Pleasure Point: The Complete Series

by Evans, Jennifer

  “With Jax.”

  “Yes. Jax. He’s the father of your baby. I think you should reconsider. Put yourself in his shoes. How would you feel if someone took away your choice about playing a role in your child’s upbringing? Maybe think about having a life together.”

  I closed my eyes tightly. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “You want me to go down the list? Let’s start with his age. Then let’s move onto the fact that I ruined his mother’s last few hours of life.” I covered my mouth.

  “None of that has to matter anymore. Things are different now. His parents are gone.”

  Whatever peace I’d gained at the meditation garden evaporated. The vision of Lydia’s and Troy’s corpses filled my vision, and I clutched my stomach. I sat bolt upright. “I know that! Quit reminding me how disastrous this situation is.”

  “All I’m saying is I think maybe it would be better this way.”

  “Better? What am I supposed to tell my child? That I banged a teenager who was my friend’s son behind her back? And what are we going to do for money? Jax is barely out of high school, no career, no prospects other than maybe a part-time job doing what? Waiting tables like I’ve done all my life?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s not a life! A few quarters, nickels, and dollar bills, here and there? It’s why I left Santa Fe, and now look what’s happened.”

  Both of us were silent, and finally Carissa said, “I know you didn’t mean for this whole thing to end up where it did, but are you seriously telling me you’re not going to tell Jax about the baby?”

  My body felt limp, and I was exhausted from grief. “No, Carissa, I’m not telling him. Going to Santa Cruz is my chance for a life. A real life for me and the baby. I can get a job there, start new.”

  “I just think—”

  “Stop! It’d never work. What’s Jax supposed to do? Go to night school and get a degree while I nurse an infant all night? And let’s not forget about what life’ll be like for him when he turns thirty-five and I’m forty-eight. He’ll be in his prime and I’ll be ready for menopause.” Anxiety crept up my spine. “He’ll leave me. He’ll find somebody else. He’ll never forgive me for saddling him with this.”

  “Listen to me. Do you care about him?”

  All the air left the room. Maybe Carissa was right. I did care about Jax. And I cared about this baby. Was there any way we could make it work? My voice was tentative. “He’d be so happy if he knew he was going to be a father.”

  Carissa pounced on the opportunity. “I know it’s not going to be easy. Heck, if any of us planned our life out step by step, we’d never make one move. I know you didn’t mean to get pregnant, but I think you’ll regret it if you run away.”

  “You think we could somehow be a family?” I said.

  “Yes. I’ll come out and help if you want. I can’t stand the thought of you all alone trying to make this work. And Jax deserves to know.”

  My blood pressure rose so fast that I heard blood whooshing through my ears. The reality of Jax a daddy at age nineteen? The two of us with a baby? No. I stammered. “I … just … I can’t do this to him. He’s too young.”

  She sighed. “I’m going to ask you something. Rosalyn, do you love him?”

  “That doesn’t matter. Love doesn’t conquer all.” Then I got angry. “I can’t believe I did this.” My vision tunneled. “What exactly am I supposed to say when someone asks how we met? My voice took on a sing-song quality. “Oh, I just decided it would be a good idea to start screwing my good friend’s son when he was eighteen. You’d have done the same when you saw how hot he was. Oh, and by the way, his parents are dead now, so he really had his head turned around when I told him he was going to be a father.” My breath came in ragged gulps, anxious sweat breaking out on my forehead and neck.

  Carissa said, “Oh, honey, I know this is a lot to consider, but promise me you’ll think about it.”

  “Thing of it is, I’m leaving tonight.”

  “You are?”

  “Got everything packed, I’m calling Salvation Army to get the furniture, and I leave tonight.”

  “Where are you planning on staying?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll find a Motel 6. I’ve got a little money. I’ll make it work.”

  Carissa let out a heavy sigh. “Well, I can tell you’ve made up your mind, so I’ll meditate for your safety on the trip. But if you change your mind …”

  We hung up. I tapped my fingers on the end table, sweat trickling down my back then finally picked up the phone again to call my parents.

