The Fear of Letting Go (27 page)

I ride back to the house with my father, Momma's ashes sitting between us on the seat.

He's furious and sweaty, and if I cared about him at all, I'd be concerned he was getting ready to have a heart attack. His neck is beet red and he can't seem to catch his breath.

There is so much I want to say to him, but I want to grab my things first. I want to be ready to go when I say what I have to say to this man who has taken so much from me over the years.

It only takes a moment to pack my bags. I had organized most of it before I drifted off to sleep last night. And as I carry my duffel bag into the living room, I also take the urn with Momma's ashes, cradling it in against my hip like a baby.

“What do you think you're doing with that?” he asks. He's already thrown his cheap tie to the floor and is reclined in his chair, feet up. I have a feeling I'll imagine him like this for the rest of my life, too worthless to even stand and say goodbye to his only daughter.

“I'm taking it with me,” I say. “She never had a day of peace in this house, and I think she deserves some now.”

He breathes out hard through his nose. “What do I care, right? I only dedicated my entire life to her.”

I imagine what it would feel like to loop my hands around his neck and squeeze. “Yeah, you did real good by her. By all of us,” I say. “Number one Dad.”

“You are such a little piece of shit, you know that?” he says. He presses the bar that holds his feet up and attempts to stand. He's getting so big these days, it takes him a couple of tries before he finally gives up and decides to lecture me from below. “You never did appreciate a single thing we sacrificed for you. Your mother, God rest her soul, worked two jobs just to put clothes on your back, and what did you ever do for her, except leave?”

“She wouldn't have had to work two jobs if you would have been able to stay in one place for more than a month,” I say. “But no, there was always some excuse with you, wasn't there? Always some reason you couldn't pick yourself up and help support your family. My whole life, you've sat in that damned chair, telling all of us how worthless we are, but I think you know the truth. You had to keep knocking us down because you were terrified if we ever got out of here, we'd realize just how terrible you really are. Well, I did that Daddy, and I want you to know I see you. Say what you want about me, but I've made something of my life. I'm not going to let you destroy that.”

“If you think that boy is going to stick by your side, you're crazier than I thought you were,” he says. “He may seem all head-over-heels in love with you now, but there will come a day when he will see you as you truly are. He'll leave you in the dust so fast, it'll make your head spin.”

“You're wrong,” I say, swiping at the tears rolling down my cheeks. But as hard as I try to shut his words out, they soak into my skin, turning my heart to bitterness.

He cranes his neck around me to get a better view of the TV. I'm tempted to kick the damned thing in with my heels, but I don't. I stand and take one final look at him, realizing nothing I say will ever make a difference to him.

“I'm leaving,” I say. “And this time I'm never coming back.”

“Go on, then,” he says. The first hint of tears well up in his eyes, but he can't seem to find it in him to look at me.

I'm grateful for those tears. For this one moment that shows he's at least still human inside there. That a part of him does love me, even if he has the worst ways of showing it.

I lean over and kiss his forehead. “Goodbye, Daddy.”

He doesn't say anything as I turn and walk out the door.

**

Preston, Leigh Anne, and Knox are waiting for me back at the McDonalds in town. I wave to them through the window, but don't get out of my truck.

I know what's coming, and I don't want to pour my heart out in the middle of all those people.

Preston understands. He leaves the others inside and brings a hot coffee out to me in the truck. His eye is already turning purple from where my father hit him. I don't envy him for how that's going to feel in the morning.

We sit in silence for a moment, sipping our drinks. I feel so drained, I can hardly keep my head up. I want this day to be over. I want to go back to my apartment and sleep for a week.

“Jenna, I'm so sorry about what happened back there,” he says. “I couldn't stand to hear him say those things about you.”

“I know you were only trying to protect me, but you have to know that with my father, there's no winning. He will never back down, and he will never admit he's wrong,” I say. “I kept telling you I wanted to just go. Why didn't you listen to me?”

