It won’t be easy.I know it’s not as simple as just ignoring it tonight.But when I make a decision, I am bullheaded and stick to it.
That, and I’ve seen the situation in a different light.One I’ve been ignoring my entire life.
And now, I have a reason to look at it right in the damn eye.
Caylee.
“I know you think you mean it, but it’s only because of what happened today.I’m talking long term Jake.”She touches my face.“You want to take things slow.You have...priorities.I want to get married.Kids.I want a man who at least can sleep in my bed an entire night.”
Ouch.
I deserve that.
“You’re right.Nearly losing you today made me realize what’s important.You.”
Her fingers reach and brush over my rough jaw.“I know you think you will but after the shock wears off in a week or two, you’ll answer that phone.You’ll pick up your keys.You’ll head out the door.And you’ll break my heart.”
Is she right?
No.
Caylee doesn’t know my past.She doesn’t understand the shift I’ve had, and until she does, she won’t.
“Give me a chance,” I plead.
“Tell me who the caller is,” she asks on cue.
My mother’s threats start up inside my head.You keep what happens in our family behind these doors.
The images from Thanksgiving with my father passed out on the sofa and Mom losing her shit flash in front of my eyes.I don’t want Caylee to see any of that.
Shame keeps the words from leaving my lips.
What can I tell her?
That we all killed my sister?That every time I drive my father home, I feel like I’m saving a life—but it’s never enough.
It’s never enough.
You have to let them learn the consequences of their behavior.
“Go home, Jake.”Caylee starts to go around me, and I stop her.
“It’s my mother.”
She stops while my body goes into fight-or-flight mode, as if a lion is about to attack me.Instead, it’s my psyche.I’m breaking our family vow.
“Why?”
Such a small question.
The answer is so much bigger.
“Does he have dementia?”
It would be so easy to lie and say yes.It’s a horrible disease but a lot better (for me) than saying he’s an alcoholic with no desire to stop.
“No,” I shake my head and lean back against the doorjamb.“No, he doesn’t.”