  My parents and I weren’t close, but I was their only child. Sarah and Martin lived in Lost Treasure, Oregon, on a five-acre property, their nearest neighbor far away, happily growing their crops of marijuana and living in a hallucinogenic haze. Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones surging through my system, but I hoped that maybe we could make a connection. I punched their phone number into the phone with shaking hands.

  Sarah answered. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Oh hey, sugar. How you doing?”

  I stuttered a reply. “Um, guess what, Mom? I’m pregnant.”

  There was a pause and it sounded like she took a drag off a joint. “You are! Well, that’s great.”

  I let the silence hang between us for a while before I said, “I’m moving to Santa Cruz tomorrow.”

  “Where are you living now, sweetie?” she said.

  “I’m back in Point Loma.”

  “Well, that’s nice.”

  “And the thing of it is, I’m having a baby, and—”

  “I didn’t know you were married.”

  “I’m not married.”

  “So, who’s the lucky man?”

  I bit my cuticle. “Just a … guy I met at the beach.”

  She let out a giggle. “Oh, Roz, you always were meeting guys at the beach.” I pictured my mom standing in her kitchen, overlooking her fields of green. Since the Oregon Medical Marijuana Act passed in 1998, my mom and dad were living their dream of helping people who needed marijuana for medical conditions. And, I had a feeling, they were also partaking in as much of the sacred herb as possible, along with their “healing rituals” of psilocybin mushrooms.

  I cleared my throat. “I’ll be in Santa Cruz, so I’ll be a little closer to you and dad.” I don’t know what I thought, that maybe, just maybe they’d want to be a part of my life. That maybe they’d be the nurturing parents and now grandparents I’d always wanted. Not that they were so awful. They just had this idea that once little ones grew up, it was time for them to fly the coop. “Maybe we can get together? Like I can come visit? Or maybe you two can come over when the baby’s born? Maybe you guys’ll want to help out?”

  She hesitated. “That’d be real nice, hon. But what about your boyfriend? Can’t he help?”

  I should’ve known better. Sarah and Martin were completely wrapped up in each other and their farm with no desire to have an interruption in their lives. My voice was low when I spoke. “He doesn’t know about the baby.”

  “Complications, huh?” she said. “Well, sugar, you’re all grown up now. What’re you, thirty?”

  “Thirty-one.”

  “And you know what’s best. You’re going to raise this baby just fine.” Another pause. Then I heard a screen door slam and a dog bark. “Honey, I gotta go. You call me when you’re all settled, okay?”

  I said that I would, and we hung up the phone.

  Then, I sat down at my tiny desk in the living room in Point Loma, the memories of my time with Jax flooding the space. I needed to write a letter to Jax, something that would explain my departure. I held one of my crystals for guidance, tried to center myself and pray, but nothing helped. The room spun and I felt nauseous. My shoulders slumped as I stared at the amethyst crystal in my hand. I held it so tightly that my hands ached. Then the tears came. My body convulsed, and I could barely stop sobbing as I thought about poor Tyler an
d Jax. Jax, my dear sweet lover boy whom I would have to abandon. He would find his way in the world. He would just have to. He had his brother, and they’d always made a good team.

  Leo jumped on my lap, gazing at me with sweet kitty concern, and with a heavy heart, I wrote a short letter to Jax.

  After that, I packed up the rest of my stuff and the Salvation Army collected the furniture, I crammed what I could into my car, along with a mewing Leo in his cat carrier. The last thing I did was tape the letter to the front door. Then, I stole away into the night headed for Santa Cruz.

  Jax would forgive me in time. He would just have to.

  Jax

  The last thing Tyler and I wanted for our parents was a funeral. Instead, we opted for cremation. I’ll never forget the way the impersonal, mortuary-issued box felt in my hand as I held the remains of the two people I had loved most. My mother, who had carried me in her womb, my father, who had guided me in becoming a man. Was this all they’d been reduced to? A pile of ground up bones and dust?

