To Say Goodbye (24 page)

But Jackson had never really felt like this.

“It’s Terra, isn’t it?”

Jackson didn’t reply, gritting his teeth at the mention of the name.

He felt like a damn fool, an idiot for getting this upset over a girl. He’d lost his brother. He’d been through hellish ordeals. What was wrong with him? How could he let this get to him so much?

“Hey, listen. I get it. She was important to you,” Tim offered, putting the controller down to focus in on Jackson.

“I’m over it. She’s a bitch,” he said, his immaturity shining through.

In truth, he wasn’t over it. He’d loved her. He’d thought it was the real deal. At sixteen, love was viewed through some pretty jaded glasses, and every breakup was like a million glass shards stabbing into your chest.

Terra, though...Terra’s betrayal of him was like a million glass shards mixed with an atomic bomb.

“She is a bitch. I agree. But listen, you have to let this go, man. She was an idiot. You’ll get over her. You will.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the joke of the football team.”

“Well, yeah, doesn’t help that she left you for the most sought after dude in the school. But it’s okay, he’ll get his. Someday, you’ll get the chance to beat his ass.”

Jackson shook his head. “You were the one who held me back yesterday.”

“Well, it wasn’t the right time.” Tim shrugged. He was always the logical one.

“I just,” Jackson grabbed the rim of his hat, bending it, “God, I fucking loved her. I thought she was it, you know?”

He turned his gaze to Tim, who was just looking at him, shaking his head.

“I know. Pathetic,” Jackson said, exhaling in an attempt to calm himself, fists clenched.

“No. Not really. I get it. She was hot. And pretty okay. Until the cheating thing, of course.”

“Yeah, well, I’m done. I’m done with chicks. Not worth my trouble.”

Tim shook his head. “You’re so not done. I give it a week.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, asshole? Just because your nerdy ass has his head in the books all of the time doesn’t mean I have to.”

“Truth. Honestly, man. You’re not done. Not even close. Now you know what you had with Terra, well, it wasn’t the real deal. Now you’ll know what it’s like when you find it.”

“Okay, Shakespeare. What do you think the real deal is like?”

“I don’t know. Never found it yet. I just think when you find her, Jackson, you’ll know.”

“How?”

“Because when you find her, you won’t be sitting on a couch eating pizza if you two argue or break up. Your ass will be getting her back.”

“So you think I should take Terra back?”

“No, idiot. I’m saying when you find a girl you’re willing to fight for, a girl you’re willing to fight to get back no matter what baggage she comes with or what mistakes you made, then I think you’ve found her.”

Jackson grimaced. “You’re getting all poetic on me here. I need some beef jerky and some football. Let’s man up a bit here, please.”

Tim shook his head, grabbing his controller. “You’re on. Let’s see who’s the real pussy here.”

To Jackson’s true disappointment, he earned the title when Tim kicked his ass in five games in a row.

_______________

“I think I found her, Tim. I do. And I think you’re the one who helped me realize it.”

Jackson smiled, wishing he could go back to the sofa and talk to his sixteen-year-old self. He wanted to tell the smug troublemaker Terra definitely wasn’t worth his time—she was now in jail for drug dealing—and to enjoy his time with Tim a little more.

“I don’t know if you’d approve of this, buddy. I hope you would. The thing is, I’ve found her. I’ve found the one I’m willing to fight for. The one I can’t let go. I hope you understand.”

He clambered to his feet, slapped the gravestone, and turned around.

No stars fell from the sky. No whispers carried on the wind.

But Jackson knew.

He knew in his soul Tim would be nodding right now.

_______________

“Mommy says you don’t want to be with me,” Logan said, playing with his stuffed kangaroo in his car seat when Jackson picked him up the next day for his visit.

“Buddy, you know that’s not true. I’m here now.” Jackson peered in his rearview mirror and caught Logan frowning.

“Mommy says you won’t come live with us. Mommy says you won’t be with her.”

Jackson sighed. Leave it to Chloe to turn their son into a weapon. “Logan, it’s not like that. It’s complicated.”

“I miss you, Daddy. Why won’t you live with us?”

