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THIRTEEN

WESLEY

It didn’t hurt as much to see Jaxon as it did last time.

Sure, he still looked more put together than I’d ever be, but in my recently detoxed brain, I thought he’d tried to be pretentious to make me feel even worse than I did.

But that’s not who he is. Even when we were kids, he had the air of someone who would always have his life together without effort.

I wish I could have said what I really wanted to him—to make amends—but the words got stuck in my throat when I saw the photo of him and Lana and Bob. Seeing the three of them together reminded me of how much they cared for me, and I was pulled back into the past.

But for the first time since I started on my sobriety journey, I’m not dragged into a bad memory—it was of the four of us sitting around the dining room table, talking over some of Lana’s delicious food.

They had such a great relationship that it seemed effortless when they asked each other about their days.

And they brought me into that fold. They included me in the conversations and made me feel welcome. I had a family before I even knew it .

I can’t make amends with Jaxon because I need to talk to Lana first. She was who I need to start my amends journey with in Washington. She won’t hear me, but being close to her in any way will help ease me and help in my strides to stay clean.

When I leave Jaxon’s office, I go straight to the cemetery to visit Lana. I follow the directions he gave me and see the headstone when I pull up. Emotions bubble up inside me, but I tamp them down so I can do what I came here to do.

I climb the small incline and look at the grave of the woman I wished was my mother. Sadness washes over me. Fuck, she was such a good person, so loving and caring. I hate that she died while my own piece-of-shit mother had more years on this earth when she didn’t fucking deserve them.

“Hey, Mrs. Collins,” I say, voice ragged.

“I wish I could have seen you before you…left. You were the one person who believed in me. I’m sure you know, but I named my band after you.

You were the first adult who tried to foster my talent.

And…you saved me. You got me out of the hellhole I was in and made sure I didn’t experience any more abuse.

” I take a deep breath and look up at the sky, anguish almost crushing me.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t allow you in when I was in that situation.

I’m sorry I left how I did without saying good-bye.

And I’m sorry I was such a coward that I didn’t come back to visit you before you died.

“I had hoped the flowers were enough, but I never apologized to your face. And now I’ll never get that chance. Wherever you are, I hope you hear me, and I hope you forgive me.”

I lay the flowers I brought with me on her grave. Sunflowers, her favorites. She told me and Jaxon that one time in passing when someone brought them to the hair salon she worked at. For some reason, the information stuck in my mind.

As I stand, I feel a presence behind me. I freeze, hoping it’s not Jaxon. I don’t want him to see me like this.

“Hey Wesley,” the older male voice says, and my shoulders relax, if only slightly.

“How you doin’, Mr. Collins?” I ask, turning around to face him.

He smiles and points at the sunflowers I laid down for Lana and then at the bouquet in his hands.

“I think she would have liked receiving two bouquets in one day. She was always obsessed with them.” He steps around me and lays his sunflowers against mine.

“And you can call me Bob. I think we’re on first name basis now, don’t you? ”

I shrug, kicking at some grass clods by my feet.

He steps closer but doesn’t touch me. “How are you? Really?”

It’s too much. I can’t stand for him and Jaxon to ask that, looking at me with pitying eyes. Mr. Collins—Bob—has already seen me at my lowest. I’m not sure I want him to examine me while I’m trying to claw my way from “fucked up” to “managing”.

Right after I was reunited with my father, Bob came to visit me in my hospital room.

He’s the one who told me about Jaxon taking photos and asked for my permission to use them against Perry when we went to trial.

I cried and vomited at the thought of Jaxon seeing me so fucking weak, but I said yes.

I vowed not to have him see me that low again.

Now, he’s asking how I am, when I know I’m still a fucking walking zombie, trudging through life since I don’t have a purpose right now.

I try to smile at him but only manage a trembling tilt to my lips. “It was good seeing you, Bob. And…I’m sorry for any hardships I put you through. You and your family deserved better.”

“No, kid,” he says, looking unbelievably sad. “ You deserved better. I just hope I did right by you.”

