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neshabeingchildish · 5 years

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Your Mom

Did not intend to have so many OCs here, but it's a moms-centric chapter and has some other folk you might come across in college - friends, coworkers and stuff. I gave Charlotte’s mom the name Rosemary and Jasper’s mom the name Pansy. Bear with me. Sorry. ILU thanks.

Your Mom

“Are the straights okay?” a friend typed as the caption of a post with a bride grabbing the groom and forcing him into marriage. Charlotte kept scrolling. The straights were not okay for a number of reasons, and that was one of the ones that she didn’t relate to, at all. There’d be no dragging of men to the altar for her. She was almost certain that somebody might have to drag her to one, in order for it to go down, if she was perfectly honest, but she’d lucked out and managed to find a decent man who managed to remake himself into a godsend for her, and she believed it was what she deserved.

Being pampered on her period was one thing, but Jasper’s nurturing was like… constant. He’d figure out that something worked and he would go for it, tried and true and be her rock through just about anything. Some people didn’t like for things to remain the same. They felt like it was stagnant or got stale, but Charlotte hated change. She liked to be comfortable and the rollercoaster of fitting herself into Jasper’s world was one that had been uproarious and uncomfortable. While she hated that he seemed sad that he didn’t have the time to do a lot of the things that he used to, she loved not needing to dress up, go out, small talk or be seen by his friends as a bitch or a buzzkill, interact with people who were way drunker than her, and way stupider, even on their smartest days… Like… She was glad that he was too busy to socialize. But, she also felt bad about it, because Jasper thrived on that energy.

He flourished and blossomed and without it, she was worried that he might wither into his former sadness. SO, she got out of her comfort zone, hated it the entire time and plotted to try to get schedules to arrange a couple’s camping trip with some of his frat bros and their current interests or partners. She felt more comfortable about doing something that they wouldn’t be on campus for and able to invite every stoner and wild child in town, but something that she could also enjoy. Nature, hiking, maybe even a little partying by the campfire, or perhaps, they could rent a cabin! She still had to sort the details out whenever she could figure out when schedules would allow it. But, it also meant speaking with his bosses. Now… The tattoo parlour, it was all good. They loved him. He brought a lot of customers in, and a lot of traffic and they considered him like family - he had that effect on people. But, the internship… It was unpaid and he also hadn’t been there for very long. She did some research to figure out who she might be dealing with. She knew that the guy at the firm who took him on was an alumnus of his fraternity, but she didn’t know much else. A little delving couldn’t hurt. This dude’s name is Bart? He goes by Barty? Wait… Bartholomew Buttkiss? She cackled and kept looking. Typical WASP shit. Involved with more companies than he would ever put on the Internet, children looking like they’re about to do The Purge, grandchildren looking like The Village of the Damned. Game hunting (exotic animals, asshole…), golf (eye roll), lacrosse champion… Jazz enthusiast… “Okay… Maybe I can work with this, Mr. Buttkiss.” Charlotte searched through his profiles and through interviews and really put WAY more time into that than she even had into planning the actual goddamn trip! BUT…

She showed up at the firm, around when Jasper usually took a lunch break (when he might have called her), but early enough that she was able to be there whenever Barty was gonna be heading out for golf with a buddy. Don’t ask her how she found that out… She wore a long jazz festival shirt with cute little musical notes leggings and packed a huge basket of treats, including some peach tarts, old Barty’s faves and she came up to the desk as she saw him coming from out of the work area. “Hi!” She said to the receptionist, “Hoping that Jasper Dunlop is available for lunch. I can certainly wait, if he’s not, but I hope it’s possible to let him know that Charlotte is here. I brought some treats for your troubles.” She set the basket on the desk and opened it to let the smell out. “I recommend the peach tarts. They’re homemade.”

Barty headed over to the desk and asked, “I’m sorry, what’s happening here?”

Charlotte smiled at him and offered her hand, “Hi! I’m Charlotte. My fiance is an intern here. I’m trying to treat him to lunch, a little surprise. I brought enough treats at least for a few people.”

“You said that you’ve got peach tarts, huh?” Barty asked and looked into the basket, then helped himself. He made a bunch of obnoxious noises that she almost broke character behind, before declaring, “These are some of the best peach tarts I’ve ever tasted! You made these? Mmmm.” He grabbed another.

“I did! I didn’t know what to make, so I have a selection of stuff here. Help yourself.”

“Jasper, was it? He’s a good kid. You’re his fiance?” He gave her a lookover, and she couldn’t tell if he was judging her or just looking. “I didn’t realize that he was engaged.”

