From The Dead (13 page)

At this point, Jesse needed to clear his head. One
advantage: He didn’t perceive a threat of lung cancer when he
breathed the Midwestern air. No more dirty haze.

At a bit past five p.m., traffic proved light on the
freeway compared to what he’d grown used to. As he made his way
along the interstate, he counted a mere two lanes on each side of
the road: one for driving, one for passing. A far cry from the
chaotic labyrinth of the 405 out west.

The first difference he noted along the roads,
besides the traffic reduction, was the expanse of greenery and the
occasional farm house. Someone lived in each of these homes. These
residents knew nothing of the inner workings of Hollywood. But
these people had roots.

It was so quiet here.

And he could travel sixty miles per hour. When had he
last experienced this during the work week?

Why am I here?

It was too late to turn around. Then again, he had no
desire to backtrack. An invisible pull drew him northward. Perhaps
he didn’t know what would come, but he had come home. He could sort
the rest of it out later.

He downed the last gulp of coffee.

* * *

After he turned off Highway 8, he followed
Streetsboro Road until he reached Route 91. Here he hung a
left—straight into the heart of Hudson, his hometown. Located
between the cities of Cleveland and Akron, Jesse had always
described Hudson as larger than a small town but smaller than a
suburb.

Like most roads in the community, a single lane
occupied each side of the road. The town square, which spanned
about three small blocks, rested in the center of the community.
For a few blocks, maps referred to Route 91 as Main Street. On his
left stretched a tiny retail row populated with mom-and-pop shops;
on his right, the town green with its gazebo and historic clock
tower. An all-brick structure, the clock tower appeared no taller
than a three-story building and served as the punch line for
countless jokes among teenagers, who threatened to paint it
black.

To Jesse, Hudson served up a slice of Americana; its
century homes and resistance to modernization befitted an ode from
Norman Rockwell. In the middle of rush hour, he could count the
number vehicles that preceded him for the next mile.

He continued north to pass over the Ohio Turnpike,
the muted rumble of which brought a whirr to the otherwise calm
environment. His sister, Eden, lived off of Route 91 near the
northern edge of town. She did not expect company; he hadn’t
informed her of his trip, nor had he mentioned his latest struggle
before he’d left California.

No one here knew of his suicide attempt, nor would he
tell anyone. This marked a fresh beginning, and Jesse determined to
leave his memories in the past.

A lost soul had returned home.

Shit—his father. He’d have to face him too.

Take it in stride.
One day at a
time.

Jesse pulled into Eden’s driveway and found the
garage door open, her car parked inside. Her single-story house,
quaint and of partial brick, had occupied this spot for
decades—Jesse remembered it from his youth. He had driven past it
on countless occasions, but not once had he pictured his sister
living here in years to come.

As he walked to the front porch, his stomach
fluttered. He knew Eden to be nonjudgmental, but the humility of
admitting his dreams had failed hit him hard.

Small flower beds, which bordered Eden’s porch on its
left and right, had started to bloom in vibrant colors for the
spring. After he rang the doorbell, he turned and listened to the
moderate flow of cars that rolled along the road. He wondered if
he’d gone to school with any of the drivers. Then he glanced at his
own car as it sat on the driveway: a California license plate. That
would send ripples of speculation around the block.

He heard footsteps tap inside, which sent his heart
in a race with newfound anticipation: He hadn’t seen his sister in
several years, not since her last visit to the coast.

Eden opened the door halfway, then peeked around it
to scope out her visitor. When she saw who stood on the other side,
she swung the door wide open.

“Jesse, you’re—home!”

Unsure what to say, Jesse nodded and reciprocated her
grin.

Eden planted her arms around her big brother and
squeezed him hard.

He remained silent but held her close and savored the
moment. How many years had it been since someone had embraced him
with authentic love? He felt a warm, moist spot on his shoulder,
where a tear had escaped from Eden’s eye.

