The Coward
Page 24
‘What happened? Did I do something bad?’
Jack gave a tired smile then left the room.
He shepherded in Patrick’s twins. Their wide, fearful eyes locked on me.
‘See. Uncle Jarred’s okay. Look. Say hello, Jarred. Tell them you’re okay.’
‘I’m okay. I’m sorry if I scared you.’
They both nodded slowly. Their tiny bodies turned toward Jack.
‘You don’t have to be scared. Huh? Uncle Jarred is okay.’
They hugged his legs. ‘Is he still sick?’ the little girl asked, watching me.
‘No, I think he’s better now. You want to go back to Mommy?’
They nodded.
‘Okay, tell her I’ll be there in a second,’ Jack said.
‘What did I do?’
‘Woke me up is what you did. Ranting and raving like a wackadoo,’ He came toward the bed and put his hands on the rail. ‘A goddamn battle royal with the nurses and security. You’re in the psych ward. One floor above mine. They’re recommending some medication. And you got yourself a handful of appointments with a psychiatrist.’
‘That’s probably a good thing. A fifteen-year-old nut job might have his charms but it’s not cute any more. I’m getting too old for this.’
‘You and me both, kid.’
I put my hand on his, and we traded smiles.
‘I’ll take my crazy pills. I’ll go to the shrink, but can we make a deal?’
‘Here it comes.’
‘No, it’s not like that. I mean it. I’m done with causing problems, but I need you to not hide things from me.’
Jack’s face fell. He patted my hand and stepped over to the window. He fidgeted with the handle, but it was locked. ‘That was me being stupid.’ He looked at me and said sorry before returning to looking out the window.
‘But you’re okay?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, the doctors seem happy. Stuff just starts falling off when you’re my age. There’s a handful more things I’m not allowed to do or allowed to eat.’ Something below pulled Jack’s interest. ‘Woah, you should see this guy. He’s built like a blueberry. I bet he’s going to a disabled parking space. Look at that!’ Jack tried the window lock again.
‘Jack!’
Jack came over to the bed. ‘Too much cake is not a disability.’
‘Jack, I’m trying to be serious here. Are we going to be okay?’
He took out his wallet and opened it. In the plastic window where people have their driver’s licence was the note that I left him when I first came back at sixteen. The paper was worn to tissue. The folds and creases shadowed, but the words ‘I’m sorry’ were still visible.
‘You laminated it? You dork.’
He took it out. I turned it over in my hands.
Jack said, ‘That note saved my life. There were so many times I had thought I had let you down. Let your mother down. That little note gave me the sliver of forgiveness I needed to get through the worst days.’
‘Jack, I want to apologise to you right now, apologise for everything. This is my last apology. I’m not going to break anything or anyone any more.’
Jack leaned on the bed rail. ‘That’s not possible. You can’t avoid every mistake. The trick is to just avoid the ones you can. That’s where you need some help. You make your life harder than it needs to be.
‘You’re so keen on everything being broken, because you think you deserve all these problems. This world has nothing to do with deserve.’
‘What’s the worst thing I ever did to you?’
‘Jarred, please.’
‘Tell me.’
‘There is no worst thing.’ Jack straightened and walked back to the window. It was a long time before he spoke again.
‘Do you remember I used to take you to your mom’s grave? We seemed not to fight so much if she was in our thoughts.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, my eyes reddening.
‘Remember the time I tried to give you your mom’s favourite necklace.’ The words clunked from him heavy and slow. ‘I had given it to her for our tenth anniversary. We finally had some money, had just bought the house, and it was a big deal. We felt like grown-ups for the first time. I told all this to you to make you understand its importance. You stood there with that pissed-off look you always had. I held it out to you. You looked at it like it was a turd and said, “Is this a bribe?” I tried to reason, tried to explain, but you walked off. I couldn’t even be angry with you. I hated you, wanted nothing more than for you to run away and leave me alone. Then you did and I felt guilty and angry at myself for the next ten years.’
‘Dad.’ I called him Dad for the first time since I was a child.
‘I know it’s not that simple,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t just that moment alone and I wasn’t always feeling guilty or angry but that stands out as the moment we, me and you, were beyond redemption. You wanted to know. There you go.’ He turned around to meet my eyes.
