by Kim Bailey
Is it the drugs talking to me right now? Or my real father?
“I know I’m a bastard … I know I don’t deserve … anything. Not from you. I’m your father … still … just wanted … to hear from you … know you’re okay. Hoped I hadn’t fucked you up too badly.” His voice wavers, his eyes close, and my heart breaks at his raw and regretful words.
Slashing a hole in my heart, his honesty fractures the perception I’ve held so blackly, for so long. This is not the man I remember. This is a man with vulnerable sensitivity. His truthful sincerity letting me know, I made a mistake all those years ago. Telling me, I made things worse by running away. By staying away.
Did he need me?
Could I have hurt him just as badly as he hurt me?
He may be drifting in and out of cognition, but it seems obvious to me now - he’s been as deeply affected by our separation as I have. Was I blind to not see this sooner? Or maybe, all the guilt and resentment I felt when I first got here was just more lies to myself. I promised Eric to stop with the pretenses, maybe I should be making the same promise to myself. Maybe if I quit lying to myself all the time, I’ll be able to handle reality when it kicks me in the face.
“Dad …” I try, with my voice cracking from emotion.
“Just promise you’ll give your boy a family. Real family. Love. Happiness.”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him. Love and happiness.”
“Family, James. Family.” He finishes on a wheeze.
I want him to tell me more. Explanation, dammit - I need one. I don’t want to make a promise I have no intention of upholding. Or, one that I have no way to realistically fulfill.
What does family even mean to him?
There isn’t a single relative to find. My grandparents are all long dead and my parents were both only children. There might be a great-aunt somewhere out there. But, even if I could track her down, what kind of relationship would we form? What kind of family would that honestly give my son?
Or does my father expect me to re-unite with Dylan, despite our differences, despite our protests, and call that a family? It makes no sense for him to ask for me to give up my own happiness, not when it would negatively impact Hunter in the long run.
Does he actually believe I can just go out into the world and magically make connections, somehow building a new family for myself and my son? The man who spent his life in solitary confinement, of his own making, thinks I have the ability to succeed where he so desperately failed?
Yet, despite my immediate reluctance and defiance to his words, I know he’s right. Family’s the thing that’s been missing from our puny, two-person existence. Family’s the bond my son needs to achieve that happy, loving life I’ve strived for all along. Family’s the thing I’m going to have to figure out.
But first, I have to figure out where the hell my child actually is. My text message, requesting his presence, has gone unanswered. So have my three follow up messages, asking him to answer or to call. Hunter has never ignored a text from me. Ever.
I can only imagine what this means.
He’s out with Eric, having a good time. They’re probably down at the waterfront, where Eric and I played only two days ago, hanging with all the skateboarders. Wasn’t that what they were talking about this morning? Skateboarding?
Or, maybe Eric took him on a hike on my favorite trail. They’re probably creating some super close bond, in the span of a day, rivaling the bond built by me and Hunter, over his entire nine-year lifespan.
I guess I should suck up my negative, self-doubting worries and just call Eric already. I left the man in charge of my kid. I trust him. I trust him more than I trust Hunter’s own father at this point in time. Hell, I trust Eric almost more than I trust myself. But trust isn’t the issue. Lack of trust is not the thing that has me hesitating to contact him.
It’s fear.
A big healthy dose of piss-my-pants fear.
I am so afraid.
I’m afraid of the situation I’ve put us all in, forming a relationship with a man who’s far to earnest for a temporary fling. My apprehension stems from bringing this wonderfully reliable, steadfast man into my son’s life. And I’m probably going to screw it all up. I’m afraid because I think, at the end of this thing, I’ll be hurting more than just myself.
* * *
Hunter and Caleb are getting along even better than I expected.
I was so relieved to find Caleb feeling well today. He’s almost back to his normal, high spirited, trouble making self.
Thank you, universe.
Even though it’s likely just a temporary reprieve from the illness, it gives me hope that he’s going to stay strong and continue fighting this thing.
Just one more day.
Doomsday is slowly creeping up on us. It’s still worrying me. There are still so many ways things could go very, very wrong. I have faith that Caleb’s going to continue soldiering on, just like he has up to this point – it’s all the other moving pieces I don’t trust.
Caleb on the other hand, doesn’t seem worried at all. He’s been talking openly about it with Hunter, like it’s the most exciting thing he’s ever going to experience in his life. Like he’s looking forward to it. What I’ve been thinking of as doomsday, Caleb’s thinking of as a new hope. He’s like the goddamn Rebel Alliance, going in to kick some Imperial ass. If his cancer is the Death Star, then I hope this transplant is as easy as shooting Womp rats.
As much as I hate the oppressive feeling of this hospital, it’s nice to be back here with my family. Celeste was right in some ways - they do need me now, more than ever. I’m really glad I can be here for them, and be here for Jamie at the same time.
My parents were both here when we arrived, Marc and Celeste each followed shortly after. Hunter’s fitting in with all of us. My mother, took a special liking to him. She’s been doting over him, treating him like I’d imagine she would if he were her grandson. Odd, considering he’s only five years younger than her own son.
