Jason
Not a call.
Not a single text after it happened.
You get nothing from me.
That’s what he wrote.
I look at the paper, my hands trembling as I try to wrap my brain around the information that Doug shared.
My mind is split in two. One half wants to rage at the top of my lungs, and the other wants to run after him.
Linda walks back into the trailer alone, and my gut coils.
I glare at Doug. “He doesn’t speak anymore? You didn’t think that was news to share before I got here?”
My dickhead of a dad looks at the ground. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
I can feel my face heat up, rage coursing through my veins. “I learned about what Linda did through the goddamned news before Mom confirmed it. You said nothing to me. Nothing. You don’t think I should have learned that Gabe was so fucked up he stopped talking?”
“Didn’t you have a phone? He was your friend,” Doug spits back at me.
I’ve kept it cool this entire time, but this is beyond the pale.
I rise from the bed, bracing myself for a fight.
“You fuck the neighbor and ruin my life, and it’s my responsibility to check in?
What about you? How come you couldn’t call me?
Whether you like it or not, I’m your fucking son, you piece of shit! ”
Doug darts forward, veins bulging from his temples, but Linda steps in the way. “No!” she yells. “Not this. This isn’t happening.” She holds up her arms, separating us from each other.
Doug’s kept himself under control since I got off the bus, but I see the old him now.
The red face.
The anger.
His jaw clenches as he looks at the fuck-up of a son he has.
This is the Doug I remember.
“Doug, go back and make a salad for dinner, please,” Linda says.
For a moment, Doug looks like he’s about to tell her off like he used to with Mom—he never did a damn thing to help Mom. But then his eyes soften, and he nods before leaving the trailer.
I sit back down and scrub my hands over my face. It hurts. Why her? Why does he have a heart for Linda but can’t love Mom and me?
“I’m sorry no one told you,” she says.
I’m angry. Always will be, but hearing that Gabe stopped talking after the murder does something to me.
Maybe I should have called.
Everything happened so fast when it all went down. We were living in a motel, eating canned tuna, when I heard. How the hell do you call your friend and say, “Hey! Heard your mom killed your dad. You good?”
Not to mention everything that went down between us before I left.
I look at the floor and ask, “He doesn’t talk at all?”
Linda snags a chair from the kitchen and carries it over. “Rarely. He’ll say a word here and there…”
My eyes meet hers. She looks sad, defeated. But then her eyes shift, and she says hopefully, “Maybe he’ll talk to you.”
Her words.
They wash over me like a cold shower.
And, suddenly, it all becomes clear.
I had wondered why Doug wanted me to come back.
It wasn’t Doug at all. It was fucking Linda.
“Is that why I’m here?” I ask. “To play therapist for the son you traumatized?”
Linda gasps, her hands rising to her chest, clutching her metaphorical pearls. “No, that’s not it at all. I want you here. When your mom called, I thought it would be a way for us to… I don’t know. Patch things up.”
I bark out a laugh. “Patch things up,” I repeat in disbelief.
Linda sighs. “I know none of this is easy—”
“You can say that again—”
“But I know Gabe loves you. He misses you. I’m not asking you to fix him, but… Maybe try to meet him halfway?”
I want to hate Linda, but she was always better than the rest of our parents.
I kind of even respect that she killed that drunk slob, but there are things she doesn’t know about Gabe and me.
“Gabe knew for a whole year that you two were together,” I finally say.
“We even talked about it before everything exploded, and he lied to me.”
Linda’s throat bobs as she swallows. “He was trying to protect me.”
“Yeah, well, what about me? He knew this was gonna happen. Didn’t he think I should get a heads-up so I could brace myself? Will nobody let me know there’s a pile of dogshit on the ground before I walk into it?”
Linda looks puzzled. “He was young. How could he know how to talk about this? That was our job.”
Yeah, but I loved Gabe.
How do you explain that to someone? How do you tell them how much it hurts when you reveal your darkest moments of shame to someone, and they repay you by lying to you?
I remember the moments when I’d run to him, fresh from a thrashing from Doug, showing him the worst moments of my life, and he’d lie right to my face.
My eyes are locked onto the stars above us. It’s a warm, summer night, so we sleep outside, looking up at the night sky. I try to ignore the pain. My backside throbs.
Gabe traces his finger along the veins of my forearm, trying to make me feel better. It’s humiliating. It feels awful being the damaged one—the one who comes running to Gabe red-faced and teary-eyed. I feel like such a piece of shit.
