Night Sky (9 page)

“I’m going to go inside and take a long, hot
bath.” She shrugs away from my arm and stands up.

“What can I do?” I need to do
something…anything.

“Swim your laps. Spend time with your new
girlfriend. Just keep living, Jameson.” Her voice sounds so
tired.

“I want to do more.” I’ll go crazy if she
doesn’t give me something to do…some way I can help.

“Well, I’m afraid there’s nothing either of
us can do,” she says, before walking in the house.

Shit…is there really nothing I can do?

I wish our pool were
bigger. But I jump in anyway, ready to relieve some of the stress
and try to get my head together. I pull myself through the water
with my arms, and push with my legs. This is different than what
happened with Sarah, but it’s still a rejection—another person who
doesn’t want Jameson. My Dad left without even bothering to talk to
me.
Is that how little he cares about
me?

When I don’t think I can
swim another stroke, I sink to the bottom of the pool. It makes Mom
freak out, but relaxes me. I look around at the blue floor, the
blue walls, and I know I need to talk to my dad. I’ll call him as
soon as I go back inside.
But first, I’m
going to sit…down here…where it’s quiet.

***

“So, your mom’s gone?” Dad asks, walking
into the living room. He looks around like he’s afraid she’ll
appear at any moment.

It really pisses me off.
“What the hell?” I stand up, immediately defensive. “You’ve been
married for almost twenty years, Dad! Don’t call her
my
mom, she’s
your
wife!”

“We’re not going to get anywhere like this,
Jameson.” He’s using his calm voice. The one he uses when dealing
with drunk gamblers. Now he’s using it on me. That must mean I’m
being unreasonable because, he’d probably never admit to being in
the wrong.

“I don’t give a shit! You don’t just walk
out on your family!” Every muscle in my body is
ready…tight…waiting.

Dad sighs and leans against the counter
rubbing his forehead with his hand. “I didn’t mean for this to
happen…”

I keep my voice quiet this
time. Maybe
that
will get his attention. “Bullshit, Dad. One thing I know
is—everyone has impulses, but you don’t have to act on them. At
some point, you make a decision and that decision means you
meant
to do something.
Don’t give me any crap about not
meaning
to do things.” I can’t
believe how angry I am, but it sure beats feeling helpless about
what to do for Mom.

“I never wanted to hurt anybody, Jameson.”
He’s shaking his head—like such a simple statement is supposed to
make it all go away.

“What the hell’s that
supposed to mean?”
So much for volume
control and maturity…
My heart’s pumping
hard, and my brain’s all scrambled. The only thing I hear is my
dad—not admitting what we both know to be true. He screwed up. I
just want him to say it. I need him to say it.

“It means I’m in love with
two women and no matter what I do right now, someone’s going to get
hurt.”
How can he be so calm? How can he
love someone other than Mom? What happened to him?

“Someone! Name
one
person in this
situation who you didn’t hurt already, Dad. Name one.” He made the
choice that put us all in this shitty situation. And he knows I’m
right. He looks pathetic, Mom’s hurting, I’m pissed…and his
girlfriend must be thrilled. Then my thoughts sink. I sink. Maybe
that’s all he needs…his new girlfriend. He doesn’t need Mom and he
doesn’t need me.

He slumps lower and leans
against the wall. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.
Suddenly I’m worried he’s going to start crying.
Dad can’t cry. That would mean the world’s ending
or something
.

“You can’t love two people, Dad—not in the
way you’re talking about,” I say, shaking my head.

“I gotta go.” He pushes off the wall. He
never even came into the house, not really. He’s still in the
entryway.

“So, just walk out and
leave the two of us behind.” I don’t care how I sound.
He deserves it—all of it.

“Mom doesn’t want me here,” he says, moving
toward the door.

“Can’t you understand why?” My voice is loud
again.

“I’ll always answer my phone when you call,
Jay. Let me know what’s goin’ on, okay?” He grabs the door handle
without looking back at me. This is what Dad does. He dissolves the
situation, and walks away. It’s his job at work, and now he’s doing
it here.

That’s it. Dad steps out
and closes the door behind him.
Just like
that.
Like his house…his life…his
marriage…are things he can leave behind.
Like I’m…something he can leave behind.
Aren’t parents supposed to sit down and talk about crap like
this? Tell me it’s not my fault? Tell me they’re trying to work
things out and that I shouldn’t worry?

I rub both hands over my
head. It feels like I’ll explode if I don’t do
something…anything
.
I swing my arm and put my fist through the wall, making a
satisfying crunch. When I pull my hand out, drywall spills onto the
floor.
Mom is going to be pissed.
My knuckles are bleeding.
Wow, I punched a hole in the wall.
But I have to admit, I feel better. My hand hurts, but the
destruction leaves me strangely satisfied. It’s something real,
something concrete—something I have control over.

“Jamesy?”

Is that Sarah’s voice from my room? Great,
she must have let herself in through the back. I wonder how much
she heard?

“Coming.” I cradle my bleeding hand against
my chest. Fixing a wall is one thing—fixing a wall and cleaning
blood out of beige carpet—is definitely something I don’t want to
deal with right now. So while part of me feels really good about
destroying something, part of me feels like an idiot for hurting my
hand by punching a hole in the wall of our house.

“What happened to you?” Sarah’s eyes are
wide as I walk past her into my bathroom.

Guess she didn’t hear
anything.
I let myself breathe. “I punched
a wall.” I turn on the faucet resting my hand under the cool
water.

“Let me repeat my first
question.
What
happened
?” Her voice is full of
concern.

I open my mouth to talk,
but nothing comes out.
I don’t want to cry
in front of Sarah.
I stare at my hand
under the cold water, blood swirling down the drain. I need to just
concentrate on my breathing for a minute.
In, out, slowly in, more slowly out…

“Jameson?” Her hand touches my shoulder.

