Chapter 18
JAX
Currently playing: Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day
My mind replays the two nights with Soph as I get ready to meet Ollie at Braxton Body Shop—his auto body shop.
I haven’t had a chance to talk with Soph after the party because our days off don’t line up this week.
I want to call her outside of work hours, but I have no idea what to say.
‘Hi Soph, I think I like you, even after all that happened with my bike’ doesn’t sound like a great opening line.
I pour myself a bowl of cornflakes for breakfast since I need to be at Ollie’s shop in an hour.
I promised to pick up his latest tattoo design idea and see if I could improve it.
As I'm putting the milk back in the fridge, my phone rings—the kitchen fills with the opening notes of “Dude (Looks Like A Lady)”, one of my all-time favorite songs. Checking the caller ID, I see it’s King.
He knows that Tuesdays are my days off, so I wasn't expecting a call from him today.
I answer the call and there’s some rustling on the other end before King’s voice comes through muffled.
“Jax, shit, man, I don't know how to say this, but they…They found Pops dead earlier this morning after he failed to show up to his shift. It looks like he had a heart attack or something. He died in his sleep…”
Uncle Joey is dead. This must be a sick joke. My cousin keeps talking, but I don't process any of his words. My cousins just lost their dad, their last living parent. I lost my only father figure. The world lost an amazing man.
“You there?” King asks after a moment of silence.
“Yeah, but I’m processing. I’m so fucking sorry, King.”
I hear my cousin taking a deep audible breath. “Thanks, me too. I know how much he meant to you. I’m on my way to Omaha from Chicago as we speak,” he explains. “Angel is flying in from LA, and Big O is on the next flight from Denver.”
“I’ll be there soon, too, okay?”
“Thank you, Jax. I…I think he would want me to remind you how much he loved you. You must know that.”
My cousin’s voice breaks, and I hear him taking another deep breath. My eyes are filling with tears as I think about the pain he is in. One of the tears escapes and runs down my left cheek—like it’s branding me. “I know. Just like I love you all.”
“Fuck, man, you’re making me cry even more. Stop it.”
I let out a sad chuckle and wipe my face with my shirt sleeve. “At least we have each other.”
“Yeah, that we do.”
“I’m here for you all—don’t forget that. Call me if you need anything before I get there. Okay?”
“Okay.”
As we end the phone call, I realize I need to start planning my trip to Omaha. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hate flying, but I can’t skip the funeral of the man who taught me so much. I just can’t.
I look down at my bowl of cereal—Uncle Joey loved cornflakes just like I do. He often added cocoa powder to his, so the milk would turn into chocolate milk. But he can't have those anymore as he's fucking dead. He’s dead. Dead.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I throw the bowl against the brick wall of my kitchen, and shattered pieces of ceramic porcelain, cereal, and milk get everywhere. I stare at the mess around me. But it doesn't ease my pain. Nothing will. Not today, not tomorrow. Not anytime soon.
With shaking hands, I call Ollie. He picks up the phone after only two rings. “Hi J, I was about to head downstairs to the shop soon. Are you gonna be late again?”
“Uncle Joey is dead—” I barely get my words out. “I can’t breathe—”
“Jackson, listen to me. Listen to my voice.” Ollie tells me and starts helping me to breathe through my overwhelming emotions. “Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat it. Can you feel your heart rate slowing?”
I shake my head, but he can’t see it. “No.”
“Fuck. I’m on my way.” Ollie swears more while there’s noise in the background. “I’ll call Eli.”
“Okay,” I whisper, wiping my eyes with my shirt.
“Are you sure you’ll be fine until I get there?” My best friend sounds worried.
“I need you, brother. Only you.”
“Hang in there, J. I’m only fifteen minutes away,” he tells me reassuringly. I can’t get more words out, so I hang up.
I slowly slide down the fridge to sit on my kitchen floor.
I let it all out when my ass hits the dark wooden floor—my body shakes uncontrollably, and I feel sick to my stomach.
I still can't breathe right, and my eyes hurt from all the tears. All the pain of my childhood, the years of abuse, my recent breakup drama, and my uncle’s death get out in one massive emotional waterfall, flowing faster than water over Niagara Falls.
