The next day I hoped and prayed that Jason would call me. Every time the phone rang or someone was at the door, my heart skipped a beat only to have the feeling of disappointment and emptiness inside me expand and my stomach drop when it wasn’t him.
He didn’t call that day.
Or the next day.
Or the two days after that.
I wanted to call him, wanted to talk to him, to apologize again, to tell him all about Jesse, about how much he had been like his dad. But he had told me he needed some time and I had to respect that.
The emotional pain I went through was like nothing I had ever experienced. Not that it was worse than watching my son die and burying him way before his time. It wasn’t. It was just different.
It was indescribable.
And I couldn’t escape it. It was all around me, in every memory, everywhere I looked. It was grief, it was sorrow, and the certainty that I had brought it on myself made me desperate. Chris was still staying with me, but even so, my house felt empty. Jason had never lived here with us, had never even seen it before Monday, but I still missed his presence in it. Because I knew he would have been here with us, and that made the feeling of emptiness and loneliness that much harder to bear.
I felt numb almost all the time. I often caught myself staring blankly at nothing, even in the middle of doing something like mixing a drink or wiping the counter or putting up chairs. I tried to put on a brave face to reassure everyone that I was okay, but I knew that I wasn’t fooling anyone. People were worried about me. Heck, I was worried about me. What was I going to do if Jason didn’t forgive me? What would I do if he never wanted to talk to me again? But no, I couldn’t let myself think that. He said he was going to call me. He needed time. That was all. I had to hold on to the hope or there would be nothing else left.
I developed a pattern: I woke up, went for a run, went to work, came home and stared at the TV, then cried myself to sleep while I waited for that phone call I was desperate to receive. I couldn’t even escape the pain when I was sleeping, since Jason’s tortured and pained expression at hearing that the son he didn’t know about was dead followed me into my dreams.
There were only a few things that broke through that pattern.
On Wednesday night, Macy and Ivey came over armed with a bottle of Tequila.
“We’re here so you can pour your heart out and know that you will be safe. No macho men here to try and protect you from reality or lose their shit when they realize they can’t use their badass super powers to make everything right for you. It’s just us girls. No judgement, no empty platitudes. Just an open ear and lots of alcohol.” Macy had informed me upon marching into my kitchen to cut the lime and get some glasses.
“That’s right,” Ivey had said when she embraced me, “Just us girls and lots of alcohol for the two of you. In my experience, that’s all you need when you don’t know what’s up or down: your friends and Tequila. And pizza of course.”
So I had opened my heart and soul to my two best girlfriends.
I told them everything. From the moment I had met Jason to the moment I had seen him hook up with another woman at that gig and had sworn to never talk to him again. Then I told them how I wished I hadn’t walked away that morning after our fight, how I wished I had pushed past that woman I thought he had cheated on me with and had confronted Jason. If I had done that, none of this would have happened. We would have been together and happy, and Jason would have known his son. Maybe Jesse would even still be alive.
“Stop right there, Lore. You can’t put that on yourself. You can’t blame yourself for Jesse’s death. Believe me, it won’t get you anywhere,” Ivey had stopped me in a gentle but firm voice. Her eyes had been on me, soft but hard and reprimanding at the same time. “Believe me, Lore, I know all about survivor’s guilt and blaming yourself for your baby’s death. It took me a long time to figure out that life happens and there isn’t much we can do about it. We make our choices based on what we know, and you couldn’t have known that Jesse would die that day. You couldn’t have known that when you got in your dad’s truck that morning, that Jesse would not come out of that truck alive. You couldn’t have known, just like I couldn’t have known that my boyfriend would beat me half to death and kill my baby. Don’t put that on yourself, Lore, or you might not find your way out of it.” I had thrown myself into Ivey’s arms at her words, had started crying big and ugly tears as she held me and comforted me. Ivey had been through a lot. She’d had an abusive childhood in which her dad beat her and her mom for years, had escaped all that when she went to college, only to find herself entangled with another abusive man who beat her so bad that she lost her baby and had to stay in the hospital for almost a week. She hadn’t really recovered from any of that until she and Cal had gotten together and he had made her go to therapy. So she knew what she was talking about.
