“Ms. Bennett, is everything okay?” I see his eyes go to the holdall on my shoulder.
“Could you give these to Jake when he gets back, please?” I hold out the keys.
His eyes flicker to them, then back to my face. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep hold of them?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I won’t be needing them anymore.”
Reluctantly, he takes them from me.
I start to walk toward the gates, when he says, “If you need driven somewhere, Parker can take you wherever you want to go.” He thumbs back to Parker, the other security guard, who is standing by the door, watching our interaction.
“No, it’s okay. Thanks. I’ve got a cab coming.” It’s at that moment the cab rolls up.
“Bye, Jackson. Bye, Parker.” I give a small wave.
Jackson gives me a sad smile as Parker opens the gates, letting me out.
Without a backward glance, I climb into the cab, settling my bags beside me.
“Where to?” the driver asks.
“LAX, please.”
JAKE…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I’m pregnant.”
Tru’s pregnant. With my baby.
But she’s on the pill. How can she be pregnant?
Jesus fucking Christ. She’s pregnant. With my baby.
I can’t be a dad. I’m not dad material.
I get a smoke out of the pack and realise my hands are shaking.
I clench my hands into fists, trying to ease the tremors. I put a cigarette between my lips, light it, and take a long, slow drag.
Lowering the window, I blow the smoke out into the night, and stare out at LA.
The last time I was parked here, I was seeing to Tru on the hood of my car, and now I’m here after finding out I’m going to be a dad.
Fuck.
I know without a doubt that Tru will want the baby. An abortion won’t be an option for her.
Now I feel like the worst kind of bastard for even thinking it. Thinking of getting rid of a part of myself and Tru.
But what the fuck do I know about being a dad? Nothing. I know absolutely nothing. I didn’t exactly have the best teacher growing up. I may have had Dale for the last part, and sure, he’s a good guy, but the damage was done by that point. I was well beyond repair by the time Paul was gone.
He fucked me up. And I can’t screw a kid up like he did me. Not my own flesh and blood. I’d never forgive myself.
Taking another drag, I rest my elbows on the wheel and put my head in my hands.
“You’re a fuckin’ waste of space, Jake…Can’t you ever get anything right?…Take after your mother, you do, fuckin’ useless…I wish you’d never been born, I never wanted saddling with a kid—especially not a whiney little shit like you…You’ll never amount to anything…What the fuck are you crying for? If you don’t stop crying, boy, I’ll give you a fuckin’ reason to cry…”
I bang my palms against my forehead, trying to get the sound of his goddamn voice out of my head.
He’s dead, and he’s still here, fucking with me. Still taunting me.
I need to drown the dead motherfucker out.
I turn the music on, quickly search through to Linkin Park, and press Play on “Numb.” I crank it up loud, until the song bleeds through every sense.
I always listen to this song when I need to clear my mind. My drug counsellor said to find something to focus on when I feel like everything is slipping away from me. Music is my life, aside from Tru, so I took to this song.
I know this might seem an odd song to calm me, but it works. “Numb” is my comedown song.
I can feel my anger and frustrations already beginning to ebb.
Numb is exactly how I need to feel right now. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel. Because if I do, I’ll be turning this car around and heading in the wrong direction, straight to a dealer.
Resting back in my seat, I take another long pull on my smoke, flicking the ash out the window.
I’m going to be a dad.
I don’t know how to be a dad. I want to be…for Tru. I want to be everything right for her. But I don’t know if I can. I’ll fuck it up. I fuck everything up.
The thought of screwing up something as important as having a kid terrifies me beyond words.
I can’t be him. I can’t be Paul. And I have been, for a very long time.
I would never raise my hand to a woman or a child. Never. But what if we had a kid and something just snapped inside of me and changed me into the bastard he was? It doesn’t take just fists to hurt and break a kid. Words do some serious fucking damage too.
I know that all too well.
And I’m like him in so many ways. Too many ways. What’s to say that I won’t morph into the full shithole of a package that was Paul Wethers once my kid is born?
I might be successful professionally, but behind that façade, I’m a whole lot of fucked up and broken. Tru is the glue that holds me together, and look what I just did to her. She is my whole world. She told me she was pregnant and I just walked away from her. I left her all alone.
What type of man does that? A fucking coward, that’s what.
God, when she told me she was pregnant, she sounded so scared. I could hear it in her voice. Almost like she knew what I’d do. That I’d run away. That I’d fuck up.
Didn’t I do that so very fucking spectacularly?
It’s no excuse, but I panicked. When she said she was pregnant, it was like a fuse went in my head and I couldn’t think straight. For the whole ride home, I felt robotic.
I couldn’t think or focus on anything.
It was just…Drive the car, Jake.
Get home, Jake.
I couldn’t get any farther than that. When she got out of the car, I knew she was angry and hurting, but I was frozen to my seat.
I was telling myself to get out of the car, to follow her, to talk to her, but I literally couldn’t make my body move.
The next thing I knew, the car was in reverse, and I was spinning it around, driving out of there.
I was just so fucking terrified. I’m still terrified.
Tru is carrying my baby inside of her, and I left them both behind.
I walked away.
I am him.
I’m the legacy he left behind. He got exactly what he wanted. He wanted me just as screwed up—no, more screwed up—than he was.
Well, cheers, Dad. You did a top-notch fucking job.
Taking one last drag of my smoke, I flick my cigarette butt out the window.
I’ll never be good enough for Tru or the baby. But I want to be.