“Are you? Call my mom.”
Janie handed me the ringing phone and I did slow down a little, not much, but a little.
“Hey, Blakie.”
“Mom, dad was in a car accident. They took him to the Med Center.”
“What happened? Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. That’s all I was told. He hit a tree,” My voice quaked while my mind tried to hold it together. I couldn’t let Janie see my weak side. I was the man. I had to be strong.
“I’m on the next flight. Keep me posted until I get on a plane.”
“Okay. Hurry, Mom,” I begged. I didn’t want to do this by myself. What if they needed permission to do some surgery that cut off his legs, or worse, his fingers? I didn’t want to be the man; I wanted to be the son. I wanted my mom. I swallowed away the dry lump and breathed deep. Please be okay. Please be okay.
“I’m here for you, Blake. You know that right?” Janie asked, placing her hand on my leg. I slowed down at that exact moment. It was almost like she knew, like I knew. My hand left the steering wheel and covered hers. For whatever reason, I knew. I knew there was no need to be in a hurry. I really believe that that was the moment when his heart took its last beat. I knew he was gone. I felt it.
“I know, Janie.”
The knowing did little to stop the pain. My chest hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before; like a bat crushed my chest.
Janie held my hand while the doctor and a nurse explained the situation.
“Your father suffered a traumatic brain injury that was just out of our hands. There was nothing we could do. We tried. We did everything in our power. I’m sorry.”
That was it. That was all the words the doctor said. His face was sad and I felt he truly was sorry, but that didn’t matter. My dad was gone. My eyes followed the doctor and the nurse out the door and down the hall. My dad was gone. Dead. He was gone. I was never going to see him again. My dad was gone.
“Blake?”
“I have to call my mom.”
“Blake, stop for a second. You need a minute to let this sink in.”
“No I don’t. I’m fine.”
I started around Janie when I realized she was the one about to crack. Tears streamed down her face and she held her shirt in a tight grasped fist. Janie loved my dad too. She was trying to be the strong one and failing miserably. I grabbed her and she cried, sobbing with heaving breaths.
I cried too. I cried in her hair, trying to comprehend what was going on. My dad was gone. I was never going to talk to him again. I was never going to shoot hoops with him again. I was never going to play in his show again. He was never going to yell at me for not practicing again. He was dead. My dad was dead.
“Janie!” Sarah called, running with Holden right behind her. Janie let go of me and ran to her mom. I wanted it to be my mom. I wanted to be running to my mom. Holden dropped a comforting arm across my shoulder, and squeezed. I jerked away, needing air.
“Blake!” Janie called after me. I stopped long enough to look into her eyes. Our eyes did this weird talking thing that we did from the very first time we met. I told her that I loved her with my eyes and sprinted down the steps, suffocating with every step. What was I going to tell my mom? How was I going to tell her?
I’m not even sure how many flights I made it down before my cellphone sang something Janie must have put on there. I didn’t even listen to Kelly Clarkson.
“Mom,” I cried in the phone, “it’s bad. Hurry.”
“I know, baby. I’m boarding now. I will be there in a couple hours. Where’s Sarah? Go to Sarah until I get there, Blake.”
“She’s here. Okay, just hurry.”
“I’m coming. I love you, baby.”
“Love you too.”
I didn’t even know Janie was there. I didn’t hear her until she was right beside me. Her hand rubbed my back and I turned and grabbed her. I held her so tight, I was sure she couldn’t breathe either. It hurt. It hurt so much. And as much as I wanted and loved Janie, I wanted my mom more. Janie didn’t talk, she sat there very still and let me cling to her while I broke. I crumbled. I wasn’t a man and I didn’t want this role. I wanted to be a little boy with my mom and my dad. I wasn’t the man. I wasn’t. I was a kid, a little boy.
It wasn’t until my mother was there that I got all the facts. My dad was the safest driver ever; he always wore his seatbelt, never drove above the speed limit, and he didn’t inherit the New York crazy attitude when he got behind the wheel. He was a safe driver. He even preached to me about how much money he saved on car insurance for being a safe driver.
