Blazed (38 page)

“Jaime, my god,” she says. “That sounds awful.”

“It gets worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“That black eye I had when I got here?”

“What about it?”

Taking a deep breath, then slowly exhaling, I go, “My mother . . .”

Pause.

“Hey,” she goes.

“My mother's the one who gave it to me.”

“Oh my god.”

“It wasn't her fault. She was so drunk. She doesn't even remember it. But the next day, after it happened, I think she started to remember a little bit about the night before, and she didn't accidentally overdose. . . .”

My voice fades.

And Dominique goes, “What happened?”

“She tried to kill herself. It crushed her. What she'd done to me, her boy. And she wrote a note and everything. When I got home from school and found her, I threw away the note before the paramedics came, because I knew they'd put her away for a lot longer and I was scared. She's all I've known my whole life. I didn't know I had a father who actually wanted me in his life. And I didn't know there were kids
out there who would be nice to me and kind to me and want to talk to me. All's I knew was hurt, pain, ridicule, and my mother. My best friend. Who taught me how to stick up for myself and not give a shit about what anyone else thought of me. How to be tough as nails and how to keep my head. But she wasn't tough. She was just hiding her weakness with booze and pills. God . . . ,” I say. “I'm so sorry I did that. Of all the things I know how not to be, it's that, and I was and I can't take it back and that hurts the most. How I hurt you and lied to you.”

“Jesus, Jaime. I had no idea. God, you can't go back to that. You have to stay here.”

“I can't do that, Dominique. She'll die if she doesn't have me.”

“You don't know that. She's sober now. You've never known her sober. Maybe she'll be able to handle life by herself without leaning on you all the time.”

“I don't know.”

“Jaime, you can't.”

“It wouldn't be fair to her, though. To just abandon her right after she's gotten better and clean.”

“When has she been fair to you?”

“It's different.”

“No. It isn't. You deserve to be happy. You deserve your father, your friends, and me. Stay here. Be with me. I'll help you stay clean. I love you. Please, think about it at least.”

“Dominique,” I whisper.

“What?”

“I can't do it. I love you, too, but I can't abandon the woman who took care of me for fourteen years and just leave her all alone. I know what it's like to be alone. It's miserable and it hurts. It makes you hate, and it makes you angry at everything, and I can't do that to her. She's never alone when she has me.”

“But you're alone when you have her.”

“She deserves to have someone there, and it needs to be me. I'm her world, Dominique. I owe it to her.”

Dominique doesn't say anything.

“I'm sorry,” I say.

“There's nothing to be sorry about. You're an amazing person, Jaime. How can anyone be mad at you when you're doing the right thing?”

“And that's what sucks.”

“Because it's not the right thing for you.”

SINCE IT'S MY LAST DAY
in san francisco and I don't know when I'll be back or if I'll ever be back, my father makes reservations at the Cliff House, this massive and gorgeous restaurant that sits right above the Pacific Ocean.

It's the prettiest place I've ever eaten. We are seated in the Terrace Room. From the window next to our table, we can see the Sutro Bath ruins and Seal Rocks and the entry to Golden Gate Bridge. It's fucking incredible. God, I'm gonna miss this place so much.

I sit next to Kristen, and my father and Leslie sit across from us.

After my father orders crab cakes and calamari for appetizers, Kristen and him excuse themselves. Say they're going to the bathroom.

“Leslie,” I say. “I wanna apologize for the other day. I was so rude to you.”

“Jaime,” she says. “No. You didn't know certain things. Of course you came at me like that after I came at you. I thought your father had said more to you than he had.”

“Still,” I go. “It was rude.”

“Under any other circumstances, maybe. But where
you were coming from was a place of frustration. I get it. And you were right. All that needed to happen was for your father to talk to you.”

“I'm so glad he did.”

“He's going to miss you terribly. He loves you so much, and he's so proud of you. He admires you. Gloats about you. And he's crushed you're leaving, but he understands why you're going back and staying.”

“I know he's going to miss me, Leslie. My mother, she's a train wreck. We all know that. But my father was trying to buy cocaine off of Kristen's ex just a night after that piece of shit almost destroyed her in a super serious way. That was fucked up, Leslie. My mother would've never done something like that. Never.”

Leslie looks away from me and lowers her head.

“Don't try to pretend that things aren't messed up here, because they are. That was a terrible thing he was doing.”

“It was, Jaime. And he knows that. He's promised me and Kristen that he's going to make changes.”

“And you trust him when he says that?”

“Yes, Jaime. I do. I think Kristen does too. Your father has made some awful choices before, and he's always come through and learned from those mistakes. He's got a track record of keeping his word.”

“I hope so, because that was as messed up as it gets.”

“Kristen punched him later that night.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And I made him sleep in the other guest room.”

“Wow.”

“Nobody's perfect. There has been a lot of dysfunction in our house over the years, but we stick together. Always. We stay strong, Jaime. What your father did is unforgiveable, but we're going to move on and Kristen and I trust that he'll not do anything like that again.”

“That's cool,” I say. “I respect that a lot.”

Pause.

“What a wild, strange week.”

“Right,” she says. “Seeing you and your father in handcuffs crying, but not crying about being in handcuffs, was the most maddening, hilarious, odd thing I've ever seen.”

“It was the perfect way to actually have a real conversation. No one was going anywhere. We both had to listen. Like, really listen, and people don't do that a whole lot anymore.”

Leslie just stares at me, shaking her head. “You are so mature for your age. It's really impressive, Jaime.”

“I've had to be. I've taken care of everything back home for so long. You learn so much about people and life when you actually have to face it and answer it. When there's real consequences to almost every action you take or everything you say.”

“Yes, there is.”

