Here In The Now

SIRI

“Here we are,” Jackson said, his voice a little too rough, but I could also see he was excited. “Home.”

I looked at the building in front of us. It was the most home-like building I have ever seen. The entire building radiated warmth. Built with bricks, with vines curling around the walls like an intimate lover. The two-story building had a glow I never thought a house could have. And I could imagine Jackson growing up in a house like this: running around the brick walls and getting into whatever mischief he was getting into. 

I stared at the house for a while before I looked over at him to see him standing so still, staring at it with his eyebrows pinched painfully together, but a tiny, sad smile on his face. 

“My grandfather gave this to my mother,” he whispered. "A sanctuary, he called it. I missed school a lot because my mother and I always came here. As I grew older, I learned that it was her way of avoiding my father. That she came to this house because she needed to breathe, and not for the fresh air and privacy.” His jaw tightened slightly. “I heard her most nights when she cried, you know. I heard her screaming into the phone, crying to him how much he was hurting her and how she loved him so much that she couldn't leave. I heard all that, and still I… I still…”

I dropped my bag to free my hand and interlocked our fingers. He turned to me, his eyes bright with pain. 

“Here we are,” I echoed his words. “We’re in Sheffield. For your game, for the reunion with your old team, not for the past. Not for you to think about those hurtful things. We’re here for the now, Jackson.”

He swallowed, nodding once. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

“Come on. Let’s go in.” 

Here we are in Sheffield, the city he grew up in, and we weren't staying in a hotel this time. The house was quite a distance from the city and his team, but Jackson rented a car and said there was no way he was staying at a hotel when he had a home nearby, so here we are.

The last game is three nights away, and there was no practice. They all seemed to agree they'd practiced enough and should use this time to rest up and study their opponents, and they had a lot of studying to do. Jackson’s former team was the top in the country for a reason: they were good. And even though they lost Jackson, their captain, that did nothing to throw them off.

The last four games had been almost easy wins for the team, and they'd won all four, but in this last one, I could already feel the hardship. And for someone who was so heavy and drunk on victory, Jackson didn't seem bothered. The only thing he was worried about was playing against his old team, people he called family. 

I knew this last game was going to be the toughest. 

~.~

We dropped our bags as soon as we got inside and opened the windows to clear out the stale air. The place was dusty, but it still smelled warm.

“My mother never allows anything in here but us,” Jackson said as we got cleaning, searching for clean blankets and taking the sheets off a few pieces of furniture. “It was something that reminds her of her parents, so she didn't want anyone in here, touching their things, marring their memories. Her exact words.” 

My eyes widened slightly as I stared at the pictures on the wall, covered in dust but still so beautiful. There were pictures of Lilian, where she was younger and more vibrant. In each picture, she wore a wide, warm smile. Then I came to another picture, and I gasped in excitement. 

“That’s you!” I exclaimed, pointing to the picture and looking over at Jackson.

“Yes, yes,” he said with a light pink on his cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing too exciting there. Come on.”

I scoffed as I looked back at the picture. “Says you!”

It was a picture of both of them, and he was looking much, much younger. Maybe nine in the picture? His hair was just as black, his grey eyes just as intense, but that was the only similarity between this Jackson and the one standing behind me. 

The Jackson in the picture was so cute, I felt like I was about to melt. He wore short suspenders, his socks reached his knees, and his black loafers shone like a mirror. He had a stick of cotton candy in his hand, his other hand gripping his mother’s skirt like his life depended on it. And he had snot in his nose! His eyelashes were still wet with tears, his lips pressed into a pout, and he glared at the camera like whoever was behind it had offended him.

“Cute!” I squealed, pulled out my phone, and snapped a picture.

“God, no, Siri,” he sighed from behind me. “No, I beg you, delete that.”

“Nuh-uh!” 

I went on, taking pictures of the ones that caught my eye—which was all of them. Some of them, he was crying; others, he was laughing so hard his eyes were closed. 

“I think I'm going to die from this cuteness,” I muttered as I went through the pictures on my phone, looking up to see Jackson staring at me with a bashful look. I put my phone away as I walked to him with a smile. “Okay, I'll stop torturing you now.”

He just gave me a flat look. “Appreciate it, mate.”

“But only for an hour. I’ll resume later.”

He rolled his eyes as he took my hand and led me upstairs, leaving our bags behind. “Let me show you the bed. I bet you’ll find that more interesting.” 

“You’re so naughty,” I giggled as we walked a little faster.

He looked back at me, a spark in his eyes that made strange and new sensations consume my entire being. “I learn from the best.”

His words from two nights ago still echoed in my head like an alarm. Those three words that had made me freeze completely. Those words that had fear clinging to my heart, mixing with excitement and panic. 

Those three words that I couldn't say back. I… I wasn't ready. Not sure I'll ever be.