The Boy Who Knew Me When (From Boys to men Trilogy) (20 page)

“I know who you are. You’re not good enough for my son.”

It shocked me to hear Mr. Hick’s excruciatingly blunt confession. I had visited several times before and he had always seemed so kind and genuine.

“I did some digging Miss Hale. Brother and mother murdered, father serving a life sentence for the murder of your mother and you seem to have some health issues that I do not find very settling. You are trouble Miss Hicks, trouble my only son does not need.”

“No, he very much hates my guts.” I replied.

“For what it’s worth, I could never hate you.”

For what it is worth, that is the only thing that matters.

“Julian.” He replied with a “Hmm?”

“What happens if I am pregnant?”

I don’t know why my head chose that very moment to think about the possible outcome of our weekend sex-fest but suddenly all I could think about was babies. Julian rolled me over onto my back and climbed half way on top of me.

“What happens is the same thing that would have happened anyway just a little backwards. You get all dolled up in a pretty white dress, I get a tuxedo; you take my breath away as you walk down the aisle with your father on your arm...”

Suddenly I became very teary eyed at the prospect of my father walking me down the aisle towards the man he has known since he was a small boy.

“…and we show the world exactly how much we belong together. Only I will be even happier than I would have been to begin with because I won’t just be marrying the girl of my dreams, I will be marrying the girl of my dreams who is also the mother of my child, our child. Everything in my life would be as it should be which is perfect.”

I smiled, “How do you always know the right thing to say Julian?”

“I don’t always know what to say sweetheart, I only always know what to say to you. Because you aren’t just you, you are me as well. We are one in the same and a part of each other.”

I reached up, grabbed his cheek and pulled him into my lips. “I love you Julian.” I said.

He lay back down next to me pulling me back into his chest.

“Can I ask you something else, something I have been wondering for a while?”

“You can ask me anything Skipper, anything at all.”

I smiled at his childhood nickname for me.

“I was just wondering how you managed all of these years having to live with that you lived through. How did I become so fucked up and you stay so level headed?”

He sighed “Hm, well, I wouldn’t exactly say that I was always level headed. I guess it helped that my Grandmother got me the heck out of Taylor, I was not stuck having that day shoved down my throat by every person in town every five minutes.”

I fully understood what that could do to a person.

“If it were not for my grandmother I would have had to experience just that. Did you know that my parents had a will that named your parents my guardians should anything happen to them?” I looked up at his face and shook my head no.

“Well, they did and from what my grandmother said, they wanted me but she would not allow it. She was scared that they would one day come to resent me and make my life a living hell. I am sure they never imagined being taken from this world by a sorry piece of shit like Ignacio Hernandez right alongside Nick when they had the will written up. She expressed her feelings to your dad and he agreed to let her take me understanding the fear she had as legitimate. If he did not agree she had every intention of fighting it.”

“So, um...you could have been my brother?” I let out a small giggle.

He threw me back onto my back and bore a stare into my eyes.

“I absolutely one hundred percent could NEVER have been your brother...” He pulled my hand down to his erect shaft and strategically wrapped my fingers around it. “..There is nothing brotherly about this. That is how it gets just about every single time I look at you.” Nope, definitely nothing brotherly about that!

Julian stayed with me that night but left early due to the fact that he had class and no clothes here to change into. I was thankful for the time alone to gather my thoughts enough to figure out how I was going to handle my lunch date with Mr. Hicks. I was still unsure why he had even agreed to meet with me. Did he want to see my face when he told me that I was hopeless? After hours of beating myself down with an endless array of ridiculous scenarios I decided it was time to check out for a while. Before I made it back to the comfortable silence of sleep Brea called to tell me that Jonathan had pretty much carried her all the way to Puerto Rico.

“What the hell Brea? What about your classes?”

“I have a paper due Friday, everything else is just lecture and review. I already called Tim and asked if I could borrow his notes for English, Music appreciation was canceled this week, the professor is sick, and Rebecca is going to fill me in on Political science. I will be back by Thursday.”

“Why did he drag you off to Puerto Rico in the first place?”

“He says you told him to.”

I was amazed by his serious mistranslation of my caveman comment.

“I never told him to take you to Puerto Rico! I told him to drag you off like a caveman and I was joking.”

Brea was laughing, I could hear Jonathan yelling at her to “Get off the phone and get back on my dick woman!”. I had a feeling he was only half way joking.