“It’s new. I’m trying to make sure that I’m a good, supportive woman, you know, but you can’t tell a man anything when he’s used to doing things and being successful. I’m trying to plan a camping trip, for instance, and he INSISTS that there’s no way that he’d ever be able to take the time off. He’s never gonna ask for it, so I have to just do what I can and squeeze in these little moments where I can, you know? Gotta make sure that he knows that I love him enough to bake for the office and set up picnics.”

“Are you gonna be a housewife?”

“In this economy?” She asked, and laughed. “No. I mean, he wants to be the breadwinner, but I’m actually one of the top people in my class and already working professionally in my field, lower level things. We’ve all gotta start someplace, right? I’m at Ridgemont Diagnostics…”

“REALLY?” He was impressed. “Are you a debutante?”

“Oh, no… I’m doing all of it on this,” she pointed to her temple.

“Interesting. Well, listen, when does Jasper need some time off? He’s an intern. It’s not like the place will fall apart without him.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s more like he’s just passionate about proving himself and earning his keep. I was thinking definitely a weekend before hunting season kicks off. Him, some of the fraternity guys and their lovely ladies, just taking a break, you know?”

“Of course. Listen, here… what was your name again?”

“Charlotte Page, Sir.”

He dug into his wallet and gave her a business card. “I want to get that tart recipe from you and you can email me when you want to take Jasper away. AND a jazz fan?” He said, noting her shirt, “I didn’t really know that kid had such good taste. His wardrobe is… interesting. Very nice to meet you.” He grabbed another tart and went on his way. It was a few minutes before Jasper ever came out.

He was smiling, in a simple button shirt with a very bright tie which she said, “Hey, F Sized… Stop wearing ties to work. Or wear like… old man ones that your boss might like.”

“He says that my ties are interesting.”

“Yeah, he told me the same thing. But, it was the way he said it.” He nodded and removed the tie. “So… Just so you know, you’re gonna have a free weekend and you, me, Coogie, Snek, and Fisher are gonna go camping.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I just wooed your boss for a free weekend for you and the fellas are gonna bring a girl and we’re going camping near the mountains.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you haven’t been able to do anything that you enjoy with your friends, and I knew that I could most likely ask your boss without making it seem like YOU were trying to get out of work. Come on, I’ve got you some maple bacon pies and an extra thick milkshake. It’s thicker than you,” she said and winked at him. Whenever they got outside, she also pinched his butt. “I love that thing,” she said, smiling fondly at it.

Hey, I am taking Jasper on a camping trip with some of his buddies. Can you look at the list of stuff that I’m bringing along and tell me if I left anything off? *Sends list*

Rosemary: Baby, I’ve never been camping before in my life, but I know that you’ve never been ill prepared for anything, a single day of your life. I’m sure if there’s something to think about that you’ve thought about it. Some of that stuff, I wouldn’t have even thought of.

Adanna: Friend, I think that you’re overthinking your relationship every since the ring. You know what’s best for yourself and Jasper. You’ve known for years, from what he’s told me and his dad. He thinks that you’re the smartest person alive and the most caring. Just trust yourself. You don’t need to ask us these things.

Charlotte: I just have never thought that I would ever be a fiancee or wife and it seems like I have to, idk, do something above and beyond? No?

Rosemary:You think that I’m over here going above and beyond? Honey, your dad is lucky if he gets my best as exhausting as it is to live with a man. As long as you love him, that will show up in how you treat him and what you do. There doesn’t need to be extra stuff…

Charlotte started another chat, with just her mother and Adanna: Okay… but, Jasper has a very rocky childhood and his family wasn’t really very loving, so I feel the way that I feel because I feel like I have to still undo some of the programming he’s had of what love is. I’ve sent him “I love you” messages before he goes to bed, every single night for almost 4 years now, just to try to get it in his mind that who loves you is the person who does nice things for you and to you. I have reminders in my phone to give him compliments, just as a self esteem booster, even though I know he gets plenty of fan love or whatever. I just… wanna do this right, you know? I didn’t wanna say all that in front of his mom.

Rosemary: Would she even care?

Charlotte: I don’t know, but he would. That’s his mom. He’ll always love her, no matter what.

Rosemary: I dread my grandchildren being exposed to somebody like that.

Adanna: Why don’t you have everyone over and try to speak with her about the things that are unresolved?

Charlotte: Like… everyone? Why not just you and Mom?

Adanna: Sure, that sounds good to me.

Rosemary: I’ll do anything for you, Charlotte. She’d better watch herself…

She planned it for after the camping trip, which was fine. She wasn’t super excited to spend time with Jasper’s friends, but somehow, they were all so much more bearable than they usually seemed. Maybe everyone was growing up now, but not too much. All the ladies kept asking about wedding details and Jasper loved dishing about that, while Charlotte just kind of smiled uncomfortably, not wanting to admit that she didn’t know half this information and sort of having to bond with the fellas anytime it started up. “How’d he finally convince you?” Fisher asked. “I wanna know what to avoid.” He winked at her and she rolled her eyes. He simply clanked his beer bottle against hers and took a drink.