“I really hope I'm making the right decision.”

“We all do,” she says. “And we'll always be here for you. Okay? Always, Jaime.”

“Thank you,” I say, as my father and Kristen are coming back to the table with presents in their arms.

“What is this?”

“You won't be here for your birthday,” my father says. “So we're doing your birthday today.”

Burying my face in my hands because this is too nice, this is too good, I go, “Don't do this, guys.”

“Why not?” asks Kristen.

“I want you to be mean to me or something. I can't have all of this.”

“Come on, Jaime,” my father says. “Just enjoy it. This is for us, too.”

“How so?”

“This is the first time I get to see my son open presents. I've wanted to see this for fourteen years,” my father says.

Nodding, I say, “Thank you. I'm just not used to this much attention.”

“Open mine first,” says Kristen.

She hands me a medium-size box. She looks really excited for me to unwrap it.

My father and Leslie bust their cameras out as I open the gift.

It's records. Five of them:

1. 
Crystal Castles
by Crystal Castles

2. 
A Child But in Life Yet a Doctor in Love
by Magic Bullets

3. 
Yellow House
by Grizzly Bear

4. 
Goodbye Bread
by Ty Segall

5. The Jay Reatard/Deerhunter split seven-inch single where Jay Reatard covers the brilliant Deerhunter song “Fluorescent Grey,” which is also the title track of the EP they released in 2007 and I heard for the first time two years ago. And then Deerhunter covers the infamous Jay Reatard song “Oh, It's Such a Shame,” which I first heard around the same time.

Looking back up at Kristen, I go, “This is amazing. I don't have any of these on vinyl, and this one”—I hold up the Deerhunter/Jay Reatard split—“I don't know where you got it, but I've had zero luck finding it.”

“It's from my own personal stash,” she says, winking. “I ordered it from Matador Records three, four years ago, and I know how much you love Deerhunter and I know it's rare.”

“I can't take this,” I go. “It's yours.”

“It's not even up for discussion. You take it and you play the crap out of it. I love Deerhunter and Jay Reatard but you, you really love them. It's totally something you should own. Case closed.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Take good care of it.”

“You know I will. This is so cool.”

“Open the rest,” she goes.

The second gift is a pair of these ill white Van's slip-ons with black trim, from Leslie.

The third present is a brand-new Crush Pro Orange amp. It's from my father. I look over at him and go, “This is the only amp I've ever dreamed about having. How did you know?”

“I might've talked to your buddy Eddie last night. He might've said something about you saying how badly you've always wanted one.”

“Man,” I say. “I'd say I'm speechless, but that would be annoying cos you're not speechless if you say that out loud, and I've always hated it when people say that.”

All of them laugh and I go, “I'm so grateful for what I've had here this week. It's amazing.”

“And this is the last gift,” my father goes, handing me an envelope.

I open it and there are five one-hundred-dollar bills in it. Under the last bill, this makes me kinda lose it. But in the best way ever.

Under that last bill are five tickets to a Rolling Stones concert in Chicago in August.

“No fucking way,” I rip. “No way. The Stones? Really?”

“Yes,” my father goes.

“Five tickets?”

And Kristen says, “The fifth ticket is for Dominique. I texted her this morning to see if things between you two were smoothed out and if she still wanted to go.”

“Still . . . ?” I say.

“I had Kristen ask her on Wednesday,” my father goes.

“You guys are amazing.”

“So are you, son. We all hope this is the start of a real relationship with us now.”

“I'm just so blown away by how great everything has been. I love it here.”

“Good, Jaime,” my father says. “That's really good to hear.”

I'm about to start crying, so I excuse myself from the table to use the restroom.

While I splash cold water on my face, everything becomes so clear to me. So obvious. This is my fucking life.

My Life.

And I'm staying here.

I am.

I'm staying here, and I refuse to feel bad or guilty about it. Not anymore. No more guilt about being happy without my mother around.

My mother, she's an adult. She should be able to take care of herself. And she's clean now. And she's had a wake-up call, and she's the one who tried to kill herself and ended up forcing me onto my father anyway. Forcing me to be in San Francisco.

She did this.

Not me.

Her.

And my heart knows that it belongs here. In San
Francisco. Rushing back to the table after I dry my face off, I go, “I've got something to tell you all.”

“What's up?” my father asks.

I look at Kristen.

I look at Leslie.

Then I look at my father.

“What is it?” Kristen asks.

“I'm gonna stay here. I want to live with you guys and be in San Francisco.”

All three of them look fucking shocked.

“Are you for real?” Kristen says.

“I am. I'm staying with you guys. I'm happier here. I'm way better at life here. This is what's best for me. So let's go back to the house so I can call my mother and figure this out before the show.”

“Yes!” Kristen goes.

And my father, his face bunches up and tears start rolling down it.

“You really mean it,” he says.

“Yes.”

He starts crying.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

“I'm just so happy,” he goes.

And Leslie, she reaches over and grabs his hands, tears forming in her eyes too.

“It's the best news,” Kristen says. “Dominique is gonna be so happy too. She's gonna lose her shit.”

“You think?”

“Come on, dude. Duh,” says Kristen.

And then my father looks up at me and goes, “I know I really screwed up last night. God, it was terrible what I did. But we finally talked like men, Jaime. And this is the happiest day of my life.”

“THE BEST PART ABOUT SEEING
you tomorrow, about going back home and getting you back, is how amazing it's going to feel. It won't be artificial. I'm going to feel all of it, Jaime.”

I'm standing in my bedroom, shaking. Wishing I had the blue, but I don't because just like her, I need to feel this. I need to feel life again.

“I'm so happy you're doing well, Mom. I'm excited to see you, too.”