Jaymes

Five minutes over on my lunch the other day and I’m stuck doing an extra hour in penance. I’m well aware that David does this on purpose to ensure I’ll be alone. It’s the only way I’ll voluntarily spend time with him—forced atonement.

Leah did me another favor and picked Ace up since my mom is working until six. I owe her a mountain of favors in return. Another debt I’ll never be able to pay off. At least my mom feeds her. She loves that, and Ace.

David saunters in after the last employee has left. I smell the bourbon before he even gets near the desk. I keep my headset on as a deterrent. I’m a great actress when I need to be. My mom says I missed my calling, but really it wasn’t the big screen calling. It was the stage. That call just never came through like I once dreamed it would.

With papers shaking in the air, he says, “Jamie, I need you to—”

With my hand pressed to my headset, I hold my finger up, and mouth, “Hold on.”

Looking impatient, he waits, standing closer to me than I like. He won’t dare interrupt a potential customer or sale though, so I know I’m good for a minute or so, hoping he gets bored and goes back to his office. The problem is, ever since his divorce last year he spends a lot more time hanging around here, and especially around me. Beyond the inappropriate proposals, he has asked me out more than a dozen times, offered to make my life easier, and to, and I quote “help take care of that kid of yours. He needs a father in his life.” After swallowing down the bile that filled my mouth after that offer, I politely told him to fuck off. Though my exact words escape me, they were more along the lines of me wanting to do this on my own.

What a lie.

This was never how I planned to live my life. Having a kid out of wedlock wasn’t a big deal. Not in this day and age, or any other. I can defend my decision if need be. What I can’t defend are the actions of Ace’s father.

David leaves in a huff and I stop jabbering like someone is actually at the other end of this fake call.

By seven, I’m out the door and driving to my mom’s house. I park out front and am welcomed with open arms from Ace. “Hey, you,” I say, cupping his face and smiling. “How’s it going?”

“Missed you, Mommy.”

Bringing him to me, I hold his small body in my arms, close my eyes, and breathe easier now that I’m here. “Missed you too, buddy.” I stand and take his hand, walking to the house. “Did you eat all your dinner?”

“Yes, Grandma said I did good and made me brownies.”

My smile grows. “She’s the best like that.”

Leah is on the front porch, waiting. “We need to talk.” If she said that to me without the big smile on her face, I would have been worried.

“Now or in a few?”

“It can wait, but not long.”

Laughing from her mysterious, but excited secret holding reaction, I ask, “Do I need wine for this?”

“Most definitely.”

We go inside just as my mom calls from the kitchen, “Brownies are ready.”

“Hey, Mom. I’m here.”

Her head pops around the corner, and a smile that has seen more than its fair share of tragedy to dampen it, still shines bright for Ace and me. “Jamie, you’re here. I saved you a plate. You hungry?”

“Always for your cooking.”

When we enter the kitchen she’s pouring three glasses of white wine from the box spout. Not the expensive stuff, but it gets the job done and I can’t complain. I also like the taste. “Did Leah already tell you?”

“No, but she’s bursting at the seams. What happened?”

“C’mon, you. The grown-ups are going to talk.” My mom ushers Ace out and sets him up in the living room with a cartoon, a brownie, and a glass of milk. She returns and picks up her cup and takes a sip. A plate of food is set down at the table and we sit around it. “I had lunch with an old friend today.”

“Oh? That’s nice. Who was it?” I take my first bite of broccoli.

“Diane Masters.”

I start to choke, coughing furiously until the food dislodges from my throat.

Before I can react with more than the wide eyes and a sore throat, Leah says, “Derrick came by to pick her up.”

Derrick.

Derrick Masters.

How can she say his name so casually? His name rolls off her tongue in a way that reminds me of many nights confiding in her through tears and wine and support. My heart even now, fracturing inside.

The fork slips from my hand and clatters off the side of the plate. I watch the metal as it bounces across the table. I shake my head as the name Masters makes my heart start aching. My mom picks up the fork and hands it to me. Softly, she asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I um.” Two sips of wine and then a big gulp to empty the glass follows.

Leah takes my empty glass and stands. “Let me get you another.”

“No, it’s okay. I have to drive home, and I have studying to do.” This time I stand, push back from the table, hoping my legs will hold me. The metal feet of the chair grind against the linoleum. Somehow the screech of the chair feels like the noise of hearing his name. Later I’ll try to get my head around the fact that my mom had lunch with Diane. Much later.

“I’ll get Ace.”

My mom grabs the plate. “I’ll wrap this up for you.” I hear the nervous tone. “You can eat later.”

“Mom.” I reach for her before she turns her back. “I’m fine. I am.”

“You don’t seem it.”

“I.” Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I close my eyes. I’m about to speak, but I’m struggling to share my real feelings. Or rather, I’m terrified to share my real feelings. “I think I’m just tired.”

My mom carries on and grabs the foil to cover the plate, but Leah is living the high life on this whole mess. “He sure is cute. I can’t believe you once date—”

“Leah!” My mom and I stop her from going further in unison.

Her mouth closes quickly. I shake my head. “No, please not tonight.”

“Okay,” she replies gently. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. Just . . . I’ll tell you everything soon. Just not tonight. Ace? Come on. We need to get home.”

Ace runs into the kitchen with chocolate all over his face. “Did any make it to your belly?” I tease, reaching for the wet wipes.

“I want another.”

“I’m sure you do, but that’s enough for tonight.” When I stand my mother hands me two plates. My dinner on one. Brownies on the other. I kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I know you have to study, but I don’t want you up all night. I see the dark circles under your eyes. You’re not getting enough sleep.”

