“Excuse me? What wedding?”
“My wedding.”
“You’re engaged?” Her eyes widened. “To Claire?”
“Is that a problem?”
Miss Tate tapped her notebook. “We can discuss that next time. No new conversation topics within the last ten minutes, remember?”
“Let me get this straight.” My mother ignored her. “You’re about to get married and you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I didn’t think you would care.”
“It’s been over eight months, Jonathan.” She sighed. “I’ve apologized to you, I’ve sent Claire god-knows how-many letters in the mail, and I would really like to have a functioning relationship with at least one of my children. I shouldn’t have to beg for that.” She looked over at Miss Tate. “Should I?”
There was silence. I didn’t feel like going into a deep conversation with her today. I was fine with the molasses-speed progress we were making and I had no desire to fully integrate her back into my life.
I stood up and shook Miss Tate’s hand. “As always, thank you for mediating these sessions, Miss Tate. Mother, Greg is downstairs waiting to take you home.”
“Is twice a week too much to ask?” My mother looked hurt. “Can we at least try it?”
“I’ll ask Claire about it and get back to you next week.”
“Claire? You have to ask Claire?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I know my opinion doesn’t matter much.”
“It doesn’t matter at all.”
“Let me finish, Jonathan. I can at least—”
“No, you can’t. You don’t need to say anything about what I’m doing with my life or anything that relates to Claire because it’s none of your business. What you can do is be happy for me, stay on your best behavior, and show up to the wedding if I decide to invite you.” I kept my eyes locked on hers. “If you pull what you pulled last year—if you even attempt to say anything to her without my permission, I’ll never speak to you again.”
“Jonathan, Denise...” Miss Tate stood up. “I think it’s best if we end the meeting without saying another word to each other. You’re both doing so well. You don’t want to lose all the ground we’ve made so far do you?”
“You’re still holding that bullshit from last year against me?” My mother scoffed. “Seriously? That’s what this is about? You’re over our past, but you just want to throw in the Claire drama to keep me out of your life?”
“My keeping you at a distance doesn’t have shit to do with Claire. It never has.”
“Then why are you still treating me like this?” She stood up, hissing. “Why are you acting like a goddamn child? I said I was sorry. And just in case you didn’t catch what I said earlier, I’ve apologized every damn day and I’ve even apologized to your girlfriend—excuse me, your fiancée, telling her how much I wish I could take it all back. What more do you want?”
I felt like I was going to vomit. She was literally making me sick. “I treat you like this because it’s never been about me.” I stood up and narrowed my eyes at her. “I could’ve handled myself. I did handle myself. It’s always been about Hayley and how you left her in my care—a child’s care. Why can’t you see that?”
“Hayley has nothing to do with what happened between me and you, Jonathan. It’s her fault if she doesn’t want to reconcile with me because you know damn well I’ve tried. You’re just coming up with another hoop I have to jump through, and you know what?”
“Go to hell.”
Her face paled as soon as I said those words, and for half a second I regretted saying them, but not enough to stay.
“Mother, Miss Tate, I’ll see you two next week. I can’t deal with this right now.” I stormed out of my office and headed towards Angela’s desk.
“Mr. Statham? Is everything alright?” She looked up.
“No...Can you call my fiancée and tell her I’m on my way to pick her up for dinner please? Tell her it’s non-negotiable.”
“Yes sir.”
I hit the down button on the elevator and stepped inside as soon as the doors opened. I wasn’t sure why I still put up with my mother—why I even tried, because she honestly didn’t deserve anything from me after what she did last year.
Maybe deep down it was pity—shame, but I promised myself I would never forgive her until she completely acknowledged and understood how she’d almost wrecked my little sister for life, how she’d singlehandedly damaged her, leaving me to repair what little I could.
Chapter 2.5
Jonathan
Summer 1995
I sighed as I twisted the door handle to our trailer, slowly stepping inside.
“Where the fuck have you been?” My mom sat up and took a long drag of her cigar. “It’s three in the afternoon and you’ve been gone all day.”
“I was at school.”
“Oh, right. Well, could you go back there and shut your sister up? She’s been screaming all day and I can’t get any sleep. All she ever fucking does is cry.”
I looked down the hallway and noticed that once again, the door to me and Hayley’s room was locked so she couldn’t get out.
“Can you sign this?” I pulled a paper out of my backpack and handed it to her. “Pre-K starts next week. You have to bring that form next Monday so she can go.”
“Ugh, god, Jonathan! One thing at a damn time! Can you do what I asked you to do first? Can you shut that girl up please?” She threw the paper onto the floor and curled into a ball. “How can you expect me to sign paperwork when she’s back there screaming her lungs out? Get the hell out of my face.”
I realized that I was going to have to pull out one of her old checkbooks again and forge her signature. I was also going to have to come up with one hell of an excuse because I knew she wouldn’t show up for Hayley’s first day of school.
She never did anything for Hayley.
Before I could make it down the hall, a beer can hit me square in the back. I turned around and saw my father taking a seat on the couch next to my mom.
“There’s more of that in the fridge boy,” he said. “If you can’t get her to shut up, just give her some of that and she’ll be out in twenty minutes. It worked like a charm yesterday.”
