Chapter 15
1043 Words
“Hi, Red.”
“Jax?” Sarah was stunned. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to return something to you.” He paused. “Can I come in?”
She glanced behind her, and he squinted, trying to see what she was looking at. “Uh. I’ll come out.” She unlocked the screen door, and stepped onto the porch, partly closing the door behind her. He looked at her closely, taking in the makeup on her face.
“You did a good job covering it all up,” he said.
She blinked, confused, then she touched her cheek. “Oh. Oh, yeah.”
“How’s it feel?” He longed to push that glorious hair back off her forehead, check the stitches, but that wasn’t his place. “Your forehead?”
“Better.” She twisted her hands, looking agitated. She shot another quick look inside the house. “So, what are you returning?”
“This.” The necklace dangled between his fingers, and she gasped.
“Oh, God. I thought I’d lost it in the parking lot when Dave… when he knocked me out.”
“Nope, it was in the crash room.”
“Oh, thank you.” She took it, and when she saw that the clasp was broken, she put it in her pocket.
“I – uh. I stopped by a jewelry place on my way over here.” Jax felt his face flame. “I… I got you a new chain.” He handed her a long, slim box. “I tried to get one as close to the broken one as possible. I hope it’s OK.”
She stared at him. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
With trembling fingers she opened the box, and gasped again. “Oh, Jax. It’s beautiful. Perfect, actually.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Her eyes prickled with tears. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They gazed at each other now, and without any warning at all, they smiled at the same time, and then totally relaxed.
“So,” he said. “Can I come in now? Just for a little while?”
Sarah opened her mouth to answer him, and then froze when she heard movement inside the house. Jax looked at the door as it swung open all the way, and he blinked at the man standing there.
He was huge, almost as big as Jax himself, and he was mumbling incoherently and gazing down at the floor. His arms were loose and dangling at his sides, and he clenched and unclenched his large hands constantly. His red-brown hair was unbrushed and he had food in one corner of his mouth. He reminded Jax of a kid who’d lived in his neighborhood when he was growing up. The kids had all just called him The Retard – Jax included. He grimaced as he remembered that, remembered his cruelty to a child who couldn't help whatever challenges he'd had.
“Sarah,” the man said in a deep, low voice. “Done.”
“OK, sweetie,” she said gently, and glanced at her watch. “It’s twelve-twenty-six now. You’ve got four minutes to get to your paints.”
The man nodded, then seemed to notice Jax. He stared at Jax’s boots, then raised his eyes to Jax’s knees, then a bit higher.
“Boots,” the man said. “Jeans. Belt. T-shirt.”
“That’s good,” Sarah said. “Honey, this is a friend of mine. His name is Jax.”
“Jax,” the man repeated. “Jax, Jax, Jax.”
“Jax,” Sarah said. “This is Noah. My twin brother.”
****
Jax sat on the front porch, staring across the street at the mini-thugs still sitting there smoking their stupid little faces off.
For f**k's sake. Get to school, idiots.
The door opened and Sarah came out now, carrying two cups of coffee. He stood up to accept the one she offered him, then he waited until she sat down before taking his chair again. He didn’t say anything, just waited.
Sarah sighed. Here we go. “OK, Jax. Just ask.”
“Is he – what has he got?”
“He’s autistic,” Sarah said.
“Like – like Rainman?”
She laughed. “It’s amazing how many people have that character as their first point of reference. But yeah, like Rainman. Noah’s autism isn’t anywhere near that severity on the spectrum, but he does have some of the same patterns of behavior.”
“Like what?”
She leaned back. “The compulsive need for ritual, mostly. Noah needs to do the same things at the same times every day. If he can’t, or doesn’t, and we don’t give him some kind of advance warning of the change, he… he sometimes gets very upset.”
Jax stared at her. “He gets violent with you?”
“Oh. Oh, no.” Sarah shook her head. “No, he’s never been violent towards me, not ever. He just – he throws things, destroys things. Hits himself in the head and face. It doesn’t happen every time his routine is unexpectedly upset, but if it does get started, I’m not strong enough to stop him. So he almost always ends up in the hospital, which interrupts his schedule even more. All in all, it’s best for everyone if I make sure there are no breaks in his routine, especially first thing in the morning.”
Jax was quiet. “That’s why you were so upset and anxious about getting home by a certain time yesterday?”
“Yeah. Noah gets up every morning at exactly eight o’clock. Even if he’s awake before then, he won’t physically get out of bed – he’ll lie there and watch the clock. Then he’ll come downstairs, and I need to have his breakfast on the table. If I don’t, it can send him into one hell of a panic.” She smiled. “It’s not the best way to start the day, I can promise you.”
Jax nodded. “And – and what? Every single day is exactly the same?”
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