  Tyler and I picked a day when the ocean was glassy and still to perform the paddle-out with the ashes of our parents. We stood together on the cliff overlooking the ocean in the early morning light, a gentle breeze tickling our faces. “I’ll go down first, and you hand everything to me,” I said. I shimmied down the rope, and Tyler handed me first his surfboard, then mine, and the two plastic freezer bags we’d crammed our parents’ remains into. Then he climbed down the rope. We looked at each other, and Tyler forced a smile. We had decided we wanted this to be a private event, and didn’t tell any of our parents’ friends or even Rosalyn our plan. As the sun gently crept over the horizon, the sky streaked with pink, white, and purple, a few seagulls circled overhead. Tyler and I each placed a bag onto the front of our boards and paddled out into the ocean. A few surfers paddled out to the lineup, but Tyler and I paddled farther out and farther south.

  The sun hit my eyes as we sat on our boards, our legs dangling in the cool ocean. The water was especially clear, a few bright orange garibaldi swimming underneath our boards. “I guess this is it,” Tyler said. His shoulders were relaxed as his hands caressed the bag that held our father’s remains. “How are we supposed to do this?”

  I shrugged. “Guess nobody wrote a manual.” A lump caught in my throat. I picked up my bag that contained what was left of my mom. “All they need to know is that we loved them.” Our family hadn’t been religious; the only thing we needed was each other. “So, I guess we just talk about how we loved them and stuff.”

  Tyler nodded and clutched the bag to his chest. He cleared his throat. “I’ll start. Mom, Dad, you were the best parents any kids could ever hope for. I remember how much I bugged you guys for my guitar, and you finally got it for me. And Mom, I love the way you always made sure we had our lunches for school, and the way you made us keep our room clean, and the way you loved having our friends over, and making everybody dinner. Dad, I loved that you taught me to surf, and …” Tears filled Tyler’s eyes, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. “And you taught me how to change the oil in your car, when all I wanted was to write another song.” He paused, took a deep breath and looked at me.

  I clutched my mother’s remains in both hands, balancing myself on my board with my legs. “Mom … Dad … I love you. I’ll never stop loving you and thinking about you.” I blinked rapidly, as though somehow this whole nightmare would disappear. “You put up with me when I was a kid and drove you crazy tearing through the house destroying things. Do you remember the time I set off that firecracker and it almost singed my eyebrows?” I smiled. “And the one time I skipped school ‘cause the waves were really good and that kid from down the street ratted me out?” I wiped my eyes with my hand. “I never was any good at getting away with things.” I looked down. “Mom, I’m sorry you were upset about Rosalyn and me. I’m … I’m sorry that you never got to know that I found love.” I glanced up at Tyler. His hair fell into his face as he rubbed his hands on wetsuit clad legs.

  Tyler and I sat on our boards as the wind whistled through our ears, a few pelicans dove for their breakfast, and the other surfers caught waves.

  Tyler continued. “Jax and me … we’re going to make you proud.” He held the bag tighter. “We promise we’ll be good and work hard, and take care of each other and take care of all the people we love.” Tyler bowed his head. “We don’t want you to worry about us.”

  I said, “You raised us right. You’re a part of us now, and you’ll never be far away. We’ll be together again one day, but for now, all we have to do is surf, and we’ll think of you because you’re part of the ocean.”

  Tyler and I opened the bags for release into the ocean. The grey mixture of ground up bones sank to the depths, while the dusty parts were carried off by the breeze. When the bags were empty, Tyler and I held hands. He said, “You and me bro, we’re gonna make it.” In the distance, a pod of dolphins swam through the sea, their happy tails flicking up as they dove, then surfaced, gliding through their home.

  I said, “Let’s surf.”

  We spent the next hour surfing. It felt like someone else inhabited my body, like I was a ghost. I couldn’t stop thinking about my parents and what Tyler and I would become. I vowed we’d make them proud and that we’d always remember the things they’d taught us. I knew that part of being a good person was taking care of the people I loved, and I knew that what Rosalyn and I had was real. I was certain that, once we dealt with the grief and some time passed, we would figure out a way to have a happy life together. It was with that thought that I went to Rosalyn’s that day.

