3. – Jaxon
Sleep evaded me.
Every night I closed my eyes, I saw all the ways I could fail.
Every morning Miya opened her eyes, I saw all the ways I had to win.
The larger her belly grew, the larger my fears became. The more I wanted my own mother. I realized what I needed to do. I had to close that door on her. She broke me, she created me, and she ruined me, but she was a part of me, and I had to rip her out of my soul, or I’d worry my entire life that I would become her. My child didn’t deserve that. No one did. And neither had I.
I had to let my past go. The horrors. The mistakes. The darkness dripping from my fingertips. How could I touch my child and leave a smudge of it on their smooth, unblemished flesh?
Miya watched me that morning. I wasn’t a good liar. I rarely did so anyway, so maybe that was why she was looking at me funny. She knew I was up to something. I gave her a tired grin at breakfast and sipped my coffee as she studied me over her mug of tea.
“Why do you look funny?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I always thought I looked handsome beyond belief. And here I am looking funny.”
She made a cute face, her lips curling up in disgust. “Beyond belief? Maybe I’ll make you some humble pie in class today. You can eat it in front of the mirror.”
My lips twitched, and my lie almost came out. “Naked?”
“Sure. Just don’t get any of it on your penis. I like how cocky he is.” Her eyes danced.
I laughed, shocked by her brashness. And turned on. My cock twitched at the idea of her loving him. It was hard to work oral into my sex life. I probably would always think twice about it. But at least I was willing to contemplate the prospect of her lips wrapped around my shaft.
Contemplation counted for something, right?
My monster gave me the finger.
She dropped the act. “What are you not telling me?”
I sighed; may as well get it out. “I’m going to find my mother today.”
She sat back, slightly stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t want you to come.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re pregnant. You’re mine. You’re my safe place. I don’t want her anywhere near my children,” I revealed, hating myself for admitting that out loud. It was one thing to think it to myself. Letting it out meant I had to do something. It meant I had to let her go. That hurt, so fucking much, I could hardly breathe. “I’m going to find her, and I’m going to tell my mother goodbye, once and for all.”
I pushed my chair back and loosened my tie. It was hard to breathe.
Her soft, blue eyes pierced my hard, black soul. “I want to be there.”
“No.” I wasn’t budging. “I have to do this on my own. I want to think of you here as you are now. Beautiful and sweet. Untainted. I need that to get through this.”
“Why are you doing this now?”
“Because I want to cut all ties to my past, so they don’t get tangled in our future. My child won’t feel how I felt growing up, Miya. They won’t know isolation, abandonment, abuse, and heartache. They won’t!” I growled, slamming my fist down. “Let me do this.” I got up and went around the table. I bent down to kiss her shocked lips. “I love you. I’ll see you when I get home from work?”
She nodded. “You’re strong.”
“Miya,” I warned.
“You’re brave.”
“Miya.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Miya.”
“You’re mine.”
I reached for the door handle.
“You are bigger than your pains!” she called out when I stepped outside. “You’re everything!”
I sank down in the front seat of my car and spent the majority of my morning tracking down my mother. I tried the warehouse where she slept, but she wasn’t there, and hadn’t been there for quite some time. I searched behind back alleys, put the word out there, and then did what I always did. I waited. Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. Pacing the lot where I was parked, and waited near Forest Park and the Northwest Industrial Area. The Willamette River was to my back, and the manufacturing companies were to my front. Green of nature clashed with the cold silver of metal. The sun dipped below the trees. My stomach was gnawingly empty. My heart was sick.
“Jaxon?”
My head shot up, and I saw a huddled figure coming out of the trees.
The moment I saw my mother, I instantly regretted the mere idea of cutting her out of my life. I needed her. Ached for her. She had to be here. Someway. Somehow. Her coat was tattered, the one I’d given her when she got out of the hospital. She shivered; the night was cold. But I thought she was shivering more because she hadn’t gotten high in a while.