“Well, whatever you said. THANK YOU! I have to go. The baby is getting a serious lesson in sex education.”

“Uh, uncalled for!”

“Whatever, I just wanted you to know that I was OK.”

And then I heard Brea moan just before the phone hit the floor.

“Brea!” I called out but she was no longer listening, she was screaming Jonathans name in the background while sounds of wet flesh slapping together burned itself into my ear. Admittedly a part of me wanted to stay glued to the phone but decided it best not to embed the image of Brea bent over backwards filled the hilt with all things Jonathan into my head any more than it already was.

Chapter
Twenty

Mr. Hicks sent me a text confirming our meeting and we both agreed to meet at The Hollow, a small French restaurant in Georgetown right up the street from his office, Bentley, Strathmore and Hicks. I pulled my hair back and put on my most capable outfit, a knee length pinstriped skirt, a pair of black pumps and the silky white button down blouse that I saved for job interviews.

I arrived to find that he was not alone, sitting next to him was a man about average height, , blonde hair very neatly groomed, glasses, suit, tie and a certain confidence that let you know that he thought he was important.

“Miss Hale.” the men rose. “This is District Attorney Mike Adler. Mike is the lead DA for Williamson County.”

Mr. Adler motioned for me to take a seat, both men sitting down right along with me.

“After we spoke yesterday morning, I thought it might be a good idea to have Mike sit in on our meeting today. I have briefed him with the news in which we spoke yesterday and he agreed to be here.”

I was feeling a bit overwhelmed but at the same time I was pleased to see that Mr. Hicks was willing to help without prejudice.

“I would actually like to hear the entire story from you Miss Hale. You have to understand that the State of Texas takes its convictions very seriously, your father admitted his guilt, so should I even consider giving this case a second glance you would need to provide me with some sort of incentive other than “I forgot”.

“I didn’t just forget Mr. Adler, I had a complete mental breakdown. I was just a little girl, I had lost my brother, my parents were miles away from me and I felt alone. Always so alone.”

“I see, I am assuming that you were seeing someone, a therapist or grief counselor perhaps, after said breakdown?”

“Many someone’s. I was diagnosed with Post traumatic Stress Disorder by most of them. Eventually I was seen by Dr. Schneider, who is my current doctor, and I was then diagnosed with rapid cycling Bi-Polar disorder. Something he felt was triggered by the events that had caused the PTSD. He was the one to suggest the visit with my father who was encouraged by his own doctor to admit to the truth that happened the day my mother was killed. It was an accident Mr. Adler, a horrible accident. Truthfully I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive myself for the fact that my father has spent the better part of a decade suffering simply because I had a bad memory.”

“Would you be willing to submit to a polygraph and sign a release allowing us full access to your psychiatric records?”

I had not even considered that the courts might want to see my records. The thought of everyone knowing every tiny detail of my fucked up life terrified me. But if it would help my father I would be willing to do anything. I owed him that much.

“Anything you need, I will do it. I want my father out of that place, he did not do anything wrong. My father had to suffer the loss of his entire family locked up in an institution. I cannot begin to comprehend how much he has suffered. I have to help him and I will do whatever it takes.”

“Good to know. You understand that should everything lean towards the fact that your father was wrongly convicted and I began the pardoning process it could still be a while before he sees the light of day?”

I nodded, I did understand.

“Good. Alex, am I to assume that you will representing the Hales in their endeavors?”

Mr. Hicks bobbed his head. “I would do anything for my family.” He stated with fact.

It was then that I knew Brandon had called his father on my behalf. I don’t know what he said to get his father to agree to help me but I was happy for whatever it was.

“Very well, I will have my secretary send over the necessary paperwork.”

“Excellent, now let’s eat, I am starving!” Mr. Hicks exclaimed letting out a small laugh.

We spent the rest of our lunch eating and talking about the process which could lead to a pardon.  Mr. Adler informed me that since my father had confessed , his conviction would still be on record, something that Mr. Hicks assured he would fight to have removed. He felt confident that given the fact that his state of mind was impaired as was mine that he could at the very least obtain an order of non disclosure which would pretty much seal my father’s arrest records.

“Shall I walk you to your car Jemma?”

