6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Jon
And there it is. We've only known each other for twenty-four hours, and I've already been filed in the brother category.
Say something! I tell myself. For the love of all that is good, say something.
"I came downstairs earlier," I finally say, "You and Mom were deep in conversation, so I didn't want to interrupt."
"We were just clearing up a few things."
"Like what?" I ask. "No, you don't have to tell me. I just hope everything's okay."
"Everything's fine," she says, smiling. "More than fine."
"Good," I say. "Have you ever been to New York?"
"You mean to visit and not just passing through?"
"Yeah," I say, glancing at her briefly before looking away.
"When I was a little girl, my Dad brought me along on one of his business trips."
"Your mom didn't come with you?" I ask.
"No. No, she didn't. She made my dad choose between us."
"How so?"
"I was seven. I overheard when Dad told Mom he felt I was old enough to travel with them. I had always stayed behind with my grandmother before. To make a long story short, she said that if I went, she would rather stay home."
"What did your dad say?"
"He said it was her choice whether to go or stay but that I was going. It was yet another of the many reasons she resented me."
"I'm sorry," I say. "I can't imagine having such a difficult relationship with a parent."
"Yeah, it hasn't been easy being my mother's daughter. One of the main reasons I chose to leave home right after graduating was because I knew it was just a matter of time before she kicked me out. I just beat her to the punch."
"What did your dad do for a living?"
"He was a business consultant."
"So he traveled a lot?"
"Yeah, he traveled for business once or twice a month. Why?"
"Do you know if he had life insurance? A will?"
"Yes. He had both."
"Good," he says. "When you do that much traveling, you want to make sure your family is cared for should something happen to you."
"Well," she begins, "What happened to him happened at home." Her eyes immediately well up with tears.
"I'm so sorry. Please don't cry."
"I'm okay," she says. "Anyway, Dad put a stipulation in both. I must be twenty-one to claim my inheritance and the insurance proceeds."
"I thought maybe that's what you deposited at the bank."
"No," she hesitates before continuing, "That was Jimmy's life insurance."
I can see the pain in her eyes, making me regret bringing up the subject.
"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I'm eighteen," she says, looking down at her engagement ring and twisting it around her finger. "Jimmy and I were waiting for me to turn eighteen so we could get married, but by then, he was already gone."
"I'm so sorry," I say.
"It's getting late," she says, standing up. "I'm still a little jet-lagged, so I think I'll turn in early."
"Okay," I say. "I'll walk you back."
When we reach the back door, she turns to me and smiles. Her green eyes are glistening with unshed tears. I want to hold and comfort her, but I settle for a good night.
"See you in the morning," I say before I walk away. Halfway across the lawn, I glance back at the door, but she's already gone inside.
***
When I reach Loren's backyard, I can see the lights are still on inside her house, so I knock on her back door.
"Come in, Jon. Come in."
"You're still awake?"
"I was hoping you would stop by before I went to bed."
"Did you need something?"
"No," she says, "I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. Would you like a cup of tea?"
I don't drink tea, but I never say no if Loren offers me a cup.
"I'd love a cup. Thank you."
I sit down, and we wait for the water to boil.
"I'll get it," I say when the tea kettle whistles.
After I pour the water over each tea bag nestled in our cups, I sit across from her again and wait, knowing precisely what's coming.
"Jon," she begins. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the young woman in your parent's home is the same young woman whose fiancé died in that tragic accident you were involved in."
"How did you find out?"
"She told me all about Jimmy on the plane. It was a five-hour flight. We practically exchanged life stories."
"What am I going to do?" I ask, feeling anger, frustration, and sadness bubble up inside me.
"You're going to sit her down and tell her everything."
"I tried," I say. "She said she didn't want to know anything about the accident. She's afraid that it'll wound her even more."
"If you don't tell her, she will never forgive you."
"Did you hear what I said?” I ask, exasperated. "She said she doesn't want to know."
"She will want to know this ."
This meaning it was my fault. This meaning I was not able to save him.
"Jon," Loren begins when she sees what must look like guilt reflected on my face and sheer torment in my eyes. "I've heard you screaming Jimmy's name at two, three o'clock in the morning when you're in the middle of a nightmare."
"I'm sorry."
"None of it. Hear me, Son. None of it is your fault, but you must tell her."
"How? How am I going to tell her that I caused Jimmy's death?"
"It was an accident, Jon. You're just a boy and have so much life ahead of you. You're going to have to let go of that guilt before it ruins your future."
***
After last night's conversation with Loren, I'm thankful when I wake up and realize I had a dreamless night. I also realize I overslept. It's almost eight when I get up and take a quick shower.
I stop by Loren's before walking the short distance to my parents' house.
"Good morning, Loren."
"Good morning," she says when I walk in. "Do you want some oatmeal?"
"As tempting as that sounds," I say, laughing, "I think I'll pass. I'm running late, but I wanted to let you know I'm going to New York next weekend. Let me know if you need me to take care of anything before I go. And I'll make sure to mow the lawn before then."
"Don't worry about the lawn," she says. "I'll call Robert and ask him to put me back on his rotation."
"I'm not leaving for good," I say. "Just for that weekend."
"I know, but now that your parents are back, you might not have a lot of free time on your hands."
"When school starts up again, it might be a different story, but for now, I'm available whenever you need me."
"Thank you," she says. "Now go. They're probably waiting for you."
Sharon is the only one in the kitchen when I get to the house.
"Where is everyone?" I ask.
"Your mom and dad left about five minutes ago, and Noah is still sleeping."
"They left? Where to?"
"They said they were going for a walk at Lost Pond."
"We have some nice trails around here if you ever want to go for a walk or a hike."