I understood Mom’s addiction problems. Her problems had become mine. We were both empty. Only, I wanted to be full. She’d given up.
We looked alike. Same black hair, same dark eyes. She was skinny and frail, but she was also beautiful. I sighed looking at her. I wanted to hug her, but she’d never let me. She hated me.
“Hey,” I said gruffly.
She came to stand beside me, hugging herself as she gazed into the river.
“Want to go get something to eat?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.
She nodded. “New car,” she noted, after she’d gotten in.
Mom didn’t know about Miya. She didn’t know I had golden light in my palm. Pink petals in the other. A minivan and spit up in my future. I didn’t know how to tell her. Didn’t know how to live without her.
I turned the heater on and fixed her vents, aiming them at her. She shivered hard and moaned. My heart squeezed in my chest for her. “You need to get high?” I bent to catch her dark, tortured gaze.
She wouldn’t hold my eyes. Never had been able to. She gave me a second of contact before skirting her gaze away. “Too sick to work.”
She meant prostituting herself out for money, so she could buy heroine. My heart fucking killed. I wanted Miya, but Miya didn’t need to be here. Watching my darkest secret play out before me. We’d always be this. Enabler and enabled. I handed her my cell phone. “Call your hookup. Not the fucker who sold you the fucked up shit.”
Her dirty fingers scrambled for my cell. I ignored her movements and actions as I drove. My eyes were focused on the road. My heart was focused on her. As a boy, she was the only woman in my life. She hung the moon and ruined each and every one of my stars. Now she stabbed at my moon and took away my world. I was still there, though. Looking up at the sky waiting for one more star to sparkle in a starless sky.
I drove to the location she gave me and parked in the back alley. I peeled off a fifty-dollar bill and handed it to her. She took it softly, with her fingertips. I ignored the tears on her face as she ran in front of my car and exchanged the cash for a baggie. She got high in my car. She passed out a few minutes later. I drove. Drove us around for hours as she floated on a plain of clouds and breaks. When she woke up, it was a little after midnight.
She wasn’t shivering anymore, and she had enough dope to keep her off her back for a few more days. I hoped.
“Hungry?” I murmured, my tone flat.
“I’ll pay you back,” she said.
She always said that. She never did. I always said, “You’d better,” but I’d never take it. “Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
The only thing open was a diner down the street. “Go clean up,” I told her once we made it inside. I sank down at a booth and ordered coffee for us both. I took my cell out while I waited. Miya had called ten times and texted a million. I sent her a text off, and then put my phone back in my pocket.
Me: I love you.
When Mother came out, she was slightly more bright-eyed, and her face and hands were clean. She’d even buttoned all the buttons on her jacket.
“Mmm, coffee,” she moaned, bringing the black liquid to her lips and taking a long drink.
She stared at the table top.
Never looking me in my eyes.
She couldn’t face me. Didn’t like looking at me, because every single time she did, she saw the boy she let get hurt and abused. She saw her failures.
Well, that was just too fucking bad right now. She failed. I was the product of her addiction and neglect. But I had substance. I had to remember that. I was full of holes, but I could still stand. Riddled and empty. Smile maybe. Strangle my monster once and for all.
How long would we both let our mistakes ruin us?
I dug the prepaid credit card from my pocket and slit it over to her. She couldn’t use the card for drugs. She had to use it for other things. Unless she hawked the entire thing for heroin.
She took the card with her delicate fingers and put it in her pocket.
“There’s five-hundred dollars on that card.”
Her wide eyes shot to mine.
“We’re going to have dinner together right now. You’re going to take that card. Then I’m going to drop you off wherever you want me to. And then that’s it. We won’t have these meetings again.”
I was a monster.
I’d done atrocious things to beautiful things.
I’d even plucked the petals from Miya, my pink rose.