“All I could hear were the words coming out of his mouth,” he says. “Is that what you grew up with? I know you tried to explain it to me before, but Jenna—”

“Don't, okay?” My teeth grind together, and I breathe out through my nose, trying not to cry again. I'm so fed up with tears. I've cried so much the past few days it feels as if they will carry me away like a wave. “This is why I didn't want you here in the first place. I didn't want you to see me here, because I was terrified you'd realize just how much I don't belong in your world. But maybe it's better you saw this for yourself.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying this is who I am, deep down. No matter how far I run, I'm never going to escape this, can't you see that?”

“Jenna, don't let him mess with your head,” Preston says. “Why do you care what your father thinks of you? He's a piece of shit who has no idea who you are.”

“He's right, though,” I say. “I may not be a whore, but I'm not exactly daughter of the year, either. I left her, Preston. I knew she was in trouble. That she was drowning in her own addiction, and when things got too difficult for me, I abandoned her. I left her here with a man I knew was going to keep abusing her day after day. When I walked into my father's house a few days ago, it was so disgusting, I could barely walk through it without stepping on filth.”

Tears fill my eyes, and I can no longer hold them back.

“That wasn't my mother. I didn't see a single sign of her left in that house,” I say. “That's all my fault, Preston. I put my own life above hers, and now she's gone. She died unhappy and alone, thinking no one in the world cared for her.”

“You did what you had to do to survive,” he says. “If you had stayed here, what would have happened? You wouldn't have been able to save her, Jenna. She was going to make those same bad choices regardless of anything you said or did. All she would have done is drag you down with her.”

“You don't know that,” I say. “I could have helped her through rehab. I could have helped her find a good job afterward, encouraged her not to give up.”

“You can't blame yourself for her death,” he says. He places his hand on top of mine, but I pull away. “Parents are supposed to take care of their children, not the other way around. You got out of there. You survived. I'm sure that meant something to her.”

The tears are falling in earnest now, coating my cheeks. My throat is sore from shouting. I just want this to be over.

“Even after four years, I still haven't escaped from this place. Not really,” I say. I can hardly find the strength to speak the words, but I know this is the only way I can move on. “You're going to realize that eventually, Preston, even if you don't see it now. I think it's better for both of us if we just stop pretending this was ever going to work out.”

“What? Jenna, it's been a tough day,” he says. “Let me drive you back to Fairhope. You're not thinking clearly.”

“No, I think I'm finally seeing things the way they truly are for the first time since we kissed,” I say. “You and I are just not meant to be, Preston.”

“I don't understand this,” he says. “I know we had an agreement in the beginning. No pressure or expectations. But something changed along the way for me. I'm not willing to let you go this easily.”

“You don't have a choice. Can't you see that? Despite what you think, you are not always in control. You don't always know what's best,” I say. “Someday you're going to wake up and realize you dodged a bullet here, I promise you.”

“Just like that?” he says. “After everything we've been through, you're just going to throw this all away? Why, Jenna? Because you're scared? I'm scared, too. I'm afraid I'm about to lose the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

His words pierce through my heart. “I'm no good for you,” I say.

“I love you, Jenna,” he says.

I look over at him, and his dark brown eyes are filled with tears.

“I love you more than I ever dreamed I could love another person, and I am not going to let you walk away without a fight,” he says.

“You don't have to,” I say. “I'll walk away for both of us.”

“I'm not giving up on us, Jenna,” he says. “This can't be how it ends.”

He runs a fingertip across my cheek, but I pull away, pressing my body against the door of the truck.

“You think everything's a fairy tale, don't you?” I say. “Not in my life, Preston. This was the only ending we could have ever had.”

He sits there for a long moment, but when I don't turn back around, he gets out of the truck. When he slams the door behind him, the sound is like a bullet to my heart.

I don't want to lose him, but I don't know how to be with him, either. This is better than waiting for six months or a year down the road for him to realize I'm not good enough for him. That something about me is rotten deep down inside.