Gabe inches closer and kisses my cheek, and the simple act of care is enough to make me cry again.
“Shhh,” he insists, pulling me closer.
I wipe the tears away. Fuck, I hate crying. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.”
Gabe rests his hand on my chest, and I thread my fingers with his. “I hate him so much.”
“I do, too,” Gabe whispers.
It’s getting worse. Every time Dad gets home from the plant, he looks meaner and more bitter—mad that life is the way it is.
Unless he’s with Linda, they go drinking every Thursday. Mom thinks it’s fine—probably because she just wants him out of the trailer.
But when he gets home, it’s the only time I see him look happy. His face looks calm. Peaceful. He even has a pep in his step like he did when I was a little kid.
I never really talk to Gabe about that. I show him so much—too much. I should keep it locked away and never show the world how much Doug hurts me, but it’s not just the physical pain. It’s the reminder over and over again that he hates me—hates Mom. Hates his life.
That’s when I need Gabe. He makes me feel like I’m not worthless.
“They were together again,” I say.
“Huh?”
My eyes trail over to Gabe. “Dad and your mom. They went out again.”
Gabe stares at me. “Hmm.”
“What do you think that’s all about?” I ask him.
His hand tightens around mine. “Not sure…”
I take a breath and muster up the courage to ask the question that’s been weighing on my mind. “Do you think… Do you think they’re, like, together?”
Gabe stills, and his eyes widen. “What do you mean?”
I shrug, trying to think of how to explain. “Like… together.”
Gabe looks dumbfounded, so I say the word more slowly. “To-ge-ther.”
“No! No, I don’t think so. No, that’s crazy.”
I calm down a bit. It would be so bad if it were true. What would even happen? Mom doesn’t have a pot to piss in. Would we have to leave? Doug owns the trailer—paid for it with his army money. What would even happen to us?
“It would be really bad,” I say while pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Yeah, no, that’s not happening. I think she tries to…you know…maybe she knows what Doug’s like.”
My hackles rise: “You told her?”
“No! No, I didn’t. I just… maybe she kind of knows? Or guesses? I don’t know.”
Does Linda suspect? “What, you think she’s trying to give Mom and me a break every Thursday?”
Gabe turns away, locking eyes with the stars. “Yeah. Maybe…”
The thought kind of warms my heart. I try to keep things a secret, but maybe Linda can sense what’s happening. She’s always been more caring than the rest of our shitty parents.
“That would be really nice of her,” I say.
“Yeah…”
I turn to look at Gabe. His skin looks pretty in the moonlight. His black hair falls over his eyes, and I swipe it away. “You really think that’s what she’s doing?”
Gabe’s eyes fall into mine. For a second, he looks sad, but then he shakes it off and nods.
“Wow.” Something about knowing that makes me feel amazing. A parent actually gives a shit? I mean, I know it’s not my parent, but it's still a parent. Maybe I’m not so unlovable?
I shouldn’t say that. Gabe loves me. I can tell.
And I love him.
“Gabe?”
“Yeah?”
I want to ask if I can kiss him so badly it hurts.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” is what comes out of my mouth.
Gabe smiles and inches a little closer. “Likewise.”
But that’s not what Linda was doing. She was fucking Doug, and then he kicked Mom and me out so that he could ask her to move in. Apparently, that was Doug’s plan all along. He just needed her to break things off with Gabe’s dad first.
Well, that certainly didn’t go according to plan.
“You know, Gabe tried to make it out that you were helping.” Linda looks at me, confused, so I explain, “All those Thursdays with Doug... I brought them up one night, and he said that maybe you knew things were bad at home and were trying to help.”
Linda turns white.
“But he was lying. He told me later he knew, but you asked him not to tell me.”
Her face cracks. The brown eyes that match Gabe’s become glassy and guilt-ridden. “We didn’t do anything right.”
“What’s done is done.” There’s a heavy silence between us before I add, “Gabe betrayed me because you asked him to. It’s up to you to fix him. If your murdering-ass fucked up your kid, then that’s on you.”
Her mouth falls open.
“I’d like some space so I can unpack.”
The air in the trailer thickens, forming a wall between us.
Linda tries to speak, but nothing comes out. She rushes out of the trailer, her hands trembling.
Coming back here was a terrible idea.