Page 23 of You Started It

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The next morning, I ditch breakfast to lie in bed so I can ruminate over the previous night’s events. Ben kissed Olivia before breaking up with me. Even though I’d strongly suspected he’d crossed the line with her, having confirmation hits in a way I wasn’t expecting it to. But the biggest bombshell of all last night, one I didn’t see coming, was learning that Axel turned to Olivia when he thought I’d gone back to Ben.

“Jamie,” Mom calls from behind my door. “You decent?”

I sit up and run a hand through my tousled hair. It does nothing to help the severe case of bedhead and tangles I’m sporting. “Yeah. Come in.”

She opens the door and stops dead in her tracks. Placing her hand on her chest, she calls Eli frantically. He comes bolting up the stairs.

“Mashallah,” he exclaims, hand to heart.

“What’s the matter with you two?” I ask.

Their eyes are wide as they walk through my room, observing the neat stacks of books and folded clothes.

“Nothing.” Mom shakes her head. “I just never thought I’d see these floors again until you moved out.”

“Jam-e,” Amo Eli says before sitting on my bed. “What is the reason behind this?”

“I was bored,” I lie.

Mom pulls out my desk chair to sit and it feels as if I’m about to have some sort of emotional intervention. “Your dad called. He wants to know if he can take you out today. Are you free?”

“Yes,” Eli says. “ Are you free? Did you and Axel talk last night after I left the two of you alone?”

I clear my throat. “Oh, we talked. But it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s over with us. Completely.”

“Because of Ben?” Mom rests her elbows on her knees, leaning in.

“No. It’s completely over with Ben too.”

“Then I guess you are free,” she says, offering me a sympathetic smile. “Want to talk about it?”

I look between them.

“Yeah. We didn’t think so,” Eli says, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

“Why didn’t Dad call me to ask if I wanted to hang out?” I ask.

Mom forces a smile. “I guess he still thinks he needs to go through me first.”

“Well he doesn’t,” I snap back. “We already discussed this. Doesn’t anyone ever listen to the words I say? Does my opinion mean nothing?”

“ Now do you want to talk about it?” Eli asks, grabbing my ankle and shaking it.

“I’m not going to the formal with Ben anymore, or anyone else for that matter. I received confirmation that Ben kissed Olivia while we were still together, and if that isn’t enough suckage for one night, Axel has been spending time with Olivia.”

“I have a question. Are there any other girls in this town besides you and Olivia?” Eli quips.

“It’s not funny,” I say. “My life is a giant mess.”

“At least your room isn’t. Kind of ironic, right?” Eli says. He sucks in his lips before I can shoot him a glare.

“What if you try talking to Axel?” Mom asks. “Maybe if you speak to one another now that some of the dust has settled, you can figure out how to fix things.”

“There’s nothing left to figure out. It’s over.” I rip my covers off and get out of bed. “I’ve decided to take your advice and spend some time alone. I need to stop relying on others to make me feel complete. I’m my own best friend.” Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll start to believe it.

“So you’re just going to close yourself off to friends and romantic relationships?” Eli asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes.” My bucket list comes into view and I pick it up. “And I’m going to start by completing the rest of these goals. Alone.”

“Hey. I’m all for spending time alone and learning some independence, but don’t do it to make a point. Do it because you want to. Can I see that list?” Mom asks. I pass my notebook to her and her eyes move through the pages quickly. “Maybe you and your father can go to one of these places together.”

“That is a fantastic idea,” I say to my mother before leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek. The notebook slips from her lap and onto the floor, landing with the contract facing up. Before I can grab it, it’s back in my mother’s hands. The room falls quiet as she reads through it.

“I…I don’t understand. Why did you and Axel have a dating contract?” Mom asks.

I bite on my lip, trying to think of a simple way to explain everything. My eyes plead with Amo Eli to step in. Thankfully, he does.

“You know Jamie loves to read and well, sometimes life imitates art,” he says, looking back and forth between me and my mother. I smile at my uncle before mouthing the words “tell her.” He takes my hand and squeezes it. And then he tells my mother everything, while I sit by, embarrassed and heartbroken.

“That certainly explains a few things.” Mom nods. “You’ll get through this, Jamie,” she says, placing her hand on my knee. “You’re probably the smartest, most resilient person I know. To be honest, I hate how resilient you’ve had to be, but I’m completely on board with this journey to self-discovery. And quite frankly, I’m impressed with the whole fake-dating scheme. You had me fooled.”