“I’ve known for a while that I’d be with Jasper for a long time, if he remembered that I care, and he eventually did.” She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of her rose beer (which was the only beer that she drank); she was a wine or daiquiri girl.

“Well, he initially told us whenever he first mentioned you that you were the woman he wanted to marry. I’m talking when we were pledging. He was all stressed out and sweaty, worried about the amount of time and energy he had to put into pledging. I thought he was crazy, but then we saw you and I was like, Ahhh, I get it now.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“That you’re hot,” he said and smiled. She pursed her lips and looked at him. “What?”

“You’re the dude who had everyone calling me Warden Page freshman year!”

“So?” She scoffed and shook her head. “Anyway, when are you two getting married?”

“Probably after senior year. I’ll still have some studies, but by that time, Jasper will probably be restless being a fiance and want to get the official stuff done.”

“When you say senior year, you mean like after next year, or after Big Dog gets the rest of his credits?” She looked confused. “With the whole major change thing…?”

“Oh! Oh, that!” She had no idea wtf he was talking about, “Yeah. Probably after THAT. The whole major thing…” She stuffed the bottle back into her mouth, finished and said, “I’m gonna go to the cooler for another. You need one of yours?”

“Yes, please, Warden Page.” She narrowed her eyes but was smiling gently.

Charlotte waited until after the trip to ask Jasper, “So… what is the whole major thing… something with your credits?” He thought for a moment, then realized that they hadn’t discussed this yet and also that someone must’ve brought it up.

“Okay, I meant to talk to you about it, but I hadn’t figured out how to, just yet.”

“Why not in the same way that you told your bros?” She said, with a tight smile, trying not to be angry. Whatever this was, they could handle it.

“Well, I told them because I didn’t know if I’d need to stick around and live in the frat house for a little longer, because I switched to a double major and might have to add about a year, probably less! To… to… my transcript…” He looked so worried that she was going to be upset with him, but she was relieved. She didn’t know what she thought that he’d say, but she thought it was about to be awful.

“Okay. Well, next time, please talk to me about things like this. Why… Why don’t we just… Maybe get an apartment together or something? I know that you’re at mine a lot already, but it’s a little small for you to you know, move all of your things in.”

“I’d prefer that we waited until after I’m done with school.”

“Okay… do you also wanna wait until then to get married?”

“Yeah. I think it’s the responsible thing to do, right?” He gave her a half smile, tentative, like he was really waiting on her to answer him.

“Right… But, also… if you’re reconsidering… I get it… I’d you know… understand…”

His eyes grew wide, “You’d understand? I wouldn’t understand that at all. Why would I have second thoughts about being with you?”

“I don’t know. You just were super excited and ready to marry me ASAP, and now, you’re going to school longer, don’t wanna live with me AND want to prolong the wedding date.”

“I don’t want any of those things. I’m trying to make sure that I’m doing right by the woman who says that she’ll have me for the rest of my life. That’s something I take more serious than anything else. We’re gonna be a family, build a family… I’m not gonna build it on immature mistakes and hollow hopes. I’m… trying to do the work to be good enough.”

“You’re beyond good enough.”

“Good enough to feel good about it all. If we get an apartment and I have to cut corners somewhere, or accumulate debt or something - that affects us negatively and I just… I’m not doing that. I refuse to do that. I’m gonna be a good man, but also a real man.”

“You’re already that, Jasper. Never forget this, please?” She gave him a hug and kissed him on the chin, then grabbed a handful of butt. It was right there, so she kinda had to.

“I appreciate the level of butt stuff that I’ve gained by proposing,” he said and pulled her in by hers to kiss her. She didn’t know what he was talking about. She’d been playing on that donk since year one… She used to bounce stuff off of it.

Henry had the pleasure of bringing Jasper’s mom to Charlotte’s. Rosemary and Adanna rode together and pulled in shortly before Henry did. Henry and Jasper rushed to hug each other upon his arrival and Henry had a huge binder with material, colors, etc… stuff that you just wouldn’t be able to see very well on the computer or phone. He said he’d go say hi to Char and Jasper smiled towards his mother and said, “Thank you so much for coming. It really means a lot to us that you made the time.” She nodded, but didn’t offer anything else. But, whenever Rosemary and Adanna got out of Adanna’s van both women squealed happily and rushed to hug him.

Charlotte sighed from the window as Henry came in and looked over her shoulder. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

She shook her head, “She didn’t even try to hug him. Everybody hugged him BUT her. This is the type of stuff that I have to help him through. She doesn’t even TRY! Why have a kid?”

