Forgiving Jesse
by Sara Dean
All rights reserved
Copyright © December, 2010, Sara Dean
Cover Art Copyright © 2010, Charlotte Holley
Gypsy Shadow Publishing
Manchaca, TX
www.gypsyshadow.com
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this e-Book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
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DEDICATION
To my wonderful husband James, for all of your support and to Lisa Young, thanks for always pushing me on when I was ready to give up. I never would have finished this book without you two.
****
A single flame flickers on one candle in the middle of a chocolate cake. A small boy smiles broadly and reaches out to touch the letters that decorate it.
Mom and Dad stand by singing Happy Birthday and smiling. Their arms are wrapped around each other tightly as they watch their son celebrate his first birthday.
“Blow out the candle!” his mom calls and he giggles.
His dad reaches out and cuts into letters that spell out “Happy Birthday, Jesse.”
Chapter 1
16 years later/September 2001
“Listen to her purr!” I shouted over the roar of my pride and joy, the motorcycle I had just finished fixing up.
My best friend Nicky sat on the floor of the garage, not more than two feet away, but he couldn’t hear me.
I turned the key and the room grew silent. Nicky shook his head and fished in his pocket for another Marlboro. He lit up and took a long drag.
“All those hours bagging groceries just to hear that sound. So tell me, man,” he paused to take another drag. “Was it worth it?”
I patted the handlebars. “Every second,” I said, climbing off my bike and joining him on the floor.
I lit up too, and as I leaned my head against the cold, steel wall, my mind flashed back to the motorcycle I had helped my dad fix up when I was a kid. The one I had now looked a lot like it.
“What now?” Nicky asked, interrupting my thoughts. The memory faded.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you spent all summer working at the store and working on that,” he pointed at the motorcycle. “Now that school’s about to start and your bike’s finished, what are you gonna do?”
I shook my head and blew smoke rings. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll quit work and school. Just ride around all day.”
Nicky laughed. “Yeah, I bet Shandy would really go for that. So would your mom.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Everyone knows that Shandy is the boss in your relationship, and I think she’s gonna want you in school where she can watch your every move. And your mom has the whole high hopes for my kid fantasy.”
I laughed. “Shandy may think she’s the boss, but she’s not. As for mom, like you said, it’s a fantasy, nothing more.”
As if on cue, the garage door opened, and in walked Mom, her arms loaded down with bags of groceries. It was obvious they were heavy, but I didn’t make a move to help her. She was taking the shortcut through the garage which led straight to the kitchen. Nicky saw her, quickly ground out his cigarette and frantically waved away the smoke.
“Hello, Mrs. Cramden,” Nicky said politely. I ignored her.
“Hello, boys,” she said cheerfully. “Jesse, there’s a whole trunk full of bags. Could you bring some in for me?”
“Get them yourself,” I mumbled and kept puffing away on my cigarette.
If she heard me, she gave no indication. Nicky waited until the door shut behind her, said, “You’ve got guts, talking to her like that. My mom would have popped me in the mouth.”
I didn’t say a word. What could I say? I always talked to her like that. I hated her and she knew it. Why should I be nice to her?
Nicky reached for another cigarette then put it back.
“She knows you smoke,” I said.
“Yeah, but she doesn’t like it.”
I snickered. “When did you start caring what my mom likes and dislikes?”
He shrugged. “It’s a respect thing, you know.”
I looked at him long and hard, trying to decide if he was serious. He was. “You don’t respect anyone,” I said.
“Not true, I respect a couple of people, and she’s one of them.”
“Why?” I didn’t respect her and I couldn’t imagine why anyone else would.
Nicky picked up a piece of gravel that was on the garage floor and began flipping it in the air like you would flip a quarter.
“Like the way she handled herself the last couple of years. You know, the whole divorce thing and all.”
My blood began to boil. How could he take up for her?
He kept his eyes on the gravel in his hand. He didn’t dare look at me. He knew I would punch him if he did.
“It was her fault,” I exploded, “she couldn’t see what she had. If she just wouldn’t have taken Dad for granted, he wouldn’t have had to find someone else. She’s to blame, so quit taking up for her.”
That’s when it hit me. How could I have been so blind? “You have a thing for my mom!” I punched him in the arm, a little harder than I meant to.