I try to get up, but my legs are unsteady—like a newborn giraffe. So I stay here, next to the broken pieces of my breakfast bowl.
I don’t know how long I lay on the floor in a fetal position until I hear Ollie’s voice and feel him lying next to me.
He takes me in his arms and hugs me. That hug alone makes me feel more whole than I have felt since I heard the news.
Having my best friend here is everything.
I cry until no more tears come out. Ollie strokes my hair and whispers that I’ll be fine.
After a while, we slowly move, and Ollie helps me sit against the counter.
He walks to the kitchen closet and takes out cleaning supplies to clean up my mess.
I watch as he sweeps the broken pieces off the floor.
That bowl was my favorite. Just like my uncle.
Fuck, even thinking about him makes me want to cry again.
Getting up from the floor, I walk to the bathroom and look at myself—my pale skin is almost see-through. Sunglasses will do wonders to hide my pain from the world. Only I and Ollie know how much it all hurts.
A week after my cousin called to tell me the worst news of my life, I’m standing in front of the funeral home with Soph.
When she heard about my uncle’s passing, Soph organized travel for us.
I’m not complaining, because she’s gotten under my skin, making me feel like I need her to get through this pain.
And that scares me almost as much as imagining my life without my uncle.
My only issue is that we still haven’t talked much after the party, so I have no idea where we stand.
But having her here helps in its own special way.
Even thinking about getting onto that plane alone was making me break out in a sweat.
Soph was my saving grace, keeping me together when all I wanted to do was fall apart on our way to Omaha.
Her presence alone calmed my nerves, and her touch made me relax.
“Are you ready to go in?” Soph asks. Her black lacy dress has long sleeves covered by her new leather jacket. I’m wearing an all-black suit with a black shirt—my cousins requested no ties as Uncle Joey hated those.
“Is a person ever ready to say goodbye to people they love?” I mumble, wishing I had a cigarette to create that immediate sense of relaxation. But I’m trying my best to quit smoking, so that isn’t an option.
Soph shakes her head and looks at the front doors of the building. “Not really. But I think saying goodbye will help with the grieving process.”
I ponder her words. “The worst part about this entire grieving thing is when you feel like you’re living two lives. You have this one life where you pretend everything is okay…then behind closed doors, you can let it all go after your heart has been silently screaming in pain all day long.”
I look down at my feet before continuing.
“Uncle Joey was larger than life, and now he’s gone.
He was always there cheering me on. He once told me that if you try to find yourself, you will get lost on the way.
But if you try to create yourself, you can try again and again until you like the result.
I need to remember that and many other things I learned from him.
Fuck, how can I survive—” My voice cracks, and I look up to stop the tears.
Soph grabs my hand and squeezes it. We stand in the almost empty parking lot outside the funeral home in silence.
The only sounds I hear are passing cars and my wildly beating heart.
I’m not ready to walk in yet. Not when my heart is aching for all the times I wish I had told my uncle how much he means to me.
How I hope I could return to our final phone call two days before he died.
I wish I had told him how much I loved him more often when I still had the chance.
“Life is so fucking unfair,” I barely get out, emotion making my voice waver again. My eyes are burning. I’m not used to crying this much, and my body screams for a break from all the emotions. But I can’t stop.
“I know, Jax, I do,” Soph assures me.
And I believe every word she says. “Fuck, Soph, I’m drowning in it all. It feels like I can’t breathe. I can’t—”
She wraps her arms around me as I sink into her embrace. I smell her perfume and shampoo, a mix of vanilla and something fruity—it calms my rapidly beating heart as she tightens her hold on me. And there aren’t many other places I’d rather be right now than her arms.
When we walk in a little later, I say hi to my cousins and other people I recognize. Everything is going as expected until I hear a familiar female voice behind me. “Is that you, Jackson? Come to say hi to your mom, you little shit.”
I turn to face my mother and try to hide my reaction at the sight of her.
Trisha looks like she’s been on a bender for a week and came straight from the bar to her brother’s memorial.
She smells like a brewery too. Her tiny frame is even more petite than I remember in a faded black dress that hangs off her.
