The Long Journey to Jake Palmer

by James L. Rubart

  Jake strode toward the door as a smile broke out on his face, followed by laughter. He’d done it.

  “Jake! Come back here. Jake!”

  Just before walking through the door, he turned his smile to her. “I wish you a good life, Sienna.”

  By the time Jake reached the ground at the back of the boulder, he was almost giddy. He’d done it, faced his mom, faced his dad, most of all, faced Sienna. And now, to get back through the corridor and leave this place forever.

  As he strode around the back of the boulder and onto the trail, he clenched his fists in victory. And then, before he was halfway back to the main path, Ryan stepped into view.

  39

  Ryan clapped slowly. Each time his hands came together they sounded like a shot, the smirk on his face mocking Jake even before he reached the main path.

  “Well done, Jacob.”

  “It’s over, Ryan.”

  “Yes, yes, yes.” Ryan cocked his head as if listening, then held up a finger. “Wait. Wait. Maybe not quite finished.”

  A voice, not distinguishable, called out from a long ways away. A second later, the voice grew in strength. By the time five seconds had passed, Jake knew who it was.

  Ryan jerked his thumb down the trail. “If I’m not mistaken, that sounds like your father calling.”

  “No. Don’t play mind games. I finished that.”

  Ryan frowned as Jake’s dad’s voice grew louder. “Apparently not.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m doing nothing. This is about what you need to do. That, and that alone.”

  “Don’t mess with me, Ryan.” Jake brought his fists up to chest level.

  Ryan peered at Jake’s fists and laughed. “There’s no need to think of violence. I speak the truth when I agree you were enough for Sienna and that you chose wisely. Congratulations. That part is finished. However, it doesn’t appear you’re quite finished with your dad.”

  Jake glared at Ryan and strode toward his father. As he reached the small trail off the main path, his dad’s voice boomed through the woods like a cannon.

  “Jaker, where are you, pard? Let’s get this done!”

  Jake jogged down the path, which ended in the same exact place as last time. The perfect doghouse stood where he’d left it, on the edge of his dad’s perfect lawn. His dad stood on the deck off the back of the house, hands on hips, a sarcastic smile on his face. As soon as he saw Jake, he pulled open the screen door and stepped inside.

  Jake crossed the lawn in five strides, reached the back of the porch, bounded up on the deck, and pushed into the kitchen. His father sat at the far end of the kitchen table, his arms folded. A sheet of yellowed paper lay in front of him next to a red folder.

  “Go on ahead and sit down, Jaker, do you mind?”

  Jake stood at the end of the table and gritted his teeth against the sickly sweet tone his dad used to ask questions that were not in fact questions.

  “What’s wrong, Dad?” There was no reason to sit until he knew what he had to do this time.

  “Could you go on and grab yourself a chunk of chair there, Jaker?” His dad extended his hand toward the chair, his eyes like ice.

  Jake mashed his lips together to keep from screaming, then said, “What do you want from me?”

  “Whadda we have right here?” His father held up the paper and snapped his finger against it.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you do know, so go ahead and take a bit more of a peek.”

  Jake leaned forward and squinted at the paper and he knew what it was. Knew why his dad was upset. This same scene had played out in fourth grade, eighth grade, and his junior year in high school.

  “Let me fix it.” Jake remained standing. “What do you want me to do?”

  Wide smile. Arctic eyes. “I want you to sit down, right now. That’s what I want you to do.”

  Jake sat, elbows on the table, legs twitching.

  “Let’s go ahead and remove those elbows from the table, why don’t we? That’s not the way Palmers sit at the table, is it?”

  Jake pulled his arms into his lap. No shame. He wouldn’t allow his mind to go there. Just get this done. Jake repeated the question. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Your report card.” His dad snapped the paper again. “Says here you got two B-minuses. That’s not going to be working for anyone now, is it? Nope, not in a million years. How are you ever going to be enough for a college to take a serious look at you if you can’t be enough in grade school?”