The same doctor sat down with my mom, me, the Holden’s and Janie, but this time the story was different. They didn’t try at all. His skull was crushed by the windshield. He never had a chance.
“Wait, are you sure? I mean, maybe we should identify him. My dad always wore his seatbelt. Always. Tell him mom,” I persuaded, nudging her with my arm.
“I did it, Blake. It’s your dad.”
My bewildered eyes looked up to Barry. “But I don’t understand. He wouldn’t get behind a wheel without putting his seatbelt on. I know he wouldn’t.” It didn’t make any sense. None whatsoever. My responsible dad wouldn’t do that.
The doctor continued to explain the situation and I vaguely recalled what he was saying. Janie’s small hand in mine held me together. Her hand kept the pieces together by a thread. Until—
“Your husband had a blood alcohol level three times over the legal limit.”
“Wait. You’ve got the wrong guy, that can’t be my dad, my dad wouldn’t drive after one glass of wine. Tell him, mom. He wouldn’t. Would he? Tell them!” I said a little louder. Janie’s hand squeezed mine and I begged my mother with my eyes to make this stop. That changed things. I went from feeling so alone and hurt, to outright angry. How could he do this? How could he leave us like this?
That’s the day my life changed. I went from being full of life Blake to being pissed at the world Blake and I hoped to God he was staring down. I prayed that he could see my mother, heaving in and out sobs while her body lay across the cherry coffin, unable to let go. I hated him. I hated him with everything in me for doing this to her, to me.
“I don’t know what to do to help you, Blake,” Janie confessed, holding my hand in the back of the church. I never did make my way to the shiny box. I didn’t want to go up there. What was the point? He wasn’t in there.
“I’m fine. You’re doing all you can do and I’m happy you’re here.” My eyes turned back to my Uncle Tim, trying to lure my mother away. I was glad this was the last day. Three days of seeing my mother so lost and hurt was more than a seventeen year old boy should have to handle. He did this. He did this and I hated him for it. What a selfish bastard.
“Blake?”
“Huh?” I blurted like an idiot. I didn’t even feel my Aunt Trudy’s hand on my shoulder, nor did I hear her.
“Do you want to ride with us to the memorial park?”
“You mean the cemetery? You can say it. He’s dead.”
“Blake!” I heard Janie call after me as I ran to my car and beat the hell out of the top of it with my fist. The car door slammed as hard as I could slam it, over and over. Unwanted anger and tears streamed my face with every God awful accusation.
“I fucking hate you! You fucking, goddamn, fucking piece of shit. How could you? You low life, selfish mother fucker. I hate you. I hate you!” I screamed hurtful words over and over while my car took the brunt of my anger. I knew Janie was standing right behind me in her long black coat, hiding a black funeral dress. This was so fucked up.
My eyes scanned the bystanders all wearing the same dreary black. They all stuck out like zebra stripes against the fresh blanket of snow.
“Why are we in black, Janie? Why are we all in black? That’s so fucking morbid.”
“Blake,” Janie softly spoke, taking a step toward me. I hated that look on her face. I hated the dark circles from her crying for thre
e days straight. I hated all these fucking people in black and their stupid fucking pity. I didn’t want their pity, I wanted my fucking dad. My midair fist ceased to cause another dent to the hood of my car.
“Come on, you two,” Holden ordered with the stern look that always made me respect him. That time was no different. With an arm over each of our shoulders, Barry led us to his awaiting car. Janie’s hand moved around his back and looped through a belt-loop on my black dress slacks. My morbid, black pants.
“I’ve got to go with my mom. I’m fine,” I said, walking away.
“Leave him alone for a little bit, Janie Lynn. Let him go to his mom,” I heard Barry say over my shoulder. I didn’t stop; afraid of my feet not starting again if I did. I didn’t want my mom to see me like that. She had enough on her plate. And so that’s what I did. I played the part. The strong, step in daddy’s shoes, fucked up part.
