Page 91 of String Theory


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Win some, lose some.

He must have zoned out on the drive home, because Naomi nudged his arm and he suddenly became aware they were sitting in the garage. “Come on,” she said. “Time for all good musicians to go to bed.”

But Jax knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He went inside and closed the door to his bedroom, then stood under the spray of the shower, as hot as he could stand it, and let the water soothe his muscles.

Too bad it didn’t do anything for the ache in his heart.

Finally, he dried off and fell into bed long after midnight. Somehow, miraculously, sleep found him, but wakefulness found him much too soon after that.

Jax startled to awareness at the sound of the doorbell, and he blearily lifted his face from the pillow. He’d gone to bed somewhat damp, and the pillowcase stuck to his cheek.

Whattimewas it?

The doorbell rang again.

Apparently it didn’t matter what time it was, or rather, either way it was time to get up. Jax wiped the last of the sleep from his eyes and tugged on a T-shirt from the pile on the floor. Then he trudged down to the door in his pajama bottoms. Where were Hobbes and Naomi, anyway? God, maybe they’d gone on a date to some horrible Christmas market? Or…. Jax frowned. He was pretty sure Naomi didn’t have a final this morning or surely she wouldn’t have worked last night.

He was still trying to figure it out when he opened the front door to find a tall woman in her sixties, graying blond hair wisping out from beneath a knit toque, overnight bag at her feet.

Jax gaped. “Mom?”

When he didn’t move right away, she took the initiative and stepped forward to wrap him in a hug. Jax let it happen, too stunned to do otherwise, hugging back by reflex.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“What are youdoinghere?” he asked when she pulled away.

His mother looked pointedly at her overnight bag.

“I mean,” Jax amended weakly, “come in?”

He got her things settled into the guest room, made sure her car wouldn’t be blocking the wrong side of the garage when Hobbes and Naomi got home from… wherever they had gone… and then ran out of excuses not to talk to her.

Unfortunately, that did not actually furnish him with intelligent things to say.So, Mom, no offense, but seriously, what the hell are you doing herewas kind of rude.

“Uh,” he said instead. Then he glanced at the clock in the kitchen, and—wow, it was only noon. “Jeez, Christine, what time did you leave Kingston?”

“Early,” she said dryly. “You don’t happen to have any coffee?”

Under the circumstances, Jax didn’t think Hobbes would mind.

“So,” Jax said when she was happily curled around the largest mug she could find in the cupboards, “what brings you here?”

His mother gave him the same look she’d given him when he asked her if she was sure he had to go to school in grade five. Jax had claimed he didn’t need to go, because he already knew all the math. She pointed to his poor spelling, but then talked to the school about giving him enriched math content. In retrospect, ten-year-old Jax should have known he’d lose a battle of logic against a mathematician.

“I’m here because my son is hurting.”

Jax stared at her. “What?”

Her eyes were warm and compassionate. “I talked to Sam,” she said pointedly. By which she probably meant,Sam called and told me some version of the story of your breakup and how, last week during family dinner, you had a minor breakdown and tried to cover it by hiding your face in your niece’s beautiful angel curls. Embarrassing.

Jax cleared his throat. “So you’ve heard about Ari.”

“I’ve heard about Ari. Sam was a bit stingy on the details, but she mentioned that it was pretty serious seeming until it suddenly ended.” She sipped her coffee and waited for his response.

He swallowed. “Yeah. But it ended, so no point on dwelling.” He turned away to… do something. Water. He should get some water.

He grabbed a glass and filled it from the sink.