I stared at the two of them for half a second, wishing that I would wake up from this nightmare any second, that they would go back to being who they used to be; but I knew it wouldn’t happen. They’d been this way for the past couple years and there was no going back.
Untwisting the doorknob to my bedroom, I slipped inside and saw Hayley hugging a pillow to her chest, rocking back and forth. She hadn’t noticed that I’d stepped in and she was still crying, screaming. “Let me out please, Mommy! Let me out please!”
At four years old, she was a lot smaller than other kids her age, and even though she was the spitting image of my mother, she was the only person in my family who had blond hair. She hadn’t always cried so much, but that was back when she actually got attention from my parents. As soon as she turned three, their interests went elsewhere and she cried for their attention all the time.
“Stop crying, Hayley.” I walked over and scooped her into my arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
“Johnnie?” She looked up at me in tears. “You left me...”
“I’m sorry.” I patted her on the back. “I had to go to school, but I’m here now.”
“But you go to school every day...Why?”
I sighed and held her close, consoling her until she stopped sobbing. I looked behind me and noticed that she hadn’t wet the bed today—a good thing because I hadn’t stolen any quarters this week and I didn’t feel like walking to the Laundromat in the rain.
When I was sure she was okay, I rummaged through my backpack and pulled out what I’d saved from my school lunch: Two apples, smashed macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and a turkey sandwich—practically a gourmet meal for us.
“I got you something special today.” I handed her the last Ziploc bag—
something I’d stolen from my math teacher, and she squealed and emptied it onto the bed.
“Strawberries!” She grabbed a handful and stuffed them into her mouth.
“Slow down. One at a time before you choke.” I waited until she withdrew three of them from her jaw. “Did you watch anything good on TV today?”
“Sesame Street...But I’seen it before. I knew all the songs! Cookie Monster played the drums!”
“That sounds great. Which song was your fav—”
“Thank fuck you got her to shut up!” My father barged into the room. “That girl isn’t going to have a voice by the time she’s ten if she keeps crying like that. Have you seen my car keys?”
“They’re on the TV out there.”
“Right. Well, me and your mom are going out to get some pizza.”
“Pizza?” Hayley’s eyes lit up and she clapped. “Pizza!”
He nodded and bent down to pinch her cheek. “What type of pizza do you want, Hales?”
“Pepperoni! And cheese!”
“Okay. That’s exactly what we’ll get. Jonathan, what type do you want?”
I didn’t answer. I just shook my head.
“Okay, well I hope you like pepperoni and cheese because that’s what Hayley wants and that’s what we’re getting.”
“Ooohhh!” Hayley was still clapping. “I can’t wait! I can’t wait! Can I come with you and mommy, daddy? Can I help pick up the pizza? Please?”
His thin smile faded and he patted her head. “Next time, babe. Okay?”
“Okay...” She seemed saddened, but then she looked up at me and whispered, “We’re getting pizza!”
My dad left the room and Hayley followed him into the living room. She stretched her arms up in the air—waiting for our mother to give her a hug, but she simply looked down at her and said, “We’ll be back, Hayley.”
And with that, they left and slammed the door to our trailer on their way out.
Sighing, I went back into our room and picked up the Ziploc bags, placing them into the refrigerator. I knew they would come in handy later tonight.
“I love pizza, Johnnie. Don’t you?” Hayley sat on the couch and looked out the window. “It’s my favorite!”
I shook my head and pulled out my homework, looking up every fifteen minutes or so—watching Hayley stare out the window in anticipation of a pizza that was never coming.
After three hours of waiting, she eventually fell asleep. I wanted to carry her back into our room and tuck her into bed, but I didn’t want her to wake up hungry.
“Hayley?” I shook her shoulder. “Hayley, wake up.”
“Did the pizza come?” she murmured.
“No...It didn’t. You need to eat something before bed.” I handed her a plate of microwaved mashed potatoes and macaroni. “Here.”
She scrunched her face and shook her head. “I don’t want it.”
“Now, Hayley. Eat.”
Frowning, she picked up the fork and took small, slow bites. When she finished, she walked over to where I was sitting and grabbed the bright pink sheet I’d given to my mother hours ago.
“E-e-e-meh-meh-oh-oh-reh-yuh. P—re-s-c-ool. Emehreeyuh Puhreyscool?” She looked up at me.
“Emory preschool.”
“E-mor-y pre-school.” She repeated and her eyes lit up. “I’m going to pre-school, Johnnie?! I’ll read really really good if I get to go!”
“We’ll see...”
“That means yes!” She jumped up and hugged me. “Oh, I can’t wait! I can’t wait!”
I forced a smile and decided to change the subject. I didn’t want to get her hopes up.
“Let’s watch a movie, Hayley.” I reached for her hand. “Which one do you want to watch?”
“Cinderella!”
“Okay.” I walked her back into our room and tucked her underneath the covers. Then I hooked up the VHS player and put in the movie, waiting for her to fall asleep.
She sang along to every song, encouraging me to sing along as well, and since I knew all the words from the millions of times we’d watched it before, I tried not to sound too terrible.
