20. Chapter 20
“If you’re feeling adventurous, take a detour into the Talladega or De Soto National Forests. You’ll be glad you did.”
“Right. I’ll be glad when this is over,” Graham had said during the re-read of the letter outlining this leg of the journey.
On the way out of the motel parking lot, he pressed his head against the passenger window and closed his eyes against the late-morning sun.
There were at least seven hours of driving ahead without following the suggested scenic diversions.
The Polaroid with today’s letter was Jason and Theresa Young in front of a railing at the water’s edge in New Orleans. Jase recognized the picture from the day he learned the truth about his father.
The memory came back as the miles melted into hours and the white lines between lanes began to blur. First, the sound he couldn’t shake from his head.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The god-awful tone, like tinnitus in his ears.
Then his dad, his best and only friend, telling him it was over. Jason was ending treatment.
“Look at me and quit sulking,” he had said from the upright position in the adjustable bed that replaced his California king. “Christ, kid, everybody dies.”
The smells. The house Jase grew up in had become as sick and antiseptic as a hospital.
“Open my drawer, will you?” His dad motioned to the bedside table where a full I.V. bag and a fresh stainless-steel bedpan waited.
My dad shits in a pan. It was too much.
Beep. Beep. Beep. A steady heart for now. Jase’s own pulse thumped in his temples.
“Go on,” Jason said.
The sudden weight of his father’s decision made it hard to move. With effort, Jase reached for the drawer and pulled it open.
“Give me the key ring.”
His dad fumbled with the ring until he picked out a single key and handed it back.
“There, take this,” he said. “In my study, next to the wet bar, is a drawer. In the drawer is a box. Bring it to me. And don’t open it!”
Jase returned with the wooden box, and Jason used a second key to unlock it.
Inside were all the pictures of Jase’s mother.
“You said there weren’t any pictures left of Mom,” he said, staring at her through the ages and the sheen in his eyes.
There had never been so much as a portrait on the wall in remembrance of Theresa Young.
Jase had forgotten what she looked like beyond her curly auburn hair and the softness in her eyes he sometimes saw in dreams. Her face smiling up at him as if she never missed a beat, or the last thirty years, stirred a beast in Jase’s chest he didn’t know was trapped inside.
He would’ve punched his old man if Jason wasn’t dying.
“I lied,” his dad said. “I had to put them away.”
Jase’s voice was brisk with pent-up pain. “Why?”
“I couldn’t look at them after she was gone.”
“She was my mother. You took her away from me and kept her to yourself?”
“Uh-huh, and I’d do it again. You’ve never loved anyone the way I love her. After your mother, nothing was ever the same.” He paused. “Why do you think I put my bike away? I didn’t trust myself not to get on it and drive away.”
The picture Jase was holding of his parents on a bridge at sunset fell out of his hands. “What?”
“I didn’t go,” his dad was quick to emphasize.
“Your mother, she was everything to me. You boys were so young. You were what, five? Six? Graham wasn’t even in school.
What did I know about raising a couple of boys?
I hated myself,” he choked out, “for thinking my Theresa would still be alive if we never had kids.”
For the first time in years, Jase wished Graham was there to absorb some of the blows.
Jason wiped his eyes with a shaky hand and said, “I’ve never forgiven myself for that.
Every time I saw her face, I’d have these thoughts, and they weren’t good for you boys.
I was never going to be the kind of dad you needed unless I got rid of them.
” He tapped the box. “I couldn’t really let her go, but I did what I needed to do to get by. ”
Jase leaned on the edge of the bed and dropped his head in his hands.
“Christ,” he muttered finally. “What do you want me to say? What am I supposed to do with all this?”
“Nothing. I just wanted you to see your mother isn’t lost. You’ll be getting her back soon.” He paused. “So will I.”
“No.” Jase pushed the box away. “No, I don’t accept that.”
“You don’t have a choice, son. Don’t let it eat at you.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“It was now or never, kid. And I knew you’d never appreciate why I kept your mother in a box if I didn’t tell you the truth. The whole truth. While I still had the time.”
Jase ran a hand down his wet face through the stubble on his chin, staring into the box.
“One day,” his dad went on, “when she comes into your life, you’ll understand. You haven’t met her yet, kid, but you will. You can count on it.”