Her blonde hair is in a greasy ponytail and those emotionless blue eyes that are nothing like mine stare at me, making me wonder if we’re even related.
If I hadn’t seen photos from the hospital the day I was born, I would question who my mother truly is.
But unfortunately, this person in front of me holds that title.
“You should go home. We don’t need you. Let us grieve him in peace,” I grind out between my teeth and sign to the door, not interested in Trisha’s attitude and disrespectful behavior today.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she hisses through her yellow teeth.
“I’m here to pay my respect to the only man who has been a father figure in my life, and I don’t need your presence.”
I swear her eyes get sharper as she speaks.
“Oh, Jackson, my baby boy. I thought you would know this by now, but I guess this is what happens when you ignore your mother for years.” She pauses for dramatic effect, an evil grin on her lips and eyes twinkling as she drops the bomb, “But your dad isn’t dead. ”
My body tenses at her words, and I hear Soph gasp beside me.
My cousins look our way curiously, but I shake my head in their direction, telling them not to bother with Trisha.
But Angel isn’t listening. He walks towards us, and my nails dig into my palms, the pain grounding me.
I lick my lips, trying to say anything to ease the situation; but no words come out.
“Aunt Trisha, it’s good to see you, but now isn’t time for your dramatics. Can I order you a car to take you home?” Angel asks more calmly than I ever could.
“No, thank you, Gabriel. Or are you Ethan? I never could tell you apart. I just know that you aren’t Orlando, he’s the one who got his eyes from my brother, and you have your mother’s beautiful brown eyes.”
My cousin lets out a laugh laced with sarcasm. “I go by Angel now.”
My mother snorts. “There’s nothing angelic about any of you boys if you’re like your father.”
“That’s enough,” I raise my voice and grab her arm. Her body feels fragile underneath my touch. “Let’s finish this conversation, and then we never have to see each other again, okay?”
The cold fall air hits my face when I open the door. I step aside to make room for my mother as I process what she said.
It’s like she can read my mind. “I’ll make this quick and simple. Your father is living his best life in New York. He has everything you missed growing up. You could look him up, you know? You got your middle name from him.”
For the second time in a week, I’m lost for words. First, I lost my uncle, my only father figure. Then I find out that my biological father is alive. Not dead like I was told my whole childhood. “But you said he died in a car accident before I was born!”
Trisha shrugs like she doesn’t care about my feelings. “It was wishful thinking on my part. I wanted him to be dead, but the truth is that he doesn’t even know about you.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” I shout angrily before lowering my voice while tugging on my hair. “Please fucking tell me why you would do something like that and then randomly tell me about him all these years later,” I almost beg my mother, who doesn’t seem too worried about my feelings.
“He never loved me. I was just a rebound after his high school sweetheart broke it off with him before college. He headed off to some fancy-ass Ivy League school on the East Coast and never looked back. Not hearing back from him after those two weeks we spent together, I wanted him to be dead. So, that’s what I told you when you were old enough to ask where your daddy is. ”
“That’s so fucked up, Trisha.”
She acts like the conversation is boring her by rolling her eyes. “Well, I don’t have any regrets. What would his family think about you? Look at you, all tattooed up with a broken past and fucked up life.”
I stand there in shock. I can’t believe her. Fuck. I have a father somewhere in New York.
It all seems like a bad nightmare when I hear her speak. “Bye, Jackson. I would say that I hope you’ll be happy, but after you ruined my life and made sure no man would ever love me, I don’t hope that.”
“Bye, Trisha. I won’t miss you.”
After having a final look at me, she walks away with a one-finger salute. It’s the last time I’ll ever see her if I have anything to do with it. Finding my phone in my suit jacket pocket, I open the group conversation with Eli and Ollie, and start my voice message.
Voice message from Jax: I don’t even know how to begin…but here I go, I guess.
Um, I saw Trisha. And guess fucking what? My dad, well, maybe I should call him my father as he hasn’t been around much. But anyway, he’s alive…somewhere in New York.
That bitch hid that all these years.
Fuck.
Anyway, that’s it. Time to drink and forget my life for one night. Finding the hotel bar now.
Bye.