“At least she only had one.”

The others came inside and Adanna immediately placed her hand over her heart, “I love the energy in this place, so much.” Rosemary hugged her daughter, then Adanna and Charlotte pulled Pansy into a hug, whether she wanted it or not. Jasper wrapped his hands around Charlotte’s waist from the back and said, “Let me know if you need anything.” He kissed her on the cheekbone and said, “I’m gonna look at this wedding stuff Hen’s got.” Lady and Tramp came running out of the bedroom and Jasper called them over to him, and he and Henry each grabbed one and went out to the patio with them and their stuff.

“Want a drink or anything?” Jasper wondered.

“What have you got?”

“Juice or like all kinds, water, and I’m sure Char has some wine and rose beer.”

“Rose beer? That sounds gross. Is it gross?”

“No idea. I don’t drink, Man.”

“Oh yeah. I mean, I know you don’t drink, but you haven’t curiously tasted it or anything?”

“Naw. I don’t need to put that shit in my body,” Jasper said, petting Tramp’s head. Really, he was afraid of drinking. What if he had a problem with it, like his dad? He wasn’t gonna risk Charlotte the way that Jack Leigh had risked he and his mom. Speaking of, he glanced into the living room to see Charlotte inviting the ladies to be seated and letting them know what refreshments she had available.

“There’s sweet potato bites, varying garnishing like avocado, tomato and radish sprouts, or ricotta, cranberry walnut… I couldn’t decide which recipe was better. There’s also cucumber wrapped chicken or seafood with greek yogurt dip… some fruit, and Jasper’s got some goat and lamb in the kitchen… for dinner, with the sides and stuff. Anyway! There’s also spritzers.”

“Charlotte, relax. Have a seat,” Rosemary advised. “We’re not hard to please. We’re here to support you, not for food.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She sat down and asked Jasper’s mom, “How are you? How was the drive?”

She looked put on the spot, but answered politely, “Henry drove. It was fine.”

Charlotte nodded and smiled, then sat back in her seat. “Jasper took off tonight from the parlor, so that he and Henry could catch up, but he’s probably gonna pop in and out of here, just because he worries a lot. I’m thinking of suggesting that he moves on up to an in-person therapist. He’s been doing the therapy text service for years now and I think it’s been super helpful, but I really think that he could benefit more from someone face to face.” Pansy squirmed a little, but she didn’t say anything. “For instance, he told me that he just wants to get everything right, he doesn’t wanna get a divorce or remarry or anything like that, so he’s tacked on some more courses and we’re not going to get married or officially move in together until after that’s done.”

“That sounds like a wise choice!” Rosemary offered.

“It is, but it's not Jasper, you know? He’s impulsive. He’s very take action. He doesn’t usually plan it out this way.”

“That’s your influence, Sweetheart. Be proud of it.”

“I just really want us to be married already!” Charlotte said and was embarrassed after she did.

“Oh my God… Are you pregnant?” Pansy sat up abruptly and asked.

“What? No! I have a perfect GPA and educational and career trajectory. If I get pregnant, it’s gonna be on purpose, even with your son’s virility.”

Rosemary recoiled, “What does that mean?”

Casually, Charlotte said, “Oh, I took a sample from him to test it in the lab. He is extremely fertile. We won’t have any issues whenever we’re ready to create children… I just really love him and ever since he proposed, all that I can think about is what it’s gonna be like to be his wife. I know that isn’t very feminist, but he’s the kind of person that you just know will be excellent at these things. I’m slightly impatient about it and now it’s being pushed further away.”

Rosemary smiled and told the others, “I know what’s happening here. Whenever Jasper proposed, Charlotte’s brain plotted out a timeline of events and she maybe even made a vision board shortly afterwards to factor in that she now was gonna be a wife, and she’s made the adjustments and committed them to memory. She likes comfort and a huge change is making her uncomfortable, therefore, anxious. All she needs is a new plan of action for her timeline, but she does not like to have to change plans.”

“Mom, I am VERY versatile. I’ve had to make a lot of adaptable changes at work.”

“Changes that affected your home life?” Her mom asked. Charlotte frowned and grabbed a sweet potato. “Thought so. So… where do things change, on your last timeline?”

"I THOUGHT that I was getting married in less than a year… but now it's closer to two years."

"Have you told Jasper about how much you want to marry him sooner?" Adanna asked.

"No. I could tell he was serious about the route that he wants to go and I wanted to make sure that I don't persuade him into anything that he might resent me for later. He's very… afraid of making mistakes with serious stuff. I can't pressure him knowing how scared he is of failing."

"You don't pressure him. I'm suggesting just telling him how you feel."

She looked at his mom, "What do you think about it?"

