Page 13

13

JACK

FINDING PEACE

“ Y ou should kick that guy’s ass and bring her back here,” Jon grunts across the table. “Did you see the way he was all caveman over her.”

“Oh please,” Tink scoffs. “Like you aren’t a caveman most of the time.”

“No, that’s different,” he argues. “She didn’t like it. I could tell.”

I toss my napkin down onto my plate and sit back. “She’s on a date with the dude. Leave her be.”

“But she was yours first,” Jimmy whines. “And she’s funny.”

“And pretty,” Iz supplies.

I lift a glass of water to my lips and attempt to hide my rolling eyes. “She’s not my responsibility guys, so stop it. I’m not gonna ruin her date. I’ve already hurt her enough.”

“I’m telling you, man, she didn’t like his hands on her.”

“And I’m telling you, she’s no wallflower. You saw her at my place, Jon. She doesn’t need to be saved. If she doesn’t want him near her, she’ll brain him with a wine bottle.”

“I wish she’d brain you,” Tina grumbles bitterly.

Shocked, I sit back like she punched me in the face. “What the hell did I do to you, pissy pants?”

“I think it’s residual anger from what you did to that nice girl,” she laughs. “I was over it, but now I see her and I’m mad again.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t do it tonight! ”

She shrugs. “It is what it is, Jack. Women stick together, and you were a jerk.”

If I didn’t love my family so damn much, I might hate them.

The following morning after Annie and I go for our daily run – and I proudly last longer than ten minutes without nearly dying – I shower and get dressed.

Whistling, I slap my thigh. “Let’s go, Annie. We’re going for a drive.”

Darting down the hall with her leash in her mouth, Annie’s three legs and her ass slap the stairs as she zips down them and slides along the smooth tile at the bottom.

Smiling, I pick up my phone and keys and shove them into pockets. Picking up my black Yankee’s ballcap, I study the insignia for a moment before dropping it on my head and tucking my uncut hair behind my ears.

Following Annie, I don’t slap my ass on the stairs, but I make my way to the kitchen and stop to watch Kit making morning tea with my youngest niece. The older kids are in school, but baby Emma is still only four, so she stays home with Kit, or more often, she’s at the gym with the rest of us.

“Hey, Kit.” I stop and wait for her to distractedly look up. “I’m going for a drive.”

Smiling beautifully, she stops moving and gives me her full attention. Never in my life have I stopped and noticed how truly beautiful my sister is. She was my enemy more often than not, because authority was my enemy. But now that I’m taking my head out of my ass for two minutes, I see the woman, the mother, instead of the moat always trying to protect me.

I saw her as an obstacle. She was simply trying to be my armor.

“Okay.” She lifts Em from the counter and sets her on the floor. “Want me to make you something to eat first?”

Em dashes forward and crashes into my legs, but ignoring the blonde beauty for two seconds, I move toward Kit and pull her into my arms.

I never hug her just because I love her.

And that might be one of my biggest sins yet.

I’m not perfect. And I’m definitely not ‘better’ yet, but today’s an okay day.

Today’s a good day .

“Thank you for taking care of me.” I press a kiss to her hair. “Thank you for everything.”

Tensing in my arms, predictably, she sniffles, then shrugs my words off. “It’s just oats and berries.”

“No.” Chuckling, I squeeze her once more. “It’s a hell of a lot more than that. Thank you.”

Sighing, she leans into my chest and relaxes. “You’re welcome, Jack. For everything. I’ve always got your back.”

Yeah. She does. She always has. “I love you. I’ll be back later.”

Skipping out the front door after dropping a kiss on Em’s head, I move to my car and smile at the giant, crude lettering dragged through the paint of my otherwise immaculate Mustang.

Every other day before now, the lettering made me cringe. It was a painful reminder of who I am when I’m that person, which is precisely why I never had it buffed out. Like the Scarlet Letter, a self-imposed punishment, I keep it to warn myself not to become that prick again.

I knew better, and what I did to Brittany and all the women before her was not okay.

But somehow, today’s different. Seeing the damaged paint doesn’t make my soul ache. In fact, it almost makes me laugh.

She got me good.

Waddling excitedly and waiting by the car, Annie’s tail thumps the door until I beep it open and let her in. Diving in and scratching the leather with her nails, she slides along the smooth seat and curls into a ball before I’m around my side.

Letting out a content sigh as soon as I climb in beside her, her ears twitch and her tongue lolls out in a goofy smile.

She hasn’t been mad in a while, either. Finally, she’s back on my side.

Pulling out of my driveway, we roll through the gates and onto the public road as Ed Sheeran’s ‘Perfect’ plays through my speakers. This song reminds me of Steph, of the love we shared, of my high school sweetheart, of the good girl that I miss with every bone in my body.

I’ve finally reached a point where I can think of her fondly, instead of the debilitating anger and anguish that I felt for so long after she was taken. Finally, I can think of her and smile. Finally, I can make this visit, and walk away lighter, happier, instead of heading back to the bottle.

Every week, Annie and I make this trip; first to Jonah’s store to buy flowers and a carton of chocolate milk, then across town, where I slowly drive down the private lanes.

Large trees frame the entire area, the surprisingly lush green grass – given this time of year – welcomes us, and the flowers remind me that life is a cycle.

The icy cold of winter has them packing away, but spring brings them back, and their brightness is made more beautiful because of their absence.