“You also couldn’t have known that Jason didn’t cheat on you. Honestly, if I had been in your place, I would have thought the same thing. And I would have run away, just like you. He says you should have known. Well, I say he should have come after you. He should have known that you wouldn’t leave him without looking back because of a fight you both say was stupid. You’re both to blame, but at the same time, it’s neither of your fault. Life happens and we can’t change the past. What we
can
do and
need
to do is face the past and overcome it.”
“Wow, Ivey. I think you’ve been hanging out with Betty too much,” Macy had mumbled through her own tears.
We had talked and cried and talked some more until Chris came back and Cal showed to drive Macy and his wife home in the early morning hours.
On Thursday, something else and very unexpected broke through my fog of emptiness and regret: Nathan was in town.
Nathan, Jason’s drummer and one of his closest friends, was in Cedar Creek. We had been good friends back then. He had been the band member I had bonded with and liked the most. The fact that he was here gave me hope. At least that meant that Jason was still in town and hadn’t fled back to L.A.
He gave me the biggest hug when he walked into the bar on Thursday night and came straight behind the counter when he saw me standing there.
“God, it’s so good to see you,” he murmured into my hair as he lifted me up and shook me back and forth jerkily. “I’ve missed you, beautiful.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked when he released me.
“I came here to help out my buddy and beg you to give him another chance. But now I’m here to shake some sense into that stubborn little shit.”
“So you know? He told you?”
His eyes grew sad and compassionate. “Yes, beautiful, I know. And I’m so very sorry for your loss.” My lips trembled a little but I didn’t cry.
“Thank you, Nathan,” I said in a shaky voice. The emotional turmoil of the last week was taking its toll on me.
“That stubborn son of a bitch,” he whispered darkly. “Come on, let’s talk.” He grabbed my hand and let me out from behind the bar and to a table in the corner where we could talk more or less privately.
“You know, he never deserved you. I’ve said it before and I stand by it. I haven’t given up the dream that you’ll someday run away with me,” he teased after we sat down and Chris had brought us each a beer.
I gave him a small but sad smile. I knew he was trying to cheer me up, but I couldn’t bring myself to let him.
Nathan sighed a heavy sigh, then started talking in earnest. “Jason is angry. And he’s got a right to be.” I tensed. Nathan kept laying it out. “He’s angry and he’s hurt, and we both know that he lashes out when he’s like that. But it’s always easier to blame other people for what happened, even though you know most of that anger is directed at yourself. It’s easier to lash out at someone else, because it saves you from having to look at your own mistakes. Jason has hated himself for years for not going after you, for letting you slip through his fingers, and he’s been a miserable fucker because of it. Now, he’s got even more reason to hate himself, for being a thick-headed asshole, because not only has it cost him you but his son. He won’t ever get that back and he blames himself for it. But it’s easier to blame someone else than to admit that you did it to yourself. Believe me when I say this, Loreley: he doesn’t blame you. He might say he does, but he doesn’t. Not really. And I’ll tell you what I’ve told him: if he doesn’t realize that soon and get his head out of his ass and talk to you, he won’t just have to look forward to a royal ass kicking by Cal and Chris. I’ll be right there to cheer them on and wait my turn.”
That had been yesterday.
Nathan and I had talked some more before Chris had joined us. He had stayed for most of the night and had given me another tight hug and a “Chin up, girl” with a kiss on the cheek when he left.
Now, another day had passed and still, Jason hadn’t called.
It was now Friday afternoon, day four of no contact, and I was getting restless and more and more anxious and resigned by the hour.
Maybe this was it.
Maybe there was no way he could ever forgive me.
Maybe he had gone back to L.A. and was done for good with me this time.