  When I arrived, her car was gone. An envelope with my name written in Rosalyn’s loopy handwriting was taped to the front door. I ripped the envelope off, pounded on the door, and when there was no answer, I used the key she’d given me to enter the apartment. The place was in disarray, furniture and things cast aside. Rushing through the small rooms, panic sent pinpricks up my spine, and I could barely breathe. “Rosalyn!” I jerked open the closet door to find a few lonely hangers in the empty space. Rosalyn was gone. Leo was gone. The only thing Rosalyn had left on the wall was the painting of the sunset we’d stolen from the abandoned house. Seriously?

  The envelope burned a hole through my hand.

  I shoved through the front door, slamming it behind me, and sat on the stoop to read the letter.

  Dear Jax,

  I can’t believe that it’s come to this point, and I’m sorry beyond words. When I first moved to Point Loma and met you, I was filled with happiness at being welcomed into your family. You made me laugh and smile, and the two of us turned out to be great friends, didn’t we?

  What I wasn’t counting on was that you and I were going to connect the way we did. God, this is hard baby, but I don’t know how else to tell you that yes, I do have feelings for you, and that’s why I have to leave. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and it’s going to be a great life. If I was in the picture, things would be screwed up for you, and you deserve better. I know you think you’re in love with me, but you can’t know that at your age. You’ll see, as time goes on, that there are other women who you will grow to love, women that you can have a real relationship and future with.

  Don’t look for me, you won’t be able to find me. I want you to have a chance at your own life without me confusing it.

  Please don’t be mad at me.

  Love,

  Rosalyn

  I read the letter, anger swelling up inside me. How the fuck did Rosalyn know what was right for me? How dare she make these decisions without me? I ripped the letter to shreds and let it fly in the breeze where it stuck to the dew on the green lawn.

  As I sat on the stoop, blood whooshed through my ears, my nostrils flared, and my fists clenched so hard that my arms ached. I popped up, barreled through the door, and ripped the painting off the wall. Then, I bolted down the steps, threw the painting in the backseat of my car, and peeled out of the driveway. My vision blurred
with rage as I sped down to Sunset Cliffs where I grabbed my surfboard. I didn’t even bother with the rope as I scrambled across the rocks and boulders to jump off the cliff into the ocean with my board. I landed with a smack and paddled furiously out to the lineup where I caught wave after wave, not stopping to eat or drink or even sit and talk to anyone. I surfed through tide changes and different wind conditions, and I even kept going when a fog bank crept in and I could barely see the next set of waves. Fuck Rosalyn! Let her go and have her grand adventure or whatever it was she thought was best for both of us. Thinking about the tone of that letter made my blood boil. How dare she?

  I paddled close to the spot where, just that very morning, Tyler and I had attempted to come to terms with our parents’ death. What had we done to deserve losing both our parents? Tears mixed with seawater, and I angrily brushed them away and paddled into another wave. First my parents were gone, and now Rosalyn thought she made things better by packing up and leaving?

  When the sun finally set, I crawled back to my car where I sat, pounding the steering wheel until a torrent of tears engulfed me. Tears for my parents, tears for Tyler and me, and tears for what could’ve been between Rosalyn and me.

  The first month that Rosalyn was gone, I was certain that she would come back or, at the very least, try to get in contact with me. So I waited. The crippling grief over losing my parents was compounded by losing Rosalyn, and I spent a lot of time surfing, running, and even doing yoga. Anything to quell the sadness.

  As the months went on, the thoughts drove me crazy. What did I do wrong? Was it because I told her I loved her? Was I not enough? I knew she thought I was young, but that didn’t matter because we were so right together. My rational mind tried to figure out how to make things better, but my heart was broken. I would go down to Sunset Cliffs for epic surf sessions and afterward, sit overlooking the ocean as the sun set, remembering her smile, her laugh, the warmth of her body, and her sandalwood scent. Sometimes I would sit there late into the night listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below. Then I’d look up at the stars that, I swear, still spelled out her name.