God, it was happening all over again.
    Jackson closed his eyes against the painful truth and gritted his teeth furiously. Working hard to unclench his left hand, he raised it to knock on the black painted door. The wait was excruciating on the nerves.
    "Yeah, yeah!"
    He recognized that bitter voice and cringed inwardly. Drawing himself up to his full six feet height, he mentally and physically prepared himself for what was to come.
    His stomach muscles tensed in reflex as the door swung unceremoniously open. "What the hell you want?"
    He nearly laughed at the surprised face; "I need to come home for a while." He answered dryly. "Why else would I be here?"
    The scraggly weathered face wasn't much darker than his own, but it was lined and wrinkled from age and their graying hair was so dirty and stringy it looked like old yarn.
    Jackson sighed, "Mom, it's just for a little while. It's not like your latest boyfriend is going to give a damn as long as I'm not in the way."
    Pursing her lips she made a quick survey of her son. "How old are you now?" She questioned sharply. "I haven't seen ya in a long while."
    Not wanting to get into anything he complied. "I'll be sixteen in a few months. I only need a place to stay for a couple of week's cause I was staying with something who's going…" he trailed off, but added on when she gave him a questioning look. "He's on vacation for a while. But he'll be back soon enough and then I'll be gone again."
    She crossed thin veiny arms and Jackson groaned. She was going to draw this out as much as she could he realized dispassionately.
    "What's his name?"
    Biting his lip, Jackson entertained not telling her but knew not telling would mean not staying. And he needed someplace to stay. And he had nowhere else to go. "His name's Zac."
    The look she gave let him know she didn't believe him. He mentally shrugged it off; her trust meant nothing to him. Not anymore anyway.
    "I just need a place to crash at night. I'll be gone during the day." He added to list of why she shouldn't mind him being there, cause he knew being her son wasn't a good enough reason. He learned that years ago. When she still had the power to hurt him.
    His hands clenching into fists again, he swallowed hard. "Please, mom."
    The plea had her smiling, and Jackson nearly walked away right then. His pride meant more than a bed at night.
    Just as he made up his mind to leave she stepped back from the doorway. "Fine. Come in."
    Swallowing again he walked in. "My old room still there, or do I get the den or something?" He asked tightly, wanting to get some stuff settled before heading out again.
    "Your room's still there. But we've been throwing all our laundry in there. If you want that room, you're gonna have to do the laundry to get to it. Otherwise the garage would be better for you."
    Biting back some retort that would have him out on the streets again, Jackson strode past her and headed for the door with white peeling paint. Damn, he knew it was going to be freezing in there.
    Setting up his jacket and some old musty blankets on the floor, he created a makeshift bed and hurried out the side door. He had to go see his friend off.
    Seeing a car loaded with mismatched luggage Jackson smiled ruefully. He remembered going on those family trips across the states and country and the way that he'd become awed over the littlest landmark or story his parents would share with him.
    The memories brought reality crashing back, and Jackson's face closed off. Memories were past tense. Meaning, they were old and never happened anymore. Meaning, they were useless.
    His friend sat on the front porch, a glass of lemonade sitting next to him, and sweating onto the cement.
    Walking up, he took a seat next to him. "All packed and ready."
    "Yeah." He sighed quietly. "We're just finishing up some last stuff. You know, emptying the fridge and making sure all the trash it out, all the power's off…" his voice trailed off as well.
    "Sorry, I couldn't help you anymore."
    Jackson smiled, "You've helped enough. Besides," he shrugged. "I'm staying with my mom for a short while. So I'll be fine."
    He snorted, "Sure you will." His sarcastic tone belied his statement. "I've heard stories on your mom, remember?" He shook his head, "just wished I could have helped you some more so that you wouldn't have had to gone back to her."
    Jackson stared straight ahead as his friend was, and watched a couple of teenagers walking along the sidewalk. "I always end up going back, you know?" He asked softly. "Every time something goes bad, I always end up on that same damn doormat."
    He nodded towards the side of the house; "I noticed your mom's growing roses again." He murmured. "Mine tried it a few times. Always failed. Sun scorched them or she over watered them. Whatever the reason, they wouldn't grow for her." His laugh was scornful. "But I'm testimony of how things don't grow at that house."
    "Man…" His friend started but Jackson stood up abruptly. "Leave it be. No matter what, I'm destined to end up on that old porch needing something from her."
    Ignoring his announcement, he explained calmly. "My mom grows them, cause she likes the semblance they have on life. It's a beautiful progress. You start off as a seed, then start growing. Soon you become a bud and start slowly blooming over time. But people forget the thorns. Life isn't easy, it hurts and it pricks sharply at time."
    Jackson turned a sad smile on him; "I better say goodbye now. You'll be leaving soon."
    Nodding, he stood and shook hands with him and watched as he started to walk away.
    Jackson turned around slowly, his lips trying to keep that smile in place. "I always run back to her, Zac. I always go back when the roses grow black."