But she didn’t cry. Instead, she wiped the corner of
her eye, sniffled, and stepped back to take a look. As Eden gazed
at him—at his face, his hands, his clothes—Jesse could tell she
sought indicators of well-being. When she focused on his face
again, she looked like she had located a clue in his eyes but
couldn’t decipher its meaning. Jesse assumed she must have felt too
stunned by his visit to ask.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home. How long
ago did you leave?”

“Day before yesterday.”

Jesse waited for a reply, and before long, Eden
caught herself staring at him. “I’m sorry,” she said, “you caught
me by surprise, that’s all. Come on in.”

Before she followed him into the house, she peered at
his car filled with boxes and clothes on hangers—the same imagery
from the day he had left town when Eden was fifteen years old.

An enthusiastic Eden showed him around her home,
which featured notable feminine décor in both of its bedrooms. The
living room, its walls accented with soft shades of burgundy,
hosted an array of cherry-finished furniture. A plush,
ivory-colored sofa beckoned Jesse to curl up in its cushions and
take a nap after his drive. When Eden concluded her guided tour,
she led Jesse to the kitchen table, where she poured a glass of
diet cola for each of them.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I just got home from
work, so I haven’t cooked dinner. But there’s food in the
fridge.”

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

His sister—all grown up. This was the first time he’d
witnessed Eden in her own environment. He had missed out on the
minor changes in her life while gone. Now twenty-six years old,
Eden was thin and possessed a natural beauty. She wore minimal
makeup and didn’t require any. She could pulverize Jesse with the
honesty in her brown eyes. Her hair, a light honey brown, curled at
her shoulders. Eden was the sort of girl whose personality and
features had gone underappreciated until high school.

“How’s Jada?”

“It’s over.”

“I’m sorry. Are you okay with it?”
Jesse shrugged. “Our relationship had become strained toward the
end; we were both ready to part ways. I guess when you cling to
something long enough, it’s hard to let go until you need to.”

Eden paused. “Have you seen Caitlyn since you’ve been
back?” Though Eden had begged Jesse to keep in touch with Caitlyn
when he headed to California, Jesse had refused.

“No, I drove straight here.” Eager to change the
subject, Jesse grinned, then shook his head. “When did you grow up,
kid? We lost too much time.”

She snickered. “I should have visited more often.
After I finished college, I got so consumed with work.”

Eden had lived her life right—the quintessential
minister’s daughter. An honor-roll student. Once she earned her
degree in social work, she took a job with a private adoption
agency, one operated by a Catholic charity. She still worked there,
where she placed infants with families.

From the corner of his eye, when he took a sip of his
drink, Jesse caught Eden steal a glance at him, but he pretended
not to notice.

Nervous, Jesse hoped Eden didn’t realize more went on
inside him than his breakup with Jada. Her social-worker instincts
tended to kick in when she talked to people. Daily she dealt with
unmarried mothers who found themselves alone. She talked them
through fears and concerns; in a matter of minutes, she could
recognize when someone sorted through hurt or confusion. And Jesse
struggled with both.

Eden’s palms hit the table. Once again, vibrancy
returned to her eyes. “Where are you staying?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“In that case, stay here! You can crash in the extra
bedroom. Won’t that be fun?”

“I don’t want to get in your way. I intended to
figure something out on my own.”

“Are you kidding? The room will sit there unused if
you don’t move in. And you can stay as long as you need.”

Already Ohio’s cultural difference struck him. “Okay,
thanks.”

“On one condition.”

“Which is?”

She leaned forward and locked eyes with his. “Go see
Caitlyn.”

“I will.” In jest, he lifted his glass. “Here’s to
the Barlow kids.”

“To little sisters who come to the rescue with
housing arrangements.” She giggled as she clinked her glass with
his.

They heard the front door creak open, followed by the
jingle of keys. Eden looked at the clock.

“Oh, I forgot!” she said.

A tall, slender guy, who Jesse recognized
immediately, walked into the kitchen.

“Blake?”

Hands on his hips, the guy’s upper lip curled in the
corner in apparent shock. “Jesse?”

