by Sam Destiny
“Why did he allow it? He was taller than her, wasn’t he?” Aly had feared that question and had turned possible answers over and over in her mind.
“Why does any man allow it? They don’t. They get belittled, beaten with objects, humiliated and controlled until they come to the point of thinking they are exactly what the woman accuses them to be. He was trying to make her happy and do the right things, but he couldn’t.” Aly almost gagged as she spun this so it turned out to be more a love story than what it really was. Jam’s sexual abuse was something only he had a right to share, and Aly knew Thomas wouldn’t judge her for that little white lie in the end. After all, there were greater sins to reveal.
“You’ve read up on the topic?” he wondered out loud, and Aly shook her head. There hadn’t been any need to. Jam’s body said it all, even if the man himself had remained silent. Plus, she knew Collene’s behavior.
“Jam and my brother, Greg, are best friends. I won’t lie. It took Jamison ten years to tell me what had kept us apart back then, but that doesn’t lessen the scars.” And it was true. Jam carried them around like a shield and while Aly hated it, she could understand him.
She took a few deep breaths, wondering how to approach the next part of the story.
“I don’t know if you ever heard about it, but Collene Karmison had a baby.” The sentence hung in the air for quite a while, and as curious as she was, she didn’t dare to look up and check for Thomas’ reaction.
“They didn’t want people to know, but I saw the file on the local station. It was a tiny investigation really,” he finally said, and Alessia breathed a little easier. He knew at least. “I always guessed something happened to the boy and that they just tried to cover it up.”
It was now or never. “Something did. His father gave him to a girl to get him away after Collene almost killed him.”
The old man sighed, sounding like a broken tire that lost all air while Alessia continued.
“The girl took the little boy over state lines and raised him as her own.” Her voice broke at the end, and she saw tears hitting the grass she was sitting on. This was it, the end of her story and, if the worst-case scenario came, it could be the end of her life as well.
Jam didn’t want to let his son go again and still, once Thea announced that they were leaving, Jamison knelt down and touched his child’s cheek. “You need to stay strong. If you keep being a good boy, we’ll see each other again tomorrow. You heard that, right?” Thea Karmison had promised it earlier, and Jam counted on it to be true. That way he could check his son each and every day for injuries. He knew not to be obvious about it, touching the boy wherever he figured bruises could have built, but not once had his son winced. Alessandro was still safe and that was all that really mattered to Jam.
“I don't wanna go with her, Dad. I don't wanna be a good boy for them. I want to see Mom,” Lesso insisted, not ready to let go of Jam after hugging him.
Prying the little arms away from his neck and feeling his heart break with every damn inch, he pushed his son away from him, making sure Alessandro listened. Only after his son's blue eyes focused on him did he lean in as close as he could without crawling into the boy.
“Your mom's doing everything she can to get you back. I promise. Stop worrying and just play along a few more days. I'll come by tomorrow and check on you. We'll have some fun then. Promise.” He didn't know how often he had said the word now, but Jam didn't care. He meant it. He would not leave his son hanging, and they were so close. He just had to believe this would work.
“Okay,” Lesso mumbled, his lips turned down as Thea took his hand.
“Eleven tomorrow at our home. If you are late, I'll not allow the meeting. If you are early, I'll never again allow any meeting,” Mrs. Karmison announced, and Jam just nodded. He'd ring the doorbell at exactly that minute. Whatever was needed, he’d do it.
The two left and still Jam remained in the kneeling position he had taken. Letting his son go was harder every time, especially because he worried it was the last time he’d ever see him.
“Come on,” Dorly whispered softly, placing a hand on his shoulder while he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying hard to stop the tears from falling.
“Let's go inside and settle in the living room. I'm too old to sit in a garden chair for long,” Thomas remarked, but Aly didn't miss the way he looked around his enormous garden as if someone could have possibly overheard them. She knew he was trying to take her back inside to talk some sense into her. It made her hold her breath to calm her heart down. Maybe it meant that even though he wouldn't agree to help, he wouldn't report her, either. It was more than she could really wish for.
Nodding, she gathered the lemonade glasses he had carried out earlier. Hers still sat untouched even though Aly's throat felt parched. She just didn't trust her stomach to hold anything in until she knew where they stood. Until Thomas voiced an opinion in any direction really, she was not willing to relax or settle. Already, she knew he'd be angry with her for pacing once they were inside, but since he had taken the weeding from her, she felt the need to occupy herself somehow.
“Why don't you start at the very beginning?” Thomas asked as they were in the living room. He had even turned on some quiet music, hushed enough so it wouldn't bother them while talking yet loud enough to distort the voices for anyone outside of the room.
“It’s a long story, and part of it is painful, but not my history. I don't want to pull Jam into this more than I already did, so –”
“He’s in it, all right. He kidnapped his son,” Thomas injected.
“That's out of the question. But some of it doesn't belong to our story, so I'll skip it.”
“Can you skip on to why a guy would have a baby with a woman who abuses him if he doesn't love her?” That was the main question, wasn't it really?
“I need to call him and ask. I won't decide what I can and can’t tell.”
