The beauty that is currently seated to my left is the most remarkable creature to have walked the earth and I’ll be damned if I allow her to be treated this way. Even if it is by her daughter.
What truly gets my craw going is that Claire is allowing Sasha to treat her this way. Sasha is pushing her limits and I have seen Claire start to voice her opinion but she always stops herself. Maybe out of guilt, but everyone has their limits, and I have reached mine.
“Excuse me?” Sasha snaps in my direction. “I like you, Jack, I do, but quite frankly who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?”
“Sasha! I did not raise you to speak that way. What has gotten into you?”
“Get over yourself, Mom. I don’t need or want your opinion. And yes, you did raise me to speak my mind. Don’t pretend that you raised a perfect angel. I’m far from it and we both know it.” Tossing her napkin down, Sasha pushes her chair away from the table. “I’m out…Thanks for dinner, Jack.” Sasha walks out of the restaurant.
Claire is shell shocked at Sasha’s behavior and I can see her working up the nerve to apologize. “If you apologize I will completely lose my shit right now.” Grabbing Claire’s chin with my hand, I raise her eyes to mine. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Jackson, I have no explanation for her behavior. She has always been such a good girl. Kind, funny, loving. I truly don’t know what has gotten into her. She’s so angry.” With a sigh of defeat, Claire looks away from me.
Claire’s ashamed of Sasha’s behavior, I can tell, but Jesus, she has nothing to be ashamed of. She raised that kid, on her own, and has done an amazing job. All kids rebel at some point or another.
Waiting until I can get the waitress’s attention, I give her the universal sign for check please and keep looking at Claire. This woman. The one that I secretly loved at twenty-three, and finding myself here in her presence again amazes me. She is the most generous spirit I have ever encountered. Even after all that she lost all those years ago, she still stands proudly on her own two feet and pushes forward. And has done so alone.
Once the check has been delivered, I pull a few bills out of my wallet and place them on top of the check, then grab Claire’s hand and pull her to her feet. “Come on, Legs, let’s blow this Popsicle stand.” Which garners me a rare true Claire laugh. And I would do anything to make her laugh like that every day.
“Jackson, I’m okay. Really. Sasha gets this way from time to time.”
“Bullshit. You are anything but okay, but you will be. Now, if I recall, you loved buster bars from Dairy Queen.” I open the door and escort her out of the restaurant. “Now, where the hell is the nearest one?” I mumble into my phone. And thank you, God, I just got another laugh out of the woman to my left. My night has been completely made, even with the mother-daughter drama from earlier.
Opening the passenger door to my 1967 Chevy truck, Claire slides in and while I close her door and walk around, I catch her quickly slide over and unlock my door.
As I get in, I look over and realize just how tired she is. It isn’t a “Hi, I’ve had a hard day” tired, it’s more of a “I have been beaten down by life” kind of tired. Her head is tossed back onto the headrest, eyes closed, shoulders slouched and death grip on the old-time seat belt that only goes over her lap instead of the lap-shoulder one.
Shutting my door, she looks over at me and says, “I’m so tired, Jackson. I’m just so fucking tired.” With a heavy sigh, she turns those amazing green eyes of hers away to look out the window.