Nicky rubbed his arm, “Not a chance. But I do wish she was my mom.”
“No you don’t. Trust me.” We dropped the subject as Mom came out of the kitchen and started back towards the car.
“Jess, I asked you for some help,” she said.
I stood up and climbed on my motorcycle. “I have better things to do.”
She said something, but her words were drowned out as I started it up.
Nicky stretched his legs and started to stand. Mom raised her voice, but her words were still lost.
I hadn’t ridden yet. I knew she didn’t approve of me riding, she had made that very clear.
She thought it was too dangerous, or some crap like that. Dad would have understood. He rode his every day after work. Once in a while he even took me with him on a short ride. Mom didn't like me being on it then either, but Dad would tell her that I needed to get used to riding one, because one day he was going to pass it down to me. I'm sure he meant to leave it for me, but things got messy during the divorce, and he took it with him by mistake. I knew one day he would come back for me, and bring it with him.
I kicked up the kickstand, and revved the engine. “Sorry Nicky,” I called over my shoulder as I sped away.
I could imagine the stunned look on their faces. Oh well, I thought. They’ll get over it.
Chapter 2
I came home around midnight. I had gone to Shandy’s, taken her for a spin and then spent the rest of the evening hanging out at her house.
When I came home, Mom was already in bed.
She had given up waiting up for me a long time ago. A fight always broke out, and nothing good ever came out of it. Now she just went to bed and left the door unlocked.
I grabbed a snack and headed to my room. I made a mental note to apologize to Nicky the next day for abandoning him, turned on the TV and stretched out on my bed. I must have fallen asleep, because that’s where I woke up the next morning, the TV still blaring.
The clock next to the bed read 11:45. I wasn’t tired, but I didn’t want to go downstairs and deal with Mom either, so I reached for the cordless phone to call Nicky. It was in the floor next to my bed so I picked it up and clicked the on button. My dad’s voice came through the receiver. I pressed the phone to my ear and listened.
“Of course I want to see him, but money’s tight right now, and I can’t pay for him a ticket to fly out.”
Mom’s voice was tight and strained. “I’ll pay for it then.”
“It’s not just the money, I’m really busy right now. I’ve been working sixty hours a week.”
“Cut the crap, John! Last month you said it was because you forgot you had planned a vacation for the time he was supposed to come out and visit. Just admit the truth. He thinks of you as some kind of hero, and really you’re nothing but a coward! Why don’t you grow up and tell him the truth!”
There was a long pause, then Dad said, “Send him my love, I’ll be in touch soon.”
There was a click, then the line went dead. I held the phone to my ear for another minute or two, silently willing my dad’s voice to come back over the line. It had been so long since I had heard his voice. I missed him so much. I wanted to ask him what Mom meant by the truth. But of course, he didn’t talk again, he had already hung up. I finally accepted this, and turned the phone off. I would call Nicky later.
I changed my clothes and went downstairs. Mom was sitting at the table, staring at a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She didn’t even notice I had walked in until I slammed a cupboard door.
She jumped and stared at me through tear-filled eyes. I pretended not to notice her and made myself a bowl of Cheerios.
“Please sit down Jess, we need to talk.”
How many times had she said that same thing to me? It always began and ended the same. I practically had her speech memorized by now.
I pulled out the chair across from her and plopped down.
“I’m afraid something’s come up, and your father had to cancel your visit for this month. But he sends his love.”
Same speech as always. I concentrated on my cereal, and didn’t say a word.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Fine, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You know, Jess, your dad’s not the hero you think he is.”
I suddenly lost my appetite. I pushed my chair back and went to the trash, where I dumped out my half-eaten bowl of cereal.
She started to say something else, but I cut her off. “Don’t talk about my dad like that,” I hissed.
Silence. I think I stunned her. Finally, she said, “Why do you love him and hate me? I am the one who has always been here for you. He hasn’t done a thing for you since he left!” Her voice was rising with every word.
I spun around and glared at her. It was obvious she was upset, but I didn’t hold back.
“It’s your fault he left in the first place! If it wasn’t for you, he would still be here!”
She knew how I felt. She had to, even though I had never voiced it. When I saw her expression, I realized I was wrong. She hadn’t known until now.
“How can you blame me for what he did?” she cried.
