Learning to Heal (26 page)

On my flight back home I think of my family. Not just mom and Grace, but Grandma Ginger—AKA Gigi—Grandpa Frank, Symone, and even the woman who stole my dad away from us all those years ago. Her name is Candice and she is someone you can’t stay mad at. Believe me, I tried. She has bright red hair and a fiery personality to match, but she can also make you laugh if you need it.

When I first arrived in Indiana I was surprised to be greeted with so much warmth and hugs. A feeling of being wanted settled inside my gut, as well as some guilt. Was I betraying my mom from being here? Instead of dwelling on the question, I pushed that thought to the back of my mind and embraced them as much as I could. These people were interested in my life and even wanted to meet Grace when I told them all about her. Symone was awesome and the total opposite of me. In fact she reminded me a lot of Jazz with her outgoing personality and never ending energy. She had her mom’s hair but our dad’s eyes, just like me, and that one little trait meant the world to me. Somehow the man I didn’t really remember left us something to remember him by. Where I was tanned like my mom, she was pale like hers and had a lot of freckles. She liked to date but has avoided anything serious because she’s determined to travel or attend a University far away from home. I used to have the same dream, but I knew deep down I couldn’t leave Grace. So instead of Virginia Tech I stayed in Mobile.

The day of the funeral was surreal. I stood there listening to all the stories of a man I will never meet or never know how his voice sounded saying my name. He was successful and owned a small electrical company here in town. Candice is really not sure what she plans on doing with it yet. They have money from his business and I’m proud of them and angry with Mom at the same time. If she wouldn’t have run and let him in, she wouldn’t have had to work herself so hard all these years. She could have done more for herself and us. But she didn’t and I may never understand why.

When Symone sang a song called
Daddy’s Hands
at the service, I listened with envy. The relationship she had with him was something I’d never experience and it pissed me off at times, but I couldn’t change that no matter what I did, so I just tried to enjoy the time I had left with everyone else. I refused to look at the lifeless body in the casket. When everyone asked why, I told them that was not how I wanted to meet my father for the first and last time. I’d rather have the videos and pictures.

Through all the commotion and chaos during the visit my mind always had one constant: Jazz. The thought of her and the baby on their own; the baby girl with no dad; Jazz without me. Most importantly, me without them. Man it hurts in the worst way when I think about it because for all these months together they were mine, or that’s what I thought anyway. And now that they aren’t anymore I feel like something vital is missing. My heart.

No matter how pissed I was and still am, she is always there. Her smile and laugh invade my thoughts and I’ve even had a few detailed dreams of the two of us together. The night of our first time constantly replays in my mind. No matter how many thoughts I have, I can’t get over the picture Chanda sent me. And the more the image inhabits my thoughts, the more I feel like I made a huge ass mistake. Did I just jump to some stupid assumption? Should I have looked at the photo better and really studied the details? Yes. I always study details and take time to make a reasonable theory that is probable. Not that night, though. I just jumped to conclusions. I mean, I don’t remember seeing any intimacy between the two of them and her face was blocked. Who’s to say she wasn’t giving him the finger or holding up her pointiest stiletto to use as a weapon? Nobody. And since my phone is smashed, I can’t check. So instead I battle the feeling of complete dread as I decide what to do.

After getting my luggage, I head to a waiting cab and head to the frat house. I missed midterms and need to get with my professors about the death in my family. Gigi gave me a copy of Dad’s obituary as proof in case there are any issues. Seeing as I’ve never missed any previous tests and my grades are high, I can afford to make a zero on the test. I’m not too concerned.

I head to my room ready to crash for a little bit, but before I get there I see David coming down the hall. His eyes narrow and he looks like he’s going to rip my head off. I brace myself.

He walks over and gets right in my face. “You have some serious balls, fucker. I really, really want to kick your ass back to wherever you just came from, but I’m going to leave it for Jax. He’ll be happy to learn you’re back. I will say this though … Leave. Jazz. Alone.” He shoves past me so hard I drop my bag.

After going to my room, I lock the door and look around. The first thing I see is the picture of Jazz in a frame by my bed. It’s the one Jax gave me all those months ago to make her fake I.D. The one that caused me to fall in love. I stare at it for a few minutes before I shove it in the drawer. After the encounter with David, my need for sleep is gone and now I just want answers. Going downstairs, I use the house phone to call Ryan and let him know I’m back and need a ride. He says to give him a bit so I grab something to eat. A few guys are in the kitchen discussing only God knows what, but I know they are staring at me. Who knows what rumors are going around this place? Maybe I shouldn’t stay here, but I’m not going to run or put up with this shit. They can just kiss my ass and get over it. None of them have any clue what happened that day. Then a thought occurs to me. Maybe I don’t either.

