Chapter Twenty-Four Jess
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jess
The following Saturday, Jess started the morning early, but not bright. The drive to Rockford to finally go see her parents would take hours, plenty of time to regret going at all.
I’ll try to land this time. Just like I told Mo, I’ll make the mental effort to feel like I’m home. Maybe this time it will stick.
She took another long swig of coffee from her travel mug and started off, paying close attention to the GPS. A low-level grumbling started inside gnawing at the cautious optimism she was trying to maintain. She reminded herself that Alice and Steph thought a visit was a good idea. She trusted her friends’ perspectives enough to try.
But realistically, there’s no way for this to go well.
At least she could visit Cassie’s grave. Jess hadn’t been able to make it back in time for the funeral, in spite of begging her department to advance her dissertation defense by a few weeks or even do it remotely. Neither she nor her parents could have afforded for her to return to England to do it later. Once she’d returned, she hadn’t been able to muster the strength to go to the cemetery. This time, she felt she could do it. Pulling onto I-96, she fiddled with the radio to find something she could stand listening to, but her heart wasn’t in it. In her frustration, she reminded herself of Alice and Stephanie’s arguments in favor of this visit. They always tried their best to understand, but their relationships with their parents were different. They could actually talk about things. The opposite was true of Jess’s parents, for whom appearance mattered more than anything else. Jess sighed.
At least Mo said I can reach out anytime if I need to.
After a while, the music was irritating her more than anything else. She turned it off and listened to the sound of the tires on the pavement, the engine purring as it should. But she felt terribly alone. Most people felt happy or at least content to go back home, welcomed by their families, excited to share the things that were going on in their lives. Instead she was going someplace where no one understood her. A place where she was too opinionated, too direct, too ambitious, too athletic, too serious, too combative with her words when she stood up for herself. Where she was all-around the wrong kind of person.
Except for Cassie.
Even with her softer, meeker nature, Cassie had always made it clear that she thought Jess was just the right kind of person. From making sure their parents knew that Jess helped her to get good grades, or lauding Jess’s achievements to her friends, to helping Jess come up with the arguments to get their parents to support Jess’s studies abroad—Cassie always embraced who Jess was, valued Jess’s feelings and opinions, and made sure she had fun and knew she was loved.
Tears welled in Jess’s eyes. Blinking them away, she set her mind on something else. Mo had offered to join her on this foolhardy expedition, but she’d declined. Now she was regretting it. Mo’s simple presence was comforting. Even without speaking. And when he was around, the heaviness essentially disappeared. She caught herself smiling a little. If nothing else, Mo’s size might have intimidated her father enough to rein in his critical nature. But she didn’t want to share that part of her life with her parents. The less they knew about her, the better.
—
Too many hours later, and with her stomach rumbling, Jess pulled into the driveway in front of her parents’ pointlessly big house—an ostentatious two-story with a finished basement, seven bedrooms, and a double garage. Her mother had been killing herself for years to keep it clean because even though he could afford to hire a housekeeper, her father—who could not abide dust or smudges—didn’t want a stranger touching his things. The house was a metaphor for their family: pretty on the outside but lacking love and warmth on the inside.
Appearances, appearances.
As she parked, she caught the blinds moving at the window beside the door. She wasn’t all the way out of the car before the front door of the house opened and her mom stepped outside. She was smiling but wringing her hands over her floral apron.
“Jess! Jess, I’m so happy you came,” she said, staying on the porch as Jess approached.
“Hi, Mom,” Jess said, reaching her and giving her an awkward hug.
“Oh dear,” her mom said, taking Jess’s face in both hands. “Is everything all right? You look so thin.” She pulled her hands away and stepped back to look Jess up and down.
“Everything’s fine,” Jess said.
Because that’s what her mom always wanted. For everything to be “fine.”
Her mom took her hand.
“If you’re sure,” she said.
“I am,” Jess said, letting her mom guide her into the house.
Okay, time to “land.” Time to be back home.
Inside, everything was precisely the same, though Jess hadn’t had any other expectations. She took a deep breath. Her mom had been cooking, and while the food smelled good at first, the hunger Jess had been battling quickly twisted into an acidic feeling. She was glad she’d been careful to pack her medication. Following her mom into the kitchen, Jess transformed her grimace into a slight smile as her mom turned around.
“Everything’s almost ready. I made a brisket and mashed potatoes, your favorite,” she said to Jess.
