Fighting Pride

by Jennifer Miller

  “He’s what?” Jax says. “What do you mean?”

  “He told me that I’m his son,” I tell him, and then explain everything that happened when I tried to walk away from Jerry before he was done spewing his hate on me.

  When I finish, Ryder looks between the two of us in utter shock and Jax has his hands folded on his desk and hasn’t looked away from them since I started speaking. “Jax, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Jax stands up and moves to my side of the desk and sits in the chair next to me. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “Because, I feel like this is all my fault, but I didn’t know. Honestly, I had no idea.”

  “It doesn’t matter even if you did. I fucking hate the fact that you’ve been dealing with this shit on your own for so long. We’ve asked you over and over again why you were so loyal to Jerry, and now I get why you never said. I’d like to say that I’m surprised, but I’d be lying, because I’m not. Jerry was never faithful to my mom. I knew, my grandfather knew, and unfortunately my mother knew how he was. It’s not surprising to me that he fathered another child out of his infidelity.”

  I remain quiet, confused with the mixture of feelings I have. On one hand, I’m angry as hell. I’m angry at Jerry, angry at my mom, devastated over Tatum, elated over the fact Jax is my half-brother, yet also dismayed. I struggle to find words but Jax again beats me to the punch, “Cole, you’ve always been my brother. We’re all brothers,” he says gesturing to Ryder and I know he means all the other guys too. “The only difference is that we know with us, that we’re brothers by blood too.”

  And then, he reaches over and hugs me, and hell if it isn’t exactly what I need. I blink back the burning sensation in my eyes and as we pull away and I nod my head at him and smile for the first time in what feels like forever, Ryder says, “Aw, well wasn’t that adorable?”

  We all laugh and Jax mutters, “Shut the fuck up,” and while there are so many things that I don’t know right now, one thing I do know is that I’m lucky as hell to have these guys in my life. I know I can get through anything, maybe even the loss of Tatum again, with their help. I’ll just never admit that to them. I’d never live it down.

  Someone should explain to me why we need men. I mean, other than procreation. Aside, from that, why? I mean, when I’m ready to get pregnant again, there’s something to be said for being able to walk into a sperm bank, pick out a daddy from a binder full of attributes and descriptions and simply getting the job done. I could be a single mom, I mean, sure it would be hard, but I could do it. I don’t need a man. Maybe I can find myself a best friend and we can raise a child together as platonic life partners. I don’t need sex, right? There are toys for that anyway. I roll my eyes at my absurdity, I’m being ridiculous and I know it. It’s just this and many other crazy thoughts have been running through my mind ever since Cole’s confession.

  Perhaps I’m trying to keep myself from delving too deep into analyzing everything Cole said. My mind prefers to fluctuate all over the place – from one extreme to the other. I’m angry one second – ready to do away with the whole male race – and then the next, I’m sad for the circumstances we’ve found ourselves in over the last five years and so crazy in love with him that I can’t see straight.

  We’ve missed so much time together. When I think about every second we’ve spent apart it makes me hurt. When I consider everything Cole’s gone through in order to take care of me, I’m both furious and touched. I want to both slap him for it, and praise him. He gave up everything. Me, yes, but more. He sacrificed his dreams, goals, college, some important decisions, and likely lots more I’ll never know about ---all to protect me, to care for me. And while the last couple years or so have certainly been more about him protecting himself and his dignity, it doesn’t change that the foundation derived from his love for me.

  That’s why when I got up and drove to the airport, I found myself unable to go through with leaving. I couldn’t get on the plane. I stood there, driver’s license in hand, ready to go to the counter in order to check my bags and obtain my ticket, but found myself unable to move. It was busy and people moved around me in constant activity, while I stood there, in the middle of it all seeing nothing but Cole’s face before me. I couldn’t leave. Not yet.

  I turned around, made my way to the rental car area, rented another car and left. I had no destination in mind. I drove aimlessly for a long time. Somehow I found myself sitting next to Hope’s grave again. Tracing the letters of her name I poured my heart out to her. I told her that I love her dad. That while I tried to get on with my life and even though I did so in Chicago, that I couldn’t even count the times that thoughts of him entered my mind because it was so often. People or things could easily trigger memories. I would push them away, eager to convince myself I was moving on. Therapy helped me heal and deal with the loss of Hope, but it wasn’t an eraser of feelings. Just like it didn’t have the power to make me eradicate my sadness wrought from the loss of my daughter, it also didn’t have the power to make me stop loving or missing Cole. And I never did. I tried to cover it, bury it, move on from it, ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there, chalked it up to my imagination, a mistake, anything and everything to simply get it to go away. And it did for a while. I buried it quite deeply. Through moving on with my life. Going through the motions. Being with Blaine. But isn’t it funny how our true feelings have a way of manifesting anyway? All anyone has to do is look at my art over the years to see that. Cole has always been a constant presence. Always.

  Telling Hope I loved her and thanking her for listening to her crazy mom, I found myself at a loss of where to go or what to do. Until I find myself staring at my old dormitory – unknowingly I took myself back to the start. Where I first met Cole. The memory of shutting the door in his face makes me smile. I find myself walking the campus, reminiscing about places we sat and studied together, a huge landscape rock we used to meet at between classes before we would leave and go have lunch together.