Despite the age difference, Caleb and Hunter are like two peas is a goddamn pod. I’m now feeling like the odd man out - or the old man out. Instead of feeling like their buddy, I’m feeling like a surrogate father to both of them.
I just hope none of this backfires on me.
At breakfast, I’d been thinking that if Hunter and Caleb could meet and get along, maybe together, they could help convince Jamie to give me a real shot. But now, I’m not certain using children as a ploy is really the best idea. Probably not the most solid foundation to build a relationship on - and I’m decidedly convinced, I want to build that relationship. I don’t care what it takes. I made that promise to her dad, and I meant it. I wasn’t coerced by a dying man. I promised because it’s what I fucking want.
I may not have a clue about where I’m going in life, I may not have a job, or a permanent place to live, but for the first time in a long time - or maybe the first time ever - there’s goodness in my life. I want to hold on to that. I want something because I want it.
I want it.
For me.
Not for a screwed up sense of obligation or standard.
I want Jamie. Plain and simple.
I want her because I can’t imagine losing her. I want her because being around her has already improved my life. I want the fun Jamie, the sad Jamie, the sexy Jamie and the loving, beautiful, slightly crazy Jamie I’ve had the privilege of spending the last five days with.
I’m going to do whatever it takes to get her. For real.
As much as I wanted to explain everything to Hunter about me and his mom, about how much she’s coming to mean to me, about my new theory that we were destined for each other - I haven’t been able to broach the topic with him. Most of that’s because I’m sure it’s not my place to have that kind of conversation with Jamie’s kid but also because I don’t want to answer the questions that might come out of a conversation like that. Especially since, I don’t have any answers.
“So after the transplant, you still have to stay here in the hospital?” Hunter asks curiously, sounding slightly awed by the entire process that Caleb’s just explained to him.
“Yeah. It’s not so bad here. I’ve got a couple of nurses that are really sweet.” Caleb smiles at Hunter. That smile turns to his normal, mischievous smirk when he looks over to me. I know that sweet is his code word for hot. My kid brother is always on the prowl.
“Caleb,” I warn. Not that he needs the reminder about our mixed company but sometimes he just doesn’t know when to rein it in.
Ignoring me, he continues speaking conspiratorially with Hunter, “But, none of the nurses are as sweet as your mom. She did the best job of taking care of me. She’s the sweetest.”
Little trouble-maker, thinks I don’t see what he’s doing. He’s trying to get a rise out of me. Not going to happen.
I’m tempted to respond but Celeste beats me to it, which is probably a good thing. “It’s true,” she says, “Hunter, your mom is really fabulous. Trust me, I don’t say stuff like that lightly. She came in here and made Caleb feel better, just by talking with him. She was so awesome, she made me cry with her ridiculous perfection.”
“Yes, I need to thank her for her generosity,” my mother pipes in.
“Where is she anyway?” Marc asks, innocently. “I haven’t even met her yet. I feel at a real disadvantage here.”
This is awkward. I didn’t disclose the full details of what was happening when I showed up here with Hunter in tow. I didn’t think it needed repeating that Jamie’s dad is on his deathbed and that she didn’t want her son to witness it. My parents and Caleb already know a bit about the situation. But it’s not a conversation I wanted to bring up with Hunter present. The poor kid’s already being dragged around by me. I didn’t feel the need to traumatize him more. Although, considering we’re standing in a hospital room with my entire family, including my little brother who’s battling cancer, maybe I should have put some more thought into what would be distressing for him.
“She’s with my grandpa,” Hunter replies, surprising me again with his maturity. “He’s here in the hospital too. But he’s not doing good. She’s busy taking care of him now.”
Marc looks guiltily at me and then at Hunter. “I’m sorry. No one told me.”
“It’s okay,” Hunter continues, “I’ve never met him. I’m not really too sad about it. Except, it makes my mom sad. So, I’m sad for her.”
I always thought Caleb was the most amazing kid on earth but I’m starting to think Hunter might give him a run for that title. Jamie’s raised a boy that’s smart, funny and compassionate. He’s living proof of the kind of person I know Jamie is. He’s just one more example of why I feel so strongly about her.
I’m starting to really worry about her, though. Hunter and I have been here at the hospital for hours, and we were at least half an hour behind her. She hasn’t called me yet. Things must be really bad with her father if she hasn’t called to at least check in on her son.
“Oh, petite ange,” my mother croons, “We are all so very sad for her. I hope she will let us help her, if we can.”
Planting a hand on Hunter’s shoulder, I remind him, “You too. We’re here for you, if you need anything.”
“Could you take me to see her now, Eric?” He asks with misty eyes.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. She wanted us to wait for her call.”
“But I left my phone! You rushed me and I forgot it. What if she’s calling me now?” His anxiety peaks in a frustrated cry.
With his mature nature, it’s easy to forget that he’s just a little kid. Here we are, being all serious. What he needs is a distraction, just like the rest of us.