“You drove him to find someone else! You were too busy with your career to be a wife or a mother!”
She slammed her fist onto the table, causing her coffee to slosh out over the side of the cup and form a dark, muddy puddle on the table.
“Don’t you dare blame me, or call me a bad mother! If it wasn’t for my career where would we be now? Picking garbage out of trash cans just to stay alive! Is that what you want?”
“Dad would never let me do without! He would take care of me!”
“Jesse, when are you going to wake up and realize that he doesn’t care about us!”
“No, he doesn’t care about you! He loves me. My dad loves me!” I didn’t trust myself. For the first time in my life, I wanted to hit her. I turned and ran out the door.
“You can’t keep running, Jesse!” she called after me. “You’ll have to face things sooner or later!”
I jumped on my motorcycle and rode off without looking back. If only I had known what was about to happen, I would have run back and apologized. But I didn’t, and now it’s too late.
Chapter 3
I stretched out on Nicky’s bed and lit up another cigarette. It was my third in the last hour. I was still seething inside.
“How could she say my dad doesn’t care about me? Sure, I haven’t seen him in a while, but he’s busy, you know? Before the divorce we spent lots of time together. When I was really little he took me to the park every Saturday and then out for ice-cream. As I got older, he let me help fix the car and his motorcycle.” I was so angry my hand shook and I was afraid I might drop my cigarette. “He would still spend lots of time with me if it wasn't for my mom. He can't stand dealing with her, that's why he doesn't fight for custody of me. He just can't deal with her anymore, you know?” My words all ran together into one jumbled mess, but I knew Nicky understood. He was the only one who understood me anymore.
Nicky didn’t say anything. He sat in the floor messing with his shoe lace.
“I mean, who does she think she is? It was her fault they split in the first place. Now it's her fault that he isn't around more. What is her problem? Why is she so obsessed with keeping us apart? Then she puts all the blame on him, like she's trying to make me turn on him. Well, that's not going to happen. When I turn eighteen, I know he'll be back to get me, because then she can't stop me from leaving. He hasn't said it, but I have this gut feeling, he's just as anxious as I am to have me move out there.”
He still kept silent.
I propped myself up on my elbow and stared at him. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”
“I just think you put too much blame on her. Your dad played a part in the divorce too. He is the one who left.”
I threw a pillow at him. “You’re always taking up for her! It makes me sick!”
“I do not. You just don’t realize how lucky you are. Your mom is always trying to mend your relationship. Mine wouldn’t notice if I died, until she came upstairs to find out what that horrible smell was.”
Now it was my turn to keep quiet. I didn’t know what to say. What he said was true; his mom didn’t care about him. She had made it clear over the years that all he was to her was an accident and a mistake.
I was still angry, but now wasn’t the time to show it.
“I gotta get out of here,” I said. “I’m gonna be late for work.”
Nicky threw up a hand, but he didn’t bother to say goodbye. Probably still thinking about his mom, it was a touchy subject for him.
Downstairs, Nicky’s mom was sitting on the couch, watching a soap opera , a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
I thought of what Nicky had said. I felt bad for him. No wonder he was screwed up enough to wish he had my mom.
I made it to work five minutes late, and my boss was waiting to chew me out.
“You’re late again, Mr. Cramden,” he said.
I picked up my time card, and tried to ignore him, but he wasn’t going to let me off so easy.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asked.
“Yes, and I’m sorry that people had to put their own groceries in their own bags for five minutes. I’ll call each one personally and apologize for that.”
His face turned bright red, from his chin to his receding hair line. “If you can’t take your job seriously, be on time, and lose that attitude, I’m going to have to fire you.”
I dropped my time card on the floor without punching in. “You won’t have to, I quit.”
I pushed past him and walked out the door. I didn’t need this job anymore. I had earned enough money to fix my bike, and school was starting. Shandy was already mad because I didn’t spend enough time with her. Now I could get her off my back.
I hopped on my motorcycle and drove to her house. I forgot it was the day of her cousin’s sweet sixteen. If there is one thing guys avoid like the plague, it’s a sweet sixteen party.
She answered the door, dressed in a navy blue pant suit, her sleek black hair pinned back, diamond earrings dangled from each ear. I had never seen her dressed up before. She took my breath away, but I couldn’t tell her that, so I just said, “You look hot.”