  Swinging by Porky’s BBQ I eat a sandwich, sit in our typical spot and remember all the times we sat there studying together that first year. All the random conversations we had, dreams we made together and laughs we shared. There was so much love between us. People say that young people don’t really know the meaning of love, but I disagree. I think when you find the person you’re supposed to be with that it isn’t about finding love – love finds you. At least that how it felt for us. Our souls merged and from that moment on, it took a miracle or I guess in our case a tragedy to break us apart. But the funny thing is, the foundation, the roots of our love, are still entwined. All this time they’ve continued to twist together, grow, become deeper, just waiting for the moment, the time when they could branch out and grow once more.

  I’m so caught up in my thoughts that when the thought occurs to me to show up at my next location, I guess I didn’t really think it through that hard. I spent so much time with Cole here, that it makes sense. It was our home away from home. A place we could be alone sometimes, and one we just liked hanging out at when we could. I asked him about his mom, careful with my questions because she’d always been an emotional topic for me. When I left Cole, I left her too. Darla was always like my second mother. When not working, which seemed to be so often, she lavished on us with her excellent cooking. She was always extremely loving, caring, and she took an interest in our lives and treated me like her own.

  Cole said she’s still in Arizona, but I have no idea if she still lives here. But as I stare at the small stucco house, and take in some similarities and differences, I close my eyes and see it as it was five years ago. I remember the beloved pots of flowers she would keep out front, the small bench that she would sit on at times while she’d watch the neighborhood kids play in the evening while she drank sweet tea and chatted with her neighbors. She always wore an apron and her dark hair was always pulled on top of her head. Her smiles were often, the food she made comforting, and her hugs felt like coming home.
>
  “Tatum?” My eyes snap open, and I’m so caught up in the memory of her that I hardly know what to think when my vision manifests to life in front of me. Blinking rapidly, I focus and realize she’s standing in front of me. “Ms. Russell?”

  “Tatum! Well I thought that was you. I was doing dishes and happened to look out the window and saw you standing here. I almost didn’t believe my eyes. What are you doing here?” I open my mouth to tell her but nothing emerges, as I’m not even sure where to begin or what to say. “Never mind that. Get yourself over here and give me a hug.”

  With a big smile, I run across the yard and do just that. When she wraps me up in her arms, the tears come immediately - fast and furious. What is it about the love of a mother that brings forth emotions so intently? A friend can ask you if you’re doing okay when you’re not, you smile and nod and tell them you’re fine. But then when your mother asks, you begin to bawl your eyes out, not able to smile and pretend. It’s like they have a way of looking at you with eyes that tell you they know the truth so there’s no point in lying, and so the emotions break free. There’s so much love in their comforting arms. I’m sure it has everything to do with our parent’s being our safe place – if we’re lucky enough to have that kind of relationship with them.

  “Oh sugar, it will be okay,” she tells me rubbing my back, while steering me into her home. As soon as I walk in the front door, the smell, the familiar setting, it all makes me cry harder. We sit on the couch and she continues to rub my back and murmur to me until I calm myself.

  “I’m so, so, sorry Ms. Russell.”

  “Honey, I’ve told you plenty of times to call me Darla. Stop with this Ms. Russell business,” she tells me as if she just scolded me yesterday, not years ago. “Now what’s going on? I have a feeling this has to do with that boy of mine.”

  “That boy of yours is wonderful. And I’ve missed him so much,” I tell her honestly.

  “Oh honey, why does saying that make you cry?”

  “Because I may have screwed up, because I’ve been confused, because I have been so selfish that if I were him, I wouldn’t want to take me back. And, because I’m scared.”

  She smiles softly and pushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear, “Oh, is that all?” She laughs softly and it makes me laugh too. “He’s never been the same since you left you know,” she tells me. “I’m not going to intrude, it’s not my business, and if there’s anything to tell, I should hear it from him,” she kindly, yet firmly instructs and I nod, “But, I will tell you that my boy, he loved you with everything he had, and I know that you’ve never been far from his mind, even after all this time. If I can help in any way, I’m here. If you just need to sit here, that’s fine too. Whatever you need.”

  “I just…” I sigh and swipe at my eyes, “Cole did something for me, but didn’t tell me about it. He should tell you the details, but your son, is a great man. What he did… he made a decision to take care of me in a way that was a sacrifice to himself. I’m angry that he made that choice without consulting me, and at the time, I thought he did it because he didn’t want to be with me anymore. Because, I failed him when I lost our baby. I just found out the truth about what happened, and well, I’m feeling a lot of things that I’m trying to define to be honest.”

  She follows me the best she can, confusion on her face clear, but she pats my leg, “Let me repeat, if there is one thing I know, it’s that my boy loves you and has never stopped. After the loss of little Hope,” she smiles sadly, “he was sad and devastated. But after the loss of you, when you left…he was broken.” Her eyes reflect her pain at the words and it feels like a stab of guilt in my heart. She must see something on my face because she pats my leg again, “I’m not telling you that to hurt you, I’m telling you because I want you to know that he told me a little of the same thing that you did. That he had to do something to help you and unfortunately that meant that you needed to leave. To go to art school, but honey, I know whatever it was, it wasn’t easy for him, and since then, my boy…he’s just not been the same. Sure, he tries to fool me, he smiles and goes through the motions, but a mother knows her son. And I know that a part of him has been lost without you.”