"I'd like that," she says.
She's wearing an orange blouse that brings out the green and gold in her eyes.
"Do you want some breakfast?"
"Yeah, I could eat."
When she sets a bowl of oatmeal in front of me, I burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" she asks.
"Loren offered me the same breakfast before I left. I thought I was coming home to bacon, eggs, and toast."
"We had that yesterday," she says. "You want to live long, don't you?"
"I want to live happily," I say, smiling.
"I did put sliced bananas, blueberries, and a dash of cream on it. It's good, I promise."
I take my first bite and am pleasantly surprised.
"It's good."
"I told you."
"Sharon, I really need to talk to you about Jimmy."
"What about him?"
"The day of the accident, I —."
"Jon, please. I already told you I don't want to know. Please respect my wishes."
"But I have to tell you some—."
"If you don't stop, I'm going to get mad and walk out of the room."
"I'm sorry," I say.
"Nothing you say is going to bring him back. It was a tragic accident. I'm convinced that's all I need to know. I have to move on from this and live the life Jimmy would want for me. Now that I've left California, along with all my issues with my mother, I'm determined to make the best of my situation and try to find happiness. Jimmy would want me to be happy."
"I want you to be happy too," I say.
"Well, you can start contributing to my happiness by eating that oatmeal before it gets cold."
"Yes, ma'am."
We spend the next hour talking about everything except the accident. Loren is not going to let this go, but when will Sharon trust me enough to be vulnerable and let me broach the subject again without shutting me down? What if it's never? Sitting here with this beautiful girl, I realize I never want to hurt her. Her contagious smile and captivating gaze reach deep inside me and touch my heart—her strength and determination to have a life after Jimmy touches my soul.
"So, was Noah a surprise addition to your family?"
"Yes. They only wanted one child, so Dad had a vasectomy years ago."
"Oh my gosh! It failed?"
"That's what the doctors said. Mom was so upset. 'At my age?' she kept saying. 'Who has a child at forty?!'"
I was already in college, and all I would hear during our weekly phone calls was how mad Mom was.
"She'd say, 'I don't even know if I can carry this baby for nine months.' She wanted to sue the doctors, the nurses, the hospital. It didn't matter; she was going to get her pound of flesh."
"And your dad?"
"Dad was happy. He tried to encourage Mom as much as possible. When her morning sickness started, he was by her side 'holding her hair and wiping her brow,' that's how he tells the story."
"He said he wouldn't sue for the failed procedure because he never wanted Noah to think he wasn't wanted."
"Were you there when he was born?"
"He was born during the summer, so I was home from school. Dad was so proud. I sat with both sets of grandparents in the waiting room for hours, eagerly awaiting his arrival. Dad walked in a little after eight and announced that Noah Alexander Linder was born at 7:48 p.m. and weighed eight pounds, eight ounces."
"Your grandparents? Sharon asks, "I never met any of them."
"Mom's parents live in Florida. They're in their mid-sixties and still going strong. They live in a senior living community in Boca Raton. Grandma Elenor plays tennis three times a week, and Grandpa Alex golfs every single day."
"What about your Dad's parents?"
"Grandpa David and Grandma Elsie live in Japan."
"Japan?!" Sharon exclaims.
"They moved there two years ago to be close to my uncle, Daniel, and his wife, Ami."
"Jimmy wanted to live in Japan," she says.
"I know. He told me."
I see a wave of sadness sweep over her beautiful face, but it's quickly gone.
"I'd love to visit someday," she says, her eyes gleaming. "I want to experience it all. It would be my way of honoring his memory."
I watch her eyes fill with tears, which she gently dabs with her napkin before asking me if I want more coffee.
"Hi, Jon!" Noah's voice from the top of the stairs startles both of us.
"Be careful coming down those stairs, Buddy."
Before I can say another word, Sharon crosses the room and runs up the stairs to meet Noah.
"You scared me, Sweetie."
"I'm being careful," says Noah. "I promise."
"Don't ever run down the stairs, ok? You promise?"
"I promise. I already said I promise."
"I know. You're right. Thank you for being careful. You're such a responsible boy."
When they both walk into the kitchen, I start laughing.
"Bud, you're wearing your shoes on the wrong feet. Come here, let me help you."
Noah looks down and starts laughing, too.
"Can we go swimming today?" he asks, looking at Sharon.
My blood runs cold.
"We can ask your parents when they come home," says Sharon. “If they say yes, we can go in the pool."
"I'm a good swimmer, huh, Shay-Shay?"
"You are a good swimmer, but you still need a grown-up with you all the time. Never go in the pool alone, ok?"
"Never come down the stairs," Noah says in a whiny voice, "Never go in the pool. I can't do anything."
"You can do everything as long as you have permission and as long as one of us is with you."
"Okay," he says.
"Do you want some breakfast?" Sharon asks Noah but looks at me.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"Yes, yeah. I'm fine," I say, feeling sweat prickle the back of my neck.
"You look a little pale. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Give me a minute," I say, standing to my feet, which feel like lead. "I'll be right back."
Without waiting another second, I rush to the nearest bathroom down the hall. Once inside, I lock the door and give in to the wave of nausea, tunnel vision, and stone-cold fear taking over my mind and body. I'm in the clutches of a full-on panic attack. My heart is racing, my palms are clammy, and I'm sweating profusely. If I weren't so intimately acquainted with this agony, I'd think I was having a heart attack. I stand over the sink and turn on the cold water, noticing how my hands are shaking. Even the sight of water rising in the sink makes me sick, but I have to do something to get myself under control. I take deep, cleansing breaths several times before splashing cold water on my face. When I look in the mirror, I don't recognize the complete stranger staring back at me.