But nothing compared to the look in my mother’s eyes when I broke off our meetings. She hated me. I knew she did. Maybe she’d missed the money. But the look in her eyes didn’t appear disappointed. It looked shattered.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone wispy and brittle. “Jaxon? What does that mean?”
I stared into my mug. I hadn’t even bothered to put sugar and cream in it. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”
Her breathing increased. I heard her. I did not look up. “You don’t… want to see me? You always want to see me. You search, Jaxon, from sun up to sun down for me. What do you mean, you don’t want to see me?”
“I can’t do it anymore.”
“Why not? Are you leaving the state?” Her breathing got louder. “Are you leaving me all alone? I won’t last out there on my own.” She sobbed.
She was the reason I never left Portland. I stayed here because that’s where she was. Even when Miya left, I couldn’t bring myself to leave my mother here all by herself. The thought was too painful.
I did not look up. “I’m getting married.”
“What?” she gasped, and her sobbing increased.
She knew then, what was coming. I had to let her go so I could have a chance.
I did not look up. “I’m having a baby.”
Her sobs tore through her.
“I don’t want you around my child.”
She bawled.
“Around my wife. Around me.”
My monster ached for her. He wanted to wrap our arms around her and never let go. For her to forgive herself, for me to forgive her too. I wanted to bring her with me. I wanted her to be happy.
Her hands reached for me and settled on mine. Her dirty, brittle nails, chewed on and sore, held on to me. “I don’t want your money. If that’s what you think.”
“It’s not.” She took my money because I made her. It made me feel better to make sure she had it.
“You’re mine,” my mother whispered defiantly. “You’ve always been my Jaxon. Who thinks they can take you from me? Huh? What woman is better than me?”
I was glad I wasn’t a dominant anymore. If I were, some poor soul would suffer tonight. I had to swallow my lack of control and turn it into strength. “She isn’t taking me. She’s healing me.”
“I need you,” she admitted in a huff of despair. “I know that no matter how hard it gets, no matter how sad and alone I am, how high, how empty, no matter how much time passes, my son will always come back to me. I need that to keep going. How could you take that from me?”
I flinched. My fingers wrapped around hers. “My child needs two healthy, good parents, Mom.” I finally looked up, my tear-stained red eyes meeting hers. “I don’t want my baby to go through what I did.” I let my pain go, matching her heavy sobs. “To be forgotten, abused, and ruined. You’re still ruining me. Even now. And I’m so fucked up I don’t even care. Because I love you. I want you there for me. Right now. How can I raise a fucking kid? But you’re not there. You’re getting high and doing what you always do. Abandoning me.”
She held my hands tighter and looked down.
“Do you have any idea how much you fucked me up? The things I’ve done just trying to survive? I don’t want that for my kid. And I don’t want to blame you anymore either. I’m a man who is about to be a father and a husband, and I need to let everything that hurt me go. That means you.”
But even as I said it, I didn’t believe it.
She didn’t look up.
That was our way. Spill our guts when the other wasn’t looking.
“You’re really going to be a father?” she asked, instead of acknowledging anything I’d just said.
She looked up. Her red eyes were faintly sparkling with something else. It made me pause. I’d never seen that look in her eyes before.
“Yes.”
“A baby?”
“That’s usually how it works.” I pulled back, wiping a hand down my face.
“A boy?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“I hope it’s a boy. I hope he looks like you. And I hope he smiles like you used to as a baby. So big, it made a lot of things bearable to see you do it.”
Shit. My monster and I both agreed that that line of conversation wasn’t going to happen. “Stop.”
“How far along is she? You’re getting married? I didn’t think that would ever happen.”
I snorted miserably, wondering why she looked so freakishly alive all of a sudden. “She’s only three months along.”
“I remember being pregnant. I craved the strangest things.”
I glared at her. “Stop talking.”
“Coffee with ketchup.” She smiled, her crooked, damaged smile breaking my heart. It was the first time I’d seen her smile in decades.
