Industry (Part 1) - Completed

Andy had gone home before sunrise, and PJ had promised to stop by his place later that day.

Christmas morning unfolded as expected. It started with a sharp jab from Jaxon's elbow to PJ's sternum and ended in a sea of torn wrapping paper littering the floor like festive confetti. After lunch, the family splintered off—some to nap, others to reorganize shelves to make room for new gifts.

PJ sat cross-legged on his bed, flipping open the sketchbook Isabella had given him. He let his pencil glide across the page, forming a cheesy Christmas scene—cliché in all the best ways. A lone bird perched on a snowy tree, a cozy house blanketed in white, a window glowing with the warmth of a flickering fireplace. It was predictable, maybe even a little corny, but that was the point. He folded the page into a makeshift card and scrawled across the front: Merry Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Harper.

Now he just needed an actual gift.

After a quick sweep of the kitchen, PJ repurposed a decorative basket someone had delivered cookies in, filling it with holiday treats and trinkets he didn’t think his parents would miss—assorted chocolates, a couple of Christmas ornaments, even a tin of fancy tea he found in the back of the pantry. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Tucking the basket under one arm and a party game Payton had brought back from college under the other, he slipped out the back door before anyone could question him.

Fifteen minutes later, he stood on the Harper’s front porch, his breath curling in the cold air as he knocked.

The door creaked open to reveal Andy’s father, Tony. The man looked tired—his features pulled taut, like he’d been holding his breath for days. But his expression softened when he saw PJ.

“Hey, kid,” Tony said, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

Inside, the house felt… heavy. A lingering quiet sat between the walls, thick and unmoving. In the living room, Andy and his mom, Claire, were watching A Charlie Brown Christmas in near silence. The cartoon’s familiar music played in the background, but it felt distant, like white noise.

Andy stood as soon as he saw PJ, a smile breaking across his face before he crossed the room in a few quick strides and wrapped PJ in a hug. A tight one.

"Glad you came," he murmured.

Claire didn’t stand. Her eyes drifted toward PJ, distant and unreadable, like glass marbles catching the dim light. She seemed… hollow. He wasn’t sure how much she saw of him, which areas of her brain the tumor was affecting. Andy never talked about it.

PJ cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly before holding out the basket and the card. “Uh, Merry Christmas.”

Tony took it for Claire, murmuring thanks. A few pleasantries passed between them, stilted and unsure. The conversation never found its footing, teetering on the edge of silence. The quiet stretched, growing heavier, pressing down.

PJ hated it.

He glanced at Andy, then at the game still tucked under his arm. “Hey, you guys wanna play something?”

Andy perked up. “What is it?”

“Chameleon. It’s a bluffing game. Pretty easy to pick up.”

Tony hesitated, glancing at Claire, but then gave a small nod. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Andy grabbed a card table from the hall closet while Tony arranged the seating so Claire wouldn’t have to move from the couch. They sat in a loose circle—Tony and Claire on one side, Andy and PJ on the other.

The first round was cautious. Everyone was still stiff, their words careful, their laughter muted. But as the game went on, something shifted. The tension began to loosen, like knots slowly unraveling. Claire guessed wrong on a round and let out a quiet chuckle. Tony smirked at something she said. Andy’s shoulders lost their usual hunch.

By the fourth round, the laughter was real. Loud and unguarded.

“No way,” Andy groaned, throwing his hands up. “You were the Chameleon again?”

Claire pressed a hand to her chest, eyes twinkling. “I guess I’m just good at lying.”

Tony let out a deep, genuine laugh. “That’s actually kind of terrifying.”

PJ watched them, feeling something settle inside him. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but the house no longer felt so heavy. The walls weren’t closing in anymore.

Then Claire winced, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead.

Andy’s smile faltered. “Mom?”

“I’m fine,” she said softly. “Just a headache. I think I’ll lie down for a bit.”

Tony stood. “I’ll make you some tea.”

PJ took the cue to start packing up the game. He glanced at Claire. “Thanks for having me over, Mrs. Harper.”

She looked at him then, and this time, her gaze was clearer. There was something warm in it, something real. “Thank you for coming, sweetheart.”

Andy walked PJ to the door, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “I, uh… I appreciate it.”

PJ shrugged, trying to brush off the lump forming in his throat. “Yeah. Anytime.”

The cold hit him as he stepped outside, sharp and biting. But he didn’t mind.

Because for the first time in a long time, he felt like he had done some good.