Chapter Text
It took three days to drive up from Kayenta to La Push. Two nights in sketchy motels off the highway and more pit stops for Tara's cigarettes along the way. It would've been a shorter drive if Jane's mother wasn't actively avoiding tolls. Arizona's desert and ghost towns were left behind as Tara drove north. Jane watched the vegetation grow denser, greener. The air was damp and threaded with salt from the coast.
The 1990 Toyota Camry sputtered on. It was a miracle that they only broke down when they reached Portland. Her mother flirted her way into getting the engine patched up with an off duty trucker on the side of the road. Jane looked away when the man grabbed a handful of her mother's ass. Tara's pitched giggles were drowned out by Paramour blasting in Jane's ears.
Tara Jones had Ruby Jane when she was fifteen. At thirty-one years old, Tara looked more like Jane's older sister than her mother. Which made sense since Tara never felt like a mother and more like a crazy roommate Jane had no choice but to deal with. At least she was predictable, Jane thought.
Her mother had a track record of disastrous relationships, poor decision making skills and a sprinkle of insecurity added into the mix. All it took was a little cash and attention and Tara Jones was driving 1450 miles to live with a man named Jonathan Lahote. Jane had never met the guy, apparently he was an old snag she met at some powwow circuit back in the late nineties and recently started communicating with him again.
Jane didn't trust the guy. She learned a long time ago not to give any of her mother's new boyfriends the benefit of the doubt. They were all just different versions of her father. An asshole her mother never really got over.
"Where does this guy live anyways?" Jane asked once they got the Camry back on the road. "The woods?" She finished dryly.
Tara rolled her eyes stuffed the receipt with the trucker's number into her bra and checked her makeup in the reflection distractedly. Judging by the narrowing of her coal lined eyes, she clearly wasn't thrilled about Jane's lack of enthusiasm. "On a reservation by the coast," she said, smacking the gloss on her lips. "It's not like Kenny's place but it's better than nothing."
Better than nothing was the Jones family motto. They lived at Kenny's for two years before the old man caught her mother cheating on him with the plumber. After that, Jane and Tara spent months living in shelters and sleeping in the car. There were many nights where Jane found herself cursing internally at her mother for messing up with Kenny. He was a white guy with a weird fetish for native women and an affinity for decorating his house with tribal masks and taxidermy animals. Kind of a creep, but at least Jane had her own room. Besides, Kenny didn't have any kids.
Jane tucked her knees to her chest as they passed the sign for a town called Forks. "He has a son right?"
Her mother side-eyed the frown tugging on Jane's lips. "Jonathan's kid is around your age," Tara replied, her voice laced with annoyance, as if Jane's question had been a complaint. Jane bit her cheek, trying not to turn her frown into a full blown scowl.
"You'll have to share a room with him so play nice."
Jane blinked. Her thoughts skidded to a halt."what?"
Tara didn't look at her as she flicked on the blinker as they turned down a road. They passed another sign: Quillayute reservation. "You heard me."
Jane sat up straighter, the seatbelt biting into her shoulder."With him?" Her expression was set with incredulity. "Like the same same room?"
"It's a double wide, Jane." Tara's voice soured, already losing patience. "Jonathan's doing us a favor."
A favor. The words burned into Jane's mind. She felt something bitter at the back of her throat. Maybe bile."You're making me bunk with some random guy I've never met?"
"He's not random. He's Jonathan's son."
"That doesn't make it better," Jane shot back. "It makes it weirder."
Tara sighed like Jane was the inconvenience here. "You're being dramatic."
Dramatic. As if Jane's life wasn't a huge shitshow, her mother the devoted ringleader. Her jaw clenched as she glared out the windshield. "Can't I just sleep in the living room or something?" Her voice cracked.
"No."
"On the couch?"
"No."
Jane gripped the fabric of her jeans. "What about under the stairs? Like Harry Potter."
Her mother sighed. "Jane."
Jane didn't look at her, preferring to glare at the top of pine trees. The sky was a pale grey of gloom and Jane felt it was a perfect reflection of her mood. "Look." Tara said, tapping her finger against the wheel. "Just be grateful we have somewhere to go. Jon didn't have to open his home to us."
Jane pressed her lips together in resolute silence. Her mother continued anyways. "He didn't have to say yes when I called. He didn't have to offer anything. But he did. Because he cares about me. About us."
Us.
"He intends for us to be a family. Which means you're going to act like it. You're going to be polite, and you're going to make this work."
Jane swallowed to the ugly retort. This wasn't her first rodeo. Her life was a constant set of revolving doors, screaming kids and cigarette stained ceilings. She was an unnecessary accessory her mother lugged around from place to place, a reminder of a relationship long gone. Jane learned quickly that the less words she spoke, the better.
