Page 20 of You Started It
CHAPTER TWENTY
When I pull into my driveway, there’s a pickup truck parked on the side of the road by our house. Probably one of Mom’s customers, except her salon is closed on Mondays. Maybe it’s a friend of Eli’s.
I stay in my car for a few minutes before going inside. Something about my interaction with Ben isn’t sitting well with me. It was choppy. Awkward. Presumptuous. Does he think after all this time and everything that happened, I’d still consider being with him?
Just because something was once part of a plan doesn’t make it a canon event. When he leaned in to kiss me, the only thought I had was No. Get me out of here . But then why did I accept his invite to the formal? And why didn’t I tell him to eff off when he suggested going back to his house after the formal?
I just sat there like an injured deer on the side of the road.
What is wrong with me?
I went from wanting to do whatever it takes to get Ben Cameron back to sliding away from his attempt to get close to me. He’s single. I’m single. We’re single, and yet, I had zero desire to kiss him. When he told me about breaking up with Olivia, he may as well have been telling me there was a chance of rain in tomorrow’s forecast. There were no pulses of excitement coursing through my body when he asked me to the formal. Zero sparks flew when he touched my hand. How could I be getting everything I want and still be so unhappy? Empty. Blah.
Axel.
I miss him.
It’s only been two days, but I miss him so much.
Axel saw in me something no one else ever has. Me included.
Someone who deserves to take up space.
Couples fight and make up all the time. Not every fight needs to lead to the demise of a relationship. This must be how healthy relationships span decades! No need to cancel someone the second they mess up. No one is perfect. And really, what Axel did wasn’t actually that bad. He had good intentions. His heart was in the right place. He couldn’t have possibly known how I’d react.
Speaking with Ben today, him trying to hit Resume on where we left things off before he went to camp, was exactly what I needed to help me see that my feelings for Axel are real. And they’re not going anywhere. I need to text Ben and tell him the formal is off.
But first, Axel.
I pick up my phone and scroll through the messages Axel sent Saturday night. It’s not too late. I can fix this.
Axel: I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to hurt you.
I thought I was giving you something you wanted. Like you’d given me. But I was wrong.
I should have asked you first.
I feel terrible.
I get that I broke your trust and I’m really sorry.
If you ever want to talk, I’m here. Jamie, I really like you. A lot. I hope I didn’t screw things up between us.
And finally, the last message he sent me, which was at 9:45 Sunday morning.
I guess I’ll stop texting. But I’m here if you want to talk. I really am sorry.
I start typing a reply into my phone.
It’s okay.
Then I delete it.
I get what you were trying to do. I can even understand it. But
I delete again.
I miss you.
Delete.
I really like you, too.
Maybe even more than like?
Delete. Delete.
Ugh. I don’t know what to say. How do you open the lines of communication with someone when you’re still hurting?
Ben and I rarely argued. If one of us was upset, the other would speak calmly and explain their position. And that was that. Even if I didn’t “get” Ben’s position, even when I thought his reasoning was full of it, I accepted his explanation and moved on because that’s what we did. Conflict made Ben uncomfortable and, to be honest, it made me uncomfortable too. I didn’t want to end up like my mom and dad. I wanted to be in a healthy relationship. But I’m not sure what Ben and I had was healthy either.
Instead of coming to me earlier with his feelings about wanting to spread his wings and fly with Olivia, he dragged it out over the summer and then blindsided me. Even if he’s telling me the truth about what happened, that nothing did go down between him and Olivia until he broke up with me, because of the way he went about it, my trust in him is forever broken.
Maybe my trust in all humans.
All this drama is making me hungry. I need food and maybe a good cry session. Then I can work on drafting the perfect response to Axel.
I grab my things and make my way inside the house. When I open the door, there’s a pair of runners on the rug, not neatly tucked away like Eli demands. It can’t be one of Mom’s customers, since they come in through the basement entryway, and they’re definitely not Eric’s shoes. For one, they’re huge, and second, he’d never wear shoes with as much of a scuff on them. These look like they’ve been dragged through the mud and back again.
“Jamie, is that you?” Mom calls from the kitchen. Her tone is even-keeled. Not icy like it’s been the last couple of days when we’ve been forced to address one another. “Come into the kitchen. There’s someone here to see you.”
I take in a breath and exhale as I remove my coat and boots. My steps are laced with apprehension as I walk to the kitchen. Mom is seated at the table with a man. Dad. He turns as I come in and smiles. Dad rises from the table, shifting his stance like he’s deciding what to do. Run away, maybe? He’s good at that. Instead, he extends his arms. My gaze moves away from his and onto Mom, who’s still seated. A tight smile paints her face. It’s like she’s giving me permission to hug my father. He seems to read my hesitation though and pulls out a chair for me instead.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
I nod and sit. It’s quiet as the three of us seemingly acclimate to being seated at a table together for the first time in over three years.