  Tears fall in streams down my face, “I’ve been lost without him too. We spent some time together this week, I’ve been in town for an art show, and we happened to see each other. It felt like fate running into him. I didn’t realize how lost I’ve been until being with him again this week made me start to feel whole again in a way I didn’t even realize I could be. Not since Hope, anyway. I started to feel like myself again.”

  “Well then honey, call me crazy, but I don’t understand the problem. Why are you here and not with my boy?”

  “A couple reasons. First, I needed to gather my thoughts after learning a few things. My initial reaction was to push him away. I needed space to process,” she nods as if this makes complete sense, “and also because I’m afraid,” I whisper.

  “Afraid? What do you mean?”

  “I’m afraid to let myself love him again.” Part of me can’t believe I’ve admitted this to his mother, yet at the same time, I know being here is exactly where I’m supposed to be. “What happens if we can’t work it out after all? What happens if I ruined it already because I didn’t immediately see his side of things? What if…” and I pause because this is the big one, the feeling buried so deep down that digging it up is physically painful. I practically choke on the words. “What if we find our way back to each other only to end up in exactly the same place once more? What if we try again to have a baby some day and I…and I...”

  She places her hand on the side of my face and looks deep into my eyes, “Then you will deal with it. Surely you know by now that what happened is not your fault.”

  “Yes, and no. I have good days and bad days.”

  “Fair enough, but take it from me, we each have our share of good and bad things. Some of which we have no control over. And you know, good and bad isn’t all that clear sometimes. Some things that seem bad at the time, actually have good outcomes in the bigger picture of life. Yes, I believe that there’s a bigger picture. We don’t know now what that is, but one day, when we meet our maker, we’ll find out. We’ll see it all and know why things happened, what the bigger meaning is, why our pain was necessary and mattered. I know that the loss of that baby girl wasn’t for nothing. I have faith in that. Now believe me or not, that’s okay, to each our own, but what I do know is that whatever this is you are speaking of, whatever it is that drew you apart, was horrible. You both made decisions afterwards that it sounds like you wish were different and that you regret.”

  “Yes,” I nod. I got all over Cole for not calling, not having contact, not telling me the truth, but the fact is that I never tried to reach out to him again either. I thought about it, hell I thought about it a lot, but I still didn’t do it. I let my stubborn pride keep me from being the first one to reach out. I’m not blameless.

  “Well the thing about making mistakes, is that hopefully we learn from them. We don’t always get it right the first time every time, you know. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Because the great thing is, the both of you will learn from this. Your love will get you through.”

  “Will it, Darla?” I ask softly, “Because sometimes, love isn’t enough.”

  “No. Love is always enough, if you build it correctly.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Look at it this way, when you build a home, you don’t just lay the foundation, even a good one, and call it complete, right? You build walls, a roof. You use padding, cement, shingles, wood and nails. You use other things to make that house as sturdy as possible so that it can endure anything. Love is no different. Love is always enough if you build it strong enough. You wrap it in trust, layer it with understanding, pad it with loyalty, nail in fun, memories, honor, and compromise. Before you know it this pliable, vulnerable thing becomes unyielding and indestructible - a complete structure.
That, my dear, is why love is always enough, and that is also why you and Cole will be just fine.”

  And somehow I believe her. Because, while her hugs have always felt like home, her words have always seemed like promises, and I know the words she speaks now are exactly that.

  When I wake in the morning, I groan loudly, my head aching from overindulgence the night before. After telling Ryder and Jax everything, not only about Jerry, but about Tatum too, Ryder’s brilliant suggestion was that we partake in some drinking. He said it would help dull my pain or some shit. I honestly didn’t care about his reasoning. I was all too eager to take him up on it. Especially when Jax pulled a bottle of whiskey out of his desk. He had some plastic cups and we took turns filling up our glasses while we traded memories and shots at Jerry until the wee hours of the morning.

  Ryder and I stumbled down the street back home, and I was thankful once again for the fact that we live within walking distance. All too happy to collapse into bed the second I got home, I don’t remember lying there long before I was out immediately. One good thing came from drinking, and that’s the fact that I slept like a log. Given the day I had yesterday, it’s really no surprise – I was exhausted – but I’m thankful there wasn’t a dream to be had. The reprieve from the last twenty-four hours was very much needed.

  Getting up, I start the coffee pot, and look for pain reliever while I wait for it to brew. I’m dreading a conversation I need to have today. I contemplate putting it off, but I know that the sooner I get it over with the better. It would only drive me crazy until then, and I’ve had enough crazy to last me a lifetime.

  Taking my coffee with me into the shower, it isn’t long before the combination of caffeine and warm water has me feeling better. I take my time, lingering, knowing that all I’m doing is stalling. With a sigh, I turn off the water and dress quickly.