"Fine," she said, her voice edged with spite. She turned her music back up and leaned against the cold window, wanting this conversation to be over. Tara's voice was faraway when Jane closed her eyes. Two more years, she told herself. Her eighteenth birthday wouldn't be filled with candles or songs. She wouldn't wear a sparkly dress and take pictures with friends to celebrate. The only celebration would be the bags she would be packing and a bus ticket in her hand. And when that day came around, Jane wouldn't look back. Ever.
A family. The thought made her stomach twist.
What a joke.
***
The Camry groaned as it turned down a dirt road, gravel crunching under worn tires. The forest was dense, trees crowding together like walls of green and mist. Single story houses were spread far apart, paint peeling, old trucks in the driveway, boats parked in the yards.
Tara drove further into the reservation, following directions from a map she had drawn hastily after a phone call with Jon. She squinted over the wheel looking over at rusted mailbox numbers, muttering the address under her breath.
Jane stared dully out the window. It wasn't her first time living in a trailer. But it was her first time living in a trailer park. She didn't particularly like the way the trailers were clustered so close together. At least in Kayenta, the land stretched far out towards the canyons. You'd have to drive at least twenty minutes until you saw your nearest neighbour. Here, it felt like you could whisper and old Nancy three doors down would hear every single word.
"Forty-two... aha! forty-three," Tara said, turning into the yard of an old faded blue double wide. Tara parked the car next to an old Chevy truck, with a mismatched hood. Jane spied a bike chained to a tree, next to it was a deflated soccer ball. Everything seemed to leech the color and joy from the air. Empty beer bottles littering over a sea of mud and wilting grass. Cigarette butts were left on the rotting front porch and above, a porch light flickered where moths and other winged insects came to dance and die.
The whole place was sad.
"shit," Jane muttered under breath.
There was movement in the trailer, a shadow behind a curtain. Tara's face lit up when a man stepped out from the screen door, cigarette dangling from his lips. Jonathan Lahote was everything Jane expected. Tall, dark haired and handsome in the way that screamed danger and petty crime.
Tara Jones clearly had a type.
Jon squinted through the cigarette smoke as he sauntered down the porch steps. His grin was all crooked charm when he spotted Tara getting out of the car. "Well look what the cat dragged in," he drawled, throwing his cigarette down and crushing it with his boot. "You really haven't changed a bit since 1997."
Tara squealed- squealed, like some teenage girl at boy band concert. She crossed the driveway in her high heels, dressed like she was ready to go to the club at eleven am. She leapt into Jon's arm like he'd come back from Vietnam. "Johnny!" She laughed brightly as he spun her around and grabbed his scruffy face with both hands. Jane barely managed to hide her disgust as her mother shoved her tongue down his throat. Jon grinned into the kiss, hoisting her up with hands under her thighs as she wrapped them around his waist, like they were picking up where they left off all those years ago. They were a match made in Hell and Jane had a very, very strong feeling it would all crash and burn.
They spoke in low voices, foreheads pressed against each other and Jane was suddenly very glad she was still sitting in the car, far enough so she wouldn't have to listen to every sordid detail of whatever future plans they were cooking up. Jane slid further down the passenger seat in attempts to hide but her mother caught the movement, frowning when she remembered she'd dragged her daughter along. Jane didn't budge. She refused. Tara narrowed her eyes at her and pulled herself away from Jon. She marched over, rapping her knuckles against the window. The sound made Jane flinch. "Jane, come say hi."
Jane gripped her old iPod until the screen turned white under her fingers. Two more years, she chanted mentally before she exhaled and pulled her earphones out. The moment she stepped out of the car, Jane was filled with regret. She could feel Jon sizing her up. Jane reminded herself not to fidget, she stared at the space above his head. "Hello," she said stiffly in an attempt at politeness.
"This is the famous Ruby Jane, huh?" Jon rumbled with a lazy grin.
"It's just Jane."
He ignored her. "You look like your mother. What grade are you in? Eight?"
"Grade ten."
Jon whistled. "You look twelve."
Jane was starting to get the gist. Jon was one of those charming jackasses who hid their cruelty under a suave persona. She hated him already. Tara smacked his arm playfully. "Stop it, you're going to offend her. She's very sensitive about looking like a baby."
"Ain't nothin' wrong with lookin' young," Jon chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Jane's hair like she was five. She ducked away before he could make contact.
Tara rolled her eyes. "Don't mind her, she's been sulking the whole drive up here."
Jane clenched her jaw. "I'm just tired."
"No, you were sulking," Tara insisted, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. "Anyway, where's Paul? I thought he'd be here to meet us."