  Jake glanced at the table’s shadow on the kitchen floor. It seemed like it was reaching out to choke him and he swallowed hard. Play the game. Tell him what he needed to hear. Fix it. Be enough.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I messed up. Didn’t study hard enough. I won’t disappoint you again, I promise. What can I do to make it up to you?” His dad opened the red folder and pulled out two sheets of white paper. He slid them over to Jake, then tossed him a pencil.

  “You’re going to take a little test I made up. And if you get any of the answers wrong, you’re going to study, then take another test. We’re going to do this till you get it right. Put your name on the test, upper right corner on top of the thick line.”

  Jake snatched up the pencil and started to write his name, but he pressed too hard, snapped off the tip of the pencil, and the shame he’d promised to ignore washed over him. He looked up at his dad without lifting his head.

  “Here you go, Jaker.” His dad tossed him a pencil sharpener. “Ease up on the pressure there. We don’t need to be wasting any of that pencil now, do we?”

  Jake blew out a breath from between his teeth as he sharpened the pencil and looked at the questions. Jake fought against the emotions screaming that he was eleven years old again, disappointing his father for not making straight As. He wasn’t eleven and this was his chance to fix the past. Had to push through the shame, dig deep, get through it.

  The questions were for a fifth grader. He buzzed through them and pushed the paper back at his father. His dad took less than a minute to check Jake’s answers. He looked up at Jake but didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The tight smile across his face shouted plenty loud.

  “One wrong, Jaker. Let’s try again.”

  As his dad pulled another sheet out of the folder, Jake couldn’t hold his tongue.

  “I’m not a kid,” he muttered to himself. “This is ridiculous.”

  “What did you say?”

  Jake’s face went hot. How could his dad have heard that?

  “You think this is ridiculous? Hmm. Don’t believe I’m able to agree with that assessment of your situation, Jake. In fact, I’m not going to believe that sentiment came out of your mouth. No sirree. That would make you stupid. And I don’t think my son is stupid, not for a second.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “And you are a kid, Jake. You might think being eleven makes you a man, but it doesn’t. Got it?”

  Jake nodded.

  “I want to hear the words. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, Dad. I understand you.”

  “I’m helping you here, Jake. You get in the habit of getting good grades now, it will stay with you the rest of your life. But if you don’t figure it out, it’ll dog you till the day you die.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  Three tests later, Jake got all the answers right.

  “Good work, Jaker.” His dad rose from his end of the table, came over to Jake, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “No, Dad.”

  “Okay then, head on out the door and we’ll see you at supper.”

  Jake nodded but didn’t look up. At least this was grade school and not high school or college. He’d fixed things this time, but what about the other three times he didn’t get straight As?

  “Are there any other tests, Dad?” Jake stood. “Any others, or is this it?”

  “The only one.”

&n
bsp; Jake pushed through the kitchen door onto the deck and didn’t look back. Last test? Maybe. But Jake shuddered as he strode back down the path with the thought it wasn’t close to the last fix he would have to make.

  He reached the main trail and jogged back down it toward the path to Sienna’s house. When he reached it, he started down the tinier path, but stopped halfway down and looked up through the trees. Where he’d expected to find the boulder with their old house on top of it, there was only sky.

  Hope surged inside. He truly had fixed that one. He’d fixed his mom. Maybe this last go-around with his dad really was enough. If only he was dumb enough to believe it.

  Two minutes later he reached the path that led to where his mom’s home had stood. He slowed, then came to a retched halt when a familiar groan floated down the path toward him. Jake shuffled down the trail to find his mom’s home had reappeared. Hell’s version of déjà vu. When he reached her bedroom, a twisted cackle sputtered out of her mouth.

  “I’m glad you came when you did, Jakey. If you hadn’t shown up, well, let’s just say I don’t think I would have been here to greet you if you’d come any later.”