“Thanks, but I thought you had to work today.”
“Long story; I thought I would see if you wanted to go watch a movie, and I’ll tell you what happened.”
“I can’t. I have to go to Julie’s party. But now you can come with me.”
I had to come up with an excuse, quick!
“I would love to go, but I’m still in my work clothes. I wouldn’t fit in. Why don’t I just pick you up after the party and we’ll hang out.”
“What time? It will probably last most of the night,” she said.
“Do you really want to watch the happy little princess dance the night away, or do you want to go watch zombie’s suck out people’s brains in that new movie?”
She looked at me kind of funny, but finally agreed to meet me at eight in front of the theater, and I left.
The theater was dark, and neither one of us paid any attention to the movie. By the time we left, I couldn’t even remember the name of it. I had one thing on my mind, but she had other plans.
“Let’s swing by Nicky’s,” she said as she climbed on the back of my motorcycle.
“Why? I thought we would go back to your house and see if your mom is gone.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a guy. Nicky told me yesterday that things are getting worse at his house. I just thought we should check on him, make sure he’s okay.”
“Why did you talk to Nicky?”
“Do I need to ask your permission before I talk to another guy?” she asked angrily.
I shrugged. “It would be nice,” I said, only half joking.
She hit me in the arm. “For your information, Nicky and I have been friends since kindergarten. We used to spend a lot of time together.”
I started to feel jealous. “Did you two ever date?”
“Me and Nicky? No way! Would have been too weird. When you’ve known someone since their nose picking days, it’s hard to see them in a romantic light.”
That appeased the green-eyed monster in me, but the mood was ruined, and I gave up all my previous efforts. “To Nicky’s, then?”
She nodded. I started the engine, and we rode off.
Nicky’s mom was passed out on the couch, a lit cigarette still in her hand, which hung over the side of the couch.
Shandy shook her head sadly, and stole the cigarette out of her hand. I snatched it from Shandy and took a drag.
“No use wasting it,” I said when I saw the look on her face.
“You are unbelievably disgusting sometimes,” she said.
“That’s not what you said last night,” I said, taking another drag.
She rolled her eyes again. “Sometimes you remind me of a kid with your smart comments.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.
Obviously getting bored with our conversation, Shandy ignored me and went upstairs to find Nicky. She came back down a minute later, alone.
“He’s not there.”
I turned around to leave.
“Maybe we should go look for him,” she said.
I felt jealous again. “What is your obsession with Nicky today?” I snapped. I didn’t have to see her face to know I had hurt her feelings. I could hear it in her voice.
“I don’t have an obsession, thank you, and if I did, you would be the last person I would explain it to.”
I was out of line, and I knew it, but I was not about to apologize. So instead, I stormed out and left her standing there.
She ran out behind me and climbed on the back of my bike, just as I started it up.
Neither of us said anything on the way back to her house. I stopped at the end of the driveway, but I didn’t turn off the engine. She got off the motorcycle and walked silently to her house.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye for a minute, then I sped away.
I walked through the door and headed to the kitchen. Fighting with Shandy always left me hungry.
Looking back, it seems funny to me that I didn’t have the slightest idea my entire life was about to change. Until that moment I was the tough guy, who never took crap from anyone and spoke his mind openly. I was the guy who didn’t care about anyone else but myself, but in the blink of an eye on that Tuesday, September 11, 2001, all that changed.
Chapter 4
I walked to the fridge, pulled out the orange juice and chugged it straight from the carton.
Mom would have flipped out if she had seen me do it. Knowing I was getting away with something that would have made her mad made me feel a little better. I put the carton back and started pulling out all the fixings for the perfect ham sandwich. I turned around to put everything on the table, and saw a note lying there.
I sat my food down and picked it up. I expected a to-do list of things I wouldn’t do, but I was wrong.
On a piece of plain, white, notebook paper, the words were scribbled—
Jess,
I can’t take the fighting anymore. I’m flying out to see your father. He can’t hang up in person; he’ll have to deal with things once and for all. I’ll be back in a couple of days after I straighten things out with him. Maybe then we can move on and you and I can be a family again. Be good while I’m gone. I love you!
Love, Mom
P.S. I’m doing this for you, Jess.
