The Storm

So, I swallowed my pride and left with Bob, promising that we’d return at seven thirty to have dinner with Storm and Tiffany.

The drive back to Bob’s house is quiet.

I know Bob must be feeling as disappointed as I am about not getting any time with Storm.

But it’s not just that.

It was seeing the kid himself for the first time—how much he is like Jonny and not just in looks but also personality, the spit and fire in him. That is Jonny.

I know Storm isn’t Jonny. But in that moment…it was like Jonny was back here, standing in that living room with us.

I hear Bob exhale, pulling my eyes to him. He’s staring out the car window.

“Standing in that living room with Storm…I felt like I’d been thrown back twenty years, and Jonny was right there in front of me.” Bob’s voice is uneven.

Thinking about how hard this is for me, I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for Bob. If I’d lost JJ, Billy, or Belle…I can’t even consider it. It would destroy me. I’d never recover.

“He’s Jonny,” I softly say the words.

Bob’s eyes come to mine. He looks tired, weary. It makes me worry.

“Yeah,” he exhales. “But that’s just it, Jake. He’s not Jonny. No matter how much he looks like Jonny, sounds like him…how much we might miss Jonny and want him back, Storm isn’t him. He’s his own person…a kid who’s about to lose his mother. And he’s just found out that his father is also dead. We need to push our own feelings aside in this. We need to think about him and what’s best for him.”

“And what do you think is best for him? Because I think being with his family is what will be best for him.”

Regret fills his eyes, and he looks away from me, his hands gripping his knees. “You know, I always felt like I’d missed the mark with Jonny.”

I reach over and put my hand on Bob’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, before letting go. “You were a great dad, Bob. Trust me, I know bad ones, and you most definitely weren’t a bad dad.”

“Yeah, I did everything right. I went to all his school plays, watched his gigs, supported him. But there was always something missing, something inside of him that I could never reach, something angry and unfulfilled. I should have done more to stop the drugs…with all of you.”

His eyes come back to me.

“There was nothing you could have done. We all had to find our own way. Jonny’s death was not your fault,” I tell him.

His eyes glaze with tears, and it hurts me to see him in pain.

“It was my fault because I’m his dad. And it was my job to protect him…protect him from the world and himself. I failed at that. I don’t want to fail again with Storm. He needs me now. He’ll need me more when Tiffany dies. He’s going to need me. I’m his family.”

“We are his family.”

Gratitude fills his eyes. “I’m man enough to admit that taking care of him, without Lyn here, terrifies me, Jake. I don’t want to fail that boy. I can’t fail him.”

I shift in my seat, turning to him. “You won’t fail him because you’re not doing this alone. I wanted to wait and see exactly what it is that Tiffany wants from us for Storm before speaking to you about this. I don’t know if she has a plan in her mind for his care when she’s gone. But as far as I’m concerned, whatever she does have in mind, if it doesn’t involve us, then we’ll change that.

“I spoke to Tru before I left to come here, and she agrees with me. I’m hoping that you will, too. We want you and Storm to come to LA and live with us. You could either move into the house with us, or Stuart’s old place on our property is empty. But we want you close by. We want Storm with us. And it’d ease the burden of you raising him alone.”

I prepare myself for Bob to reject my offer. I know I’m asking for a lot. I’m asking for him to leave his home, his city. And Bob is a proud man. I’m just hoping that, with age, he’s gotten realistic.

He glances away. For a few long seconds, he looks out the window at New York moving past us. Then, his eyes come back to me. “A change of scenery might be just what Storm and I both need.”

A smile pushes up my lips, and I sit back in my seat. “We’ve just got to convince Tiffany now.”

Bob huffs out a short laugh. “I don’t think Tiffany is going to be the one we’ll have to convince.”

That, I have to agree on.

Storm might not be Jonny, but from what I saw earlier, he has his father’s stubbornness. And one thing with Jonny was, once he’d set his mind on something, there was no changing it.

I just hope I can get Storm to my way of thinking.

If I’ve learned anything from my kids, it’s that, if I want to get them to do something, I have to make them think it was their idea in the first place.

I just need to figure out how to do that with Storm.

When we get to Bob’s house, I head straight upstairs to call Tru. Dave and I are staying at Bob’s tonight, at his insistence, rather than checking in at a hotel.

Lyn and Bob never moved, so this is the house Jonny grew up in. I remember Jonny offering to buy them a bigger place after the money started rolling in when our band hit the big time, but they turned him down.

Even now, Bob is a wealthy man from what Jonny left them, but he doesn’t mirror his riches with how he lives.

I guess the money is something Bob will need to take into consideration, now that Jonny has an heir. I’ll talk with him about that later.

Right now, I just want to talk to my wife and kids.

As I step into Jonny’s old room, a hundred memories wash over me.

The room hasn’t changed. It’s still a shrine to Jonny’s memory.

The posters of naked chicks and bands are on the walls. Jonny’s old music sheets and his first ever guitar, his Fender Stratocaster, are propped up on a guitar stand. A mini guitar amp and guitar pedal are sitting on the floor next to it.

Even after all these years, I can still smell my youth in here with the lingering cigarette smoke and stench of grungy teenage boys who didn’t realize that showering regularly would be a good start to getting girls.

It brings a sad smile to my lips.

I drop my bag on the floor and sit on the edge of the bed.

I stare over at a framed picture on the desk of Jonny, Tom, Denny, and me. It was taken right before we did our official first gig as The Mighty Storm. I remember shitting myself that night. Jonny was calm as fuck, like he just knew he was born to be up onstage.

Sucking in a breath, I shut my eyes.

“Why did you have to fucking die?” I breathe the words out. Opening my eyes, I focus in on him in the picture. “You should be here, Jon. You should be here with your kid.”

Rubbing my eyes dry, I get my cell from my pocket and FaceTime Tru’s cell. I need to see my family’s beautiful faces as well as hear their voices right now.

“Hey, baby,” she answers.

The sight of Tru’s face and the sound of her soothing voice ease me.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m better now,” I tell her with a smile.

She smiles back, lighting up her face. “How did it go with Storm?”

I let out a breath, my fingers rubbing my forehead. “Not great. He didn’t want to talk to us. He stormed off to his bedroom. Tiffany suggested we go back later for dinner after she’s had time to talk to him.”

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