23. Braxton
Chapter 23
Braxton
“ H ey, Pop,” I say, entering his room. I love the smile that appears on his face as soon as he sees me. More often than not I just get a blank stare.
“Hi, son.”
The moment those words are out of his mouth, I’m grinning. Today is a good day; today he remembers me. He leans forward in his chair and looks behind me. My first thought is he’s looking for Jem, but sadly, she isn’t with me today.
I’ve waited on the back deck every morning since I last saw her. I even resorted to taking Bella-Rose for walks just in case she was further down the beach, but there has been no sign of her.
“Where’s your mum? She’s not with you?” he asks.
My heart sinks. He doesn’t ask for her often, but when he does, it always ends badly.
“No, she’s not,” I answer as he stands to hug me.
“Where is she? Is she coming to see me later?”
I briefly think about making up some elaborate story, but I’ve never lied to him and I’m not about to start. “She … umm … can’t be here today.”
I feel terrible when I see his face drop.
“Why not?” he asks.
I scratch my head as I think of the best way to put this, but there’s no good way to tell him she is no longer with us.
“She passed away a long time ago, Pop.”
His whole body deflates, and I hate the look of confusion I see on his face. “What? How?” He sinks back down into his chair and stares off into the distance as he tries to make sense of what I’m telling him. When his eyes finally meet mine again, I see they are now clouded with tears. “I can’t believe she’s gone. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gone to the funeral if I’d known.”
I take a seat beside him and place my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Pop.”
A lump rises to my throat when he covers his face with his hands and weeps. It was hard enough seeing him going through this when he first lost her. I hate that he has to relive it all these years later.
“I can’t believe she’s gone. Not my Grace. How am I supposed to go on without her?”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I rub his back instead. Again that nagging guilt I’ve carried around all this time comes flooding to the surface.
“It’s all my fault,” I whisper.
He stops crying and looks up at me. His tear-stained face does nothing to ease my pain. “What do you mean it’s all your fault?”
We’ve never discussed this before, but maybe it’s time we did. “You woke me in the middle of the night because you needed to take her to the hospital. I was supposed to get up, but I fell back asleep …” I pause, then force myself to keep going. “Her appendix burst on the way to the hospital, and she died a little while later on the operating table. If only I’d got out of bed straightaway and hadn’t held you up …”
He looks away and gazes out the window for the longest time, and I’d love to know what is going through his mind. He probably understands nothing I’ve just said, and it makes me wish we’d had this conversation before he got sick.
“That’s right … I remember,” I hear him whisper. Minutes pass before he makes eye contact again. “Braxton.” It’s been so long since I’ve heard him say my name. “Do you actually think it’s your fault?”
“It’s what I know.”
He straightens his posture and clears his throat before answering. “Well, you’re wrong. Your mother had those pains for two days. I kept telling her to go to the doctor, but she refused. She was stubborn like that. She hated doctors. The only time she went without a fight is when it was for you.”
“You remember?”
“Of course I do,” he says, flicking his hand. It almost makes me want to laugh. He’s obviously forgotten he has Alzheimer’s and doesn’t even remember his own name most days. I don’t know what to make of all this because he gets so confused, but I remember her not liking doctors. “She died because she left it too late. It had nothing to do with you.”
“I feel responsible, Pop.”
“Well, don’t. Have you been carrying this around with you all these years?” He sighs when he looks at me. “I wish you’d talked to me. I could’ve set you straight.” He drapes his arm around my shoulder, pulling my body towards his. “I’m so sorry you felt that way, son. Please know it wasn’t your fault.”
He speaks with such confidence, and there’s a huge part of me that yearns for his words to be true. But it’s irrelevant, it’s still not going to lessen my feeling of loss, or bring my mother back.
I stay a little longer than usual, and I’m pleased that by the time I leave, he has reverted to no memory of me—because that also means he’s forgotten our conversation. It would have been impossible for me to walk away if he was still upset.