The acid in Jess’s stomach surged, but she didn’t let it show. A meal that heavy would leave her miserable for days, and those foods hadn’t been her favorites for years. She’d told her mother so at each of her last three visits. But no use hurting her feelings.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said. “Kind of you to do that.”
“Of course, sweetie, of course. Oh! There’s also a pie. A Bob Andy,” her mom said, smiling.
Oh God, I’m gonna die. A custard pie? I’ll never digest that.
“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” Jess said. Her mom put her hands on both of Jess’s arms and squeezed.
“How could it be any trouble if it’s for you?” she asked. She squeezed again, looking at Jess’s arms. “But really, honey, you are skin and bones. You haven’t been taking care of yourself.”
Jess shrugged.
“I’m fine, Mom; don’t worry,” she said. “Can I help with anything? Maybe set the table?”
“Oh, that would be helpful, thank you. I already put the plates and glasses on it, but the places need to be set.”
“Gotcha,” Jess said, eager to go somewhere the aroma might not be so strong. She found the dishes stacked on one corner of the table, so she placed those first. Laying down the third on autopilot, she reached back for the fourth, but nothing was there. Her breath rushed out. Her last visit, there had been other family visiting as well. The six-person table had been full. Before that, every single time she’d set this table, there had been four plates, not three. And from now on, when they ate as just immediate family, there would always be a plate missing. Jess’s vision started swimming; her nose began to burn. There were also three glasses when there should have been four.
“Jess, hon, grab the utensils out of the sideboard,” her mom called out from the kitchen. “I don’t want to use everyday utensils on such a special occasion.”
Jess took a deep breath as she turned to the sideboard. She wasn’t going to break down, not here, not now. She didn’t want to show her feelings in front of her parents, particularly her father. If emotions came into play, it would start a fight. Quickly grabbing three sets of everything, she straightened her spine and took another breath. As she laid the rest of the table, her vision sharpened, and her pain began to subside. She thought she was in the clear until she heard her father’s voice.
“Jessica,” he said, standing inside the doorway from the hall. He was holding what Jess assumed to be a glass of scotch in his hand.
A little early in the day, isn’t it?
“Father,” Jess said, regaining her posture after placing the last spoon. He looked at her for a moment without saying anything. His round face was distinctly redder and puffier than her last visit.
Looks like the early scotch has become a habit.
“It’s been a while,” he said.
Jess nodded.
“A shame,” he said.
“Oh?” she asked.
“Yes. Upsets your mother,” he said. “Brenda,” he called out to Jess’s mom. “Can we sit down?”
But it doesn’t upset you, of course.
Jess shook her head internally. But she didn’t ask. If she did, it would start a fight.
“Yes, yes,” Jess’s mom called back. “Everything’s ready.”
Her father’s steps were a little shaky as he crossed the room and sat down at his usual seat at the head of the table. Jess wasn’t sure what to make of that.
More than one glass? Before lunch?
Jess also noticed that he hadn’t offered to help her mom bring the food in, like Mo did at her house. But that was who her father was, a man who expected his wife to wait on him. And she’d been doing it for years.
“Sit down, Jess,” he said, motioning her to her habitual seat. Jess shook her head.
“I’m gonna help Mom with the food.” She walked out of the dining room without another word. It was best if she didn’t spend time with him without her mom’s mediating presence. She was going to avoid a fight.
—
Jess did not check the time. Her father had spent the entire meal talking about himself. While she was curious to know exactly how long the monologue had been, she didn’t want to show any signs of annoyance by looking at her watch. That would start a fight. She tried to push the sliver of pie she’d agreed to around on her plate so that her mom’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt. It did taste good, as her mom’s pies always did. But Jess had eaten all that she could; her stomach already felt like it was going to explode.
“It is good that you were able to find a better supplier, dear,” Jess’s mom said quickly to her father, finding a break in his monologue. “Uh, Jess?” She turned to her. “You’ve been quiet. How is your…um…social life going?”
“My social life?” Jess asked.
“Yes. You’ve moved back, you’re in a new city. Have you made any friends?”
Jess didn’t count anyone at the Folk School as friends quite yet. And while her colleagues were pleasant, she hadn’t spent enough time with them to consider them friends. Jess knew that her definition of “friend” had always been stricter than her mother’s, so she was hesitant about answering. But she needed to give her mom something, or she’d start bugging Jess about it.