“No Halloween costume?” Dad asks.
“Nope. This moment is scary enough,” I say, and they both let out a quiet chuckle.
“Your dad called me this morning and asked if he could come over and speak to us. I was a bit hesitant at first, but after we chatted awhile, it felt like the right thing to do,” Mom says, looking at me.
“Why do you always get to be the one who makes decisions for all of us?” I ask, digging my fingernails into my knees under the table.
“Don’t be upset at your mother, James. It’s me who you should be mad at.”
“But she kept you away from me for years.”
“She did. But she did it for good reason,” Dad says, unable to meet my eyes.
“Maybe this conversation should be between the two of you.” Mom stands. “I’ll be in my salon if anyone needs me.” As she passes us, she places a hand on my shoulder and grips it slightly before leaving.
My stomach growls, breaking the awkward silence. “Skipped lunch,” I say. “Want a snack?”
“Sure,” Dad says, his large hands wrapped around Eli’s rainbow-colored mug with the words I WAS PETTY TODAY written in all caps.
I riffle through the cupboards and fridge, making a plate of cheese, crackers, and grapes. I bring it to the table and sit next to my father, picking at the vine, plucking the grapes but not eating any.
“So, you were going to tell me the million reasons why you walked away,” I say with a bit more edge to my voice than I’d intended.
“Not a million reasons, James. Just one real reason. Something your mother and I have kept from you.” He slides the mug away and takes in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “When I left, I told you it was because it felt like my life was slipping away. While there was truth behind that sentiment, it was really just an excuse.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, rolling a grape around my fingers.
“This isn’t easy for me to admit, even after all this time. Especially to you, my baby girl.” His eyes turn red and glossy. He keeps swallowing, seemingly moments away from breaking down. “I’m an alcoholic, Jamie.”
A chill passes through me as the grape slips out of my fingers and rolls across the table. Alcoholic? My father? I had no idea. “I had no idea,” I say.
“That’s because I was pretty good at hiding it and I’d begged your mom not to tell you. I didn’t want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me now.”
“How am I looking at you now?” I ask.
“Like you’re disappointed. I get it. I would be too.” He hangs his head low and I bring my chair closer to his, tapping my knee with his.
“I’m not disappointed that you’re an alcoholic. I’m disappointed you felt like you couldn’t tell me.”
He raises his eyes to meet mine. “Your mother and I were so young when we ran off together, and despite that, or maybe even because of that, we thought we had all the answers. Turns out we knew nothing. About raising a baby. Being married. About ourselves. But we both loved you so much. You’re the reason we stayed together for so long, because we couldn’t fathom being without you.” He pauses and sighs. “It was hard living in the middle of nowhere, away from all my family and friends. I used to be an adventurous guy and I felt so…stuck. Eventually, the high I’d kept searching for led to a battle with some inner demons. Enter alcohol. It got to the point where I was no longer just a danger to myself but to you as well.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, tucking my hands under my thighs.
“Your mother pleaded with me to get help. She cleaned up my messes. Gave me more chances than I could count. But after she learned I’d driven you home from the baseball game drunk, it was game over.”
“Oh.” I remember that day. I was thirteen and a half. Dad had taken me into the city to watch the Blue Jays play. We had hot dogs. He let me drink soda (which Mom never did), and he had a beer. Maybe more than one. Every time I looked at him his cup was either full or empty. I never thought to question it. He was my father and I trusted him.
“It was reckless and dangerous and every time I think about that moment it makes me want to punch a wall or, even worse, hurt myself. So I ended up hurting myself more and more. Drinking to erase the shame. To erase all the mistakes I’d made. To pretend none of it was true.” He drags the mug back and a puff of laughter escapes as he seemingly reads the words for the first time. He brings it to his lips and takes a sip. “I’ve been sober for ten months. I’m ashamed it took me so long to get my life together. Every time I tried to reach out to see you, your mother wouldn’t let me when she learned I was still drinking. I couldn’t seem to hide it from her. She’s too smart for her own good,” he says around a smile. “But this last January, after I missed your seventeenth birthday, it finally clicked. All this time was passing. Time I’d never get back. And for what? A drink?”
“Alcoholism is a disease. She shouldn’t have kept you from me,” I say.
“You’re right, it is a disease, and maybe it wasn’t the right decision to keep us apart, but it was her decision and I respect that. Knowing I’d driven home drunk with her baby in the car. I’d never trust me again either if I were her.”
“Plus, she’s stubborn,” I say.
