Going Nowhere (15 page)

“Mom? Dad?” I called out, shutting the door behind Jason. I heard them call out in the kitchen so I walked us over there, still hand in hand. “Hi!” I squeaked, overly bright. My dad looked at our hands, shot me a look and then looked at my mom who at the time had huge eyes trained on Jason. “Guys? This is Jason Scott, my-“ The word lodged in my throat and I began hacking a lung, bent over with my eyes watering. Jason put his hand on my back and gave me a couple whacks while introducing himself.

“I’m the boyfriend. Nice to meet you both.” He said smiling, shaking both of their hands. I could already see him charming the pants off my mom with those dimples. She’ll have us married with kids living happily ever after inside a week…in her head anyway.

“A boyfriend?! Marisol’s never mentioned that!” She said accusingly, giving me the stink eye.

I stood back up and gave her a shrug. Don’t know what she wanted me to say, it’s not like I was very open with her about these things anyway. I wrapped my arm around Jason’s waist and gave him a squeeze before stepping away from him.

“I’m going to go shower and change, I’ll be right back.” I felt bad leaving him with them, but I figured the quicker I got done the quicker we could leave.

“Well, come on, son. Let’s talk in here a moment.” My dad waved towards the living room and I could hear my mom asking him if he was hungry, thirsty, too hot, too cold, and so on.

I made quick work of washing off last night and threw on a pair of jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and Converse before making my way downstairs twisting my long dark hair into a high bun. I got to the bottom step and my mouth dropped at the cozy scene.
My parents were in their chairs and Jason was seated on the couch, ankle over knee with both arms over the back of the couch like he owned the place. They were all laughing. He had both of my parents eating out of the palm of his hand. Why this surprised me, I’ll have no idea.

“So,” I drawled out, “You ready to go?” I asked hopefully.

“Marisol Claire Finnegan! Sit down and chat with us, we never see you anymore and you finally bring home a boy. It’s like you don’t want us to get to know him!” My mom scolded. Wincing at the sound of my full name I sat next to Jase and faced the Inquisition. “Jason was just telling us he’s a musician?” My mom said excitedly.

I looked at m
y dad who just gave me the side eye. My dad has always been able to convey so much with a look and right now he was saying “Really, Marisol? Doesn’t sound like a stable job.” 

In all honesty, I was surprised my mother was on board with Jase. Or was at least appearing to be. Her parents were immigrants to the United States and it was drilled into her at an early age to be better than what came before. She instilled this in Kayla and I as well. Not to say she was a gold digger, per se, but she wanted us to have good lives and want for nothing.

“Uh, yeah, he is. He also helps to manage Shenanigan’s, the bar down by the beach?”

“Oh, really?” My mom asked. My dad’s eyebrows got lower and I could see him getting into dad-mode. He put
Johnny through the same thing: stare him down, flex during handshake, hand on daughter’s shoulder, and finish with a threat of bodily harm. Love my dad, really I do, but nothing got his Irish up more than “some boy sniffing after one of his girls.”

“What’s your plan, Jason? For the future?” My dad asked, leaning forward in his chair. I grabbed Jason’s hand and squeezed in apology. I felt horrible that my dad was asking a question that I hadn’t even had the chance to ask.

“Uh, Dad? Why don’t we-” I began, but Jason caught me off.

“It’s ok, baby.” Jason said and my mom beamed at the endearment. My dad on the other hand looked like murder by the red flush creeping up his neck. “Well, Sir, I took off time from pursuing my career in music seriously to help raise my nephew. But I will be going on tour with a local band this summer.”

“Hmm.” Was all my dad said.

“Oh that’s interesting! So you’ll be famous?” Mom said excitedly, I rolled my eyes.

“Uh, no. Well I hope the tour is successful. I would like to come home with a record deal, but I’m just excited that I get to play.” Jason said humbly.

“How are you with all this, Marisol?” My dad asked, cutting to the quick of the problem. He knew me well.

“I support Jason’s career and hope for the best for him.” I said, deciding on the safe answer.

What I said was true, but I wasn’t about to unleash my insecurities about all that comes with touring on my parents. It wasn’t really their business and I haven’t
fully figured out all my feelings yet anyways.