As soon as I arrive at the office, Lucas notices something is off. “Hey, buddy,” he says, following me into my office. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” I stow my briefcase beside my desk and take a seat in the leather chair.
“What’s got you looking so sullen? Is it Jemma?”
I can’t help but give him a half-smile; he can read me like a book. “No … my dad.”
There’s no point in denying it, he won’t let it go until I open up.
“Shit.” He plonks down on the corner of my desk. “He didn’t have another fall, did he?”
I scrub my hand over my face. “No. He asked where my mum was this morning. It’s hard having to relive it all again. Standing on the sidelines and watching everything he’s gone through—everything he continues to go through—is too much. He lost his wife in her prime and worked his whole damn life in a job he hated. He shouldn’t have to live out the rest of his days like this.”
“Life can be a real bitch sometimes.”
“Don’t I know it.” I feel him watching me as I boot up my laptop. After a few moments of silence, he finally speaks again. “I think Saturday night drinks are in order.”
“I don’t feel like going out.”
“Well, start feeling like it. I’ll pick you up at seven.” He slaps his hand against the desk before standing. “I won’t take no for an answer, Spencer.”
With that, he turns and leaves. I settle back into my chair and smile. A night out on the town with him might do me good.
When I arrived home later that evening, I was surprised to find a visitor waiting on my front porch.
“Rach. What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
She stands and walks towards me. “Everything’s fine,” she answers, getting up on the tip of her toes to kiss my cheek. “I’m here to raid Jemma’s wardrobe. I’m taking her out Saturday night and I want her to look nice.” My face must betray my feeling of trepidation, because she quickly adds, “It’s a girls’ night. She needs this, Braxton.”
Breathing suddenly feels difficult, so I loosen my tie. I agree she needs it, but it still makes me feel uneasy. I never experienced these insecurities when she was mine, but she isn’t mine anymore; well, not in her eyes. What if she meets someone else?
I reach into the back seat to grab my briefcase. “Lucas and I are going out Saturday night as well. We should organise to meet up later on.”
Her face immediately darkens. “If Lucas is going to be there, then no.”
I pause and glance at her over my shoulder. “What the hell happened between you two? You used to be friends.”
I still can’t wrap my head around this one. My last memory of them together is at our wedding, laughing and dancing.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” she says as we climb the front steps. Before I have time to respond, Bella-Rose comes barrelling out of the doggy door I had installed.
“Hey, girl,” I say as she jumps against my leg with excitement.
“Oh my god. You have a dog? When did you get her?”
“I do.” I reach down and scoop her into my arms. I chuckle when she licks my cheek. “This is Bella-Rose. I got her from the animal shelter.”
“Aww. She’s so cute!” Rachel beams as she scratches Bella-Rose under the chin.
“She’s my new companion. It gets lonely in this big house all by myself.”
Rachel’s smile softens. “I’m sorry.” That’s all she says, and I appreciate she doesn’t fill me with false hope. Like me, she knows there’s no guarantee that Jemma and I will ever get back what we once had.
“I don’t want to go to our usual haunt,” I say to Lucas as he backs out of my driveway. My bet is that’s where Jemma and Rachel will go, and as much as I’d like to see her, I don’t want Lucas’s attitude towards Rachel to ruin their night—or ours.
“No problem. We can go to that place I took you last time.”
“Sounds good.”
I don’t bother telling him why, because I don’t want to sour his mood. I wish I knew what the hell was going on with those two, but neither of them will talk about it, so for now I’ll butt out.
We take a seat in one of the booths off to the side, and after ordering a couple of Coronas and some dinner, Lucas sits back and gives me his undivided attention.
“So, how are things going with you and Jemma?” he asks.
“Still the same. We’ve made some progress, I guess.” I exhale. “But I feel like every time we take a step forward, it’s followed by two steps back.”
“Hang in there, mate.”
“I’ll wait forever if I have to.”
“What about your dad?”