As the evil stepmother locked Cinderella away in the attic, she rolled over to face me. “I got a question, Johnnie...”
“What is it?”
“Are you my gwardan?”
“Your what?”
“My gwardan...Elmo says everybody has a mommy, a daddy, or a gwardan.”
“Your guardian?”
She nodded and I sighed. “No. I’m not your guardian. I’m just your big brother.”
“But you do everything a guar-di-an does...You tuck me into bed at night...You teach me how to read...You get me food...”
“Go to sleep, Hayley.”
“And when I cry you come and hug me so I can stop...” She rolled back over. “That’s what guardians do, Johnnie. I saw it on the TV...”
A week later...
It was Hayley’s first day of pre-K and my mother had shockingly remembered to take her. As the three of us walked to Emory, Hayley giggled and clapped about going to “Real school! Like on TV!”
“Can you stop fucking shouting?” My mother rolled her eyes. “It’s too early in the morning for that shit.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy...” She looked up at me—hurt, so I patted her head and made a funny face to get her to smile again.
The three of us walked into the school building and waited as my mom filled out more paperwork and handed over her ID. When she was finished, one of the teachers led us into a colorful classroom.
Hayley squealed and immediately let our hands go—walking around the room in awe.
“Wow.” The teacher smiled. “I think that’s the most excited I’ve ever seen a child about her first day of school. My name is Miss Cole and I’ll be Hayley’s general education teacher for the year, Mrs. Statham. Since you’re here early, where would you like to sit today?”
“Sit?”
“Yes. We ask that at least one parent sit with the child on their first day of pre-K, so they can make the transition as easily as possible. Don’t worry, during naptime the principal orders food for all the parents so you can get a little break.”
“I...” My mother shook her head. “I can’t stay here all day...I have...I have a long shift ahead of me at the hospital...Lots of lives are at stake. She’ll be just fine.”
Miss Cole looked confused. “Can you stay for the first couple hours at least? We usually let the kids introduce themselves and their parents over orange juice and muffins.”
“No, I can’t. Sorry.” She shrugged. “Can my son take my place?”
“Um...Doesn’t he have to go to school today too?”
“Do you have school today, Jonathan?” She looked down at me and then she laughed. “Of course he has school, but it’s only two blocks down. Since you guys are Emory I and he’s at Emory II can’t you call over and work something out? I would stay if I could—I really would, because I don’t want her to be alone on her first day...If I had known about this I promise I would’ve taken off...I just...I just can’t—not at the last minute.”
Miss Cole’s eyes softened and she looked like she actually believed my mom’s lies. “I’ll see what we can do, Mrs. Statham. Thank you for all the hard work you do at the hospital.”
My mother reached out to shake her hand and then she walked over to Hayley, whispering something in her ear that made her bright face dim and her eyes water.
“Mr. Big Brother?” Miss Cole handed me two paper plates. “Pick whatever seat you want for you and your little sister and then take out the crayons that are in the desk. Before we introduce ourselves, we’re going to draw a picture of our favorite things. I’ll sort everything out with Emory II when I get back. I have to get more students.”
My mother patted Hayley’s head one more time and threw two thumbs up at us as she left the classroom, saying, “I love you, Jonathan and Hayley!” in the fakest voice I’d ever heard.
I tried to keep Hayle
y distracted by suggesting things for her to draw on her plate, but I couldn’t help but notice the tears falling down her face as the other kids took seats with their parents, as they were kissed and hugged repeatedly.
“Make sure you draw a picture of your parents or your guardians on the paper plate too!” Miss Cole smiled from the front of room.
Hayley’s bottom lip quivered and she took several short breaths, a sign that another one of her long crying episodes was about to begin. Before she could get it out, I tilted her face towards me and whispered. “Can you keep a secret, Hayley?”
She nodded, still taking short erratic breaths.
“What does a secret mean?”
“I...I can’t... tell no one...”
“Exactly...” I held her chin up and wiped her tears away with my sleeves. “So the secret is...I am your guardian.”
“I knew it!” She covered her mouth and then uncovered it, whispering, “I knew it, Johnnie! I won’t tell no one! Ever! I pinky promise!”
She held out her pinky for me to seal the deal and then she leaned over and gave me a hug. She started to color her plate again and then she looked up at me. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t think mommy and daddy love me...” She blinked.
“That’s not true, Hayley. They do love you.”
“No they don't. They’re not like the mommies and daddies on TV...They don’t care...But you do, Johnnie...You’re the best guardian in the world.”
Chapter 3
Claire
I sat still in my chair at Sweet Dolce—the most highly regarded catering business in San Francisco. I was trying my best not to jump over the table and punch the catering director in the eye, trying not to scream at her for being completely unprofessional.
Her name was Miss Hansen and for the past hour and a half, she’d been flirting with Jonathan as if I wasn’t sitting right next to him. She’d shown us over twenty examples of her fruit displays and she’d only asked for Jonathan’s opinion—batting her big brown eyes each time she uttered, “How do you like it, Mr. Statham?”
What’s worse was that the members of her staff—all female, were standing in the room. They were eye fucking his every move and frowning at me whenever I said a single word.
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