“Well,” she said, “I’m still close with Alice and Stephanie from my PhD. We talk a lot. I’ve also made some friends at the place I go to practice.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” her mom said. “That’s good news, isn’t it, Ray?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he said before taking a sip of his refreshed scotch.
While her father’s lack of interest didn’t surprise her, Jess didn’t understand why her mother would think it was wonderful that she had friends.
“Although…” her mom added, “is there anyone who is…I mean, um, maybe more than a friend?”
Of course. Jess should have seen that coming. Her mom was being all weird and nosy because she wanted to know about Jess’s love life. She kept herself from rolling her eyes.
“Well, Mom, if you have to know, yes, I am seeing someone,” she said.
“Oh,” her father said, chuffing a laugh. “Unexpected.” He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, then closed it. His gaze drifted to his plate, then he raised his glass to his lips again.
Unexpected?
Jess swallowed hard. She’d spent so much of her life holding her tongue under this roof. So much time biting back the comeback, the question, the demand for an explanation. So much energy stuffing feelings down, every bit of her ached. But if she responded naturally, it would start a fight. The thing she was trying hard to avoid.
“I’m so happy for you, Jess,” her mother said, pulling Jess’s attention to her. Her mother’s eyes were a little wide as she darted a glance at Jess’s father, then back to Jess again. “I’m glad you’re not alone. What’s his name? What does he do? Are things serious yet?” her mom asked breathlessly.
Jess kept her face neutral, but inside she was partially screaming and partially confused. Why did her mother look at her father as though she was worried? But then, her mother always looked like she was worried. Her eyes were boring into Jess for answers about Mo. Maybe she would drop the subject if she felt like she had some information to chew on. Jess sighed again.
“His name is Mo,” she said. “He has his own successful automotive repair business. He’s divorced and co-parenting well with his ex to raise their twelve-year-old daughter.”
Her father harrumphed. Jess was not surprised.
“Jessica,” he said through a burp. “A kid? Blue-collar? Get a man who doesn’t have baggage and who uses his brain, not his hands.”
Jess didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust herself to at first. She’d kept it together so far and didn’t want to destroy the “nice” family time her mom had clearly worked so hard to put together. She did. Not. Want. To. Start. A. Fight.
Fuck it.
“Better that he works with his hands than uses them to beat me up,” she said, keeping her face placid and taking a small bite of pie. Her father’s face, on the other hand, was reddening. Her mother’s eyes looked like they were going to shoot out of her head.
“Oh, um…Jess, it’s good he owns his own business,” she blurted in a rush, the pitch of her voice far too high as she glanced worriedly at her father. “And he has a good relationship with his ex.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” her father asked Jess, his voice a threatening growl.
“It means exactly what it’s supposed to mean,” she said. “Left to their own devices, your daughters, I mean your remaining daughter, can choose a caring man who doesn’t see her as his property or a punching bag.”
Her father’s face was bright red and contorted. Jess could see the veins at his temples bulging.
“And,” Jess said, delicately taking another small bite of pie, “I’m building a support system in Detroit so that if Mo were to become violent with me, someone would step in. You two have made it clear that five and a half hours is too far a drive to check on your daughter.”
“Jess!” her mom gasped.
“No one talks to me like that in my house,” her father said.
“I didn’t talk to you like anything,” Jess said to him. “I stated a fact. The fact is, Cassie was in a dangerous situation. You knew; you did nothing.”
Her father stood up fast, his chair dragging back on the hardwood floor.
“Insolent,” he said. He grabbed his scotch, some splashing on his hand. “Always difficult.” He looked at Jess’s mom.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” he said. He stomped out of the dining room, his steps wavering more, and went up the stairs.
Jess took another small bite of pie. His barb would have stung if Jess weren’t inured to his bullshit after hearing the same criticism for years. She was astonished that he’d left the room without saying that academia was a waste of time, or that she should have taken her archery further—things he usually did each time they were in contact. She looked across the table at her mom, who had tears in her eyes. Jess reached across the table to take her hand.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said. “I know you tried today.”
“You couldn’t try a little harder?” her mom said. She glanced at the empty doorway. She almost seemed fearful. “He’s been struggling. You know it wasn’t our fault,” she whispered.
Jess snatched her hand back.
“I’m not struggling, too?” Jess asked. “You aren’t? You knew what was going on. You told her to stay. And you turned a blind eye.”
“I tried to tell her that it wasn’t…that…”
“That it wasn’t that bad. You told her that sometimes marriage is hard and the best thing to do is to stick it out,” Jess said. Her mom looked astonished.