I shrug. “Same. He has his good days, and not so good.”
The waitress brings our drinks over, and Lucas raises his in the air. “To better times ahead,” he says, clinking his bottle with mine.
“To better times.”
We’re a few beers in when the food finally arrives. Thankfully the conversation has turned lighter, to sports and work.
“Can I get you something else to drink?” the waitress asks when she places the food down in front of us.
“Just a beer for him,” Lucas says, gesturing towards me. “I’m driving.”
I’m laughing at something Lucas said, as we eat, when I see his fork pause mid-air. His mouth is still open, but his expression turns from shocked to angry in a millisecond.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” he snaps, dropping his cutlery down onto his plate. I don’t even need to ask who she is.
Although I’m still perplexed by his behaviour towards Rachel, my heart begins to race because if she’s here, that means Jemma is as well.
Looking over my shoulder, I see them both approach the bar and take a seat on the stools that Lucas and I sat at the first time we were here. My gaze zeros in on Jemma; she looks beautiful in that electric-blue dress.
It was a gift from Rachel for her birthday, and was designed especially for her. She wore it that same night when I took her out for dinner. I bought her a necklace that year to go with it—a heart-shaped sapphire pendant that was surrounded by small diamonds.
My gaze follows her every move as she takes in the surrounding space. The look of wonderment in her eyes tells me she loves what she is seeing, just like I knew she would. I’m grinning as I watch her. There’s no doubt in my mind that the designer is still in there somewhere.
I’m taken aback when Lucas stands, and for a minute I think he’s going to approach them and make a scene. But he pulls two fifty-dollar notes out of his pocket and throws them down on the table.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“Sit down and finish your dinner. They haven’t even noticed we’re here.”
“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” he grumbles, reaching for his jacket. “I’m sorry, man, but I just can’t be near her anymore.”
He doesn’t even wait for me to stand before he stalks towards the exit. I quickly place my cutlery down and take a swig of my beer before following him out. My eyes are focused on Jemma as I pass. I’m glad she appears to be having a nice time tonight.
I smile when Jemma laughs at something Rachel says, but it’s wiped from my face when I see the bartender’s flirtatious grin as he places a glass of red wine in front of her.
My thoughts revert back to the first time she drank wine, not long after she moved in with Rachel. It was a Friday night and Lucas and I were hanging out at the girls’ apartment. Back then, the four of us did everything together. Jemma and Rachel consumed two and a half bottles between them. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and it resulted in me holding Jemma’s hair back while she hugged the toilet bowl for the rest of the evening.
I’d love to go over and say hello to the girls—and give the bartender the message to back off—but I need to find out what the hell is going on with my best mate.
“Lucas wait up,” I call out as I step out into the crisp air. He doesn’t stop, so I jog to catch up to him. “What’s got into you tonight?”
“Leave me alone,” he grumbles.
“Talk to me.” I reach for his elbow, pulling him to a stop. I’m not letting this go until I get to the bottom of it. In all the years we’ve been friends, I’ve never seen him act like this. “What’s going on with you two?”
He tugs his arm out of my grip, spinning around to face me. “It’s just … Ugh!” He runs his hands roughly through his hair in frustration. “I can’t be around her anymore.”
Without another word he turns again, heading towards his car.
“Hey,” I say, following him. “Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Lucas, don’t do this.” He takes a few more steps before grinding to a halt.
“Do what?”
“Don’t shut me out.”
This time when he turns to face me, I’m taken aback to find him on the verge of tears. “What do you want me to tell you? That I’m madly in love with her, and she doesn’t feel the same way about me? That she played me? That she ripped my fucking heart out and stomped on it like a cold-hearted bitch? Is that what you want me to say?”
His revelation floors me. “If that’s the truth, then yes.”
I can already tell by the look on his face that it is. I stand there dumbfounded, at a loss for words. It’s true what they say: there’s a fine line between love and hate. I’ve never seen him so angry.