“Make you a deal,” I say, hoping he doesn’t catch onto my tactics, after our conversation this morning. “You stay here and chat skateboarding with Caleb. I’ll go talk to your mom. I’ll make sure you get to see her before your dad comes to get you. Okay?”
Dylan. Yes, I called him. I figured it was the best solution. I also figured, he should be here for his kid. I know what Frank Hartley looked like yesterday - it wasn’t good. I can only imagine what it means if he’s gotten worse. That’s traumatic for a kid. It’s traumatic for anyone, actually. Dylan may not be a well-known fixture in Hunter’s life but he’s a permanent one. Right now, I can’t say the same thing. I have no idea what’s going to happen between me and Jamie, and as much as I’m willing to help both her and Hunter out - I figure it’s still not really my place to console her kid. I have a feeling, after today’s visit - if he ever gets one - Hunter’s going to need a lot of consoling. That’s what family is for.
“Yeah, okay,” hunter replies, “Just let her know that I can handle it. She thinks I’m a baby or something. But I can handle it.”
“Of course you can,” I tell him, as I look to my mother who seems ready to break down in tears again. “We all find ways to manage. But your mom’s probably trying to save you a bit of the heartache.”
“If it’s hurting her, then it’s hurting me,” he whispers.
“Me too, bud. Me too.”
Practically throwing himself at me, Hunter furiously hugs my waist. I’m caught off guard by it but it doesn’t feel wrong. I hug him back for all it’s worth.
* * *
I wonder if random points of synchronicity ever all add up to one big moment of transcendence? Maybe it’s not meant to be just a single moment of perfection, maybe it’ll be a series of moments of better than average. I think Jamie’s the person to help me realize those moments. It seems every time I need something, I find it in her. Like the universe keeps forcing her in front of me, giving me a really loud, obnoxious message.
Right now, the only thing I need is her and to understand what I can do to help her, to make things easier for her and her son. What irony - just when I decide to go looking for her, she calls.
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. I can see her in the lounge, adjacent to her father’s room, pacing with her phone to her ear. When she looks up to see me watching her from the doorway, she startles slightly.
“I was just calling you. What are you doing here?” Her look of relief belies the anxiety of her words.
“I came to find you. I was worried things weren’t going well, since we hadn’t heard from you yet.”
“No. I mean, what are you doing here, in the hospital? And where’s Hunter?”
“Hunter and I have been here all day, waiting for you. He’s with my family, hanging out with Caleb. They’re the best of friends it seems.”
“Oh wow, okay. At least, I hope that’s okay with your family. I don’t want to burden them more.”
She looks so concerned, and maybe slightly bewildered, with her brows drawn tightly together and her lips pursed in thought. As upset and confused as she may be, she still looks gorgeous. Caleb was wrong. She’s not the most beautiful woman in this hospital, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. No matter how bad she feels, she’s always thinking of others. She’s a beautiful soul. And she doesn’t even know it.
“They’re all fine. But how are you.”
“I’m not sure, Eric.” Her eyes glass over and I can see she really isn’t fine at all. “I was worrying about Hunter. I feel like I’ve abandoned him at a really stressful time. Again. I hate the idea of him seeing me like this. I just wasn’t sure what to do, I didn’t know what the right choice was.”
“He’s fine. He’s worried about you, though.”
“I know. Can I confess something to you?” She crosses her arms around her middle, holding on, like it hurts. Without waiting for my reply, she rushes on, “I
was worrying about Hunter but I was worrying even more about you.”
“What the fuck, Jamie?” I bark. The hard edge to my voice drops when I see the shock on her face. “Why are you worrying about me? I should be last person on your list right now.”
“Really? Then how come you’re practically all I can think about? My father’s dying. He’s probably going to die tonight but I’m focused on you, wondering if you’re going to hate me when I leave.”
And there it is. The unspoken thoughts, thrust out into the open, like a wound that festers and bleeds. It hurts a lot more once acknowledged. A fuck of a lot more than I expected.
I guess now we really can’t pretend. This is Jamie, being honest, leaving the pretenses and the pretending behind. Just like we’d promised.
Fuck.
This is my heart being crushed, my goddamn soul shattering, as she tells me this is the end.
“It’s impossible for me to hate you, beautiful girl.”
“Don’t say that. Nothing’s impossible. You can’t stop bad things from happening. You hating me is the only logical outcome. You don’t even know me. Not really.”
“I know enough.”
Shaking her head in silent protest, she balls her fists, one hand clutching her cell phone like she might crush it.
“Do we need to make another deal?” I ask in mock agitation.
“What this time?” She sounds defeated.
“Well, we’ve clearly stepped into the ring of total honesty here … let’s just stop acting like it doesn’t matter to us. Let’s stop pretending that this thing between us is just sex. You agreed to let me into your club but I want a ranking membership. I want the title to be real.”
She’s quiet. Maybe she’s too quiet. I start to wonder if I’ve made the wrong move, at the wrong time. I don’t know if my boldness was inspired by the conversation with Caleb yesterday, or Jamie’s dad, or maybe even Hunter - or maybe it’s a combination of them all. Regardless of the motivation, it feels like a big, colossal mistake.