  “Don’t do this, Mom. You promised. We fixed this.”

  “When did we fix this?” Jake’s mom frowned. “Fixed what?”

  “I was just here. You promised.”

  “You haven’t been here in ages, Jakey.” She peered up at him, confusion bathing her face. “But you can do something to help me right now. Please?”

  “What, Mom?” Jake asked, even though he knew what was coming.

  “Will you sing me that song you used to sing? You know the one, don’t you, Jakey?”

  40

  By the time Jake finished with his mom, his emotions were as ragged as they’d ever been. He’d sung for over an hour before she promised not to end her life. But there was no guarantee the promise would stick. Ryan had created a house of horrors that Jake might never escape. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

  Jake stumbled through his mom’s front door and down the path toward the main trail, his mind frayed, his body almost as exhausted, but he would not stop till he’d fixed things for good.

  “Had enough?”

  Ryan’s voice. Jake didn’t look up. He refused to give Ryan the satisfaction of seeing the absence of hope in his eyes.

  “You can’t make me go through the same thing again and again. You’re breaking your own rules.” Now Jake looked up and strode toward Ryan, his anger funneling strength back into his body and mind.

  Ryan only smiled, which fueled Jake further.

  “You’ll never fix everything, Jake. You can’t win.”

  He could. He’d been doing this all his life—with his parents, with Sienna, with friends. He knew the routine, and he could outlast Ryan no matter how many times the scenarios were thrown at him.

  He would fix his mom again and again and again. As long as it took. Same with his father. He’d build the doghouse three hundred times if necessary. He’d take the test a thousand times in order to make it right. Sing the insipid song to his mom for centuries if he had to.

  He tore off down the path toward his father’s backyard and found the doghouse in pieces, and built it again, again endured his father’s criticism. Then raced back to his mom’s and she promised Jake for the third time that she wouldn’t take her life.

  Then again taking the tests. Again with his mom. Another two hours building the doghouse. He would not go down. It had to work. He would not falter, not fail. But even as he shouted promises to himself, he knew they were lies. No matter how many times he tried, he would never fix it. Ryan had said Jake would defeat himself and it was true. Eventually he would admit three hundred times, a thousand times, a million times would not be enough.

  After he stumbled out of his mom’s house for the twenty-fifth time and out to the path that would lead to his dad, he went the opposite direction. He had to recover. Think. Figure a way out, a solution to this insane puzzle.

  The path meandered slightly uphill and Jake staggered up it, barely paying attention to his feet. As he pressed on, something moved in his peripheral vision. Jake spun and his eyes darted through the foliage, searching among the trees. There. Again, movement. Jake squinted. Ryan? Yes.

  Ryan stood six paces off the path, almost hidden next to a large pine tree. Jake spotted him and in the same moment snagged the front of his shoe on a root. His momentum threw him forward; he lost balance and crashed to the ground. Sharp pain shot into his knees and his elbow.

  The sound of Ryan stepping closer through the underbrush thundered in his ears. Jake pushed up to his hands and knees but didn’t look up, his gaze fixed on the tiny pine needles on the path. This was the end. He felt it and waited for Ryan to strike him down. But the blow didn’t come. The being was taunting him again. No blow was needed. Not even words were necessary. His mere presence squeezed at Jake’s head like a press. Jake had been beaten and would always be beaten, no matter how long he stayed on this treadmill.

  “What are you doing to me?” Jake drew in ragged breaths. “Why torture me like this? This will never end, will it? What sick pleasure are you getting out of this? Watching me fail again and again. I can’t beat you. I admit it. So why not just kill me and end this charade?”

  “Rise, Jacob Palmer.”

  The force of Ryan’s words sent a tremor through Jake. There was a strength and authority in his tone Jake couldn’t ignore. Jake staggered to his feet and locked eyes with his enemy. There was a look of steel in Ryan’s eyes, like a sword ready to strike.