Janie sat beside me in the front row once we were at his final resting place and held my hand as I held my mother’s. This was it. The ultimate destination. The last stop. Once we left this graveside, we would never see my father again. Not that the photo of him directing was him, but still. It was the knowing. The knowing that my dad was in that box and I was never going to see him again. Ever.
My throat began to close and my chest tightened. The sudden claustrophobic feeling around me was unbearable. A shrill, high pitch sound rang in my ears. The people there to pay their respects became a black blur. Janie’s hand slipped away and ran to my mother. I hadn’t felt her hand slip away; only Janie’s. I didn’t know her body left the cold metal chair until Janie was hovering above her. Sarah was the one to take care of her; to help her to her feet and guide her to Holden’s car. I couldn’t guide myself.
The rest of the day was much the same. People were in and out of our house, bringing food that we didn’t want, and apologizing, over and over. I just wanted everyone to leave. Go home and let us deal with it in our own way. By four in the evening, I was over it. If one more person told me how sorry they were, I was going to scream. What the hell were they even sorry for? They didn’t tell my dad to drive drunk.
“You doing okay?” my frail mother asked, joining me on the piano bench.
“I’m okay. Are you okay?”
“No. Not even close, but I will be.”
I smiled a crooked smile, “I don’t understand this Mom. Why would he do this? I feel like Ashton Kutcher is going to walk around the corner at any moment. Like this is all a big fucking joke.”
“Watch it, buddy,” she chastised, “I know. I don’t get it either, Blake. I really don’t. We’ve called cabs after a couple drinks. I don’t know why he would have gotten behind that wheel. Your grandma is the only one who has made any sense to me at all.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?” I asked, seeing my Grandma Macy being comforted by my Uncle Tim. Her only son now.
“She says it was his time and it wouldn’t have mattered if he was sound asleep in his bed. It was his time.”
“That’s bullshi—. That’s bull. He’s dead because he was trashed and tried to drive home.”
“Honey, he didn’t leave us on purpose. He would never do that. You know that.”
“Yeah, that’s why he drove drunk. Where’s Janie?” I asked, looking around.
My mom patted my knee with a sad smile and informed me that she saw her go upstairs. I left the bench and walked to my room.
Seriously? My dad was dead in the ground and she was sleeping? This whole world was screwed up. Janie was curled in a little ball with her black hosed legs to her chest. My leather jacket covered her bare arms, and if I hadn’t been instantly pissed that she was sleeping at a time like this, I would have thought it was the cutest thing ever.
“Come here,” she said, peaking through her lashes. I moved in behind her and felt bad for being angry. She was sleeping because she didn’t feel well. She was warm. I blamed that on my selfish-ass father too. He had to pick the middle of December to kill himself. “You okay?”
“No. I don’t know if I will ever be okay again.”
“I can’t believe he’s gone. I keep thinking about practice tomorrow. Like it will all be over tomorrow and he’ll be yelling at us to stop goofing off and play. What’s going to happen to the theater, Blake?”
“I don’t know. Are you sick? You feel warm,” I asked, kissing her head.
“I’m okay. I think I might be getting a cold. My throat feels a little scratchy.”
“Janie, I need to be close to you. I just want to forget for a little bit. Think about something else.”
“Okay,” she agreed, turning toward me. Her hand flattened on my cheek and I kissed her wrists.
“You smell good, but you still feel warm.”
“Lock the door,” she whispered, with soft, fevered lips to mine.
That was the first time either of us had experienced angry sex. It was intense as hell; the most emotional experience of my life. I had Janie in every possible position there was and she got off more times than I ever made her before. Not because I was trying, just because of the raw emotions we were both feeling.
“Sit on me backwards,” I ordered, moving her from her hands and knees position. I watched her beautiful body slide down my shaft and stop. Holding her hips I moved in and out, watching every inch.
“Blake, wait. This hurts. I can’t do it like this.”
