jackson harris ( werewolf ) . (likefenris) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-07-17 00:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-09-12, jackson, troy |
we built these walls from the inside and we want out.
Who: Jackson and Troy.
Where: A pay phone in town? To be decided from there!
When: Mid-afternoon.
It had taken him this long to decide whether or not to make the call at all. Wolves were proud creatures to say the least, and since leaving Canada Jackson's had already taken one hell of a beating as it was. He honestly didn't know just how much more it could take, already so bruised and battered, but what was worse? Sleeping in his truck, cramped and miserable, or actually stepping up and asking for a little help? It couldn't be that bad, admitting he was in trouble. It would be the first time since Saskatchewan, essentially, and as records went that wasn't so terrible.
Jackson huffed out a sigh, annoyed at himself. The clouds had rolled in early that morning and here he was, stood outside the pay phone thinking that he hadn't done too terribly on his own. Well, wasn't that just fantastic, good for him, his family would be so proud of him.
His shoulders slumped and he shook his head, yanking the door open and stepping inside the glass box and letting it swing closed behind him. One hand dug in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. It felt thin, and with good reason. There wasn't a heck of a lot in it at all, and what little he had would be needed. He should have tried harder to find a job, he should have just sucked it up and slept in his truck every night since coming here, he should have--
There were a lot of things he should have done. Standing there regretting decisions already made and in the past wasn't going to help, it certainly wasn't going to improve his current situation. The card was slipped out of the slot into which he had secured it and his wallet was pushed back into his pocket. It was a little creased now, dog-eared around the edges, but the print was clear and the logo was as bold as it had been when the owner had handed it over to him.
He couldn't call Sasha. She had the baby and enough troubles of her own without him adding to them. That wasn't right. She would take him in without hesitation, he thought, but he wouldn't do that. It wasn't the right thing to do. She needed to concentrate on her son and getting her strength back, and having someone else hanging around -- another mouth to feed, essentially -- wouldn't make her life any easier.
No, this was the only option available to him. There might be another one that hadn't occurred to him yet, but it was past time he reached out and admitted he couldn't do this alone. Not yet, anyway, not after so long on his own and no money to pay his way. He just needed a little help getting his feet under him again. That was all. It wouldn't be for long.
That was what Jackson kept repeating over and over in his head as he picked up the receiver, slipped some change into the slot, and dialled the number on the card. In the back of his mind he found himself hoping someone would answer. He couldn't afford to waste change on an unanswered call.
Someone picked up. Jackson was silent for a moment before he remembered he didn't have all the time in the world. He was paying for this call, and it wouldn't last. "Hi," he said, a little lamely, before clearing his throat and levelling his voice so it sounded more confident. "Is this--" he glanced down at the card, "--Troy Rogers?"