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“You’re doing a great job. Just be kind to yourself too. You’re everything to everyone else, Jamie. Be good to you every once in a while.”

We walk out the front door and I’m about to walk down the steps, but I stop and turn back. “I’ll try.” Her brown hair is pulled back with a few strands flying free. The lines she earned worrying about me, but maybe they were destined to be there from living. I like to think I contributed more to the lines that create her smile. If you were to ask her, I did. She’s always been there for me, even when I had no one else. Hugging my mom, I whisper, “How did he look?”

Her arms wrap around me and I feel enveloped by her love. I needed this hug. “Disappointed.”

My smile comes easy. “Thank you.”

“I’m only speaking the truth.”

I step back and turn to hug Leah. “Thank you for picking Ace up and bringing him over here.”

“No problem. You know I love hanging out with him. And your mom.”

“She loves it too.” I look between the two of them and point my finger. “You two are trouble together.”

Wiggling her hips with her hands on them, my mom replies, “I think I’m due a little trouble.”

“Oh, good grief. Ace and I are leaving before you get any sassier. Love you both. Thanks again.”

We load in and I turn back and look at my son as he buckles into his car seat. “All ready to go?”

“Yep.”

Ace tells me every detail of his day, including who got yellows and notes sent home to their parents in their folders, and who got an extra turn to read from the book during their story time. I got a whole earful about Francisco stealing grapes from the cafeteria line and getting caught. I gave my usual response of knowing what’s right and wrong and stealing is wrong. It’s a hard lesson to teach in an environment that encourages it. The other kids in the apartment complex where we live have already approached Ace several times. His father’s reputation protects him, but for how long? They’re scared of what might happen now, but shortly those kids will be turning eleven, twelve, and thirteen and recruited by gangs sooner than they know. The cycle will repeat itself, as it so often does.

Six months. That’s all I need until I’ll have the tools to move us out of here to somewhere safe, somewhere my child won’t be the target of rival hate. I’ll get him out, just like Derrick got out.

It’s possible.

Derrick.

I go through the motions of getting Ace to bed and spreading my books across the coffee table, preparing for another long night. I have a test tomorrow and I’m behind two chapters. I start the coffeepot, but don’t worry with heating my dinner. It’s good cold. So I eat, and read, take notes, but my mind still wanders back to what my mother said.

Disappointed.

Derrick Masters looked disappointed.

Of all the things she could have said about him, I hadn’t expected that. Who would?

What could he possibly be disappointed about? He has everything he ever dreamed of. Everything he ever wanted. Easy Street came so easy to him, practically dragging him away from me without a second glance.

Seeing him this many years later and the only word my mom chose to describe him with is disappointed.

Fascinating.

I click over and open a new search tab on my clunker of a laptop. It’s slow. I think dial up back in the day was faster. But as soon as it pops open, I type in Derrick Masters. I pause before pressing enter though. It’s not like I’ve not searched him before. My browser history would be the first to bust me. This time is different though. This time I’m trying to figure out why he looked disappointed. Is it because I wasn’t there? That’s a flattering thought, but I hardly think after all this time, he’d be disappointed not to see me. Relieved was probably more like it when it comes to me.

My mom has great intuition though, so what if he was disappointed he didn’t see me? Or worse? What if he saw Ace? Oh God. Disappointment wouldn’t be the only thought he’d have. I quickly press enter and watch my screen suddenly fill like lightning struck it. “Oh now, you’re in a hurry.” I roll my eyes. Even my computer is a traitor when it comes to Derrick.

Scanning the news page, I read that The Resistance just wrapped the East Coast leg of The Rebellion World Tour. Livin’ the life. I smile. Even my residual anger and pain can’t keep a little pride from seeping in. He did what he set out to do. I click on the top article.

The band arrived back in Burbank on their private plane to a crowd of cheering fans . . . Johnny . . . Dex . . . band manager . . . I scan farther down the page until I see Derrick’s name. Derrick Masters, the band’s lead guitarist didn’t have a comment at this time. His head is down in the photo next to the text, and I find my fingertips tracing along his jaw and my heart beating for him, just like years ago. “Oh Derrick. What has become of you?”

That’s when I see it. The truth is found in a video.

I click the video of the reporter hounding him as he cuts through the crowd of paparazzi. “We’ve been hitting the road pretty hard. It was great to be out there, but I’m happy to be home for a while. I think I’ll sleep for the next week.”

My mom had it all wrong. He wasn’t disappointed.

He was exhausted.

A lot like me these days.

Just for very different reasons.

Unlike me, he still looks damn good. Square jaw that I used to caress. Broad shoulders that have widened with age. He looks taller, if that’s possible. Darker hair than I remember. Familiar in so many ways and foreign in others.

Damn him.

Damn me and this stupid lovesick heart. And there it is. The splintering in my heart. I close the window. That’s enough of that for one night. Because when it comes down to it, it doesn’t matter if he’s tired or disappointed. It’s only momentary. He’s not mine to worry about. My heart doesn’t matter.

Hopefully, these feelings will subside one day. All I need to worry about is asleep in the back bedroom. I don’t need anyone else or anything. All I need is my son. We’ll get by just like we have the last five years. Just the two of us.

“We’ve been hitting the road pretty hard. It was great to be out there, but I’m happy to be home for a while.”

Lucky him. Home for him is respite, rest, and parties, whereas home for me is constant responsibility, studying, and fatigue.

You have all you need, Jamie.

You have all you need.