Page 94 of Possibly Texas

Jack set a plate in front of me, startling me from my thoughts. I jerked in my chair and looked down at the table in front of me.

Bacon, eggs, and buttery toast. One of my favorite breakfasts in the whole world.

I looked up at Jack and he made a drinking motion.

“Water, please,” I said.

Jack gave me a smile and a nod as he set his own plate on the table, then went to the sink to fill a glass for me. I was picking up my fork and contemplating stuffing my face when he sat down at the table across from me. He slid the glass of water across the table to me and set a coffee cup alongside his plate.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Jack swooped his open hand from in front of his face down to his chest.

You’re welcome.

Immediately, Jack snatched up his fork gleefully and dug into his scrambled eggs. As he scooped a healthy bite into his mouth, I poked at my eggs with the tines of my fork, suddenly not very hungry. The eggs and bacon were still steaming. The butter he had cooked the eggs in glistened on them and the bacon still spattered lightly from the hot fat rendered out in the cast iron skillet. The butter on the toast had been applied so liberally that it pooled in the divots in the bread.

I should have wanted to shove my face into the plate and inhale, but I just couldn’t.

Even food could not change my sour mood.

Jack waved a hand at me, and when I looked up at him, he brought all of his fingers in his right hand together in a point and brought them to his mouth. Like a bird pecking at his lips, his hand moved back and forth.

Eat.

He smiled at me.

I continued to pick at my food.

“Mom texted me last night,” I said. “Finally.”

Jack had been turning his attention back to his plate, but at the mention of my mother, he looked back up at me sharply.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Finally.”

He didn’t necessarily use sign language, but Jack indicated with a waving of his hand that I should continue. I should spill the details of the text.

“She said it was better that I was here. That it was best that I was here,” I grumbled. “But it’s okay. Because she misses me and everything. So, that’s cool.”

I dropped my fork on my plate and it clattered on the edge before tumbling to the table. Jack looked down at my fork as it rolled from my plate to the table. For a few moments, he stared at my fork as it lay there, unused next to my uneaten plate of food. Finally, he looked up at me again.

“She’s not coming back for me,” I said, looking up to meet his eyes. “I’m just…I was…just a burden, man. She doesn’t give a shit about me anymore. If she ever did. She dumped me on the side of the road outside of Possibly and went on about her life.”

Jack frowned at me, his brow furrowing deeply.

“She couldn’t wait to dump me, man,” I continued. “See ya’ later, kid. Good luck with life. We’ll meet again one day. Probably. Possibly.”

Jack started to sign, but I only caught every third sign.

“I’m not that advanced yet, Jack,” I mumbled and looked down at my plate. “Auggie hasn’t gotten to those lessons yet.”

Immediately, he stopped signing and reached for the breast pocket of his shirt. A second later, he had his small notepad out and was flipping through it for a blank piece of paper. I waited, picking at the side of my plate with my fingernail where a chip had been made in it during washing or being put away in the cabinet after use. Jack wrote furiously on the notepad, not looking up until he had written the last word.

Finally, he held the notepad across the table where I could look at his strange block-style letters.

Did you really expect Margie to come back? You know your mother. Better than anyone.

“Yeah,” I nodded angrily at him. “I kind of did expect my freaking mother to not abandon me in the buttcrack of Texas for the rest of my life, Jack. That’s exactly what I expected.”