Three Man Operation

The cracks are part of the pottery's history, part of what make the pottery unique and whole.

I think Jonathan was in a very fucked up situation that affected his development and lived experience profoundly, and certainly the confluence of stressors and relevant factors particular to his circumstances are as unique as anyone's, but Jonathan is neither the first nor the only abused or neglected or overburdened or neurodivergent or impoverished or atypically masculine or stressed out child his teachers would have taught or interacted with (and his situation could be worse). Other adults, who don't have as much regular contact with a lot of different kids, I dunno.

But I really think Jonathan just read as a very strange child because he absolutely was a child and not equipped for what was happening and what was put on him, but he was also unsettlingly mature. A lot of people think they like that and praise it (and some probably did, unfortunately), but a lot of adults are kind of freaked out by that. Jonathan has a lot of traits that frequently don't inspire a lot of warmth or understanding in adults or authority figures, some of which could even be received with disdain or contempt. And he's tired, like, all the time.

And! Let's not forget he's our little anti-establishment, fuck authority darling. He thinks differently, he notices things, he has a sense of justice and the unfairness of it all. He's independent, thinks for himself, and trusts his instincts. He's suspicious and wary and reserved, maybe even aloof. So... Yeah, I just don't see a lot of adults warming to him.

Wanted to share a quick WIP of Paladin Mike stepping out of Will's painting because I'm still on the Bravebyers bus...

Will does not get Lonnie at all. He doesn't really know what Lonnie wants or what he's looking for or what motivates him. He can't anticipate what he'll do or why. He thinks there's some way to please him, but it doesn't exist. Lonnie is confusing and probably stressful, and dealing with him involves some degree of engaging in a strange game that doesn't net Will very much, but he's looking for the kernels of joy and connection he can scrape from the experience.

It's the implications of his absence that loom over Will, I think, more than his presence. He represents what could have been because he's a big unknown whose sole contribution to Will's life was shame, through implicit rejection and ridicule and lack of interest, back when he was younger.

And I wonder how Joyce addressed that. We know she must have said something and supported him, and if Lonnie spewed any of his bigotry and verbal abuse within Will's earshot and she knew he was aware of it, then she would surely have said something. But she's not perfect, and she can't be everywhere or always say just the right thing, and maybe there isn't always a right thing to say. Maybe she fell back on "you know he doesn't mean it" or "he's wrong and you shouldn't listen to him" or "something came up and he couldn't make it but he's sorry he couldn't take you" or "it's not about you" and that's kind, but doesn't get at the heart of why what he's saying or doing matters, to the extent that it does. And it's not like Will can't tell when she's being untruthful to spare his feelings; he can hear her yelling down the telephone.

But it's a hard line for her to walk as a parent, and so there are gaps where the edges of the white lies and hard truths don't come together neatly. Same for Jonathan, whom we can see trying to make up the difference and reach Will, but who very carefully does not tell Will the whole truth either (that Lonnie does not care and he's wrong even if he's correct and what he thinks doesn't matter); he tells him a different truth that, for him, matters a great deal more, about the world and who Will can be in it.