“I miss you too. But Daddy and Mommy have a lot of issues.”

“Do you hate Mommy?”

“No, I don’t hate Mommy.”

“Why does Mommy hate you?”

“She doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does. She tolded me she hates you. She said I should hated you, too.”

Jackson slammed on the brakes at the stop sign, resting for a moment to calm his anger. He turned around to look at his son.

“Listen. Sometimes grown-ups say things they don’t mean. Mommy is just upset about things. I love you. We’re best buds, right?”

Logan leaned up to give Jackson their traditional fist bump. “Buds. I don’t want to hated you. I told Mommy that.”

“Okay. Enough talk about hate. It’s not a nice word. Let’s talk about what we’re going to do this weekend, okay?”

The car behind him honked, forcing him to turn back around.

He let the anger recede. He would not let Chloe get to him, would not spend the weekend thinking about what a bitch she was. He would enjoy their time together this weekend. He would call Jonathan to see if the trial for the appeal could be moved up.

Then, after this weekend, he would start getting his life back in order.

He had a plan, and Chloe’s inappropriate comments wouldn’t derail him. He just had to do a few things, make a few calls, and then he could get Sophia back.

Once Sophia was back, he knew everything else would fall into place. It just had to. It was about time the universe conspired with him instead of against him.

“Daddy, is your lady friend coming with us again? The pretty one you kissed?”

Jackson was shocked, but then he let out a laugh. “Not this time, buddy. But next time. I promise.”

It was probably not the wisest thing to do, but he felt an air of confidence. Jackson did not make promises to his son he could not keep.

He knew, though, Sophia would be back in their lives. She just had to be.

She was the one he would fight for. He would do whatever it took.

SOPHIA

S
ophia rocked, back and forth, back and forth, trying to lull herself into a state of peace. The solitude of the room, this room in particular, irked her. The rocking chair creaked, its white paint chipping. Even though it wasn’t very comfortable, she kept rocking, silence giving her more time to toss the thoughts around in her head.

Her gaze traveled along the walls. All around were pictures of her time with Tim. There was a photo of the two of them at Kennywood, her stuffing her face with cotton candy. They were laughing, glowing in a childish way. There was a picture of them on their honeymoon, a picture of them at Christmas. All around, his image called to her, beckoning her to what once was.

She kept rocking, bouncing her feet gently off the floor, tears rolling down her already tear-stained face. She felt comatose, frozen in place. She felt like maybe she was going a bit mad. Maybe she was.

Running her fingers against the smooth armrest, she thought about the symbolism in this moment, in this chair. At one point, this chair had brought her so much sadness, so much disappointment. It was from a time she thought she would be building her family with Tim, when they still had hope for what was to come.

_______________

“We’re here!” her mom shouted as she burst through the door, and Sophia grinned. She knew she couldn’t stay away.

“Mom, Dad! You didn’t have to come over right away.” She pulled Tim toward the door, the two abandoning their dinner.

Last night, she’d made the call to share the news. She knew her parents would be ecstatic, knew a visit would be coming. But she hadn’t expected them tonight, not really.

“I couldn’t stay away. We wanted to congratulate you in person,” her mom said, running over to sweep Sophia into her arms. She squeezed her girl for a long moment, gripping her tightly. “I am so happy for both of you.”

Sophia’s dad shook Tim’s hand, giving him a pat on the back. Sophia’s parents were beaming. She was sure their expressions were mirror images of her own face.

Sophia’s mom patted her tummy. “Hello, in there. It’s Grandma,” she said. Sophia rolled her eyes.

“Mom, it’s a tad early.”

“It’s never too early. How many more days?”

“A lot. I have an appointment tomorrow. I think I’m like five weeks.”

“Oh, I’m so excited.”

“I can’t believe you guys came all this way. Are you hungry? We just ate. If I’d have known...”

“Don’t be silly. You go rest.”

“Mom, I’m pregnant. It’s not tuberculosis or paralysis. I can make you something.”

“Stop. Sit. We have a present for you anyway. Stuart, go get it, would you?”

“A present already? I could get used to this.”

“Need any help?” Tim asked, always the gentleman.

