Claire also filled me in on her talk with Ro. It’s not necessarily how I wanted her to put the final puzzle pieces together, her crying to him because I hurt her when I left, but I’m glad that he told her everything.
That day is forever ingrained in my mind. The weather outside, the sight of it all, the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone, and until yesterday, it ate me alive. It felt like I had willingly given over my mom, my family, and my entire life, to the system. Like I personally caused the next fifteen years to unfold if not from my actions then from some sort of cosmic karma. But after talking with Jackson and thenClaire, and really hearing what they both had to say, I might not feel one hundred percent better, but I'm on my way.
Besides filling me in on the time between when he left and now, Jackson and I talked all day about the years he was around. He told me stories I don’t even remember. Times when I would beg Mom to stay, not to go to the bars or to leave with a guy, and she would tell me I was too young to be worrying about her. The irony there is proof alone at how lost she really was.
It’s funny because I used to think about Mom coming back. About her finally calling and telling me she’d gotten better. That she had her life together and was ready for me to come home so we could be a family.Then, I knew I’d run to her ten times over if that ever happened. Now, I know it never would have.
Mom was sicker than any nine-year-old was capable of knowing. Jackson understood because he was older. He learned about the disease in school, and even experimented with alcohol and drugs just to see for himself what our mother could possibly have loved more than her children. He knew that nothing anyone did could help her if she didn’t want to help herself. It's why he left when he got the chance.
But I wasn't old enough to get that and by the time I was, there was no more room for understanding in my heart. It was filled with so much humiliation and rage, so much resentment, that it was just easier to burden the blame than to hold her accountable.
I’m sure Mom dealt with her own shit. Guilt maybe or regret. I think deep down every mother would to some extent, but in most ways, I’m glad I never found out. I’m learning that people who love you don't make you question it. They don’t leave you guessing at whether or not you’ll be cared for today. Sometimes they falter. Sometimes they leave. Sometimes, like Jackson, they make the best decision of all their terrible options, but they say sorry, they come back, and they fix the things they broke.
“Claire!” Chloe turns around seeing us. She’s all smiles until she lands on me. “Jay.”
“Chloe,” I say, but it isn't lost on me that she actually used my real name.
“It’s fine Chlo,” Claire says probably noticing too. Chloe squints at her as if trying to decide if she’s telling the truth and then relaxes. She steps forward and wags her finger in my face.
“Fine. But if you ever go allGone Girlagain,” She pokes me in the chest. “Wewillhave words.”
I look back to Ronan who is smiling behind the counter. “Received,” I say, walking towards Ro to leave the girls to talk.
“Is it bad that she kind of scares me?” I ask him as I lean on the window.
“Me too, man. But is it worse if I kinda like it?” I laugh and we slap hands over the window. “Welcome home, buddy.”
It hits me once he says it, that this is why everything feels so right. I’ve never even known whathomereally meant. Sure, my boys have always been here. Hell, now even my brother’s back, but with my girl here too — I think I’m finally starting to understand.
43
Claire
Six Weeks Later
“Babe…Babe…Claire!”
I snap back to reality and realize I’ve been staring out of the window for the amount of time it has taken Jay to shower and fully get dressed. So, probably about six minutes.
“Sorry!” I say. “Zoned out there for a second.”
“You should probably get that looked at,” he jokes.
“Very funny. I was just trying to think of an ending.”
“For the book?” he asks. “That was fast.”
“No, it’s just an outline for the second half. I have to plan how I want the ending to be so I can backtrack when I write the rest.” He comes up from behind me and drapes both arms around my neck. I bring my hands to his colorful skin and kiss the spot where the thorn sits on the rose.
“Well, make it a good one,” he says. “Happy.”
I turn my face up toward his. “I will,” I say and he kisses me like he has so many times in the last few months.
After everything happened with his brother, Jay and I spent almost every night together, and all of his days off. He was here so much that I joked he should just move in, and before I knew it, he pretty much had. He still has his place in Enzo’s, but his toothbrush, his razor, those damn work boots, are here. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Seriously though, we have to get going. Dinner with your parents is in like twenty minutes.”
“Okay, okay,” I say. “I’m ready.”