The two shook hands and clapped each other on the
back. Jesse and Blake were the same age and had played together on
the high-school basketball team. They lost touch once Jesse
departed. Then again, Jesse had lost touch with everyone except
Eden and, to a minimal extent, his father.

“The movie star! What are you doing in town?”

Tongue in cheek, Jesse countered, “What are
you
doing letting yourself into my sister’s house?”

Eden wrapped her arms around Blake. “We’ve been
dating for five months.”

Self-absorbed in L.A., the last few months in
particular, Jesse had asked Eden precious little about her own
life.

Jesse turned to Eden, gestured to Blake with his
thumb, and quipped, “You could do better.”

“Ha.” She stood on her tiptoes and laid a kiss on
Blake’s chin.

Jesse shook his head at the sight of his old friend
and asked, “Where do you work nowadays?”

“I’m a nutritionist. I own a shop on Main
Street—herbs and other health-nut stuff. You should stop by; we’ll
catch up.”

“Definitely.”

Eden interrupted them. “I forgot Blake had promised
to come over for dinner. Why don’t we go out instead?”
“Sounds good to me,” Blake said. He nudged Jesse. “How about
you?”

“I’m exhausted. I drove in from St. Louis today, so
I’ll scrounge up a bite to eat, empty out my car, and go to bed
early. You two have fun, though.”

“Before we go—” Eden began, then ran into the next
room. When she returned, she handed him a spare key. “This is for
the house. Clean linens are in the bedroom closet, in case we get
back late.”

Eden and Blake headed out the door, while Jesse
closed it behind them. Eden poked her head back inside. With a jab
to his ribs in a playful manner, she whispered, “Go see Caitlyn.
You promised.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“
Tomorrow.
”

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

“I’m glad you came home, Jesse.”

CHAPTER 24

When he awoke the next morning, he still felt
exhausted from the journey home. But as the sunlight spilled into
the bedroom, Jesse sensed fresh vigor and, in stark contrast to the
past month, the desire to climb out of bed. Today marked a new
beginning; his life would undergo a change, albeit a tough one. He
had let several people down, but he determined to make it
right.

After he settled on a box of granola cereal in the
pantry, he poured himself a bowl and sat at the table, where Eden
had left a page of printed driving directions. Typical Eden: She
had gone online and located Caitlyn’s address already.

According to the directions, Caitlyn lived in the
same vicinity as she had in high school: near Canton, almost a
thirty-minute drive. Here in Ohio, this had been far enough to
prevent rumors from traveling to his father. But compared to L.A.,
such a commute was pocket change.

Perhaps she would be home from work around five
thirty that afternoon.

* * *

All day Jesse’s belly felt numb, gripped with
apprehension in anticipation of facing Caitlyn. While he remained
positive about the reunion, a part of him was scared and considered
bolting, but to where? He had nothing left to return to on the
coast—not that he harbored a desire to revisit what had proven to
him a world of smoke and mirrors—and he had nowhere else to go
here.

He vowed never to run again.

So he continued forward. Southbound on Highway 8
beneath an overcast sky, he checked the clock, which read 5:25.
Unless she worked far from her house, she should be home by the
time he arrived.

Jesse found the neighborhood without a hitch and
wound through it until he reached her street. She lived in an older
section of town, its homes smaller than their more recent
counterparts. Along the sidewalks he noted a significant presence
of retired couples, who had likely dwelt there since the 1960s,
raised a family, and emptied their nests. When Jesse had scanned
addresses painted on mailboxes and located Caitlyn’s house, he
pulled to the curb in front. He ignored his labored breathing, the
thumps of his heart. Instead, he took a deep inhale to calm
himself.

On his way up the driveway to the petite house, he
tried to appear normal. A neighbor, distracted by the out-of-state
plates on Jesse’s Accord, stared from a distance as Jesse
approached. Jesse waved to the woman, who returned the gesture and
resumed her gardening.

His own world had imploded. What could he possibly
have to offer Caitlyn?