"I think that kids get married so quickly these days and then they just fall apart. It's better to wait." Rosemary rolled her eyes and Pansy quickly tacked on, “I did the same thing and it affected my only child for the rest of his life and affected my life, too. So, I’m just throwing caution into the wind. Be sure that it’s what you are willing to do, not just what you think that you want.”

“My daughter makes good decisions,” Rosemary said.

“I’m sure.”

“What do you mean, “I’m sure?” Rosemary asked, her eyebrows up in challenge.

Pansy sighed and said, “She makes good grades and what-have-you. I don’t doubt that she’s a smart girl. I also know that being smart isn’t the only qualifier for being a good wife or good partner…”

“What are the other qualifiers on your list, Miss Pansy?” Charlotte asked and Rosemary leaned in closer, with pursed lips staring almost directly into Pansy’s face. Charlotte tried really hard not to snap, but since BEFORE she and Jasper were together, when she hadn’t even been a consideration, this woman had an issue with her and she was convinced it was because she was too brown for her liking, but she wanted to hear her admit to something, since they had the air and opportunity.

“Well, you have to be willing to put up with a lot. Jasper is very needy and demanding. You’ve gotta have a lot of patience. He’s sweet, but not the smartest boy around and can haphazardly jump into unwise decisions. He wants a lot of attention and validation, and can be extremely exhausting about it…”

“Ever think that was because he was starved for those things?” Charlotte reflexively asked. Pansy gasped and Rosemary snorted. Adanna covered her mouth with a hand, but didn’t react beyond that. Charlotte was there, now. The woman had taken her there. “Listen, I can’t say that you made bad decisions. I don’t know your heart or your mind. I don’t know your intentions. What I can say is that I know Jasper. He’s NOT needy and demanding. He wants someone to show him love and he deserves that, so to me - that isn’t a burden. He’s VERY smart. But, he doesn’t know everything. He was semi-sheltered and didn’t have a frame of reference for a lot of stuff, but whenever he had the chance to go out into the world and learn and experience things, instead of having conversation topics and true facts withheld from him, whether out of misplaced protectiveness or shirking uncomfortable responsibility - Jasper is an all A student who is seen as an activist in this town. He’s a community leader. He still has weird ideas sometimes, but he’s also helped reformed a lot of things around here that a lot of these people didn’t have the drive or the heart to ever face head on and try to tackle. And it isn’t exhausting that he wants lots of attention and validation. It's heartbreaking, because I know for a fact that he didn’t get it from home and I know that I have to be one of the most present and stable suppliers of it, because even though he’s shown everyone that none of the things you just said about him are accurate, you still treat him that way, and your his mom, the person that he would most want to treat him how he deserves to be treated. He has to get that from Internet fame, from campus popularity, from town celebrity, and whenever he comes home to me, it still wasn’t what he was looking for, because he wants it real, from somebody that he loves. Currently, that’s me. I’m that supply. We’ve been together almost 4 years now, and you have yet to tell him that you’re proud of him, or that he’s made a good decision, or that you LOVE him, WITHOUT invalidating it shortly after with some contradictory behavior. You have yet to tell him that you’re happy for him, for winning competitions and trophies, and making dean’s lists and having a hand in public policy reform. Are you… a fucking soulless monster?” Charlotte’s voice cracked. Rosemary was ready to fight, now. Hurting your own child was bad enough, but now she had spread her malice to Rosemary’s child and that wasn’t something that Bolton folk tolerated.

Jasper had peeked into the room and saw Charlotte’s face and told Henry he’d be back. The woman turned whenever the patio door opened and Jasper threw a pissed off glance in Pansy’s direction, certain that whatever was wrong with Charlotte, she was the cause of it. “Babe, you okay?” He asked, in a gentle tone and went right to her, collecting her hands and trying to get her to make eye contact with him. “Come on, let’s regroup, okay?” He helped her up and brought her into the bedroom. Their mothers began to quietly bicker about what had just happened and what had been happening. Jasper sat Charlotte on the bed and told her, “If you want her to leave, I’ll go tell her to leave, right now. No questions asked.” He cupped her cheek. “She can hurt me all she wants, but I draw the line at her hurting you. You do too much and you don’t deserve that.”

“You don’t either.”

“I know, I know, but…”

“But she’s your mom and you love her? But, what? She raised you? At least she was there? Please, help me understand why she’s so important to you that she gets to hurt you for 22 consecutive years and be brought along with you while you try to break out of the cocoon of that strife?”

“I… will let her go, if that’s what you think I should do.”