After a few minutes, Leigh Anne knocks on the door of the truck and pulls me into her arms. She drives us back to Fairhope, never pushing me or asking me to explain. My head rests on her shoulder most of the way, and every once in a while, she reaches over to squeeze my hand.

Preston

I feel as if the bottom of my entire world has fallen out and a deep chasm of nothingness has swallowed me whole.

How did things fall apart so quickly?

I knew our time together was coming to an end, but I had hoped for a miracle. I thought maybe we could outrun her past and build a real future together.

I never dreamed she would shut me out of her life, as if our time together meant nothing.

Leigh Anne said to give her space, and she would come around. But I've given her weeks. She won't even pick up the phone. She avoids me on campus and when I've been desperate enough to knock on her door, she turns off the lights and refuses to talk to me.

I feel completely lost without her.

I can't concentrate on my work or my classes. The only thing that brings me any joy is spending time with Penny and little Rachel.

I hold the newborn in my arms and rock her back and forth. “She's beautiful, Penn.”

“Isn't she?” she says. “I feel like I could just stare at her forever and never get tired of watching her.”

“She's perfect.”

“Almost perfect,” Penny says with a laugh. “She looks like a complete angel right now, but wait until about seven o'clock tonight. She turns into a screaming monster and nothing I do settles her down. The pediatrician says it's normal for babies to cry, especially in the afternoons, but I'm at my wits end. I'm hardly getting any sleep.”

“Do you want to go take a nap for a little while? I can take care of Rachel for a little bit.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I know you don't have a lot of experience with babies.”

“I've got it,” I say. “Just show me where the diapers and bottles and stuff are.”

She stands and walks over to kiss my forehead. “You are the best brother in the world,” she says. “Everything you need to change her is in this little basket here, and there are some bottles in the fridge. Just run some hot water in the sink and run the bottle under it for a few seconds to get it warm.”

“Done,” I say. “Get some rest.”

“You're sure?”

I smile. “Yes, get out of here before I change my mind.”

Penny kisses Rachel's head and goes into the back bedroom to sleep.

For the longest time, I sit and stare at this precious baby. I can't help that my thoughts turn to Jenna. If we hadn't broken up, she might have been here right now, helping me take care of her. For a little while, everything was more fun with Jenna around.

It strikes me again how incredible it is that Jenna managed to hold onto her joy after growing up in such a horrible household. My father is controlling, but at least he doesn't constantly put me down or belittle me. My father has always pushed us to succeed and be better. From the sound of it, Jenna's dad only ever told her she was worthless.

My heart aches for her. I want nothing more than to be there for her now, comforting her when she's going through so much. She blames herself for what happened to her mom, and it's not fair.

But if she won't even talk to me, how can I reach out to her?

The doorbell rings and the baby stirs. I gently lay her in the bassinet in the living room and answer the door. No one is there, but a small white box is sitting on the doorstep.

I look around, but see no sign of whoever rang the doorbell.

I don't mean to open it, sure that it was intended for either Penny or Mason, but the top isn't completely closed and something inside catches my eye. A purple butterfly made of delicate paper. I inhale and hold my breath as I open the box. More than a hundred hand-made butterflies in various shades of gRob and purple lie nestled in tissue paper.

Jenna had said she wanted to do something special for Penny, and I know, without a doubt, this is her gift to my sister.

I take one of the butterflies from the box and accidentally bend its wings. Tears sting the corners of my eyes.

It strikes me now that sometimes the harder you try to hold on to something, the more likely you are to lose it forever.

I straighten the wing and set the paper butterfly back in the tissue paper.

I'll give her all the time she needs now, and pRob that someday she'll find her way back to me.

Jenna

There are only a few weeks until graduation, but I can't seem to force any excitement through my veins. This is what I have been working for—the thing so many said I could never do—and yet, I can't celebrate. Instead of a new beginning, it feels like a death sentence.