“Oh boy, little Aly, what happened to you that you got into this?” Thomas asked, and only then did Aly realize she was crying. When had that happened?
“I think I just fell for ‘the one’ way too early in life,” she admitted and then excused herself. It took a moment until Jam answered, and he sounded devastated.
“Loane?” he said, and his voice was rough as if he had been crying.
“It’s Aly.” There was silence for a long moment at the other end, followed by muffled noises like deep breaths and throat clearing.
“Hey beautiful,” he greeted her a lot more cheery, and Aly wondered if he was trying to lie to her or just make it easier for her.
“Tell me,” she pleaded. She wanted them to be a couple, and couples shared their worries, right?
“Alessia, just don't. Why don't you tell me why you're calling and where you are?”
“Jam?” she inquired again, and he sighed.
“When we’re together, I'm sure we can do it all. Seriously, as long as I hold you close, I know we can get all this sorted out in the best way possible, but then I'm alone and see Alessandro, and I have to let him go, reminding myself that you can't come here. It's just a little much.”
Setting her jaw, she steeled her voice, trying to be strong for both of them.
“Okay, I'm going through the things I have to tell the judge. I promise I'll try to keep you out of this as much as I can, but Jam, what if I am asked how you can have a child with a woman you fear? I know it's your story to tell, but what if it comes up? And what do I say if I get asked about why you let all that happen?” She knew the answer to the last one, and it made her ready to cry again. This was all because of her.
“Aly, I know what you think, but trust me, once in the circle, it's hard to get out of it again. There was a point after probably half a year where I thought I deserved it because I was just that bad, that karma didn't want anything else for me. It wasn't you driving me any longer, but my self-hatred. Her punishments seemed the thing I needed. I wasn't good. I couldn't make her happy, or y
ou, or my mother. Whenever you all looked at me, I saw the devastation. Not that I ever wanted to make her happy, but you couldn't even do it right with her,” he whispered, and she could see him shrugging in her mind.
“She's abusive. Of course, you can't make it right with her. No matter what you try. And me ... I loved you and couldn't have you. If I had known what you went through because of me, I ... don't know.” She couldn't have changed anything. If she had known, she probably would have gone and talked to Collene, demanded her to stop treating him the way she did.
“No what-ifs or buts, Alessia. It's done, and we can't take it back. At least, I started the healing process and all because of you. So if you need to tell the judge, tell him that abuse sometimes includes more than just beating, even for men.” It was all the permission she needed, yet she wished she could've seen his face while he gave it because it was so much easier to lie over the phone.
They both stayed silent for a long moment while Aly tried to imagine where she'd find Jam now, and how he'd look.
“Tell me you really have a plan, Aly. Tell me you know a judge who could possibly help us,” he eventually pleaded, and Aly looked through the open doorway at the old man she was visiting, seeing him stare blankly at the wall.
“Maybe,” she conceded, not wanting to keep his hopes up. “I won't end up in prison though for now,” she then added, knowing somewhere deep inside her that was true. Thomas wouldn't do that to her.
“I wish I could see you.” She had it on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he could because all he'd have to do was drive out there. The problem was, the more contact they had, the more likely it was that things went down the drain.
“I wish that, too. Just give me a little more time, Jam.”
He took a few deep breaths, and Aly wondered if he had reached his breaking point. “Soon,” she promised, hoping and praying she could keep it together enough for both of them. "I love you," she whispered as a way of good-bye. Jam gave the sentiment back, but as much as she knew it was true, his statement lacked heat and that was what made her get up. Thomas needed to know and decide because if he wasn't helping her, she had more people on the list she was going to try to convince. There had to be someone who would help them.
“So here's the whole story,” she said loudly, pulling the old man from his thoughts. She started at the beginning and ended where they were now. It took a while, and they relocated to the kitchen at some point so Aly could cook, but she didn't leave anything out and Thomas didn't say anything until she concluded her story.
For a long time all that was between them were two wine glasses, filled to the brim since nothing less would suffice.
It was freezing on the floor where he sat, his cell rested against his lips as he considered calling Aly back. He should have been the one to calm her down; instead, she had assured him they'd work it out. Only now, when thinking back and analyzing what she thought did he realize that her voice had been thick with tears. She had been crying, too, and he had been too self-absorbed to realize it. Darkness was descending into the rooms, bringing more cool air with it.
Jam had dark moments before; so bad, he had wanted to die without a second thought, but while sitting there in the hallway, he thought he hadn't known darkness until that moment. He couldn't ease his son's worries because that would maybe forever exile him to his grandparents, and he couldn't stop Aly's tears because she was too far away. He couldn't make it right without causing her more harm. Not for the first time, Jam wondered if there had been a point in life where he should have gone the other way.
There was one. Back when he had given the boy to Aly. He had thought that this was his only true way out, but that wasn't right, was it? He could have found a prosecutor some towns over to press charges the Karmisons. He could have tried to run away with the child without pulling anyone else into the dark web of the kidnapping. He could have gotten a doctor's certified proof that Collene had been abusing their child. Either way, it would have kept Aly out of this. She would be happily living with another man, having her own child without a care in the world. After all, she wouldn't have to keep a secret like that. It was hell.