I close my eyes and will
the words to come and for everything to go away.
Why couldn’t the situation be completely
different?
“My dad walked out.”
There, I said it out loud, and now it’s real.
Just like that.

“
What
?” Her voice is soft and full of
shock.

“He had an affair and just
gave me some bullshit line about being in love with two women
and…”
I can’t finish. It doesn’t
matter.
I hit the faucet to turn off the
sink.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”
There’s no point in saying it’s all right because
no part of this is all right.

I wrap a towel around my knuckles to dry
them off before checking out the damage.

“Can I see?” Sarah asks, while sitting on my
bed.

I sit facing her. Having
her here feels good…familiar. But the fact that she’s touching my
hand while sitting on my bed, gives me those nervous tingles I get
whenever she touches me. While another part of me thinks she
shouldn’t even be here because of how I feel about Sky.
Oh, shit…I’m an asshole just like my dad. If both
girls stood in front of me right now, which one would I
choose?
Thankfully, it doesn’t matter
because Sarah’s made her choice. But still, it sinks me even
lower.
Is this normal? Is this a normal
part of growing up? Getting older? Being an adult? If it is, it
really sucks.

“Don’t worry about it.
I’ll take care of my hand in a few minutes.” I lean back to show
how relaxed I am—even though I’m not. As the adrenaline leaves my
system, I start to feel weak.
“How’ve you
been?”

Her eyes are wide again. She looks
incredulous. “Um…I can’t believe we’re trying to talk about
anything but what’s going on here.”

“It’s because I want to
talk about
anything
…but what’s going on here.”
Anything…but what’s happening…in my house and in my
head.

“Okay.” She does this little sigh that puffs
out her nose, just like she’s always done.

I smile. Maybe it will encourage her to talk
about something else.

“I’m good. I mean…it’s fun to have a
boyfriend, you know? But I miss hanging out with you.”

Of course, she’d talk about Eric. Why
wouldn’t she? As if things in my life aren’t confusing enough
already.

“Me, too,” I say. And I do miss hanging out
with her. She has this bright energy that surrounds her that she
radiates outward. There’s something sweet and innocent about her
that I love.

“How did your date go on Friday?” she
asks.

I lean back against my
headboard with a sigh.
Could it have gone
any better? Probably not, but I don’t know how to tell Sarah about
Sky.

“Well, I think that answers my question.”
She laughs. “Is it weird that I’m a little jealous?”

Sarah—being honest about
her feelings?
I sit up taller. “Well, so
am I.”

“Really?” she asks, leaning toward me on the
bed.

I nod.

“Good. It must be normal then. I mean, I
guess we’ve spent so much time together that it feels weird to
spend it with other people, or even wanting to spend it with other
people.” She leans away a little, relaxing her shoulders.

“Yeah.” And even though Sarah’s right
here…and I have the perfect opportunity to say something to her…I
still miss Sky. It’s sort of a revelation for me.

“Well, Eric and his parents are going
golfing and they’ve invited me to go.” She shifts like she’s about
to stand up.

“Did you warn them that you might kill them
by accident?” I tease.

She laughs. “Come
on,
you only went with
me once.”

“And you almost killed me.” Right now, I
can’t believe I’m comfortable talking with Sarah—this is good. We
can still be friends and tease each other.

“My club slipped!” she exclaims.

“Maybe…” I raise an eyebrow.

“Well, call me if you need anything,
Jamesy.” She wrinkles her tiny little nose, stands up, and walks
out the back door.

Now what?
The old Sarah would have stuck around.

I unwrap the towel. My hand’s not too bad. A
lot of small scratches, but they’ll heal pretty fast. I pull out my
phone and text Sky.

MISS YOU. LOTS TO TELL. BAD WEEKEND.

In seconds, I get a text back.

HATE BEING HERE. BAD WEEKEND TOO. WE’LL TALK
WHEN I RETURN. CAN’T TALK NOW.

Does that mean she doesn’t want to talk now?
Or that she really can’t? I wonder what she does when she goes
home? Why was her weekend so bad? I’ve never seen Sky in a bad
mood.

My finger hovers over the call button, but I
can’t do it.

TEN

Something’s vibrating against my head.

My phone.
I fumble around knocking it off the nightstand.
It’s three o’clock in the morning.
What
the…?

NIGHT SKY.

I don’t know what prompted me to enter her
in my phone like that. It’s just how I see her. A combination of
her dark skin, dark hair, fluid movements, and something I can’t
put my finger on.

“Hey,” I answer.

“I wanted to talk.” Her voice is quiet. “I’m
at my dad’s in Ketchikan so I thought I’d call when I could.”

“Good.” I’m trying to push away my
grogginess so we can have a real conversation.

“Were you up?”

“No, but I’m still glad
you called.”
Maybe I should have lied to
her, and said I was awake.

“Sorry, but I wanted to hear about your
weekend.” I love her voice, so soft and smooth.

“You, first.” I want to know what happened
out there…so far away.

“The forest here has eyes
and ears. We’ll talk when I get back.”
Her
words and the tone of her voice send a chill through me, but I
shake it off.

“So, you called me in the
middle of the night to see why my weekend sucked?” I’m smiling
now.
She called me, in the middle of the
night.
That seems more personal somehow;
like we’re past the point where we’re worried about being rude and
waking the other. I like it…a lot.

“Yeah, I can’t talk about mine and…” Her
voice trails off into silence.

“And…?” I rub my hand over my head and
wait.

“I wanted to hear your voice.”

And because she just put herself out there
for me, I return the favor. “You have no idea how awesome that
is.”