“Well, we should get going. Jason has something planned and we don’t want to burn all the daylight. I’ll be home tonight and you can grill me about him for the rest of the weekend.” I stood up and pulled Jason up beside me.

We made our goodbyes and I practically bolted for the door. That wasn’t as bad as I was expecting, but I had a feeling it could have gone farther south if it continued. I didn’t want them asking questions about Jason that I didn’t know the answers to myself.

“I’m sorry.” I said cringing.

“Don’t be.” Was all he said, putting the car in drive.

We stayed silent for the rest of the ride, lost in our own thoughts. I didn’t know he if actually had any plans for us, but I was a little surprised that we ended up at his apartment. He got out of the car and I followed closely behind him. His silence was starting to make me nervous and when we reached his door I started thinking maybe I should have stayed home. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed or not, but his shoulders were ridged and it was putting me on edge. We walked inside and I closed the door behind me, staring at his back.

“Jason-” before I could finish he turned around and pushed me against the door, silencing me with a rough kiss.

I could taste the desperation on him and wanted to soothe him, but I didn’t know how. So I just kissed him back, matching his pace and intensity. Picking me up, I wrapped my legs around his waste and clung to him. I was so lost in his kiss that I didn’t realize we had moved until I felt him lay me down on his bed.

That
I felt, like a bucket of cold water being thrown in my face. He pulled back and began taking my shoes off.

“Uh, Jason, slow down.” I said, panicking a little.

“I’m not going to do anything you aren’t ready for, Mari. I’m just getting you comfortable for this conversation.” He said, taking off my other shoe and giving my sock covered foot a quick kiss before toeing off his shoes and joining me on the bed. He laid down facing me, so close that our foreheads touched and out breath mingled. “Thank you.” He said quietly, staring at me in that intense way of his.

“For what?” I said, confused.

“For what you said about me going on tour.” He said, bringing his hand up to my face, brushing my hair out of the way.

“I meant it.” I said, leaning into his hand.

“I know.”

We both relaxed for a moment, staring at each other. I would have thought there would have been some awkwardness with being so close to someone and just staring at them, but not with him. The ease I felt from his nearness both thrilled and scared me. I could easily feel myself craving his presence constantly and I didn’t like the idea of needing someone so much. It was an addiction that I never thought I would have, but wi
th him I think it would be one I reveled in.

“So how should we go about this?” I ask, breaking the silence after a while.

“What do you mean?” He asked, propping his head up on his elbow and looking down at me.

“Should I just start asking you questions? We kind of skipped the whole dating-get to know you thing. Well, how normal people would date.” I said, smiling.

“What do you want to know?” He asked flopping back down on the bed, resting on his back with his hands behind in head.

“Everything you want to tell me. What’s your story, Jason Scott?”

“What’s my story…”he mused, thinking for a moment. “When I was six, my dad gave me my first guitar lesson. He was a musician himself. Not successful, but he had a small local following. That was enough for him. I remember him coming home from a show. The babysitter had let me stay up late to wait for him. Mom was out with some of her girlfriends and Em was a baby so it was just my dad and I up when he got home. He was in such a good mood and I used to feed off it. He made you feel like you could do anything because he could anything. He was a superhero to me.”

He pauses and I see him swallow a few times. I say nothing, waiting for him to continue. “Anyways, he comes home one night and instead of being mad that I was still up, he sits with me on his lap and he puts his fingers under mine and we play ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’ by Harry Chapin.” He begins to hum the melody and I blink away tears imagining him at six singing such a heartbreaking song. “When I felt my fingers move with his, I felt connected to him in a way that I can’t explain.”

“You play for him?” I ask softly. He turns on his side to look at me.

“Partly. I play for myself too. The guitar is like an extension of me. But when I play I feel close to him. I feel his soul in the strings.”

“You must miss him so much.” I say, choking on the words and tears. He stares at me quietly while I cry silently for him.

“Everyday.” He whispers softly and then leans close to kiss away my tears. I take a deep breath and release it. When I open them again, they are dry and I lean up and kiss his chin before settling back down.

“What about your mom?” I ask. He smiles and lets out a little laugh.

“You would have loved her. She was so funny. I remember laughing when I think of her. Always laughing. She had no inhibitions, always saying and do
ing whatever she felt like, to hell with what everyone thought.”