Jam pulled his knees up, trying hard to ward off the cold and make himself as small as possible. It was all that mattered right now. He wanted to vanish, go back, and get another chance to redo it all.
Resting his forehead against his bent knees, he gritted his teeth against the pain that came at him from everywhere. He felt like tearing his own skin off.
Jam lost track of time, and only the moving moonlight was an indication of how far the night was moving along. Greg, Phil, and Dorly sat in the living room, and by the sounds of it, they were sharing a bottle of whatever. Maybe Jam should have joined them, going for a few glasses to ease his pain, but he hadn't. No one had come to check on him, either, and it probably was for the best.
He didn't deserve their compassion. He had turned them all into accomplices, just by handing Alessandro over to Aly.
His thoughts were an abyss, threatening to swallow him whole, and the only person who'd be able to stop the downward spiral was out of reach. He wouldn't call her, begging her to ease his pain when she hadn't seen Lesso in longer than he had.
The phone in his hand vibrated, startling him. The display lit up with Aly's smile, giving him a chance to glance at the clock. It was past two, and she should be sleeping.
“Al,” he whispered, wondering if the quieter he spoke, the less she'd hear his desperation.
“You know I adore you, Jam, right? No matter what comes, what happens, you’re the only guy I will ever love. There can't ever be anyone else for me. There wasn't back then, and there won't be any time in the future. You're all I need, Jamison. Always. Don't give up hope yet,” she pleaded as if she was privy to his thoughts.
“What if I can't, Aly?”
“Don't you dare give up! We're so close, Jam, so close to success,” she begged, and he felt a hot tear run down his cheek. He hated crying, tried hard to avoid it, but that night it didn’t work.
“I gotta go, Aly,” he replied. He didn’t even wait for her to answer before just hanging up. He needed only a few more hours to collect himself. As soon as the sun would rise, he’d be proud and strong again. All he had to do was get through those hours.
Movement on the stairs caused him to grit his teeth, hoping that whoever had come up wouldn’t see him. He was out of luck as Phil sank down on the floor next to him, entwining their hands in silence. He squeezed, hard, but she didn’t wince. He knew that Aly had sent her, and it was somehow as if no matter how far away Aly was, she was guarding him from the darkness.
After she finished her message to Philomena, Aly couldn't keep her sobs in, burying her face in her hands. Thomas had offered her a bed for the night, and she had gratefully accepted since it was way past midnight and she didn't have the energy left to look for a motel. She dropped the phone, and it silently bounced off the heavy carpet. Jam couldn’t give up now.
Thomas had kissed her forehead and had told her good night after her story. She didn’t know what to make of it, but then, for now, she didn’t care, either. She hadn’t been able to find any sleep, her heart racing in her throat as if she was running a marathon being followed by a serial killer and he was about to catch up. There was no chance for her to close her eyes, so she had sat back up, the impulse to call Jam overwhelming.
She never had thought about how deep Collene’s marks would reach into Jam. The episode in her bathroom had been an indicator, but she had been naïve enough to think that they’d be able to solve that with a little love and affection. After all, hadn’t Jam been much happier after his confession?
Hearing him now, though, she knew he needed professional help, no matter how much she wished he could get through it without reliving it all anew.
Starting to pace her bedroom, she wondered if she maybe should get outside and just wander the garden aimlessly in the moonlight. She needed to get away from herself and o
ut of the room that seemed to be suffocating her since it contained all her worries.
Wearing just a long white tee that she still had left from Jam, she ventured outside, her bare feet hitting the dew-covered grass. Looking up at the clear sky, she could see a million stars, missing home yet feeling oddly close to her little house by the sea.
The moon stood full and high, easing her mind. The night was beautiful, filled with only a few soft noises here and there. Feeling her naked toes on the wet grass grounded her somewhat, making her spread her arms and breathe deeply.
“You look like a fairy, little Rhyme,” came a voice from the door, and Aly flinched, spinning to face the porch.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she explained, looking at Thomas. In the pale moonlight, he looked even more breakable than she had thought during the day.
“It’s hardest at night for me. I still miss Brenda in those hours because there’s no getting away from your thoughts at night, is there?” He wanted to know. “Frankly, I followed the open doors until I found you here, standing in the garden. Did it help?”
She giggled a little embarrassed and then nodded. “Jam is in a bad place, and it’s hard being strong when all you really want is to curl yourself into a ball and cry. He has been strong for me long enough. I need to be strong for him now when he can’t be. Being out here helped. A lot. I don’t know why, but something about the silence of the night is soothing. And you still have the moonflowers. I always regretted that I never got to smell them because they were blooming only in the dark. Your garden is an escape. Exactly the one I needed. I’m sorry my mother stopped tending to it at some point. I probably should have continued her work just because you’ve always been so generous to us, but by now, I can’t change that. Thank you for letting me stay and … finding peace in an impossible situation,” Aly explained, watching in surprise how Thomas Fairchild, county judge and lonely widower, took off his slippers and walked down the stairs to join her barefoot dance on the lawn.