“I’ve got it. Sit down.”

A few moments later, her dad returned with the gift. Sophia teared up.

“Are you serious?”

The white rocking chair sat in the kitchen area. Sophia walked over to touch it, emotions and hormones mixing into a potentially dangerous explosion.

“Of course, darling. I always knew someday I’d pass it down. Grandma would want you to have it.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” Tim said, hugging his mother-in-law.

Sophia took it all in. The rocking chair had been her grandmother’s, her mother’s, and now hers. She felt her hand go instinctively to her stomach, imagining all of the times she would rock their little one to sleep in the chair that had raised two generations so far. She took in the sight of her husband with her parents, all of the important people in her life gathered in one room. It was a picture-perfect moment, a memory she knew she would cherish.

After her parents had gone and Tim had moved the rocking chair to what would eventually be the nursery, she had sat in it a long time, rocking back and forth, thinking about their future.

“I love you,” he’d whispered, sneaking into the room to find her there an hour later. He kissed her cheek. “I can’t wait for this baby. I knew it would happen.”

“I love you more,” she replied, slowing her rocking. “It just feels like a miracle.”

They’d been trying for thirteen months, had started to feel like giving up.

And now it happened. God had answered her prayers. They were starting a family.

Rocking back and forth, she saw visions of them as the perfect family—dance recitals, spelling bees, playing catch in the yard. She couldn’t wait to hear the word she’d been wanting to hear.

Mom.

_______________

The tears picked up in intensity as she rocked, just like she had years ago. She felt a flashback to the warmth she felt on the first day the rocking chair came into the house. She felt a pang of the hopes for the future, for what could’ve been.

Five weeks later, those dreams were crushed under a word she’d never expected to hear.

Miscarriage.

The single word had shredded her, body and soul, in a thousand ways. It had ripped the dream right out from under it. She had returned to the rocking chair only to feel herself gripping the armrest, her nails shredding the paint.

Her parents, Tim, Stella, they had all told her to be patient, with time she would be okay. They told her it was unfortunate, but these things happened, and they would just try again.

She’d tried to believe them, tried to pick up the pieces. Eventually, the sorrow dulled to a soft jabbing pain. They tried again.

And again.

And again.

Another rocking chair moment never came. There was never another beautiful family moment of her parents congratulating her.

Slowly, the dreams of being a mother dimmed.

They had turned to the thought of adoption, had decided it was their route. She’d been okay with that. The rocking chair sat still, waiting for her to rock her baby in her arms, even if it wasn’t biological. She still held out for the word “mother.”

And then Tim. The heart attack, the death, the pain, even worse this time.

The rocking chair sat empty. The word “mother” vanished completely from her thoughts. She would never experience that. The perfect dreams of dance recitals and playing catch were incinerated. The pictures on the wall of their planned nursery suddenly became horrendous, flashing reminders of all they’d lost. She had shut the door the week after the funeral, not wanting to step foot in a tomb of what could’ve been.

Except today. Today, she’d creaked open the door, inhaled the dusty, shut-in smell. She’d run her fingers over the glass of the pictures on the wall, realizing they’d never really left her mind. She lowered herself into the rocking chair, simultaneously numb to the reality and painfully aware of it.

She rocked. For hours, she rocked, Henry curled in a ball at her feet, thinking about the madness called life, thinking about how everything changed. Thinking about how sometimes wishes and prayers were answered in ways unimaginable.

_______________

“Honey, what are you doing?” Stella asked as Sophia looked at her in the doorway of the room. Stella crossed the rough hardwood floor, tripping on the edge of the area rug. Sophia didn’t try to wipe away her tears or hide her state. She was too tired, too confused to be anything except honest.

“Sophia, what’s going on? Are you having a hard day? What’s the date? Is today a significant day?”

Sophia didn’t say anything, just stared as her friend knelt down to be eye level. She stopped rocking. Sitting motionless felt odd after the hours of rocking. “No. It’s just a regular day.”

“Then, honey, what’s going on? I was worried when you didn’t show up for work and didn’t answer your phone. Just overwhelmed? Thinking of Tim?”