Parking in my usual space, I climb out of my car, and Annie lithely jumps out behind me. She knows this routine as well as I do. She takes off for a walk, sniffing around to make sure everything’s where it’s meant to be, while I go to see Steph. I cross my legs, sit on my ass, and read the inscription on the front of her tombstone.

Every week, it’s like a horse kicked me in the solar plexus.

But every week, I walk away with a smile.

Like a couple of old friends catching up over chocolate milk and sunshine, she helps me, even from wherever she is now.

“Hey, Stephy.”

Fussing with the bouquet of purple irises in my hands, I make sure they’re all exactly right for her. “How are you doing this week, baby?”

Silence, of course, but trees move with the wind, birds happily call to each other, and Annie’s sniffles play on the breeze.

It’s hello.

It’s good enough.

Leaning forward, I place the bouquet in the crystal vase I brought here a couple months ago. Miraculously, no one has stolen it yet. “I brought you some flowers. I hope you like them. Purple.” Satisfied with their placement, I sit back and reseat my hat. “Your favorite color.”

This has become a weekly routine for us now. Something Sonia suggested back when we first started seeing each other.

My first day back here was literally the first day since the funeral. I never visited. Not once.

I spent that day crying and apologizing to Steph. Apologizing for not visiting sooner. For not protecting her when I should have. For not looking after myself.

But each visit after that has gotten a little easier, a little lighter.

I started telling her about what I was doing day to day; about training again, about eating better and not drinking anymore.

Last night’s celebration, the celebration I wasn’t ready to admit to Bambie, was the fact I was more than two months sober. Not a huge deal to some, but it was a turning point for me. I’m not perfect, but this is something I’d regained control over.

I would do better, I would be better, because I deserve it.

But more importantly, my family deserves it .

As well as telling her the good, Steph had become my confessional; I told her about the missing birthdays, totaled cars, the way I treated my family like shit.

The way I treated the general female population like shit.

Bambie.

I’d done nothing more to her than I’d done to a dozen other women this year, but for some reason, Bambie got her own mention. She’s different. She feels different. And no matter what I called her, I know she’s no one’s whore. She deserved so much more respect than what I’d given her.

Just like when Steph was alive, even in death, she was my confidant. We never lied to each other, so when I told her about Bambie, I told her everything.

Every. Single. Asshole. Detail.

Today, I’m here to confess that I was too cowardly to give Brittany much thought over the last two months. I was too cowardly to face my truth, but seeing her last night felt right.

My confession to myself is that what I did to Bambie was wrong.

But my confession to Steph, is that seeing Bambie felt good for my heart.

She looked good. So beautiful. And incredibly, she wasn’t angry like she had every right to be. She wasn’t angry at all.

There’s freedom in the knowledge that she wasn’t hurting because of me.

“I was carrying this guilt around for months, Steph. Guilt for how I treated her. But seeing her helped ease some of the poison I’d kept bottled up. She’s dating now, which is really nice. She deserves better than to pick up assholes like me in a club. He seemed… well.” I laugh and finger a blade of grass. “Rich, I guess. He was a bit of a douche, but he has money, so maybe he can buy her lots of pretty stuff and make her smile. I’m not interested in dating yet, but seeing her had me waking up today with a smile on my face. And since that doesn’t happen much anymore, I figure it’s worthy of a mention.”

Opening my chocolate milk, I hold the cold cardboard box in my hand and sigh. “I miss you, Steph. I miss you every single day. And I’m scared, because I’m still not sure I know how to live without you.”

Sitting in the breezy silence, I contemplate my life and the many steps I still have ahead of me. I’m so tired, so fucking exhausted, and it feels like I’m standing at the bottom of a giant mountain. It’s lonely down here, and the trek ahead just seems so insurmountable, but waking up with that smile seems to have given me a little boost of energy and optimism .

I never felt like this before the accident. I was never tired; not after training camp, not after a long week in the gym, not even after a big night of babysitting ten kids so my siblings could go out.

I could skip from mountaintop to mountaintop without breaking a sweat, but now I’m just me. Without Steph. And I swear, my shoes are made of cement.

I want to find the old me again, but that’s impossible, because the old me was half Steph, and Steph’s gone.

I guess that means I need to find a new me.

A new me that might not be as big and full of life as the old me, a new me that’s only half of what I was before, but it’s all I have to work with.

The alternative is to die, and I can’t do that.

I can’t hurt my family anymore.

Running rhythmic laps of our row, Annie finally slows and drops down beside me. Resting her nose an inch from Steph’s headstone, she closes her eyes and blows out a noisy breath.

“Annie says hi. She misses you, too.” I scratch her ears. “But don’t worry, I’ve been making the meat and rice stuff that you taught me. She eats it up every day, then she still begs the kids for scraps. She’s such a pig.”

Smiling the way only dogs can, Annie’s tongue rolls out of her mouth and lies on the grass.

Staying for an hour longer than usual, Annie and I lie in the sun and I whisper my thoughts. About Kit. About training. About the kids that never sleep.

And Britt. Somehow, that extra hour is spent mostly on Britt.

Steph is still my best friend, and we don’t keep secrets. So she learns of the strawberries. The silky black hair. The bangles; so many bangles.

Eventually, picking up my empty milk carton and standing, I lean forward and press a long, silent kiss on the top of her headstone.

“I still love you, baby. Every day for the rest of my life. I’ll see you next week, okay?”

I take one of her flowers. “One for me, the rest for you.”