Mr. Adler had already made his getaway letting us know that he would be getting back to us within the next few weeks with his decision. Before he left he made it a point to let me know that he wanted no part in leaving an innocent man to rot behind bars. If my father was in fact innocent, which I knew he was, then he would stop at nothing to see to it that he was set free.

Mr. Hicks reached down and took my hand helping me from my seat and we began the short walk to my car.

“My son tells me that you ended things. He muttered a bunch of nonsense about wanting to postpone Columbia and then you ended things. I must say Miss. Hale, that I truly underestimated you. But then I have known that for quite some time. I want you to know that I hold no ill will towards you.

I didn’t even realize ill will was a possibility, I just thought that he hated me.

“I understand more than most what a father will do for his child Mr. Hicks.”

He smiled. “Yes, it seems you do. I just want you to know that I am not just doing this for my son. I am doing it for you, no offense Jemma, but you stopped my son from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life.”

At least we both agreed on something, had Brandon stayed it would have been a huge mistake. He and I were not cut out to be together. I have no doubts that I would have still met Julian and in the end I would have probably hurt him worse.

“I love Brandon. I was not worth that kind of sacrifice.”

Mr. Hicks looked at me as if he was determining which tie to pair with his new suit, putting his hands to his chin, as I had seen his son do many times before. Then, taking me completely by surprise, he laughed.

“I am not so sure about that Jemma Hale, I am just not so sure.” After which he opened the door to my car and walked away letting me know that his secretary would contact me within the next forty eight hours to come in to sign a release of records. 

Chapter Twenty On
e

More than three weeks had passed before we actually heard from the District Attorney, thankfully when he finally got around to calling it was to let us know that he would be going ahead with the Pardon suggesting that a letter to The President detailing the official events of the night in question would help. Of course I agreed to write the letter; however I ended up needing Julian, my life line, next to me while I wrote it.

Dear Mr. President,

My name is Jemma Lee Hale, I am 19 years old. Ten years ago I had the unfortunate life experience of losing my brother Nicolai in a horrific crime. You see, Nicolai was gunned down in the middle of a crowded restaurant after a crazed man by the name of Ignacio Hernandez shot and murdered his wife and her lover. There was no reason for this man to murder my brother who was only twelve years old at the time, it was an evil act carried out by an evil human being. Not only was my brother killed that day but so were the parents of his best friend Julian, who was also injured in the attack. It was hard for my parents to lose their child in such a horrible and tragic way but it was also hard on me as well. Not only dealing with unimaginable loss but also watching my entire family fall apart before my eyes.

My mother, who was the foundation of our family, hid her heartache well, on the surface she went about her daily life as if nothing happened while inside she was slowly breaking. She threw everything she had into helping my father who was diagnosed with Schizophrenia a few months after the incident. I watched my parents fall, rise and fall again in such a short amount of time that I was exhausted. During this entire time, I, myself, was falling apart. I don’t fault my parents for being caught up in their grief, I can only imagine how alone a parent would feel after losing a child but the fact is that for a long time I went unnoticed. Nobody saw that my eight year old heart was breaking into, I was quite possibly more alone than any of them but never said a word.  I just went about my life and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, they were hurting and I did not want them to have more worry.

And it worked, we moved away and things began to get better. That was, until my dad stopped taking his medication and ended up having to enter a psychiatric hospital to help control his illness. After a long stay he came home different, better. He was not completely whole, how could you expect him to be, but he was more like my father than what I had remembered in a very long time. Again, things kept getting better, though it seemed like my mother had become more withdrawn than ever.

Then one day, when I was 10 years old I heard a commotion downstairs. I went down to see what the fuss was about and found my mother with a gun in her hands. My father begged her to put the gun away but she kept yelling at him, saying that she just needed to see her son, that he had nobody to protect him. I remember thinking to myself “What about me, why don’t you protect me? Why don’t you even look at me?” Heck, I had been standing there for at least ten minutes and they never even noticed I was there.

Eventually my father managed to bring my mother back to reality long enough for him to get the gun from her hands. He took it and sat it down on a table right in front of me. They still did not see me, I didn’t try to hide, but I was simply invisible to them. After my father sat down the gun he went to my mother’s side and put his arms around her, but I guess she did not want to be touched because she became completely unglued.

