The Little Things in Life: Chapter 20

Jason stood transfixed, staring at the man sitting at Thomas’ desk.  Papers sprawled out over the wooden surface; Jason’s name written at the top of each of them in bold ink. Hot, burning liquid boiled within Jason’s veins. “What are you doing here, dad?” He said, spitting the last word with enough malice to catch the man’s attention.

The man waited, calculating for a short while. Slowly the man stood, matching the stature of Jason’s. He walked over to him. The man’s head shook, swaying his peppered hair as a deep, harsh chuckle escaped his throat. Jason’s heart beat harder as the man closed the gap between them, his blood pulsing in his ears. The man looked at his son with a half smile of amusement. “I came to see how my boy was doing.” He reached out to Jason, and his son winced back as his hand made contact with his shoulder.

Jason hesitated before he smacked it away. A scowl rose slower on the older man’s face, his upper lip curling back. A lump, the size of a golfball, formed in Jason’s throat as all moisture escaped his mouth.

Jason watched as his father’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides; he took a step back in dread. The older man smiled poisonously as he turned his head to the side, cracking his neck. “Sit.” He motioned for Jason to sit down; his cold, icy stare never leaving him.

He did what he was told. It was better that way, Jason thought.

The older man took out a flask, the name “Eric J. Coleman” embroidered the side. He dug into Thomas’ bottom drawer of the desk, taking out two small glass cups. He slid one over the coffee table between him and Jason, and pored amber liquid into it. The harsh, pungent smell of whiskey filled air. Eric sat opposite of him, pouring his own glass and tucking away the flask neatly within a pocket inside his suit. His wolf like eyes rested on his son as he took a drink. “Drink.” He demanded, his voice deeper than Jason remembered.

He reached down slowly, picking up the drink and pressed the rim to his lips. The sharp smell of alcohol burned his nostrils, and his stomach twisted in pain of sick discomfort. He craned his head back, taking a quick swig. His face distorted as his lips sneered back, it was strong. It inflamed his throat as the liquid traveled down like burning oil.

Eric leaned back in the arm chair, he swirled the glass in his right hand looking serious. “So, from what I see you are making progress.” He flicked his hand to motion at the small stack of papers fanning over the desk. “It is about time. I have been paying that quack a pretty penny because of you.”

Jason’s body tensed. His lips tightened to a fine line as he tried to swallow back the sickness that was beginning to rise in the pit of his stomach.

Eric leaned forward slightly, continuing his discoveries from Thomas‘ progress reports. “But the most resent report is troubling.” He said. He stalked over to the desk, pulling up a piece of paper as he read out loud, “Jason Coleman has made steady progress over the past two months. Yet tonight he seemed physiologically distressed, as he spoke of a girl whom he had made a friendship with.”

Jason’s eyes twitched, but did not look up from his blank gaze that rested on the coffee table before him. “Stop.” He said quietly.

Eric continued, not even hearing him. “He spoke about this young girl, in clear distress as he described the feeling of power he had over her.”

“Stop.” Jason’s voice rose, pleading but again his gaze never moving.

Eric’s voice grew louder as he continued to read, “I am worried for Jason’s state of mind. The young woman described seemed to help him along his path of recovery but I worry for her own safety aside from his own. I wonder if his sense of needing to be in control steams from the mental, and bodily harm caused from his childhood.”

With the last line read out loud, Eric threw the glass and the rest of its contents at Jason. He moved just in time as the glass shattered behind him across the wooden flooring. He turned his eyes wide as his father reached out to him, grabbing a hold of the lining of his suit. “Are you spreading lies?” Eric screamed. “And who is this whore you are prancing around with?”

Jason quickly became animated as he shoved his father back, promptly making Eric backhand him across the face. A thin cut dripped small red liquid on Jason’s right cheek from one of Eric’s rings. “You were always a disobedient child! And now look at you. You are nothing but a failure. You disgraced my name in this company, and ruined my reputation!” He yelled, his face turning a harsh shade of red.

Jason fought back, “I never wanted in follow in your footsteps. You mentally bullied me, and beat me when I wasn’t up to your standards.”

“Lies!” Eric screamed. “I beat you because you were a bad child. Not even saying thank you for all that your mother and I have done for you? We clothed you, fed you-”

Jason pushed Eric against the wall, his volume now matching his father’s, “You are a parent, that is what you are supposed to do! Mother always followed what you said because it was law. No matter how much I screamed for help she would turn a blind eye. That young woman in the report was the only one to see me for who I really am, and accept me. She did more in the past two months than what you and mom ever did for me in the past 24 years!”

Eric pushed him back, sending Jason stumbling back. “You are worthless! You always have been. You are no son of mine.” He bolted out of the office in a rage, not looking back to see his son’s face crumble from the weight of his words. In the distance of the hallway he could hear another door being slammed open to the stairwell. All feel silent.

Jason’s face distorted to a one of pain. He pulled at his hair as an inhuman noise rose from the depths of his throat. He flipped the the arm chair near him, and picked up the coffee table throwing it into the wall making parts of it fall to the floor with the rest of it.

“Jason...?”

Jason’s breath caught in his throat. His heart, plummeting to his stomach. It felt like pins and needles stabbed at his finger tips. He turned around. Claire stood atop the paper on the desk, staring at him. Her small hands clasped together tightly in front of her, silently shaking.

He looked at her to the mess he had just made. Wooden splints from the table along with glass littered the floor around the turned over chair, and now broken coffee table. He started to breath heavily, realizing what she had just witnessed. His father. His past. And his anger.

He bolted out of the room, leaving Claire.



A few moments went by in silence. Claire stood in shock and horror as she stared at the open door that Jason had run out of. Away from her. She felt like sand was being pored down her throat. Her mouth hung, slightly agape as it quivered. She wanted to run after him, to hold and hug him. To comfort him. She felt the wait of her situation of being her size more than ever. She couldn’t run after the person who she loved.

A long slender arm reached through the door way, as blonde curls followed from a woman. Claire was too late as the woman’s eyes rested on her in bewilderment, then poisoned annoyance. Claire guessed she had heard the whole situation just like she had. The woman’s lip curled back in disgust.

“So..” She said, coming closer to Claire, now towering over her. “You are the other woman.”