I rolled my eyes, crumpled the note, threw it in the floor and went back to fixing my sandwich. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the note. What was she thinking? Did she really think that when she got back things were magically going to change just because she had a talk with my dad?
Deep inside, although I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, I did hope things would be different. I hoped they could work things out, and we could all be a happy family again.
I spent the rest of the day listening to music and chilling out with my cigarettes. With Mom gone, I was able to smoke anywhere I wanted.
I lit another one, propped my feet up and grabbed the remote. One click and my world changed.
On screen, smoke billowed out of the twin towers, people were running, screaming. A reporter’s shaky voice recapped the day’s events.
The lit cigarette fell out of my mouth and landed in my lap.
It burned a hole in my jeans, but I didn’t notice until a searing pain shot through my leg.
I jumped up, knocking the lit cigarette into the floor. I stomped it out, and sat back down on the couch.
I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I didn’t want to acknowledge the reason.
I watched the same footage over and over, horrified by what I saw, but unable to turn away.
When I finally began to pull my thoughts together, I realized what had been nagging at me—Mom was on a plane, was it one of the planes that had crashed?
I hated her, but I didn’t want her to die. I ran back to the kitchen, and grabbed the note from the floor. I straightened it out, and read it again. She didn’t say what flight she was on, but I knew where she was heading. I found the phone book in a nearby cupboard, Mom was a neat freak, but her version of neatness consisted of making the house look clean, by shoving anything in her path into a cupboard. Out-of-sight equaled a clean house to her. I looked up Airlines but there were quite a few in our town and the areas around us. I had no idea which one she would have taken. I narrowed my search, by mentally crossing off any that weren't in the Newark area. I assumed she would take one from our hometown. There were several still on my list. I dialed the first one.
An automated voice came on the line, “Thank you for calling, all of our representatives are busy, but we will be with you shortly, please hold.” Music came on, but I could barely hear it over the sound of my heart beating so hard in my ears. After 10 minutes, I gave up and hung up. I tried the next number, thinking I would call the first one back later. The same message as before played followed by music. After trying every airline, I gave up. It finally dawned on me everyone else was having the same reaction I was. People were trying to find out if their loved ones had been on the fatal flights.
I racked my brain for anyone who she might have confided her plans to, but I came up with no one. She worked non-stop, she really didn’t have any friends, at least none that I knew of. But maybe she had called Dad to let him know that she was coming. I searched the list of numbers she kept posted to the fridge, Police, Ambulance, Poison Control, at the very bottom was my dad’s number.
I dialed the number, but I was getting shaky from nerves, and had to redial three times before I got it right.
A girl answered on the second ring, I guessed it was Missy, the woman he left my mom for.
“Hey, I’m calling for my dad.”
Silence, “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number.”
“Is this Missy?” I screamed into the phone. I didn’t have time for this crap.
“Yes.”
“I have the right freaking number, and I need to talk to my freaking dad this freaking minute!”
She didn’t respond, but there was a clanking noise, as she put the phone down, and a minute later my dad’s voice came on. I assumed she told him what I had said, because he sounded tense and angry.
“Hello Jesse, what do you need?”
There was no time for small talk, so I got straight to the point. “Do you know what flight Mom was taking?”
“Flight?”
“She was coming out to see you, and she was flying, and there was this crash. One of the planes took off here in Newark,” I wasn’t able to make coherent sentences, I was too nervous. I just needed the answer, I needed to hear a flight number, I needed to compare it to the two that crashed, I needed to know they were different. Then I could relax. For some people, the nightmare was just beginning, but not for me. Once I confirmed that she wasn’t on one of those planes, my nightmare would be over. I could go back to hating her, maybe a little less since she scared me so bad, but things would be back to normal.
“I heard about the crashes,” Dad’s voice broke through my thoughts. “But I had no idea your mom was flying out. Do you know why she was coming here?”
“She said she was tired of the fighting, she wanted to talk to you without you being able to hang up.”
“Well, if she turns up here, I’ll tell her to call you, but I’m really busy right now. It was nice to talk to you though.”
Click. Not even a goodbye. And what did he mean IF she showed up? She would. She had to, right?
I went to replace the cordless phone, because it was starting to beep, indicating it needed charging. As I set it down, I saw the answering machine blinking. Maybe my answer was waiting for me right there the whole time. I held my breath, and hit play.