“I don’t… That’s not what I’m trying to do - make you feel like you need to let your mom go. I just want to understand it.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “Well… I want to know that I did everything in my power to make sure that she felt like I was worth it. I want to feel like IF I ever did have to leave her behind, there was no other choice. I just don’t like the thought of leaving somebody behind just because they’re not who you’d want them to be. She didn’t do that to me. She kept me close, and she could’ve given me up. She let relationships fall apart whenever her husbands didn’t want me. She… wasn’t perfect, but she tried. I think that she’s been hurt, too. And she doesn;t have anybody else to tell her to contact a therapist, or focus in hard on loving her, and trying to build with her… I’m it. I’m all that she has. My stepdad doesn’t even look at her anymore. I know how it feels to have people around and still feel lonely. I don’t want that for my mom, no matter if she’s not nice to me. No matter if she might deserve that. Because, what if she doesn’t? What if there’s something that we just don’t know and she doesn’t know how to tell us? I just… don’t want to hurt anybody like that. Not even her.”

“But, you would, if you thought that was what I wanted?”

“I would do what was best for you, if I had no other options, yes.”

She sighed and shook her head, “I’d never ask you to sacrifice your morals. I just hate that those are what brings you pain.” She cupped his face and they kissed. As though kissing could release every bit of stress and turmoil carried into the room and nothing else could. It was a moment before Jasper noticed that they weren’t alone. He broke the kiss and turned to stare at his mother, who was staring at the ground. Charlotte’s eyes followed, then she rolled them and got up to leave. Pansy caught her wrist, gently, then quickly let go.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet voice. That was new. She let go of Charlotte and looked up at Jasper. Charlotte stuck around. “I should have been better to you, for you. It’s entirely possible that I resented you, because of Jack… That’s not fair and nobody ever wants to admit it. We want to think that we did our best and that we were good parents. We make a ton of excuses. Mine being, at least I was around, at least I wasn’t a drunk who almost killed him in car, at least I didn’t hang out with potheads and shady musicians and witches!” Jasper was speechless. She came into the room and sat next to him. “I hated your father. I still hate him. Whenever I agreed to let him see you, I hated it, but it seemed like what you wanted, so I tried. He was cordial. He seemed like he was changed, like he was trying… then he showed up one day with this WOMAN who he’d met through Roscoe Bolton, of all people!”

“You mean Adanna? The nicest woman in the world, who he met through Uncle Rox, the coolest dude in the world?” Jasper corrected her.

“I mean Adanna, who I recognized as a woman who built up a witch shop on her marijuana revenue, who he met through one of the only people that I’ve ever hated as much as Jack!”

“Wait. You hate MY uncle? Everybody loves my uncle, and it doesn’t make sense to me because he’s always been kind of a wreck until a few years ago, but what did you have against my uncle?”

“He wasn’t good company!” Pansy practically squealed. “He didn’t make Jack do anything, so it’s not like I blame him for Jack’s discrepancies, but first of all, he was a shady musician, always convincing Jack to come with him on tours for weeks, despite knowing that he had a pregnant wife at home who needed him…”

“You also needed money and Dad’s job wasn’t making enough. Those tours were!” Jasper fussed, defensively. She’d hit a nerve bringing Uncle Rox into this, especially after whatever she’d done to upset Charlotte.

“I would have preferred to struggle a little bit than to be lonely and depressed while I was pregnant. And Roscoe kept introducing him to women, who like I said, it’s not his fault, but why even do so? Just remind him to call me. Why is it so hard to just say, ‘I know we’re touring, but don’t forget why you’re doing this?’ You know why? Because he understood, like Jack did that the only reason he married me was because of you and when I saw that he was still communicating with that man and still meeting women through him, I figured he was probably still going on tours, smoking pot, drinking, losing himself in the arms of some pretty thing and trying to clean up for his visits and I-” She clenched her fists. “I wasn’t going to be that stupid anymore. I didn’t expect to take my anger out on you. I didn’t expect to treat you like you were Jack and I didn’t expect to treat your friend like she was Roscoe, but whenever I saw the two of you together, all I could think about were the nights that all I got was a drunken phone call asking about my son, who I was at home with, by myself, stressed, depressed, infuriated and barely holding it together, while he partied and drank and couldn’t hold down a decent job to save his miserable life. You came home one day, and said that you met this cool dude, your friend’s uncle. You were so excited to meet him and you thought he was so cool and looked up to him and I knew who he was and I told you to stay away from him. You ignored me. You never ignored me, but you did… Like your father.”

“Okay,” Charlotte interrupted, sick of this, “I get that. I would be extremely pissed off at people who affected my life in that way too, but Jasper didn’t do that to you.”

“I realize that. I’m not making any excuses. I’m just… trying to… open up to my son…”

Charlotte sighed and said, “Okay. Jasper, I’m gonna be out here, if you need me.” She didn’t want to hear any more of this, but Jasper looked worried about her leaving. “Unless you want me to stay?”

