Аманда Хокинг - Wisdom

He paused, taking a sip from the bag. He leaned more against the fridge and crossed his left foot over his ankle.

“I could never draw that well,” he said. “But I worked with this buddy who could draw.

We made all these really dark comics and did a whole series based on Edgar Allen Poe’s Masque of the Red Death . One night, I broke into the principal’s office and Xeroxed a bunch, and we sold them for a buck piece. Yeah, I thought I was pretty hot shit then.”

“What happened to all that?” I asked.

“I got detention for breaking into the office,” Jack smirked. “And my buddy got fired, and my girlfriend started taking up more of my time.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Life happened, I guess. And I realized that I’d probably never make it writing comic books.”

“So you just gave up on your dream?” I asked.

“I don’t know if I would say that.” He rested his head back on the door and smiled, but it looked sad around the edges. “I don’t think it was every really my dream.”

“What is your dream then?” I pressed.

“I don’t know.” He looked more seriously at me. “What’s with all the questions?”

“I don’t know. I’m having an existential crisis.”

“I see.” He downed the rest of the bag in one quick drink. It hit him harder than the rest had, and he shook his head to clear it of the haze. “What about you?”

“What?”

“What did you wanna be when you grew up?” He set the bag on the counter and walked over to me, but his steps were slow and deliberate.

“I don’t know.” I furrowed my brow, thinking. “In high school, we did all these aptitude tests, and by the time my senior year started, the teachers had all drilled it into my head that I needed to pick a college, pick a major, and decide right now what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.”

“What did you decide?” Jack stood in front of me, putting one arm on either side of me, but that was mostly to support himself.

“I didn’t decide anything. The pressure overwhelmed me, and I just froze.” I shrugged. “When I was younger, what I wanted to be when I grew up changed weekly. I wanted to be a vet, a director, a puppeteer, a ninja, a fireman, a pianist.” I shook my head.

“I never really felt at home with any one idea.”

“Luckily for you, you have forever.” He grinned, but it was lopsided. “Now you can try every one of them. You can do and be anything you want.”

“It’d be easier if I could only do or be one thing,” I sighed.

“Yeah, but what good is easy?” He kissed my forehead, and with half-closed eyes, he smiled down at me. “As a great man once said, ‘We learn so little from peace.’”

“Who said that? Dylan Thomas?” I asked.

“No. The guy who wrote Fight Club.”

“Now you’re an advocate for hardship? I thought you were the guy that took the easiest way out of everything,” I teased.

“Maybe.” He met my eyes, looking at me in a way that felt like he was looking straight through me. “But you’re the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and you’re also the best.

So… I think that’s the moral of the story here. Anything worth having is worth fighting for.”

“Thank you. I think.” I leaned up and kissed him softly, but he stumbled back before it got too deep.

“I’m so sorry.” He shook his head and opened his eyes too wide, like he looked really startled. “But I think I’m gonna have to lie down.”

“No, if you have to rest, go rest.” I put my hand on his chest. “I’m sorry for draining you so completely.”

I heard a screech in the garage, followed almost immediately by the sound of a car door slamming shut. Milo burst into the house a moment later, throwing open the door and stomping into the kitchen.

“Where the hell is Ezra?” Milo demanded.

“Dude, did you hit my car?” Jack asked, sounding as angry as a bleary, drunk person could sound.

“Why would I hit your car?” Milo asked, incredulous.

“You like… screeched into the garage. You drive like a maniac!” Jack pointed at him, but I’m not sure why. “You better not have hit my car.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Milo asked me.

“He drank too much blood,” I shrugged. “Never mind him. Why are you looking for Ezra?”

“My car’s a frickin Delorean. It’s a time machine!” Jack lost his footing and started falling to the floor, and I had to grab his arms to catch him. I pulled him back up, and he leaned over on the counter, resting his head on the granite countertop. “I don’t think I’ve ever drank that much blood before.”

“I’ve been getting calls from Mae all day, but I was in class so I had my phone off.”

Milo pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up to show me, as if to prove Mae called. “She left me six messages, and all she’d say is that it’s very, very important she talk to me and that she’d been unable to get a hold of Ezra.”

“So just call her back,” I said.

“I’ve been trying! But you know how hard to is for them to get service in Australia!”

Milo glowered down at the phone then jammed it back in his pocket. “And something’s wrong and I don’t know what it is!”

“I’m sure everything’ll be fine.” I said that, but I didn’t believe it.

Mae wouldn’t reach out to Ezra unless she had to. I should’ve realized that when he said she’d been calling him. Especially after the way Daisy attacked Bobby, and how Peter said she’d been acting.

“Ezra!” Milo shouted and walked into the dining room.

“Jack, stay put.” I patted Jack on the back and hopped off the counter. He mumbled something, but I think he was mostly passed out anyway. I chased after Milo, following him to where he met Ezra in the living room.

“Why haven’t you been answering the phone?” Milo yelled at Ezra.

“My phone calls are none of your concern,” Ezra said, unfazed by Milo’s apparent rage.

“Mae has been calling you, and she’s in trouble,” Milo glared up at him.

“Maybe you should try calling her back,” I suggested. “Or at least check her messages.

” From the other room, we heard a bang. I glanced back, and although I couldn’t see him, I guessed that Jack had fallen off the counter onto the floor. The excess blood had hit him bad.

“Shouldn’t you go check on your boyfriend?” Ezra asked, his tone barely revealing the ice underneath.

“I’m okay!” Jack yelled from the kitchen.

“He’s okay.” I pointed back in his direction, and Ezra rolled his eyes.

“Ezra, don’t change the subject,” Milo said. I had to admit it, I admired my little brother for talking to Ezra like that. Standing up to him took courage. “I know you’re mad at Mae-”

“I’m not mad at her,” Ezra cut him off. “I merely have nothing to say to her.”

“Whatever,” Milo sighed. “You loved her. You still love her, and even if you don’t, you cared about her for so long that you can’t shut it off. She is in serious trouble. How could you not at least hear her out? Don’t you owe her that?”

“Of course I would help her if I could.” Ezra swallowed hard, and for one of the few times since I’d met him, the pain in his voice was audible. It made his deep baritone tighten. “I just don’t believe I can.”

“If you’d answer the damn phone, you’d know for sure!” Milo shot back.

“Milo, yelling at him doesn’t make this better,” I said.

“I’m not yelling!” Milo yelled, then took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m frustrated. I don’t like knowing that something could be wrong, and I could help but… I can’t.”

My phone began to ring, and we all froze. For a second, we stared at each other, and then I scrambled to pull it out of my pocket. Before I answered, I checked the caller ID.