I brace myself for the angry, drunken mess Jess is sure to be. I know because looking at Jess is like looking at myself ten years ago.
“Up we go,” I say, leaning over the stairs, lifting him underneath his armpits. Kid is solid and drunk, which equals dead weight. I finally hoist him up out of the water, only to realize he’s butt ass naked.
“Ah, what the fuck, man,” I say, averting my eyes.
I lead him down the steps, keeping a healthy distance. He drops the bottle of Jack, glass shattering at our feet. I try to lead Jess away from the glass, but he walks across it, unfeeling. Uncaring. Once inside, he sits his naked ass down on my couch, and I run upstairs to grab him a towel and some clean clothes.
“Put these on.” I toss the clothes next to him. He doesn’t move, head bent, cradled in his hands.
“Come on, man. Get dressed.”
He finally listens, moving slowly. Facing away from him, I call Lo.
“Is he okay?” are the first words out of her mouth. I scratch at the back of my neck, putting some more space between us.
“He’s fine. Drunk, but fine.”
“Thank God,” Lo says, letting out a relieved breath.
“There is one problem, though.”
“What?” Lo asks, like she’s afraid of the answer.
“Jess is here…but the car isn’t.”
“Of course, it isn’t. That would be too easy.”
“Do you want me to bring him to you?”
“I’m coming to you now. Henry’s dropping me off. I don’t think Jess should be around either of our parents right now. And I use the word parents loosely,” she adds, probably for Henry’s benefit.
“Okay. We’ll look for the car in the morning.” It must be around two a.m. by now.
We hang up, and when I turn back, Jess is dressed—thankfully. I hand him the coffee I bought on the way over and sit down next to him, unsure of what to say. I think about how I’d feel if the situation were reversed. I wouldn’t want anyone to say a damn thing to me, especially in his state. So, I don’t speak at all, content to sit in silence unless he breaks it first.
That’s what we do for maybe ten minutes as he drinks his coffee, before he looks over at me, eyes bloodshot and glassy. “Don’t hurt her.”
“Not planning to.”
“Everyone lets her down. Even me.”
“I’m not everyone,” I say bluntly.
“Good.”
Another pause.
“What’s your issue?”
“Come again?”
“Your drama. You know mine. What’s your story?”
“I was left in a parking lot when I was a kid. Bounced around from foster family to foster family until I aged out.” I leave out a lot, but those are the Cliffs Notes.
“Life sucks,” Jess mutters, running a hand down his face.
“Sometimes,” I agree.