“What, the check for $200? Why would you think I’d see a cent of that? You sent it to Mom and Dad. I only know about it because I found your letter to them.” His face morphed into anger at finding out our parents didn’t pass the letter to me.
“So they didn’t give you the check? Any of my letters?” he asked, his tone again hopeful.
“Jackson, wake the fuck up. Why would they have? You were literally HANDING them money. They weren’t going to waste it on me. You should have known better.”
“I swear, I tried to find you. The only person in town who gave me any information was that old guidance counselor. Molly orsomething. She said you had moved to Pennsylvania, the State College area, so I went there after home turned out to be a bust.”
“So what did you find in Pennsylvania? Because clearly, it wasn’t me,” I said, getting annoyed. Jackson’s face got red, his nostrils flaring, which was his tell when he was about to say something he knew was going to get him in trouble.
“I—well, I was on my own then. I wasn’t with the club, so I was just going around, asking questions by myself. I didn’t go about it in the smartest way. I found a disposable camera in your room, got it developed, and there were a couple of pictures that were usable.” I was surprised at that, not remembering what camera he was even talking about.
“Anyway, I showed your picture around some of the local places. You know, restaurants, bars, and shops.” He paused, looking unsure.
“And?” I was tired of the prolonged saga.
“A few people recognized you. They said you slept in your car when you weren’t using it for… deliveries.” The way he saiddeliverieswas funny, and I didn’t understand the hidden meaning he was imbuing it with.
“Spit it out. It’s like you’re talking in code. Yes, I had a car. Yes, I slept in it occasionally. And yes, I was a delivery driver for a few of the local food joints. So you found all that out, and what? You still thought I was an addict?” I asked.
“A literal delivery driver? Like pizza?” he asked, looking surprised and angry.
“Yes. What else would it mean?” I yelled, exasperated.
“Drugs, Fee. They thought you were delivering drugs to the different frat houses on campus.”
“Who are they?” I asked, my tone cold as the arctic. “And while you were over there, did you ever bother checking with the university to see if they knew about me?”
“I didn’t want to get you in trouble,” he said.
“So it never even crossed your mind that I was there simply for school? That I was using my car for multiple jobs to make money to pay for my classes? That I was sleeping in my car instead of student housing because I couldn’t afford it?” I stood up, pacing as anger coursed through me. I stopped, looking him in the eye, not wanting to miss any of his reactions.
“It was easier and more believable to think I was a homeless junkie dealing drugs out of my old-ass station wagon?” I shouted, infuriated with his bullheaded determination to prove that he was right to think I was a drug addict, that all the facts pointed to that one answer.
“Okay,” I said, holding a hand up before thinking to myself. “Okay, okay, forget that. So, for the sake of this conversation, let’s say I forget about the part where you believed I was a thief and a drug addict. What about the four years before that? You said you came backafteryou left the Army?” I asked, and noticed him squirming.
“Well, I sent money as often as I could. Then, once I was sent overseas, it was hard to keep up. I needed to focus. I couldn’t let my troop down. As soon as I was back stateside and was in charge of my own time, I went back there for you.”
“They don’t have phones in other countries? Email? Why were the letters addressed to Mom and Dad? Did you think I couldn’t read?” I asked, and he sighed, wiping a hand over his forehead, looking exhausted.
“It was difficult. I’m not saying it was right, but I tried. I swear, Finny, as soon as I got back, I went straight for you. If they had told me the truth, it wouldn’t have taken this long for us to find each other. They lied, Fee. Everyone lied to me, and I’m so sorry.”
“Stop!” I yelled, tired of hearing all of his excuses. He looked surprised, and I got in his face, ready to end the conversation.
“Don’t try to pretend you’re here to apologize. You’re looking for closure. You’re just here to validate this lie you’ve believed for so long. Or to exonerate yourself for believing it. Well, you can fuck right off with that. I do not give a shit about whatever story you had to tell yourself to feel better about leaving me all those years ago.
“None of what you’re saying right now, none of these reasons you’re giving me, make what you did okay. Maybe if you didn’t try to excuse your behavior and just took accountability, we could have a foundation to build off of.” He frowned, looking confused. With a beleaguered sigh, I enlightened him.
“You need to fucking man up! Admit that you’re human, that you were young, and tired, and finally away from that shithole, and it was nice! Admit that the longer you went without seeing or talking to me, the easier it was to forget that I existed. Until you can do that, we have nothing to talk about. You failed me, but mostly, you failed yourself.
“You broke every promise you ever made to me, and not once have you fucking owned up to it. Don’t forget I know you, Jax. Therealyou. I hope those years where you didn’t have to worry about me were worth the next few decades where I won’tletyou worry about me. Now, get the fuck out of my apartment,” I said, pointing to the door, unwilling to hear anymore of his bullshit. He looked torn, surprised at my directive.
“If I have to ask you again, I’m calling Reaper,” I warned, not ashamed to pull a power play. “Hope you feel better now that you got all that off your chest. You can see yourself out,” I said, turning my back on him as I headed for the kitchen. Needing to busy myself, I filled the kettle with water, then set it to boil before grabbing my cell.
“Fiona, please! You’re taking this all the wrong way,” Jackson pleaded from the entrance to my kitchen.
Without waiting for a response, I pulled up my contacts, pressed the dial for Reaper, and put it on speaker. As I rifled through my tea bags, trying to find a flavor that appealed to me, the ringing echoed around my apartment. I looked up to see that Jackson hadn’t moved from his spot, just looking at me with frustration and sadness. After only three rings, Reaper picked up.
“Hey, little miss, to what do I owe this honor?”
