by S. L. Scott
When my mom doesn’t respond, I check on her. “What’s up?”
“You don’t want to hear it.”
“One minute you’re going on about pie, the next I’m having to drag information out of you. I want to know. Tell me. What’s on your mind?” I turn down her street.
“He’s a cute kid.”
He is, kind of ridiculously so and I’m not a kid guy. He’s also cool for a five-year-old. The kind I could probably tell a secret to and he wouldn’t tell anyone. None of this surprises me though. Jaymes is his mom.
Jaymes.
Damn.
Just as I pull up to the gate of her complex, she says, “She’s had a hard time, Derrick. I know you’re upset and hurt right now. It was a lot to take in, which is why I thought it better for you to experience it more than just hear things and let your mind wander. She’s a good mother who is working so hard to give not just Ace a better life, but her mom.”
I pull into a spot in front of her townhome and park. “Mom—”
“No, I want you to listen to me. You’re caught in your emotions. I get it. I do, but you need to cut her some slack.” The car door opens and she gets out. When I get out, I glance her way over the roof. “She’s not married to him. She’s single. I think you should know that, but from my perspective, it wasn’t easy for me either. You know I loved you two together. Maybe your soul mate is still out there, or maybe she’s right where you left her. I don’t know, Derrick. I know I look at that little boy and think of you. You were such a sweet and innocent kid before . . .” She doesn’t have to say more than that. You either survive this part of the city or it destroys you. There is no in-between. “I look at them both and think of what could have been. How he could be my grandson.”
Dropping my head down on my arm, I lean against the car. When I lift up, I try to hide the anger. What is usually an emptiness inside me fills with rage. I love her, but I can’t be buried by what she needs when I’m barely holding on these days. “I can’t do this. I can’t live with both my regrets and your disappointments.”
“I’m not disappointed, son. I’m so proud of you. Look at what you’ve accomplished. You’ve made something from nothing. You did that.” She walks to the sidewalk and waits for me. When I hand her the keys, she adds, “You have both changed. I’m not saying you should give it a second chance, but I’m not saying you shouldn’t either.” I roll my eyes, but give in and give her the smile she’s earned for all her efforts. I receive a poke in the stomach in return. “Are you staying or going?”
She’s given me a lot to think about. Jaymes even more. “I should get going.”
“Thank you for driving me. I know Nita was so happy to see you again.” I walk her to her door. With her key in the lock, and her back to me, she says, “I’ll text you the details for Sunday.”
“What’s Sunday?”
“The brunch.” She steps inside. “Love you,” comes rushing out of her mouth as the door starts to close.
My hand slams against the wood of the door stopping it from closing. She peeks out the crack all wide-eyed and innocent. “Nice try, Mom.”
“What?” She shrugs, willing to keep the act going.
“Brunch with Jaymes.”
“Oh, yes, she’ll be there, but you can come with me.”
“I know what you’re doing.”
She opens the door back up and puts her hand on her hip. “What am I doing?”
“Jaymes is off limits. She has a life. You said it yourself. She made that very clear to me too. She’s got no time for any of the bullshit that distracts her from her kid.” I roll my eyes, knowing the romantic soul that is my mother.
“I want you to be happy. Why do you think it can’t be with Jamie?”
“She made it clear she didn’t want to see me again.”
“She told you that?” she asks, suspiciously.
“She didn’t have to. She has a life now, one without me and doesn’t need me intruding on her life.”
A self-satisfied smile appears. “If she didn’t say it, you shouldn’t assume it.” The door starts to close again, but she stops to say, “You’re leaving on the tour again soon, so you’re coming to brunch and I’m not hearing otherwise. Be safe on your drive home.”
This time I let the door close. I don’t know what’s worse—an encounter with your ex-girlfriend that knocks your life out of its regular rotation or a mother determined to nag you to death over said girlfriend. I mean ex-girlfriend. Either way, I know I’m not getting out of brunch on Sunday, and I’m not so sure I want to.
* * *
Jaymes Anne-Marie Grenier.
She once told me her mother named her Anne-Marie to go with the traditional French last name she acquired once she married Jimmy Grenier, James. He moved her here once they got married and promptly left her when she became pregnant. Upon hearing of Nita going into labor, he sobered up enough to make an appearance just as his daughter was born into the world. Nita saw the man she fell in love with that night as he made promises to take care of them. With tears in his eyes, he apologized for leaving her and said he’d never make that mistake again.
To honor her husband’s commitment to their family she signed the birth certificate—Jaymes Anne-Marie Grenier—after her husband.
They made it a month before his gambling and alcohol addiction kicked back in and they ran out of money. He was gone the next day, leaving Nita with no savings and a newborn to raise on her own. Jaymes said she only saw her mother cry once when it came to her father. I never told her I saw her cry too, or that I had also met her father.
Jaymes was scheduled to close the sandwich shop that night, but needed to study for a biology test the next day. She had forgotten her book at home because she’d been running late. I went by her house to grab it so I could bring it up to her. Her house was like my second home. I had a key and all. So when I was about to leave, and saw a man walking up the path, I didn’t think much of it. He did.