“Not that you’d know anything about that,” Dad responds, and we both laugh. There’s a smile on his face. A smile I haven’t seen in years, and it fills me with warmth. And a bit of sadness. How many smiles I’ve missed. Hugs. Tender moments.
“My one year of sobriety will be on your eighteenth birthday. You were the reason I got clean, but I’ve learned another person can’t be the reason why you stay clean. So now I wake up every morning and decide I’m doing this for myself.”
“I’m happy for you,” I say weakly as tears fill my eyes.
“I regret so much, Jamie. Most of all that I missed out on watching you turn into this beautiful young adult. If you’ll allow it, I’d love to be invited back into your life again. But you call the shots. Your mother and I have agreed that you’re old enough to decide for yourself.”
I swallow before turning to face my father. “I’ve missed you every single day you’ve been gone. Your absence had a pretty devastating effect on my life. It made the divide between Mom and me even wider. I tried to mask the pain by kicking butt in school and parading around with Ben, but inside, I was broken. Until…” I pause and close my eyes. Axel’s face appears and my stomach sinks.
“Your mother isn’t perfect, but she did her best. I believe that. She was trying to protect you. She begged me to get help. Eventually, she gave me an ultimatum: get sober or leave. When I left, she had to figure things out alone. She’s done well for herself and you. You’re healthy and thriving at school. And that boy, Axel, seems like a good friend. I remember how much you always wanted to have a best friend, and it looks like you have that now.”
“Yeah,” I say, breathing out some of the weight of this moment. “He’s pretty great.”
“I don’t know how he tracked me down, but when he did, he was so excited. Just like a golden retriever puppy. I didn’t want to go along with his plan at first, but, well, he can be pretty persistent and charming.”
I smile, swiping away a few tears that have sprung loose. “Yeah. He is.”
“Is he maybe more than a friend?” Dad asks with a raise of his brow.
“It’s complicated.”
“You know,” Dad grins. “?‘Complicate’ is a tricky homograph. The differences between the multiple meanings are so slight, it really takes a sharp mind to see them.”
“Did you know the word ‘complicate’ comes from the word ‘complicit’ and the Latin word ‘complicare,’ which translates to ‘fold together’?” I ask, sniffling slightly.
“And?” Dad asks with a soft smile.
“And when you think about it, Axel thought bringing you back into my life would be as easy as folding a piece of paper in half, but what he forgot to take into account were all the previous existing creases on the page, which made making a perfect fold…impossible.”
“Does that mean you’re upset with him?”
I exhale and try to answer my father’s question, but the truth is, I don’t really have an answer because I don’t know. I’m both grateful and upset.
“Hey,” he says, placing a hand on my thumping knee. “Maybe you can tell me about it later. Once you’ve had a bit more time to process. Your mother invited me to dinner next weekend.”
“She did?” I ask, sitting up straight.
Mom comes through the kitchen carrying a bunch of empty mugs. Dad shoots up to help her bring them to the sink.
“She did,” Mom says with a hesitant smile. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “That’s okay. Speaking of food, I’m starved. Can we get some burgers?”
“The usual?” Dad asks, a familiar sparkle in his eye.
“The usual,” Mom and I respond.
“I have a question,” Dad says, looking between us. “I met Axel. But who’s Ben?”
I let out a groan at the same time as my mother.
“Sorry I asked,” Dad responds, holding up his hands.
“I’ll catch you up while Jamie picks up dinner?” Mom says, shooting me an “I got you” look. I smile as I release an appreciative sigh. Dad’s gaze flits to Mom, a slight flush visible in his cheeks.
I have no grand delusions of my parents getting back together. They’re not right for each other, romantically, and I can see that now, but maybe the three of us can find a new way to be a healthy, maybe even happy, family unit.
One day at a time.
“Can you call in the order?” I ask Mom as Dad helps her with the mountain of dirty mugs. “I’ll run out now to get it.” It’ll give me an excuse to go to Axel’s first. Because what I want to say to him can’t be done over texts. We need to see each other in person.
Back in my car, I make the short drive to Axel’s, but as I pull up to Varley Crescent it appears I’m not the only one who decided to pay him a visit. Olivia’s car is parked outside his house. I’m not going to jump to any conclusions. There must be a reason why she’s here. Before I can get out of my car to ask Axel himself, Olivia steps outside his front door and hugs Axel goodbye. He hugs her back and my heart breaks like glass, shattering into a million tiny little pieces.
My throat closes in on me as a flash of heat rushes up my face. I try to breathe, even just short breaths, but I can’t. I can’t get them out. As soon as the tingles start in my fingertips, I know it’s only a matter of time before I lose complete control.
I need to get out of here and fast.
I can’t believe this is happening again.