A small laugh escapes me. “Maybe there’s an item on the list I could do with the two of you,” I say, allowing myself to continue being vulnerable.

“Let me see that list,” Eli says, snatching the notebook from my mother’s lap. “Watch a hockey game, eh? That’s on my bucket list too. Maybe we can swindle a bro into buying us a couple tickets. Those things don’t come cheap,” Amo says while poking my side with his finger.

“And I know just the bro,” Mom replies.

Later that day, I take the streetcar downtown to meet my father. I thought it would be too weird to sit in a car alone with him. Especially with how unpredictable and crappy Toronto traffic is. Besides, I don’t think we’re at that level of comfort yet. After my chat with Mom and Eli, I sent Dad a photo of my bucket list and told him to choose an activity. He went off-script and suggested skating at Nathan Phillips Square, since it just opened this weekend. Kind of old-school but I thought it could be fun.

The ice rink at Nathan Phillips Square is situated in the heart of Toronto, just in front of City Hall. We used to come here every winter and admire the Christmas window displays at the Hudson’s Bay Company, then take goofy photos by the three-dimensional Toronto sign. After that, Mom and I would rent skates (Dad would bring his own) and we’d try not to kill ourselves on the ice.

I agree to meet Dad by the Tim Hortons across the street from the rink. He’s already there when I arrive, hands in his pockets, trying to keep warm.

“Dad,” I say, observing him in a flannel coat and wet hair. “Seriously?”

“What?” His eyes twinkle.

“I know you’re all about being cool, and excuse me for sounding like an old Arab lady, but you’re going to catch a cold dressed like that. With wet hair to boot.”

“Ah. Said just like a Canadian teta.” He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Winter kind of snuck up on me this year.”

“Let’s go to the Eaton Centre and get you a hat. Maybe some gloves.”

“Hot chocolate too?” he asks, his eyebrows wiggling.

“Sure. It’ll have to be your treat though. I’m broke.”

We smile before we head to the mall on foot. The sidewalks are packed full of pedestrians: young families, twenty-somethings on their own paths of independence, and older couples, strolling slowly and enjoying the view.

“Ever notice that couples these days dress alike?” Dad asks. He nods his head to the thirty-somethings walking toward us. I glance down at their matching Blundstones, cuffed jeans, and military-like coats.

“Those two even have the same haircut,” I scoff.

“Speaking of funny haircuts,” Dad says as we wait to cross the street, “how’s Axel?”

I shrug, watching the crosswalk countdown. The light switches and we make our way to the other side of the street. Neither of us speak as we come to the mall entrance. Dad opens the door and I’m instantly slapped in the face with loud Christmas music and huge decorations dangling from the ceiling.

“A little early for this, don’t you think?” I ask.

“It’s almost December. Besides, people love it. Gives them something to look forward to.”

“I guess,” I say, wishing I had something to look forward to. “Let’s go to Roots. They’ll have lots of warm hats and gloves to choose from.”

“Okay, Teta.” Dad laughs.

“Hey, Dad,” I say as we walk through the mall. “How well do you know Mom’s parents?”

He shakes his head. “Not very. We spent most of our courtship sneaking around, and after we eloped, she kept her distance from them.”

“Why?”

“I think because she thought they were ashamed of her. For getting pregnant. And when they tried to reconnect, she’d meet each attempt by pushing them away. Said it wasn’t worth it. When I asked why, she’d explain that every time they got together, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were disappointed in her.”

“But don’t you think it isn’t fair that I have no relationship with them? I mean, your parents I at least see a couple times a year. That is until you left,” I say, quietly. “I used to go visit Teta and Sedo with Amo Eli when I was younger, but then it felt like Mom was starting to resent me for having a relationship with them. She had this big fight with Eli once about it and told him he couldn’t take me over there anymore. And now so much time has passed, it feels weird to reach out.”

“It’s complicated, James.”

“What isn’t?” I ask with a dismissive roll of the eyes.

“You’re almost an adult now. If you want a relationship with your grandparents, you should have one.”

“What about Mom?”

“No one could tell your mother what to do when she was seventeen.”

“Eighteen in January,” I remind him. “So you’re saying I should outright go against her wishes?”

“Do you know how she feels about this topic? I mean, have you sat down with her to discuss it or are you building this up all in your head to be bigger than it is?”

“She’s not the easiest person to talk to,” I say simply.