He wailed into me about this being his wife’s house and asked if I was fucking her. I was seventeen at the time. It was as if he wasn’t even aware that he had a daughter a few months younger than me. I was not as big as I am now, but I was growing. I’d already been hazed into Reggie’s gang, got the tat and all to prove it, so he didn’t scare me. But he did cross a line. Especially when he spit on me.
With poor timing, Nita came outside, and defended me. I didn’t need her to. I don’t even know why she did other than maybe it was her mama bear protective instincts kicking in. When he shoved her to the ground, I beat him to damn near death.
Sometimes I think about him, and wonder what happened. Is he dead or alive? I didn’t kill him. He walked away that day, but he never came back either. He wasn’t a man bent on changing his ways, so he was smart enough to stay gone for good.
Sometimes I think about Nita, and wonder why she never told Jaymes what happened. Was she protecting Jaymes or me? I’m not sure. I never thought it right to question her decisions when it came to how she ran her family. I wouldn’t want my family questioned. Things are the way they are now because choices were made along the way that set things in motion. Good or bad, things were set in motion that day. A pact was made with her mom. I vowed I would always protect Nita and Jaymes.
Yet, I drove away, leaving both of them a year later.
Another promise I didn’t deliver on.
Sometimes I think about Jaymes, and wonder how she looked at me like I made the sun shine just for her. When I brought the book to her that night, she sat next to me and smiled like she didn’t have the shittiest misfortune to have James Grenier as a father and a mom who was fighting a battle her daughter never knew about. As I stretched and fisted my fingers under the table, she never saw the pain I was in or how sad I felt for her. She never saw because when I looked into her green eyes, I did what her mother did. I put on a smile and gave her enough love to make her feel whole, to keep that smile on her face, and to give her hope. She may share a name wi
th that fucker, but she would never suffer again because of him, or any other man.
Except me.
“Fuck, Derrick. Get your shit together.” Tommy’s voice floods my internal thoughts. Tilting my head up, Tommy is flipping me off from the sound booth.
Kaz kicks a leg on the stool where I’m propped with my guitar. “You need a break, or what?”
“No, I’m good.”
Johnny doesn’t look convinced when I catch of glimpse of his reflection in the glass, but he lets it slide. “That was too fucked up to fix. Let’s go from the top.”
This time I don’t think about James or Nita. I push away all thoughts of Jaymes and Ace, and play the damn song perfectly. This is my life. My future. My focus. This.
It’s not until I leave the studio that night that I realize how much I’ve hidden behind the bright lights of stardom. Yes, The Resistance is my life, my future. But in my heart of hearts, I know it’s Jaymes I’ve been thinking about for all these years. The biggest regret. The most important dream I’ve yet to fulfill.
I slip into the custom leather seat of my refurbed 1972 Gran Torino Sport and wait for my Bluetooth to connect.
“Well to what do I owe the pleasure?” My mom sounds chipper.
“I’ll come to brunch on Sunday.” I hear her giggles of excitement and shake my head. “Happy?”
“Very,” she says. “It will be fun.”
“Yeah, guess we’ll see.”
10
Jaymes
I walk into the kitchen and my mom’s mouth falls open. Holding my finger up, I think I catch her in time. “Don’t say a word.” Her mouth closes and swerves into a smile, so I call her out, “I can see right through you.”
“And yet, you still came.”
Shrugging, I reapply my gloss. “Call me curious.”
“Curious.”
Ace skips through the kitchen and out the other door. I don’t think I’ve ever welcomed an interruption so much. “We should go or we’ll be late. You know how bad traffic gets with the Sunday brunch crowd.”
“Californians brunch like it’s their business.” She grabs her purse just as Ace runs by. “Go potty and we’re leaving.”
In the car, my mom tells me how she picked a small restaurant that was out of the way to avoid paparazzi. That is something I never thought would be a concern, but here we are at a quaint café.
“I’ll pay for valet, Jamie.”
“No, don’t waste your money. I’ll drop you guys off and park down the street. It’s fine.” I pull to the curb and they get out. I can’t stop from doing a quick scan for any sign of Derrick or Diane. The place looks fancy though. As soon as I find a spot two blocks down and around the corner, I apply my gloss one more time. I think it’s a nervous tic I’m developing because of a certain hot ex-boyfriend. I grab my bag and head back to the restaurant. I start to get nervous as I approach the little café, tugging at the hem of my shirt. My flats are scuffed at the toe and my jeans are old, but they fit. I drag a large section of my hair around to the front of my shoulder and play with the ends nervously. I reach the door just as it opens. Derrick is there and smiles. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
He holds his phone up and says, “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be right back.”
The door is open wide so I move around him, but my arm brushes against his middle. I just keep walking hoping he didn’t mind the bonus of my bony elbow to his abs. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. They’re out back.” The phone is to his ear and he walks outside and down the sidewalk.