I step around him and head down the small incline, needing to get away. “Wesley?” he calls, and I freeze and look over my shoulder at him. He points to the headstone of the only woman that ever loved me and says, “She was beyond proud of you. Just like I am. You did good, kid.”

I dip my chin and hurry away, needing to go see my sponsor. Not only because we have a meeting but because I’m feeling too on edge.

The drive to Seattle is quick, my mind stuck on Lana and Jaxon. More Jaxon than Lana. He’s the unfinished business I have to handle.

Honestly, I don’t know what I’ll say to Jaxon when it’s time for me to make amends. There’s so much I fucked up, so much I have to apologize to him for. He was the first person I hurt, the first mistake I made.

After all these years, he’s still the only person I’ve ever been in love with, and I was too afraid of my own past, of looking like a fool to come back and tell him how wrong I was.

Fuck, I was wrong. If I were in Jaxon’s shoes, and he was getting abused, I would have said fuck my vow and told whoever would listen that he needed to get out of that house. His betrayal stung, but it was necessary. I need to tell him that.

I push thoughts of Jaxon and my amends from my mind as I pull up to the coffee shop my sponsor agreed to meet me at. He’s already there, sitting at an outdoor table with a mug of tea in front of him.

For the past two weeks that I’ve been in Washington, we’ve met four times, and he always has tea. Said coffee gives him the shakes and reminds him too much of detoxing. I know what he means.

After I park, I step inside, order a lemonade and a blueberry muffin, then head out to sit. I don’t ever eat the muffin, but it gives my hands something to do when I feel exposed.

Jared, my sponsor, glances up when I approach the table, smiling widely.

He’s an older man in his fifties with a receding hairline, graying hair, and an open face.

He looks almost like a happy uncle that likes to give you long hugs and even longer lectures when you fuck up.

But he has a kind heart and an easy disposition that relaxes me.

He’s also an atheist like me, so we fit perfectly.

“Wesley. I’m glad you could make it.” He stands and shakes my hand. “How are you feeling today?”

“Gutted,” I say honestly.

Since I started working harder on the steps in my recovery and my sobriety, I’ve had to be honest about a lot of shit. The moment I start lying is the moment I’ll think it’s okay to hide shit from people. It’s a slippery slope that I don’t want to go down.

I continue. “I saw my old best friend today, someone I have to make amends with, but I couldn’t.”

“Were you not ready?” he asks, leaning forward as he wraps his hands around his mug.

I shake my head. “Yes and no. I was, but I saw a picture of him and his parents on his wall, and all I could think about was his family, especially his mom and everything she did for me. How she died before I could tell her I was sorry for the shit I put her through.” I have to clear my throat to push the words out.

“I named my band after her. Her name was Lana Collins. One night at like three in the morning, she heard me singing in her basement. Instead of chastising me for waking her, she told me that I had a great voice, and I could make it far. She said the whole world would know my name. I held on to that. And when the opportunity presented itself, I wanted her to know that I thought of her all the time.”

“So why are you feeling this way?”

“Because I should have found the time to see her. I only knew her for two years, but she meant a great deal to me. I let the booze and drugs cloud me from doing what was right. I chose getting high over someone I cared about. And I can’t ask for forgiveness because she’s dead.”

Jared pats my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” I say, keeping my shudder to myself as I pull my hands back. “I just came from seeing her, speaking to her and asking for her forgiveness. If I know her, she would have forgiven me, but it’s too late to know for sure.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about something you can’t change. You know Step Ten,” he says.

I nod. “Be kind to myself.” There’s more to it, but that’s the part he’s referring to.

“Yes. I’m proud of you for going to make amends, even when you knew you wouldn’t be able to connect with someone. That took courage. How do you feel?”

Instead of answering with my normal “I’m fine”, I search myself for my emotions. While there’s more anguish and sadness than I can express, I’m also relieved. Those were words I wanted to say to Lana for years, and I feel like, even though she isn’t here, she heard me.

I tell Jared that, and he gives me an approving look. “ Glad you can identify your emotions. We didn’t have such an easy time at our first meeting.”