  “What are you waiting for?” Jake didn’t back down from Ryan’s intensity. It drove him harder. “I’m done with this game, this test of yours. It’s finished.”

  “It’s not over.”

  “Yes, it’s done.”

  “You are blind, Jake. Open your eyes.”

  As the words floated out of Ryan’s mouth, Jake’s gaze shifted from Ryan’s eyes to just over his shoulder. Twenty, maybe thirty yards up the path, Jake spotted a tiny trail off to the right. He stared at it, transfixed, knowing with more conviction than he’d ever known anything that he had to discover whatever was at the end of that path.

  The narrow trail was covered in green moss and slalomed into the trees for forty yards before it curved to the left, out of sight. As Jake started down it, the ache in his muscles subsided, if only a touch, and the frustration started to seep out of his mind.

  He reached the curve a minute later, and when he did he saw a small cabin fifty feet ahead made of light-colored wood. It looked new, its thick log walls offset by large windows on each side and a large porch with four chairs.

  A waterfall similar to the one that fed the pond sat off to the right, this one higher, wider, with a greater rush of water pouring over the edge. Jake’s eyes followed the path of the stream through the woods till he couldn’t see it anymore.

  The door of the cabin was open. When he reached the porch he stepped up on it, but hesitated before going inside. There was a power here that he’d never experienced, a sensation radically different from the sensations he’d felt at his mom’s, dad’s, and Sienna’s houses. A moment to ready himself, then he stepped inside.

  A young boy sat in profile on a thin wooden chair in the center of the room. Sun streamed in from a large window and filled the space with light. A fireplace filled the wall behind the boy, and a redwood table with three chairs around it stood in the far corner. The floor was wood. Rustic but clean.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Jake.” The boy didn’t turn.

  “Who are you?”

  “Would you like to join me?” The boy motioned to a chair directly across from him.

  Jake eased over into it and stared at the boy. Familiar.

  “Do we know each other?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Before that, there is much for us to talk about.” The boy leaned forward, knees on elbows, and grinned. “Onl
y if you want to.”

  “Sure.”

  “Can I ask you a question, Jake?”

  Jake nodded.

  “What is it that you want fixed? What is the one thing you want made right, the deep longing inside you, the one so deep you only hear echoes of its faint calling?”

  “I want to be made whole. I want my legs back, my stomach, my feet, all back to the way they were.”

  The boy shook his head slowly back and forth, not in a wondering way, but with kindness and understanding. “Deeper, Jake. Go deeper.”

  Jake didn’t have to think, didn’t have to formulate an answer. He simply spoke from his heart.

  “Go back in time. Do life over again. Be whole again. Wipe out the red in my ledger and be what they needed me to be. Be enough.”

  “They? Who is they?”

  “My mom, Sienna, my dad.”

  “Sienna? I thought you were enough for her. Isn’t that what you discovered today?”

  “Be enough for another woman.”

  “Really?” The boy arched an eyebrow. “So you don’t believe Ari when she said your burns wouldn’t matter to her.”

  Jake stared at the boy.

  “No, I don’t think you need to be enough for another woman, I think you need to be enough for your mom and for your dad. That is the root. That is where it all comes from.”

  “Where what all comes from?”

  “You know, Jake. You don’t need me to tell you. Go deeper still. I am safe. You can tell me.”

  He hadn’t even officially met this boy, and yet Jake knew what he spoke was true. He could trust this child, so young but so full of wisdom.

  “I won’t ever be enough for them. Even back then, I couldn’t have ever been enough for them.” As the words slipped out of his mouth, Jake was stunned by the truth. He looked up at the boy and said, “There’s nothing I could have done to be enough. I did it all. Everything I could to make my dad proud. Everything I could to be the son my mom wanted me to be.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “And that’s why I was enough for Sienna.” Jake shook his head as the revelation poured over him. “But I wasn’t even doing it for her. I was doing it for my mom, my dad. To get them to love me.”