“Believe me, I know.” Dad smiles. “She wouldn’t even accept money from me after I left. The few times we communicated it was only to make sure that I’d sign the divorce papers. She asked for full custody, which I of course granted, and she refused any child support. She insisted on doing it alone.” A prolonged silence stretches between us as we continue to walk. I didn’t know any of that. There’s still so much I don’t know about those three years Dad was gone. “We made it,” Dad says as we come to the storefront.

“We did,” I respond, my throat tight.

After Dad buys a red toque and gloves, we leave the busy mall and grab some hot chocolate at Tims before admiring the holiday window displays. I haven’t done this in years, and while it’s nice to be with my father again, reliving some childhood memories, it’s also pretty bittersweet. All those years lost. Moments that could have been memories. Instead, it’s just a black hole of time.

We head back to Nathan Phillips and rent our skates. We bring them to a bench and, just like when I was a kid, Dad gets on bended knee to tie my laces for me.

“It feels nice to be needed for something,” he says in a way that’s supposed to be a joke, but I can tell he means it.

“I’ve always needed you,” I say softly, my fingernails pressing into the cold metal bench.

He looks up at me. “I’m here now. And I don’t plan on leaving again.”

“Good. Because I haven’t skated in years, so I’m really going to need you in about two minutes.” We laugh as Dad finishes tying my laces. He helps me up and guides me to the rink.

“Just hold onto me. I’ll keep you upright.”

“And if I fall?” I ask.

“Then I’ll help you get back up.”

My throat tightens again and my eyes well up. Dad releases one hand and strokes my face. “I missed you so much, James.”

“I missed you too.”

“I’m so sorry I screwed up.”

I cry, and then Dad cries and we hug each other, crying on the ice in front of hundreds of people. “I screwed up too.”

He pulls away slightly, wiping my tears before holding my face in his hands. “You didn’t do anything. None of this was your fault.”

“No. Not with you,” I say, shaking my head, my lower lip quivering so hard it’s playing its own beat. “With Axel.”

“Oh.” He sighs as he brings his hands down. “Well, take it from me. It’s not too late. You can fix things with him,” Dad says like a dad.

“I don’t think that’s true,” I say. “We’re probably beyond help.”

“That kid cares deeply for you. Just give it a little time. And while you’re giving each other space, use that distance to figure out what it is you both need to move forward.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is and it isn’t. You’ll see. One day, it’ll just come to you.”

“What will?” I ask.

“A plan.”

“I think I’m all out of plans,” I say, smothering a grin.

“According to what your mother tells me, I find that hard to believe.” He chuckles. “Anyway, this one will be different. It won’t come from here,” he says, pointing to my head. “It’ll come from here.” He places a hand over his heart. “And that’s how you’ll know.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I usually am. When I’m sober.” He winks. “Come on. I’ve got you,” he says, wrapping an arm around me. “And this time, I’m not letting go.”

I put my trust in my father and allow him to guide me farther into the ice rink. My legs keep wanting to spread away from me, either side to side or front to back, like a baby elephant, but Dad keeps propping me up and saves me from falling. After about half an hour, I’m skating upright, while still holding on tightly to my father’s arm. It’s kind of magical once I get out of my head to take in the moment. Skating downtown with my dad while music plays in the background, surrounded by people from all walks of life. Somehow, we all started our days apart and ended up at the same place. There’s something really beautiful about that.

My therapist, Dr. Mueller, calls this mindfulness. She said staying in the moment and focusing on what is right in front of us, by giving it our full attention, stops our brains from fixating on the future and the what-if scenarios we have no control over.

Maybe Mom’s right. Maybe I should meet with Dr. Mueller occasionally to check in and discuss some new ways to manage my anxiety as life ebbs and flows. I can’t depend on another person to be the solution. Nor can I rely on lists and plans. And with Dad being back in our lives and trying to heal and move forward, I think talking to a therapist again might help.

Mom is going to be so thrilled when I tell her.

After I request a time-out, Dad uses it as an opportunity to skate laps around me, showing off his skills. He trips on a bump and falls on his butt. We both crack up: one, because when a six-foot-five man falls hard on the ice, the only way to fall is comically; and two, because I refuse to move from my safe spot on the ice to help him up.

Dad manages to get up and dust the ice shavings off. He leads me around the rink, arm in arm and, shockingly, I finally start to get the hang of it. I nod for Dad to release his grip and I begin skating on my own. Wobbly and slowly, while lacking direction, but still, I’m doing it.

I might not know where I’m headed or what’s in front of me, but instead of being terrified of the unknown, right now, in this moment, I’m hopeful.