Jon's expression darkened for half a second before sliding back into casual indifference. "Oh, you know Paul. Off causing trouble somewhere, probably. Kid's never where he's supposed to be." Paul. That was the name of the boy Jane was going to share a room with. She shifted in place feeling uneasy. Jon pretended not to notice. "You'll meet him soon enough. He's a year older. You'll probably see him around school." Jon slung an arm around Tara's waist, already steering her toward the trailer. "C'mon inside, darlin'. I'll show you around."
Jane dragged her backpack from the car, the straps frayed and digging into her shoulders as she followed before she hesitated on the porch, staring at the peeling blue paint and the crooked screen door. You've lived in worse, she told herself. Her mother's annoying enthusiasm was getting to her.
It was better than nothing.
Tara pulled the screen door open, it screeched on its hinges like it was in pain.
***
The inside wasn't much better than the outside. The place was small and cramped. The furniture was ancient and mismatched. There was a recliner with duct tape holding the armrest together and a coffee table covered in empty cans and takeout containers. The couch sagged in the middle, springs probably broken from years of use. A small TV played a Seahawks game, volume low. Dishes were piled in the sink, but at least they weren't growing mold. Yet. The carpet was threadbare and the whole place reeked of stale ashtrays, spoiled beer and a hint of mildew. An empty beer can rolled at her feet. Jane tried not to stare too hard at anything.
Jon kicked a pile of laundry out of the way. "Make yourself at home," he said, like this wasn't the most depressing place Jane had ever seen.
Tara was already removing her heels and flopping onto the couch. "Oh my God, I love what you've done with the decor," she joked, already lighting a cigarette like she owned the place.
Jon grinned, cracking open a beer from the fridge. "Yeah, yeah. It ain't fancy."
Jane hovered awkwardly near the door, adjusting the sleeping back tucked under her arm. Her backpack sagged heavily on her shoulders, and a small suitcase was tucked between her calves. Her entire life fit in these two bags.
Jon waved a hand lazily toward the hallway. "Bathroom's in the middle and the first door is mine and your mom's room." He smirked. "I'd suggest you knock unless you wanna see somethin' that'll scar you for life."
Tara cackled. Jane wanted to evaporate.
"Your room's down the last door down," Jon paused, "well, Paul's room, but you're sharing now. Hope you don't mind bunking with a guy."
Jane's stomach twisted. This was his son's space, and she was just... moving in. Uninvited. Unwanted. Her grip tightened on the straps of her backpack. "Not at all." Her tone didn't convince anyone.
Tara shot her a look, the kind that said behave or you're grounded, which was rich considering she'd never actually followed through on a punishment in her life. Jon didn't seem bothered by Jane's attitude. He just smirked and hunkered down on the couch next to her mom, taking a swig of beer. "Paul'll be home when he's hungry. Kid's like a stray cat, only shows up when there's food." Jon pulled Tara onto his lap before murmuring something low in her ear that made her giggle. "Janie, why don't you go unpack? Me and Johnny have some... catching up to do." Tara said, distracted.
Jane didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed her duffel bag and bolted for the bedroom before the sound of their laughter could follow her.
The hallway was narrow, walls lined with framed family photos Jane didn't bother looking at. She reached the last door, paint chipped, a dent near the knob like someone had kicked it and hesitated. Somewhere in the living room her mother moaned and Jane stopped thinking and twisted the knob. The door clicked shut behind her.
The room was small. Tiny. A twin bed shoved against one wall, unmade with sheets tangled like whoever slept there had bolted upright mid-nightmare. A cracked poster of some punk band she didn't recognize was peeling off the wall above it. There was a second mattress on the floor that looked like it had been dragged in last minute. That was probably her bed. No sheets or pillow. Jane unrolled her sleeping bag on top of it and sat down hesitantly. The springs creaked loudly under her weight. She hugged her bag pack to her chest, looking around the room.
Clothes were strewn everywhere; band tees, ripped jeans, a battered leather jacket hanging off the bedpost. A pair of Converse sat kicked off near the closet, caked in dried mud. The whole room smelled like cheap aftershave and something wild underneath it, like the forest after rain. And on the nightstand? A half-eaten sandwich, wrapped in foil.
Jane eyed the sandwich warily. A voice in the back of her head told her to leave it alone. It was probably Paul's, left behind in his hurry to get out of the house. The other part of her was starving. Her stomach gurgled loudly. She bit her lip, Jane hadn't eaten since they passed through Oregon. She shouldn't take it. This wasn't her food and
she knew taking things from a boy like "Paul" was probably like stealing meat from a wolf's den.
She couldn't tell how long she sat there, staring at that damn sandwich.
The noises from the trailer were muffled: her mother's drunken giggles, the low hum of the Tv.
Jane took the sandwich.
The bread was a little stale, but the ham and cheese inside was still good. Jane took a cautious bite, then another, trying not to scarf it down like some starving stray. She was halfway through when she heard the bedroom window slide open.