Jake had a hard time admitting his fears, sometimes even to himself. When Violet slammed out of the room, he didn't call a car service right away. He didn't do anything. He sat there and stewed. He sat there and hated himself for fighting with Violet. He sat there and swallowed fear that Violet would leave him. He sat there and hated himself.

He didn't know what he was waiting for, why he was stewing, letting his thoughts tangle up, feelings a mishmash that he couldn't seem to get a hold on. He rested the back of his head against the wall, his eyes closed tightly. Jake could hold a grudge; his anger could simmer for months, years even, if necessary. His anger could be destructive, mostly to himself. His pride, his stubbornness and his fear all warred to keep him silent, but since Violet had been living with him, she'd started working on some softer part of him and that part couldn't keep quiet. It took a long while, but finally he banged his head against the wall. It was a sort of knocking without the struggle of getting up.

"Vi! I'll go to the fucking store with you," he yelled, probably loud enough to bother the people on the other side of the wall and possibly above his room as well.