The first message was from a credit card company, apparently, our payment was late; there was a beep, and then Mom’s voice came on the line.
“Jesse, it’s me,” she was whispering, I had to strain to make out what she was saying. “Something’s wrong, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m scared.” She started crying. “Jess, I’m so sorry, I really tried, but somehow, I’ve failed you. Just remember, always remember, I’ve always loved you.” Click. End of message.
There were more messages, but I didn’t hear who they were from, or what they wanted.
I didn’t need the flight number anymore, I had my answer. She was on one of those flights.
My tough guy image vanished. Suddenly I was a scared little kid, racked with guilt, and wondering what was going to happen to me now that I was all alone.
This was all my fault. She got on that plane because of me. And now she was dead.
I fell back on the couch. What had I done?
Chapter 5
The days leading up to the funeral were all a blur. At some point I got a call from my grandma, who I had not spoken to in years. Actually, I didn’t ever remember speaking to her, but I vaguely recalled visiting her when I was very small.
I wasn’t taking any calls, but she left a message on the machine, saying not to worry, she would make all the funeral arrangements. At least that was one thing off my mind. I spent most of my time staring at the TV, watching replays of what had happened. I tried to imagine being on that plane. I wondered what she felt, knowing what was about to happen. I wanted to feel it too, to punish myself for causing this to happen to her.
There seemed to be a constant knocking on the door, but I never answered it. No one thought to just turn the doorknob, I never locked it. Well, no one but Nicky thought to. He came in once, and sat by my side. We didn’t speak, just watched the TV together. He handed me a pack of cigarettes, and left after a while. He always knew what to do to help me, this time it was just to leave me alone.
Grandma called and left a message telling me when the funeral was. When I realized it was the next day, I finally drug my butt up off the couch, and took a shower. I hadn’t taken one in days, and I was sure I stank. There were a lot of things I hadn’t done for days, like remembering to eat. Oh well, I needed to drop a few pounds anyway.
After my shower, I went to bed. I hadn’t slept much in days, and suddenly it caught up with me. I slept like a rock.
The coffin was being lowered into the ground. Shandy and Nicky stood next to me, but I ignored them. Every person standing at her grave was crying, except me. Even Nicky shed a few tears, why couldn’t I? The shock was still there, but it had lessened somewhat. I was beginning to realize she wasn’t going to walk through the door and yell because the house was a mess. If she would have, I wouldn’t have minded for the first time ever.
I glanced at Nicky, then Shandy, both crying silently. No one will ever see me cry, I vowed. Crying shows weakness, and I am not weak.
Shandy reached for my hand. I let her hold it, but I didn’t really want her to. I wanted everyone to disappear, so I could be alone with my guilt. The same nagging thought that kept playing in my head, like a broken record, was still there—this is all my fault. I don’t think I could have felt more responsible if I had killed her with my own two hands.
It’s funny how much you can hate someone until they die, then suddenly your feelings change. Of course it could have something to do with the fact she would have still been alive if it wasn’t for me.
The service ended, and I headed straight for Shandy’s car. She had driven me there and she was going to drive me home. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to drive my motorcycle to Mom’s funeral, not when she hated it so much. Not to mention the fact that I would never be able to focus enough to drive it.
I jumped in the passenger seat and locked the door. I didn’t want anyone coming up to console me. I didn’t need or want their pity.
Shandy knocked on the driver side window, I had accidentally locked her out too. I unlocked it just long enough for her to open the door, then I locked it back.
“It was a beautiful service,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Your mom would have loved it.”
“Would she?” I asked sarcastically. “I didn’t take the time to know her well enough to know what she would or wouldn’t have liked.”
“There’s no use beating yourself up over it now. She knew deep down you loved her.” She was trying to console me, but it didn’t work.
Had I really loved her deep down? I guess so. Doesn’t everyone love their parents to some degree? Even when they hate them?
Shandy seemed to think I agreed with her, so she continued. “After all, there were some happy times. They weren’t all bad. Up until your dad left last year, you and your mom were close.”
I shrugged. “I guess so. If you mean by close, we didn’t argue all the time like we do now.” I caught my words too late and winced. “Or at least the way we did.”
“All I’m saying is you don’t need to blame yourself, this is not your fault,” she said.