Later that day Ryan takes me to get a new phone since I ruined my old one. He knows some of what happened because I called him while I was in Indiana so he could check on Mom and Grace from time to time. I mentioned the photo but not who the guy actually is or that he’s married, only that he’s the real father and how we’ve been lying to everyone all these months. He really didn’t understand why I jumped in the middle of her drama to begin with, and he probably never will. Being in love is something I doubt Ryan’s ever experienced. After we get a bite to eat, we head to his uncle’s car restoration shop. Pulling in, I see Lyric talking with Jim, Ryan’s uncle, beside a fine Pontiac GTO. I really don’t know a lot about cars, but this one is old and a classic. It’s nothing but shiny black and chrome with silver flames on the hood. I help them wire some stereos and tell him about my sister Symone and how she’s coming down the week after next for her spring break. She wants to meet Grace and see the campus at South Alabama. Mom probably won’t be thrilled, but I honestly couldn’t care less. I’m still pissed about the whole lie. But I miss her too. Forgiving is easy, but forgetting her lies will be a different story.

“So, dude, is your sister hot?” Ryan’s driving me back to my mom’s place so I can tell her everything. I give him a look that tells him to back off. He laughs and shrugs his shoulders while looking back toward the road. “No worries. I already have a regular booty call.”

“Oh really? You found someone who can actually put up with your dumbass for more than a few seconds?” Looking out the window as he parks his car, I see my truck in the parking lot. I can’t wait to see Grace and Mom.

“All I need are those few seconds to have her screaming my name. Besides, you know her. It’s that chick Cory. The mouthy brunette. And she likes to purr and make some weird ass noises, but dammit, boy, she is like an animal.”

Cory’s name immediately brings Jazz to mind. My heart feels hollow with how things turned out. I ask what I want and need to know. “How’s she doing? With the pregnancy and all?”

He shuts the car off and looks at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind. Maybe I have because since that night I haven’t felt the same. I haven’t felt right.

“Why ask? It’s only going to make things worse? So don’t worry about it. Personally, I don’t give a shit about that two timing bitch.”

My head turns in his direction as anger and rage cause my heart rate to spike. I’m ready to knock his teeth in. “Shut your fucking mouth. You don’t talk about her like that. Got it?” My voice is full of venom. She might have screwed up some things in life, but who hasn’t? Nobody will talk about her like that.

“Whatever, dude.”

I get out and slam the door before grabbing my bag and making my way up to my mom’s apartment. Not looking back, I knock on the door. With the way we left things I don’t feel right about just walking in, so I wait until Mom opens it.

Hearing the lock turn from the opposite side, I feel my body tense. I’m not ready for another round with her, and I hope it doesn’t come to that. When her face appears I watch her blue eyes get watery and her body crumple before she throws her tiny frame against me.

“I’m so sorry, Mason. So, so sorry.” Her body shakes against mine so I squeeze her harder and tell her I love her. She’s my mom and I’ll always love her.

Her reason for keeping my dad from me is one I will never understand. Hurt and heartbroken, she wanted to make him suffer the way she suffered, so she decided on a whim the only way to do that was to keep me from him and lying to him about how I didn’t want to see him or his mistress. When she was scared that he’d get a lawyer and claim his rights, she gave him everything in the divorce. The house, the business, and car. She threatened to take it all since he was in the wrong and had an affair.

After an emotional discussion and reunion, I tell her about the family and Symone. She seems hesitant about meeting her at first but soon realizes how I need that family as much as I need her and Grace. After the uncertainty disappears, I watch some excitement build as she talks about everything we can do while she visits. Hell, I’m even excited and have an urge to call Jazz to tell her all about it. Reality slaps me in the face with a hard ass glove and I remember she’s no longer a part of my everyday life. Dammit! I really need to see that photo again because the feeling from earlier is still hanging over me like a black cloud—the feeling of knowing I totally fucked up.

After dinner I walk to Chanda’s apartment on a mission to find out the truth. I hope she’s home because now that everything is falling in place, the last piece is still missing. And like they say, save the best for last. Jazz is truly the best for me, but I still need proof she didn’t cheat on me. The longer I’m away from her, the more I just want to take her back regardless of what she did or didn’t do.

I knock on Chanda’s door and hear the grumble from her dad on the other side. When he answers the door a strong aroma of alcohol and stale cigarettes invades my sense of smell and takes my breath away. He must be drinking again.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stewart, is Chanda home?”

He squints with red, dazed eyes and rubs his long, greasy beard. “Chanda? She hasn’t been home for three fucking days. Do me a favor will ya, Mason? If you see her tell her she owes me some goddamn rent money or she can take her bony ass and move somewhere else. Got it?” He mumbles something else and slams the door in my face. Feeling defeated I walk back to my mom’s for another restless night of dreams that leave me wanting more. So much more.