What Ivey and Nathan and Chris and everyone else had said to me in these past few days did penetrate to some degree, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t still blame myself.
The thought of never seeing him again, of never getting the chance to tell him about how great of a son Jesse had been and how much he had been like his dad in so many ways, made my breath hitch as a sharp pain pierced through my heart yet again.
This all reminded me of how I had failed to get in touch with Jason six years ago. But whereas then I had been hurt and disappointed and bitter, now all I felt was a terrible sadness and emptiness that I couldn’t seem to shake, that actually grew darker and emptier with every day I didn’t hear from him.
Jason
Jason was sitting on the back porch strumming his guitar as he stared out to where the sun was slowly setting over the mountains. Apart from going to the cemetery every day to visit his son’s grave, this was pretty much where he’d spent the past four days while he wallowed in self-pity and anger and confusion.
For the most part of those past four days, he had been too incensed to feel anything besides anger and loss. Or at least that’s what he told himself. Though deep down inside he knew almost as soon as he had walked away from her at the cemetery that he couldn’t really blame Loreley for anything that had happened. If he was honest with himself and put himself in her shoes, he couldn’t blame her for one fucking thing that had happened. Not even for throwing his son’s death in his face the way she had and completely gutting him. But in that moment, Jason hadn’t wanted to be honest with himself or look any deeper than his anger. Because if he had, he would have had to face everything they had lost. And just like Nathan had said to him over and over again, it was always easier to blame someone else than face reality and take responsibility for your own actions.
But Jason hadn’t been ready to listen to his friend’s words and outbursts and lectures and pleas. He had clung to his anger and wrapped it around himself like a blanket. This blanket of anger made it possible for him to ignore Loreley’s calls, Chris’ calls, and Cal’s calls without remorse.
Until he went to the cemetery again today and let go of the anger and finally cried.
Reading the inscription on Jesse’s headstone over and over again had brought him to his knees. Literally. He had kneeled at his son’s grave like Loreley had days before with tears streaming down his face as the reality of having lost his son without ever having met him crashed over him. He cursed at the unfairness of it all as he gave himself over to his grief. Slowly, his anger at Loreley for not telling him had faded away and made room for the truth that he had refused to see.
It wasn’t Loreley’s fault.
If anyone was to blame for anything, it was him, Jason, first for being a dick by saying things he didn’t mean and making her leave, then for being too proud to go after her and bringing her back.
Not only was it his own fault that he hadn’t known about his son, but he was also to blame for Loreley having lost Jesse without Jason being there with her. Without supporting her, without sharing the loss and the grief. Yes, she had her family and Chris to rely on and be there for her, but that wasn’t the same as being able to share the agony the loss of your child brings with the other parent, your partner. It was like Chris had said that night. If he had been there, Loreley might not have gotten so lost in her anguish that she almost killed herself.
The thought of a world without his Loreley was still something he couldn’t stomach.
So now it was time to man up and stop being an asshole.
He had to face her.
They had to talk about everything and see where they stood. Or more, Jason had to show Loreley how they would continue from here on out.
Which was together.
Neither of them functioned right without the other one in their life, so the only way this could go was for them to face life together as a unit.
With that decision made, the tightness he had carried in his heart for years slowly eased, and Jason felt like he could breathe free for the first time in a very long time. He felt peace and contentment when—without him even trying—the notes flew into his head and out through his fingers onto the guitar strings. He could hardly keep up with writing everything down as he created a new song. A song he was going to use to win his girl back. Music had always been the language they both understood best. It was how they had communicated their deepest feelings and darkest fears to each other. After watching Loreley sing at the bar the other night, he knew that that hadn’t changed. He had been mesmerized by her voice just like he had always been. It had pulled him in and let him feel exactly what she was feeling as she was singing her soul out on that stage. And when he had made her sing their song, he had definitely felt everything she wanted him to feel. Even though he hadn’t particularly liked what those feelings had been.