“I’m sure you would have loved that when you were a teenager.” I giggle, thinking of how absolutely shameless my own mom could be.

“Hell, she used to embarrass Em and I like it was her job.” He rolled his eyes and laughed. “I remember getting so mad at her this one time. I don’t even remember over what, but what I do remember is asking her why she was never embarrassed by herself? You know what she told me?” He asks, his eyes shining at me.

“No
, what?” I ask, smiling.

“She said, ‘What do I have to be embarrassed about? I have a husband who loves me completely, without reservation, and y’all are proof of that.’ We were constant reminders that she was loved so fully by my dad.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She was. She would have loved you. You remind me of her. Her spunk.”

“I have spunk, huh?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him playfully.

“Pshht, you’re full of spunk. Brimming with
it.” He laughed and hugged me to his side. I snuggled down into the nook under his arm.

“What happened to them?”

“I was playing a show. I saw Emily calling my phone during the show, but I ignored it. She pissed me off earlier, just being my annoying little sister, so I ignored her.” He stopped, voice breaking. “You have no idea how much I wish I’d answered that phone call.”

He blows out a harsh breath and fold
s his arm over his eyes, hiding from me. My arm reaches across his hard stomach and my thumb runs along his tattoo, trying to give him comfort. “She was with them. She was in the car, but she walked out without a scratch. They, uh, they were going home after dinner when the car hydroplaned. He was going too fast and the tires skidded, throwing him off for a second. In that second he veered too hard, overcorrected. They ended up hitting a tree. My mom was thrown from the car. She was alive for an hour after the accident. That’s why Em kept calling; she wanted me to come say goodbye. My dad died on impact.”

“Oh, Jason.” I could feel his body shake with emotion. Crawl
ing on top of him, I hugged him, every part of me touching him, trying to convey my sorrow for his loss, trying to absorb his pain. His arms left his eyes and came around me. He had tears in his eyes but they didn’t fall. The look of total loss and devastation killed me. I wanted to call me parents and tell them I loved them right then. I couldn’t imagine them not in my life. Especially, being taken away from me so harshly. “How old were you?”

“I was twenty-one
. Em had just turned seventeen.”

“God, I can’t imagine. I would have lost my shit.” I kissed his chest, feeling his breathing change. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like the rest of this story.

“Well, I did. On tour with Declan and the guys, I jumped at the opportunity to get the hell away from everything that reminded me of them. Emily was still in school, so she stayed home. When they died, she went a little nuts too. She kept her grades up, but I knew she was sleeping around and I didn’t stop her. I was too busy, too selfish. I didn’t see how badly she needed me because being on tour was great. I was a hit, the ladies loved me.” He smiled at me a little, but I think he was more embarrassed than proud of this.

“I was a slut, baby. I won’t paint you a picture of myself that’s not true. If I wasn’t out whoring and drinking, I was on stage. Declan tried to keep my head on straight, but I think he barely managed to reign me in. He was the one that got the call from Emily. Came to my room, pulled me away from a groupie and kicked my ass. Sobered up real quick after that, Declan doesn’t fight often. Had me on the next flight home, saying Em needed me. She was pregnant, the dad was out of the picture, and she needed her big brother. I shaped up after that.

My parents would have been so pissed at how bad I let things get. If I had opened my eyes, I would have been there for her. I failed her and my parents twice; I wasn’t going to go for a hat trick. Nine months later, I watched my baby sister bring a life into the world. She named him after our dad and as I held his wriggling little alien body, I knew they were there with us. I knew putting my life on hold was the right thing to do. So yeah.” He fell silent, rubbing my back slowly. I was quiet for a moment, taking in what he said, my heart aching for both of them.

“You are so unbelievably strong.” I rested my chin on my hands, so I could see his face. His hands came off my back to frame my face. “You’re such a good person, I’m sorry you had to go through all that.” I leaned my cheek into his hand and kissed his thumb when it traced over my lips. He was looking at me so lovingly, my heart stuttered.

“Don’t feel too bad, baby, I don’t.”

“How can you not?” I asked in disbelief.

“If you would have asked me a month ago, I would have no answer, but now?” He shifted me closer and rested his forehead to mine, my hair curtaining around us; he stared into my eyes. “How can I regret anything that has given me Mikey? How can I regret meeting you?” He whispered against my lips.