“I’ll do it. Just be still. I’ll go easy,” I didn’t let Janie bail out, nor did I let her be still. I moved in and out of her while forcing her hips to sit deep on my rod. Her hands squeezed both my wrists holding onto her waist, but I didn’t think it was because I was hurting her. It wasn’t until I dove deep inside of her that I knew I was hurting her. She actually called out in pain, but I didn’t know it was pain. I thought it was pleasure.
Janie moved my hands from her body as soon as I stopped shuddering inside of her and slid off me. That’s when we both noticed the blood. Gross. Well that explained the pain. Yuck.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, grabbing my shirt to run across the hall.
“Hey, at least we know we’re not expecting.”
“It’s not even time. Don’t look.”
Janie and I never left my room that day. Sarah brought us up supper around seven. She scolded Janie for being in her panties and my shirt around me, but not too much. They all knew I was going to marry her and they knew we had sex. So what. We weren’t doing anything the entire world hadn’t already caught on to. I was just glad I had Janie.
We laughed about the time we dressed up as boyfriend and girlfriend for Halloween; I was the girl, Janie was the boy. My dad looked at us and asked if he could help us. Janie explained the need to get into his school with a twelve year old girl/boy voice. She sucked, but it worked. My dad had JB Sucker on the waiting list before we both busted a gut.
We talked about what a baby he was the Christmas before when he had to have his tonsils taken out. The minutes turned into hours and the laughter turned to tears. More times than once. Janie didn’t leave me that night. Janie didn’t even leave my bed that night and neither of us cared. She was my angel, my rock, and my shoulder. Janie was my everything.
Nine
“She was sick then, wasn’t she Blake?” I asked. I wished I hadn’t. Our fun weekend turned into an emotional rollercoaster. That wasn’t my intention; I just wanted him to express it.
Blake ignored my question and informed me of other truths, “I’ve never talked about that before.”
“I’m glad you told me. I can’t say I know how you feel, Blake, I watched my mom fade away for over four years, I think having her taken all of a sudden like that would have been easier.”
“Yeah, well I watched that too. I’m going to bed.”
“Blake, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine, Janie. Just forget it.”
“I’m Mikki.”
“Right. Makayla, sorry. I just had her on my mind. I’m sorry. Let’s talk in the morning. I’m
tired.”
“I’ll be in shortly.”
Damn it. I’d just taken our pretty little bow and tied it into one big messed up knot. I didn’t like this new thing going on between Blake and me. I didn’t like it one bit. I was going to back off on Janie, maybe it was too much for him, maybe Blake wasn’t even ready for me. Maybe it would be best if I just saw myself out.
The pen was completely empty by the time I felt tired enough to sleep. I shook it hard one last time, I don’t know why it mattered if the lion’s head wasn’t finished or not, I was going to delete it from my arm as soon as I was done anyway. That’s when I noticed the change. Tears slid down my face, but I didn’t know why. I was scared and I didn’t know what to do. I felt alone for the first time since Blake brought me there. My art work on my arm had gone from black rain, streaking down my arm, to happy trees and bright suns, to this. I didn’t know what this was. It wasn’t happy anymore. It was a mess. My tears mixed with a cool drizzle that I had known was coming. The time on my phone said one minute after midnight and that’s when I called it. My hand wiped the wet ink into a smeary, midnight rain. I didn’t like it. It was ugly and I didn’t know why. I shouldn’t have pushed him.
Blake was up and gone Monday morning before Pea and I woke. I stepped out of the tent first, looking to Pea who was still out. I tilted my head, trying to figure out where her leg was, and then how she got it there before heading to the kitchen. I had everything. Coffee, cups, and even the coffee maker. I just didn’t have a table or a barstool to enjoy it.
Grace was ringing the doorbell ten minutes after I was up. She had coffee, one in each hand and she carried a smile. Grace always carried a smile.
“Oh, you have Sarah’s car. I forgot about having yours, but I do have coffee. I have everything but furniture.”
“Oh, good this coffee sucks but it was on my way. What is wrong with that boy? Do you want me to have a talk with him?” Grace asked, walking past me. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the tent. “He was serious,” she stated.
I snickered, but it was a sad sort of snort, “Yes, he bought a tent.”