My voice cracked. ‘Dad, I didn’t mean it like that. Not at all. I felt awful for taking anything of hers, like I wanted her to die so I could inherit her stuff. I hated the idea that my mom was a pile of trinkets. The woman who drew dinosaurs on the napkins in my lunchbox.’
Jack’s eyes shone. His mouth opened, but the emotions reddened his face and threatened to burst. He swallowed, breathed out and tried again.
‘She feared everything,’ Jack said. ‘So I stayed with her. I had plans to see the world. Same travelling bug you caught. But I stayed by her side. She drank because she was scared. I drank to be by her side. You know what? She was worth it.
‘I worry, though, that if she hadn’t died, we wouldn’t have been able to keep it together. I like to think that our love would have been strong enough, but I’m glad it was never tested. That’s a hard thing to know. That I kept her sick and she kept me sick. That thought kills me like no other. The only thing I have in this world is that I had a love as rare as rare can be, impervious to the elements, including time. That love is safe, because she died. It makes me grateful, but I still wish it had been me, not her. She would have kept it together and saved you from a lot of hurt.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I have to,’ Jack said.
‘You still think about her?’
‘Every day. I still talk to her. And I still mourn her. That doesn’t go away either. It just becomes less often and less crippling. No pun intended, rubber legs.’ Jack winked. ‘Sometimes, though, I feel it so much it pins me to the bed, but I get up and pretend it doesn’t matter until it passes. You’ve got a lot to figure out, but’ – he tapped my wheelchair – ‘the good news is you’re my son. Sarah too is an amazing woman. Each day you two don’t take each other for granted, you’ll have what your mom and me had, probably better. Then just think, and I sincerely pray to God in heaven that it happens, that one day you’ll have a kid just as much trouble as you were, and I will laugh and laugh.’
‘I don’t think so. There is only so much nonsense from me that someone like Sarah will take.’
‘Son, I’ve called you an idiot a lot. That’s probably not what a father should be saying. Self-esteem and all that malarkey, but I have never been so sure as I am at this moment that you are a complete damn-blind idiot. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. And you look at her. It’s for real, dummy. This is it. This is your one. You fit each other. She’s visited me every day. Without screaming and shouting and having a fit, I should add. Who do you think we talked about? Hmm?’
‘Okay, I get it.’
Jack stands and walks toward the door. ‘I’m done talking to you. I need coffee.’
Credits
Author Jarred McGinnis
Agent Will Francis
Editor Ellah Wakatama
Managing Editor Leila Cruickshank
Editorial Assistant Aa’Ishah Hawton
Proofreader Alison Rae
Publicity Director Anna Frame
Campaigns Executive Jamie Norman
Cover Designer Valeri Rangelov
Rights & Contracts Director Jess Neale
Rights Manager Caroline Clarke
Rights Assistant Bethany Ferguson
Head of Production Kate Oliver
Head of UK & Digital Sales Jo Lord
Audio & Digital Executive Katalina Watt
Head of International Sales Steph Scott
Key Accounts Manager Drew Hunt
Sales Operations Manager Nadine Luchsinger
Publisher Jamie Byng
Typesetters Jacqueline Simpson and Michelle Forsyth
Acknowledgements
First and foremost I am grateful to the family of readers, storytellers and teachers that I come from. They have given me the curiosity and a love of words from which all else followed.
Before this was a book there were many many people who read the stories, gave me thoughtful advice and feedback or just listened as I rambled on. This list is woefully incomplete, but I must thank: Debbie Bogard, Jamie Coleman, Martin Cummins, Sarah Hall, Ruth Harrison, Peter Hobbs, Sam Jordison, Francesca Main, Jane Main, Adam Mars-Jones, Robert McGinnis, Eloise Millar, Anne Mullane, Robin Pavlik, Christina Petrie, Ben Platts-Mills, Quad Writers Group, Andy Sewell, Natalie Smith, Spread the Word, Karla Steffen, Sam Taradash, Barry Walsh, Willesden Green Writers’ Group, Evie Wyld.
And, to every single student I have taught, especially the students of First Story, for reminding me my faith in words was never misplaced.