Everything from this moment on I remember in slow motion, I watched her arms fly out from her side and she began to hit my dad over and over again screaming that everything was his fault. That he didn’t try hard enough to keep Nicolai home. She yelled and she hit, over and over again. All I wanted was for everything to stop. I wanted her to stop hitting my father, for him to not be sick anymore and for me to just get some sleep, something I had not done peacefully for quite some time.

I was suddenly very angry and all rational thought seemed to vanish from my young mind. Even now, I don’t completely remember picking up the gun, all I remember for certain is seeing it in my hands. I began to yell at the both of them “I hate you, none of you love me, I want Nicolai...” all kinds of nonsense that I am sure seems very juvenile to you but I was only ten and I only understood as much as any ten year old could.

I saw the look on both of their faces when they finally noticed me standing there with the gun in my hands. They were not only shocked but they were heartbroken. My father mumbled
something
to me, I don’t remember what, and then he ran to me placing his hand on the top of the gun in my hand. I remember watching his mouth move the whole time but I don’t actually remember a word that he said other than “Jemma baby, let go of the gun princess.” And so I let go only he wasn’t quite expecting my grip to loosen as quickly as it did and the gun hit the ground going off on impact.

I put my hands to my ears and began to scream. My father noticed my mom first; I could barely open my eyes. When I finally did open them I saw that my mother stood in place grasping her stomach with both hands, it took me a moment to realize it was because she had been shot by the escaped bullet. I watched as the blood pooled between her fingers, after a few seconds her hands vanished, covered
in red.

When she hit the floor fear spread over me, all I wanted to do was run and so I did. I turned around and bolted up the stairs, my father following me, begging me to stop every step of the way. I was terrified that he was going to hurt me; in my head I had just murdered my mother. It did not matter that the gun went off after hitting the floor. All that mattered was that had I never touched it in the first place my mother would not be bleeding to death in the middle of the living room floor.

I eventually made it to the upstairs bathroom and locked myself inside. When my father started screaming at the door I instantly became overcome with fear, fear of what I do not know, and I began to scream. I felt like someone had their arms around me and was tossing me all around the room. It was not until I heard my father’s first kick that I realized I had destroyed the entire bathroom making that unidentified fear even more intense.

Not being able to face my father I crawled out of the bathroom window just as he managed to kick in the bathroom door following me out onto the roof. I saw that he had the gun in his hands. He was not pointing it at me; it was just there, until it wasn’t. The moment I heard the loud pop of another bullet I jumped. My father tells it like I tripped but it was him that tripped, not me. He tripped, dropped the gun, it went off and I wished like hell that it had hit me. When I realized that it had not, I jumped from the roof.

I was ten years old and all I wanted in the entire world was to die. I no longer wanted to live in a world were strangers killed brothers and stole friends, a world where parents went crazy and ignored their children and a world where a little girl count no longer remember what it was like to be a
little girl. I myself only faintly remembered what the world was like before my brother was so tragically taken from our family, a world of day dreams, where I was a beautiful fairy princess and danced in the sunlight all day long. A world where Barbies married Julians and not Kens. A world where I could just be a child.

I woke up days later in the hospital. According to doctors I had suffered a horrible concussion but amazingly survived thanks to a very painful holly bush that left scratches and cuts all over my body. The worst part for everyone involved was that the memory that I had of the night in question was not even real. Somehow in my young mind I saw my father murdering my mother, I saw my father trying to murder me. I still do not fully understand why my head remembered it so skewed. My Doctor says that children who have suffered tragedy have a way of protecting themselves from the worst kind of pain, it often times includes making up a completely fictional life or in my case story. I am just thankful that after years of therapy I can finally remember the events as they actually happened.

Soon, I am going to be married to a wonderful man, a man who came back into my life after being absent far too long. This man was my brother’s best friend; his parents were killed the same day that Nicolai was by the same gunman. His name is Julian Ackles and he was like a second son to my father, who has been suffering for a crime that he did not commit for way too long.

I want more than anything to have my father home again, to have him walk me down the aisle and give me away to the man of my dreams. You have daughters of your own Mr. President, you know as well as any man what a blessing it would be to give your daughter away on that day to a man that you would proudly call your son. Julian is that man for my father.

Please, besides my aunt, he is the only family that I have left. He is a good man; there is not an ounce of evil in his entire body. Please do not let my father be another victim of the monster who took so many lives. Ignacio Hernandez is the only evil person in my sad but all too true tale.

Sincerely,

Jemma Lee Hale