That’s what I had always loved about her. She seemed to know exactly what I was thinking, what I was feeling. She knew without me telling her, that I believed this was my fault. She was trying to make me feel better, even if it meant lying through her teeth.
Neither of us spoke the rest of the way to my house. As soon as she put the car in park, I jumped out, muttered a quick, “Thanks,” and practically ran to the house.
I had hoped to spend some time alone, but as I turned the key in the lock, I felt her hand on my shoulder. I fought back the urge to scream, Leave me alone! and instead, without turning around, I whispered, “I need to be alone right now.” Her hand disappeared, and as I shut the door behind me, I heard her car start up, and back down the driveway.
Suddenly, standing in the doorway of that empty, quiet house, I felt alone. Really, truly, alone. Mom really wasn’t coming home. Ever. I collapsed on the couch and watched the front door, willing it to open. Willing Mom to come in and say it was all a big mistake.
When the door swung open, I nearly jumped out of my seat. Nicky walked in and sat down across from me.
My heart sank. For the slightest moment, I had really believed maybe it had been a mistake. That she was still alive and coming through the front door, that I had a second chance, that I could tell her I was sorry.
“How you holding up?” Nicky asked.
“I’m okay,” I lied. I wanted to scream, How do you think I am? but I didn’t.
“I know you two weren’t real close or nothing, but it’s still gotta be tough on you.”
“I said I’m fine,” I snapped.
Nicky ignored my attitude. “So does this mean you’re going to move in with your dad?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, but the truth was, I really hadn’t given it any thought at all.
Nicky nodded absently. “When do you pack up and leave?”
I reached for a cigarette. It still felt weird to smoke in the house, without anyone complaining.
“Don’t know yet. I haven’t talked to him, but he’s my dad, why wouldn’t I go live with him? He’s been real busy. That’s why he hasn’t called. He’s that kinda guy. He just stays busy all the time. But he loves me, I know he does. He’ll be real psyched that I’m coming to live with him.” I was rambling and we both knew it. I couldn’t even let my guard down with Nicky, not this time.
He was staring at me with a strange look on his face.
“I wish I could live with my dad. You know, if I knew who he was,” he said.
My head shot up. I never knew that about him. When we were little, Nicky had always told me that his dad had died. I always believed him. That’s why I didn’t make him leave now. I thought he could sympathize with me, understand how I felt losing a parent, even though I didn’t care about her until she was gone.
“What?” I choked out.
“Mom always changed her story when I asked her about him. Once, she even slapped me and asked why I cared so much, wasn’t she enough of a parent for me? But she’s always been a little crazy when she’s drunk, so I forgave her.”
He reached into the tattered, old backpack he carried everywhere, and pulled out a beer. I hadn’t noticed until then, but his eyes were a little glazed. I wondered how many beers he had before this one. That would explain why he was confessing all this. He always got very talkative when he was drunk.
“You got any more?” I asked.
He tossed one my way, I downed it in record time, and held out my hand for another one.
I didn’t keep track of how many we drank. Nicky seemed to have an endless supply in his backpack, and I just wanted to drink until I forgot my problems. It worked.
Things got hazy, and soon nothing was making any sense. My guilt dissolved into a carefree existence, and I vaguely remember laughing like a lunatic, but I have no idea what was so funny. I don’t remember anything else about that night. It’s like it never existed.
Chapter 6
I tried to lift my head, but it hurt too bad, and it felt like it weighed a ton. There was a noise next to me. Someone was coughing, choking, gagging, vomiting.
I turned my head toward the noise. It was Shandy.
I closed my eyes again. I felt nauseous, and I had no idea where I was. I opened my eyes again. Shandy was gone, and Nicky was in her place. He was vomiting all over the carpet and himself. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but I couldn’t talk, it took too much effort.
There was a voice coming from somewhere close by. I strained to hear it. It was my dad. But what was he saying? I was too groggy to understand him. Where was I? Where did Shandy go? What was wrong with Nicky? Who ran over my head? I couldn’t think clearly, so I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
“Drink this.”
I opened my eyes and saw Shandy standing over me, holding a glass of water and two pills. I closed my eyes and opened them again. She was still there.
“Listen Jesse, I’m so sorry for that fight we had. We never officially made up, and I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. That’s why I came over here today. I guess I missed a wild night, huh?”