“Please?” He asked, in a low voice. She returned to his side and wrapped her hands around his, looking at his crying mom with zero sympathy. As far as she was concerned, the woman was turning things around and what she just needed to say were a few things: I was wrong. I’m sorry. You deserve better. I will do better. Charlotte didn’t give a damn about any other words. But, she looked at Jasper’s empathetic face. He did. He gave a damn about this woman. He always would. THIS was one of those sacrifices that people spoke about. Because, there was no way that she could be with him and not have to put up with this chick, at least sometimes. She freed one of her hands to stroke his hair and it broke his trance a little bit. He glanced at her and smiled, his eyes lit up and for a moment, he forgot that he was listening to this sob story from the person who had hurt him for most of his life.

“I’m so sorry. I was wrong and I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to try. That’s why I’ve been trying to be involved and why I’m here. I just want to do better in the future…” Pansy eventually uttered. Charlotte could almost visibly see a huge weight lifted off of Jasper’s chest and shoulders and mind… Like… She could visually spot the worry lines evaporate and see the insecurity melt away. It was extremely weird, but beautiful. And, she still didn’t have a fuck to give about that lady, but the way that Jasper hugged her, the comfort that he took in that declaration, whether or not Charlotte trusted it, it made her heart swell. He deserved those things. And she’d better be true about trying to give them to him.

#A Chasper Fic #chasper #henry danger #hd fanfic #Nesha HD Fics

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joanelizebeth · 4 years

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dreamers: don’t die

I know you think none of this matters anymore. You don’t even care so much to abide by sentence structure. The newest version of the new you could give two shits about what the Oxford comma even is. You don’t write to attain a grade anymore. You don’t write to get into college anymore. You write because……...

Dot. Dot. Dot ...still thinking, uploading, pending, synching. The world you once believed in, the audience still waiting on the last time you gave serious, genuine, interested, effort into your skill...

But something always causes the pen to stop writing before it actually intended on stopping. Suddenly the fingers stop typing at the keyboard...

You look up to kiss him goodnight (you realize he’s filling up his water bottle to head to bed), & so you shrug silently to yourself, “oh, this isn’t anything big I’m working on anyway right now, I can pause this and put it away.” NBD! Easy!

Dot. Dot. Dot.

The laptop closes and we don’t even recognize the severity of the moment. Such a subtle, little... moment, right?

My dad, born in 1953, believed in a lifelong dream of getting a Corvette. He got it when I was like 5. I’d sit in the back and stare up at the Wisconsin stars and think “I’m gonna chase my dreams like this one day, and never stop driving.” I’m 24, he hasn’t driven it regularly since I was 9.

One day that garage door closed for the last time that he’d ever take that red corvette out, before giving up on remembering why he’d made it such a life goal in the first place...

And suddenly years and years later, so many pauses, so many put away ideas, brainstorming lists, and even frickin potential tweets and instagram captions fill up nothing but receipt space in your Notes app (a habit kept like my mom’s iconic giant black purse, all too familiar: like a landfill of thin crumpled papers, dollars, and big break ideas, always meant to go somewhere someday, right?).

Ideas are only dangerous if you feed them. House them. Watch them age, and help them develop into actions. As an artist, but really as an overthinker; it’s a game within your own creative intellect to balance the test of modern revolutions and trends & the analytical application of methods classically proven to work. We must not think we have to choose one or the other, but learn how to derive new opinions, ideas, and experiments by utilizing both thought-habits to new, peaceful third productive outcome to remain open minded to perspectives of people with much different life experiences and lives, different reality lenses than our own.

Three dots that wait to continue the conversation, as eager as a new college grad awaits the dialog after sending a cover letter. The art of a cover letter? Is that really an art? I find well crafted writing with any purpose other than for the passion that letters themselves inspired one to pursue opportunity, to be a mockery of language itself. Do not exploit my talent, do not disrespect my education, for you have no idea what I’ve learned behind the closed doors of my personal life and interests, of things beyond what the ACT scans for. I might have read AP Chemistry in 5th grade, I might have read my father’s divorce journal during the military, you have no academic acclaim in my eye to judge the motivation behind why I type what I type. What I say and why I say so is something I’m still discovering myself, but I question the validity of my talent, of my career, every day that I realize I don’t have a stupid Bachelor’s Degree Paper saying that I majored in English and also sucked up to the professor’s particular philosophy. I’ve read more books in my lifetime than days I’ve spent in school. I’m not lying. I’m 24, one year out of college, one year a resident in the city of Angels: dying. Dying of Apathy. The same criminal that tried to take me when I tasted a life of comfort.