“That sounds disgusting. Miya doesn’t crave anything really so far.” Just my cock. I didn’t think she’d want to hear that part, though.
“Miya,” she said, her smile growing. “What a pretty name. Is she pretty? I bet she’s pretty.”
I glowered at her, my lips pressing shut.
“Where will you get married? Will you wait for the baby?”
I didn’t respond.
“You should do it after the baby gets here, that way he or she can be in the wedding.” She gave me a crazed, breathless giggle, and then she started sobbing. “Don’t leave me, Jaxon.”
I didn’t move.
“Any names picked out?” She wiped at her snot.
I sat still.
“You should pick your name. I loved your name. It was strong, and masculine, and different. When you were born, you were my little Jaxon.”
I glared at her.
“Or something pretty if it’s a girl. Something soft and free. But nothing dumb, like a celebrity name. Apple,” she snorted, and I frowned. “Gwen’s a pretty name,” she hinted, like she hadn’t just suggested her own name to me.
My brow quirked at her and I crossed my arms over my chest, studying her.
“Would you like to order?” the waitress asked, setting down menus.
“No,” I said.
“Yes.” Mom took a menu and looked it over.
The waitress backed away from this freak show.
“I can help you,” I spoke up. “I’m an addiction counselor. Have been for a while. I’m still a psychiatrist. I know your mind. I know my own. I can help you, Mom. And maybe if I do, my kid will get a grandmother.”
“A grandmother…?” Her eyes bled tears at the same time that weird shining that existed in them increased.
Thankfully, the waitress arrived to take our orders.
“I’m not really hungry,” Mom said.
The waitress frowned.
I grabbed Mom’s menu from her and piled it on top of mine to hand off to her. “We’ll both have cheeseburgers and fries, please.”
She nodded, quickly taking off.
“We’re scaring the waitress.”
“She should be scared,” she muttered, staring back down at the table. “Don’t leave me.”
I didn’t respond for the rest of the meal. She ate switching between, “Don’t leave me,” and discussing baby names and diaper techniques. Even if I wanted to respond, I wasn’t sure how I would. Part of her was begging, the other part of her was planning. But in reality, she was blocking out the part where our relationship was over. Everything in me hurt. Even my monster was huddled in the corner rocking in denial. These meetings with my mother were hard on me, hard on her—but like an addict, I understood this pain for what it was; the only relationship I’d ever have with my mother. How could I not take it? Since I was a young-adult I’ve tracked her down, refused to let her push me away, and now it was all over.
At two in the morning, I rose from the table.
She looked up, setting her mug down. She started to get up, too.
“No,” I said forcefully. “My offer stands. You want to get help, I’m here. If you don’t, then this is goodbye. I need to say goodbye to you,” I hissed, leaning down so only she could hear me. I threw a few bills on the table and stepped back.
All I wanted was my Miya.
She blinked at me. I knew how hard it was to imagine being sober with the drug in your veins. She had dope, money, and food; as far as she was concerned there was nothing to change. But she didn’t have me—that’s the part I hoped changed her mind.
“Raise them right,” she whispered, looking down.
My fucking heart exploded. I could physically feel it breaking. I clutched at my chest, a little boy all over again, begging his mother to see him. To save him. I didn’t know why I was so upset. She’d chosen drugs and alcohol over me my entire life. I was a thirty-three-year-old man.
The little boy who’d been held down and abused, who’d been forgotten and hurt, was my monster. It wasn’t some dark entity inside me that formed over the years. My monster was the little boy who’d had no choice but to become one to survive.
I had to let him go too.
Let the little boy in me free. Swallow his hurts and let them go.
Out of everything, that had to hurt the most. I wanted to protect that little boy, but the time to do so had gone, and now that little boy was hurting the man I had to become.
I walked away from my mother once and for all.
I drove home to my Miya.
The prospect of seeing her soothed my shattered soul.