I survived. In the courtyard out back, I sit in one of the two open seats that are conveniently together at one end of the table. The moms dote on Ace as he scribbles on the kids’ menu. Diane looks my way and says, “You always had such pretty hair, Jamie.”
Looking down, I grab at it again. “It’s a mess,” I lie. I spent over an hour styling it and putting it up only to let it come down at the last minute.
I’m alerted to his presence just from his proximity, the heat of his body warming my whole soul. “It always looked lovely any way she wore it, but particularly down and loose around her shoulders.”
Lovely. He just said my hair is lovely. I look up as he sits down next to me and my cheeks actually heat. “Thank you . . . Diane.” I turn my attention to her, but she’s pretending to be engrossed in Ace’s art. When I look into the eyes that once only shined for me, I reply, “Thank you. That is very sweet of you to say.”
“I struggled picking my favorite way you wear your hair. You had it up on your head in a rubber band the other day and that looked good too.”
Resting my chin on my hand, I lean in. “Was this a difficult struggle, thinking about how I wear it? One that kept you up nights or just a passing fancy?”
“Up all night thinking about you.”
Our eyes lock, and I’m unaware of the magic that must be happening to have me here. I’m surely in fantasyland in my best blouse sitting next to a world-famous musician who’s insisting on complimenting me as if I can live up to the celebrities he’s used to dating. I sit up and take my napkin, the perfect distraction, and place it across my lap. “What are you doing, Derrick?”
“I’m drinking coffee and making small talk.”
“Your small talk feels awfully large in the scheme of things.”
“I don’t need to lie to you and I don’t want to hide behind some charade like we’re supposed to be on a blind date or something. That’s not us.” He stops and says, “Look at me, Jaymes.” When I do, he lowers his voice and whispers, “I would really like to spend some time with you alone and catch up, instead of brunch under the watchful eye of our moms.”
The moms are up and scooping Ace from his seat. The crayons roll off the table and flustered, Diane says, “We forgot our . . . our . . . um—”
“Bicycles,” my mom shouts.
Diane nods. “Yes, our um bicycles?” Turning to Nita, she asks, “Right?”
Ace looks between them. “What are umbicycles? Can I have one?”
“Yes, let’s go get you one. You two stay and talk. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Derrick and I watch them weave through the tables like they’ve actually got somewhere better to go. When I turn to the man who once owned my heart, I sigh. “That was subtle.”
“Not at all.”
“Nope. Not at all.”
Picking up where he left off, he says, “I don’t even know if you want to talk to me, but I would love a second chance.”
“Dating?” I ask, stunned.
“No, talking. Well, um . . . what?”
He takes a large gulp of water and I cut him some slack. “Sorry. I don’t know why my mind went there. You meant a chance to talk. We can do that. We’re here. Apparently alone. What do you want to talk about?”
“Should we start with Ace?”
Tension fills my shoulders as my defenses go up. I twist the napkin in my lap and look down at the splintering wood of the table. “Sure.” I hate how meek I sound, but when it comes to my son, I shouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone.
“He’s great, Jaymes.”
Surprised, I look back up. “What?”
“He’s a great kid. I haven’t been around either of you much, but I can tell what a great mom you are just by the little time I’ve spent with him.”
My smile grows. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Taking my hand, another surprise on his part, he says, “I’m not going to pretend I know what’s gone on in your life, but I’d like to know. Even more so, I’d like to know what’s happening in your life now.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I want to know if anyone’s going to be upset about you having brunch with me.”
Reggie. My heart quickens like any other time I think of him. Fear does that to you. I’m not sure it will ever change. Not until I know Ace and I are safe from him forever. I pull my hand back slowly despite how much I like Derr
ick holding it. “I can’t answer that. I’m sorry.” This time I don’t look away.
His disappointment is seen and he lowers his hands to his lap. “That seems like an odd question to dodge.”
“I’m not dodging. I just can’t give you the answer you want to hear.”
“So you’re seeing someone?” He’s annoyingly handsome even when his brow furrows.
Despite his good looks, I have to look deeper because of the complicated situation I’m in. “Please, Derrick. Let’s not do this. It’s too—”
“Too what? Soon? Invasive? Close for comfort? Backstabbing?”
“Backstabbing? What? No. Me?”
“Yeah.” He moves away from me by leaning back in his chair. His gaze casts down and his arms cross over his chest. He looks genuinely hurt.
By me? “You left, not me.”
“Why didn’t you, Jaymes? Tell me. You’ve got to tell me why you chose Reggie over me.”
I’m standing, my bag in hand before he even finishes that question. Staring at him, I search his face for the guy I once knew. Instead I’m met with a man I don’t recognize. I swing my bag over my shoulder and leave. Searching the inside for the moms and Ace, I don’t find them, so I push through the door and walk out to the sidewalk. I look both directions with no luck.
I reach for my phone in my bag when Derrick comes barreling out of the café. “No. You don’t get to walk away like that.”
“You can’t stop me like I’m one of your roadies.”
His head goes back. “What are you talking about? First off, I don’t control the roadies. They’re there to do a job. Secondly, why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?”