You need more than ambition now. Now, more than ever, you need to focus. To stop picking up your phone to see if he viewed your story, even if you’re alone in a foreign world and don’t know a single soul who understands your context. You can’t drop the mask now and visit Aunt Linda after church at Starbucks. You can’t force smiles anymore to strangers, trying to convince other people why you moved here with a dream. But why not? You can’t force strangers, you can’t force friends, you can’t force family to believe in you if you’ve chosen to stop believing in yourself. So cheesy, those words must have come from someone from Wisconsin. Regardless, reality.

The months fly by like EXPO tickets at a busy restaurant, once they’re gone they’re forgotten.

So many months, so many days, so many interactions with strangers on the street. Things we don’t think about. It’s been a year, what the fuck have I accomplished? I haven’t even written a Goddamn thing on a computer since I worked at ESPN. When my voice felt validated. I could have stayed. How many nights do I wake up jerking, imagining the best case scenario of an unrealistic positive scenario of the other side of the crossroads we faced when we were only a little bit younger? But I chose to move from Wisconsin to California. I believed in myself when I bought that flight, when I wobbly-handed my debit card to the TJ Maxx cashier for that suitcase, the one suitcase I moved here with. Flyin’ solo sounds more glamorous in quote form. It was really lonely. But day by day things can really, really; really improve.

Those restaurant tickets are forgotten. We take shots at the end of the night with both BOH and FOH together, completely forgetting about that side of chipotle ranch for that lemon lady that was never ran. We move on in life and don’t care about the little details that occur around us as we take in the information overload called being alive.

But among those tickets, among those many little random tickets, big, small, we know the clock out feeling still leaves us smiling, wondering why even if work was hectic, it was worth it. It was and is always worth coming back again, even when we have slow nights. Just kinda like how, even if we haven’t gotten verified on Instagram or Twitter, we still kinda like life in LA.

Tickets fly by like days, weeks, months, even years lived in Los Angeles, and I don’t fast forward through those moments as I previously had. I used to guilt trip myself for not being “critically acclaimed” whatever the fuck that means, yet if I were to forever focus on that rubric as the sole way to define my sense of self, I’d land up where my brain of creative fire fears most: apathy. Not caring. Not having emotion. Make excuses to replace the thoughts of guilt, the thoughts that comfort me into affirmation that my negligence, my lack of work ethic, my dwindling inspiration that was once the sturdy backbone I had as my secret weapon during the fight.

Those tickets don’t matter. A side of ketchup you forgot to run a few days ago that you just remembered doesn’t matter. But the concept of tickets not mattering ever is just as common and dangerous a mistake to make as getting caught up in labels, titles, and details.

The days I’ve been in Los Angeles, I haven’t acted in feature films, modeled free outfits on Melrose, made out with Halsey backstage, or had some magical unrealistic moment where someone wants to read my poetry or script ideas drunkenly on the patio at Berkshire House. At the end of the shift, the restaurant tickets don’t matter, right? Or do they?

At the end of the day, the time I spent in LA without getting a self affirming job doesn’t matter, right? All this time I have spent living in LA with strangers and paying rent that seems so expensive, is it a waste of my life? These days in LA that pass by without me making my “big break” are a fucking waste of time, right? Or are they?

But,

Did you learn Street names? Freeway names? Did coffee shop faces begin to become recognizable by name? What about your favorite parking spot at work? What about when the Uber app recognizes your patterns and little favorite spots? Do you have a coworker you vent to about all the BS banter from certain regular customers? What about the checkout lady at the grocery store where you get your favorite coffee creamer? Has the weight of meaning of seeing a familiar friends’ handwriting on a postcard carried its weight a little differently? All these little things, all those little tickets at work, never seem to matter in the moment, but at the end of the day, at the end of our shift: they’re what makes us feel at home. Habits are what makes the difference between what feels like a house and what feels like a home.

You’ve made what was just a house, now a home. Through habit. Through noticing.

Although Apathy is a real phase we all sometimes experience in life due to comfort and lack of change, apathy doesn’t have to corner us into self imposing a giant change upon our lives, forcing us to lose something we love. We can fight these fits of apathy, of self doubt, of questioning everything, by …

Dot Dot Dot...

Does anyone have an answer?

My answer to Apathy, to a dead soul, to feelings of “why hasn't anyone noticed what I’m capable of yet?” is that the answer never mattered to a dumb self conceited question to begin with.

Remember those tickets. Remember those days. Remember those that laughed at your jokes, asked to take pictures with you, invited you to parties, or smiled at you with a sense of familiar relief when you punched into work. People have been noticing you. Have you been noticing them?

#dreams quotes LAserver artist writer #writer #artist #losangeles #dreamer #restaraunt #labar #bartnder #bartender #creative #writers #lawriter #laserver

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