“Yeah,” Jess said, nodding. “She called me, too. But she didn’t tell me everything, probably didn’t want me to worry, being so far away. If I’d known how bad it was, I would have pushed her harder to ignore your advice, to leave him. If I’d known that he was abusive, I would—”
“He…he wasn’t abusive,” her mother said meekly, her eyes filling with tears.
“After she died, you told me he used to drive erratically to scare her. And now look. She died. In a car accident while he was driving. That’s some coincidence.”
“It was an accident, ” she hissed, her eyes shifting back and forth across the table, followed by a quick glance at her father’s empty seat. “He didn’t set out to harm her.”
“Why are you making ex—”
Jess’s throat sealed up, the pounding of her heart deafening her. She stared at her mother, whose eyes were wide as they seemed to plead with Jess, full of the same worry that they’d shown when she’d glanced at her father during the meal. Jess’s initial impression hadn’t been wrong, it had been stronger than her mother’s general worried nature. Suddenly, her mother’s excuses for Cassie’s husband, her minimization of what he did, her focus on the intentions she imagined that he had, made sense. If she truly recognized that Cassie had been in an abusive marriage, she’d begin to see that to a degree, her own wasn’t so different.
“You don’t understand,” her mother said, tears streaming down her face. “We did our best. It just wasn’t enough.”
Numb, Jess nodded. The realization about her mother, her parents’ marriage was far too large with implications much heavier than she could begin to approach at that moment. Jess felt like lead. Weighed down. Her anger was gone. All that was left was a grainy emptiness. One she knew would never be filled in that house. It was just a building with nowhere for her to land. It would never feel like home.
Jess stood. “I love you, Mom. Okay?”
“Um, I love you, too, Jess,” she said, looking confused.
Jess left the table, headed to the front door.
“Where are you going?” her mom called out.
“To see my sister,” Jess said. “I won’t be back.”
“Jess, wait!”
Jess grabbed her bag out of the hallway and went out to her car.
—
The groundskeeper pointed Jess in the right direction once she’d arrived at the cemetery. Her grandparents were buried there, but it had been many years since her last visit, so she would have ended up wandering without help. She’d turned her phone off once she’d gotten there, concerned that its near constant buzzing from her mother’s calls might disturb other mourners.
“Hey, Pepper,” Jess said, her voice breaking, once she’d found Cassie’s headstone. A thousand and one thoughts and words and colors and memories bubbled and swirled and clashed in Jess’s mind. She fought hard to find one, choose something, to express a single idea to her sister, but one of them was all of them, and before she could be aware of anything else, she crumbled to her knees, her face against the grass, nails clawing into the earth. Some part of her, seemingly off in the distance, nudged the idea of decorum, of holding herself together in public, of having some degree of self-control. But it was obliterated by the great giant mass of anguish she had fought so hard against on the call with Steph and Alice. Jess let herself sob into the earth, pressing her mouth against the ground when she couldn’t hold back her screams.
After a time that Jess could not measure, the wave passed. She let herself slump onto her side, her cheek still against the grass. She blinked and wiped at her face until she could read her sister’s name.
“Hey, Pepper,” she tried again. Looking at Cassie’s name, she talked. Told her about everything that had been happening over the past few months, even though it felt a little silly because it seemed like Cassie had already been there for parts of it. She shared her frustrations, admitted that maybe Steph and even their mom was right, that Jess compartmentalized too much, and it wasn’t healthy. She told her about work, about Mo, about how much she missed her.
“I don’t know, Cas,” she said. “I’m not ready for this, for life without you. If I really…I can’t. I can’t start some process of grieving. If I accept that you’re gone, that means I’m accepting a life without you—”
Something thick and wet landed on her cheek, cutting her off. She wiped at it, her fingers coming away with a goopy white-and-brown liquid. Confusion stunned her for a moment, and she looked up into the empty blue sky. She caught two birds flying away.
A memory surged forward. She and Cassie walking back to the car after grocery shopping. Jess had been trying to convince Cassie of something, but Cassie wasn’t having it. A bird had pooped on Jess’s head, stopping her mid-sentence. Cassie had simply smiled.
“See?” she’d said. “I call bird shit .” Then she’d winked at Jess.
“Cas!” Jess asked, back in the present, looking at the headstone. “Did you just get a bird to poop on me? Did you just call bird shit ?”
Her heart in her throat, Jess’s eyes teared up again as she smiled with poop on her hand and her cheek.