Chapter Twenty-One #2
I try to picture a little twelve-year-old Jack here, almost able to see the way he would be bouncing from exhibit to exhibit. I imagine he was just as rambunctious as a child as he is as an adult, and the thought brings a small smile to my face.
He tugs me along, and sure enough, in the next tank there are a few clown fish floating around.
“I was struggling in my hockey league back then,” Jack tells me quietly, watching the fish. “I hadn’t grown into my arms and legs yet, and it was like I was all hands and feet. Couldn’t sink a shot to save my life some days. It used to frustrate the hell out of me.”
“Wow, I can’t really imagine that,” I say.
“I wasn’t always the picture of perfection you see today,” he says with a flourish of his hand down his body.
I elbow him in the side. “Right.”
“Anyway, so I see this movie about this little fish who had this messed-up fin, and still he was determined to do anything he set his mind to. That really resonated with me as a kid, you know?”
“I could see it.”
“So dad brought us all here a few weeks later, and I remember being really bummed that I didn’t see an actual clown fish here like Nemo. Which is fucked-up I guess, that I was hoping to see a disfigured fish.”
“You were just a kid,” I remind him.
He nods. “Yeah, I know. But I remember being actually kind of upset about it. I was being a real Debbie Downer all afternoon.”
“I’m sure your dad understood,” I say.
“He did,” Jack tells me. “He actually said something to me that day that I never really forgot.”
We’re just standing in front of the tank now, watching the clown fish swim, and I look up to see Jack’s expression has turned somewhat sad, like he’s remembering the day clearly.
“I really wasn’t trying to bring you down with me today,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “You aren’t. I brought you here because I thought you might need to hear it too.”
“What did he say?”
“He said it wasn’t actually about the fish,” Jack says, “but the way I saw myself in it.”
“That makes sense.”
“He told me that sometimes in life it may feel like there are things we can’t do, or things we think aren’t in the cards for us, but it’s important to not give up.
To keep pushing toward whatever it is we’re after until it’s in our grasp.
That if we really want something, we’re the only ones that can make it happen.
” He looks at me then, his expression serious.
“For me, that was something as simple as making a goal at practice. But for you…I think that’s finding a way to live with the fact that your dad isn’t ever going to be who you want him to be, and realizing that’s okay.
You don’t need him to be there for you, because you do a fucking fantastic job of being there for yourself.
He might be a piece of shit person, but he made two really amazing kids.
He doesn’t have to be in your life for that to be true.
He doesn’t have any power over you, Abby. Not if you don’t let him.”
He squeezes my hand, and I feel…something inside me that feels too big to contain.
I feel sorrow for the little boy who came here with his parents only to lose them shortly after.
I feel loss for the childhood he’s describing that was never in the cards for me—not with my mom’s illness and my dad’s complete lack of stepping up.
I feel gratefulness for this man who cares enough to do something as silly as bring me to an aquarium and tell me a story about a fish just to make me feel better.
I feel all sorts of things at this moment, and all of them have to do with Jack Baker.
“So…” I manage with a watery tone. “Just keep swimming. Basically.”
Jack’s answering smile is so bright it actually hurts to look at, and I suddenly can’t think of anything more that I want than for him to hold me, to touch me—to make me feel like there’s something better out there for me than just bad memories and a long string of disappointments.
And what’s more shocking than any of that is…
I actually trust Jack to do those things.
I don’t know when he wormed his way under my skin, or when I decided that he was more than all the things I used to think he was, but I don’t think there’s any going back now.
It’s far too late. It has to be, with the way my chest swells just from looking at him.
It’s probably not a good idea to do this in public, but still I feel myself pressing up on my toes until my lips brush against his.
His answering kiss is a little heavier than that, his tongue swiping past my lips in a way that is definitely not appropriate for the setting, but still I close my eyes and lean into it, needing his touch at this moment more than I need oxygen.
How did I ever think that this man was anything less than sunshine incarnate?
It’s something I thought of his sister when I first met her, and for all the time I’ve known him, I thought they couldn’t be more different.
But they’re not, I’m realizing. Even if Jack hides his light behind ego and silly jokes—it’s still there.
Brighter than anything I could ever hope to find in my own dark places inside.
And I want every bit of it.
“How much more of this do you want to see?” I whisper against his mouth.
He swallows thickly, his lashes fluttering open. “That depends.”
“On?”
“On where you’d rather be.”
“I’d rather be back home,” I tell him honestly. “I…” I suck in a breath, letting it out slowly as I gather my courage to admit what I want. “I want you.”
His hand curls around my hip, the fish and the crowd completely forgotten with the warmth of his touch.
“What do you want from me, Abby?”
“Everything,” I breathe.
There’s a soft groan in the back of his throat, and then he’s kissing me again, soft and yet far too much. So much that I feel need pulsing in every inch of my skin.
“Then that’s exactly what you’re going to get,” he says slowly, his forehead resting against mine. “Let’s get out of here.”
I don’t think I’ve ever moved faster.