36. Jason
It”s been two weeks since Alexis ended things, and I”ve barely left my apartment. I”m drowning without her, and I have no idea how I”m going to go on.
My mom and dad have called daily. Steven is pissed, but he can go die in a hole for all I care. I can”t even bring myself to talk to Isla, who is usually the first family member I turn to. I”m unmoored, drifting with no direction.
When my phone rings, I almost don’t even bother to look. Whoever it is, I don’t feel like talking. But I force myself to look, just in case it’s Alexis.
No.
But it is someone I didn’t expect.
Vanessa.
I haven”t spoken to her in months since we broke up. I feel incredibly guilty, but I wasn”t sure she would want to talk to me after the news broke about her being in recovery.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Jason, it’s Vanessa.” Pause, she sounds nervous. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
I suppress a sigh; I don”t really want to do this, but I owe it to her.
”Yeah, I can talk. But first, can I say something?”
“Sure…” she sounds hesitant. I don’t blame her.
”I just want to say that I”m sorry.” I take a deep breath and keep going. ”I didn”t see how much you were struggling, and it kills me that I blew you off. I didn”t see it, and I”m so sorry. I just want you to know that if I had realized how hard you were spiraling, I would have tried to help. I hope you can forgive me.”
She sighs on the line, but I can’t tell if it’s an ‘I’m relieved’ or ‘I’m annoyed’ sigh.
”Jason, you have nothing to be sorry for. That”s my job. Wait, let me finish. If you interrupt, I”ll never be able to get this all out.”
I almost laugh, she still knows me well enough to know that I don”t usually let others take the blame off my shoulders. But she sounds shaky, and I need to listen.
”I know you probably saw the news when it broke, but I”m an alcoholic. I”ve always struggled with my mental health since I was young, but as I got older, it became unmanageable. I would have really good months and then really low ones, and I self-medicated with alcohol. I reasoned with myself that because it was a legal substance, I wasn”t really abusing it. But the reality is that I was. That night we broke up, I was on a five-day bender, and if we hadn”t had that fight, I might not have been caught. Or I could be worse than I am now. This didn”t get out into the media, but I tried to drive after. I didn”t get far before being pulled over, and I didn”t hurt anyone, but I could have. It was the wake-up call I needed, and I”ve been in treatment since.” She pauses, sucking in a shaky breath. I can only imagine how hard this must be for her.
”I need you to understand that I never wanted to hurt you. I was spiraling about the project I was on, my stepfather, and how lost and alone I felt. I wanted to destroy my life rather than feel numb. No one but me could have stopped it from happening, and I am trying my best to own my mistakes. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Of course, Vanessa. You don’t even have to ask; I forgave you the minute I learned you were struggling. I actually talked to my girlfriend about it at the time. She’s a doctor, and she helped me realize that what happened was because you were in pain, not because you wanted to hurt me.” There’s a hollow pang in my chest when I talk about her.
”Oh yeah, we get a few hours of internet time a week here; I saw you were dating again. That”s wonderful, Jason. Are there wedding bells in the future?” She sounds genuinely happy for me, and I can”t stop the few tears that begin to escape. I”ve never cried this much in my life.
“Well, actually. She just broke up with me. If I hadn’t fucked it all up, we’d probably be living together right now.”
”Oh Jason, I”m so sorry. But I can”t imagine you messed up that badly. It”s ok if you don”t want to talk about it, but honestly, it would be nice to think about something other than my own mental health right now.” She chuckles a bit self-consciously. And suddenly, I find myself desperate to share.
“I think I need to talk about it.”
I end up spilling it all out. Every detail, well at least the important ones, my ex doesn”t need to hear about our sex life. When I finish, the line is silent for a bit. I almost think she”s hung up.
”Well, Jason. I won”t lie; you did kind of mess up. But I think the party thing isn”t the real issue here. Sure, she”s mad, but as long as it works out with her job, she”ll probably get over it fast. I mean, I don”t know her, but it sounds like she”s more hung up on the fact that you didn”t stand up for yourself and your dreams. Maybe if you show her that you”re stronger than you were that night, she”ll forgive you?”
I see a tiny ray of hope for the first time in weeks. ”You know what, Vanessa? I think you”re right.” A million ideas start popping into my head. I know exactly what I need to do to show her I love her and that I want to build a future that I”m proud of. But it”s going to take some time, and fuck, that scares me. What if it takes too long?
”Thank you for listening. I”m so glad you called. Don”t be a stranger, ok? I know we didn”t end things on the best note, but I”m here if you need help.”
”Ok,” her voice is watery. I know she”s probably crying. I can only imagine the emotional roller coaster phone calls like this are like. ”I hope you win her back, Jason. Good luck.”
We hang up, and my body is thrumming with energy. I look around my apartment, trying to find a piece of paper to write down all my ideas. But I can”t find anything in the mess. Ok, I need to clean up first, then get cracking on winning my girl back.
There’s no time to waste.
***
After spending nearly two straight weeks writing and getting my life back on track, I find myself shitting bricks in my car, trying to muster up the courage to enter my parents’ home. Alexis was right. I need to be honest with them about my dreams. I have to push through my fear of rejection if I want any hope of repairing things with her.
My dashboard clock ticks to the top of the hour, and I’ve officially been sitting here in my car for over ten minutes. I have no doubt that my parents are inside wondering what the hell I’m waiting for. I take a few belly breaths to help calm my nervous system. While I’m not at the stage of going to therapy, I have forced myself to research some things. The internet is an enlightening place.
With my nerves at least calmed, I finally step out and enter their home.
“Darling! I’m so happy to see you,” my mom attempts to nonchalantly come around the entry way corner to pull me into a hug, but I can tell she was probably hovering at the door until I started to make my way in. “Your father is in the living room; we have lunch all set up.” When she moves to let go, I pull her closer, suddenly unable to stop our hug.
She hesitates only for a moment before her arms encircle me again and she squeezes just like she used to when I was young. It’s the squeeze that does me in. Before I know it, tears are streaming down my face, and my whole body is shaking.
“Oh, dear lord, honey, what’s wrong?” At the sound of my mother’s distress, my father literally comes running from the other room. Skidding to a stop when he sees us. When we connect eyes, he immediately joins our hug, enveloping us both in his classic bear hug. The instant comfort I feel makes me cry even harder. To their credit, they don’t ask anymore questions, they just hold me until I’m cried out, and can ask them to sit with me in the living room.
Once we’re all seated, crammed together on the couch because neither wanted to be too far from me, I take a deep breath and say the words I’ve wanted to say to them for years.
“I’m quitting acting.”
There’s a pregnant pause, and I don’t doubt that over my slumped shoulders my parents are exchanging a look in which they have an entire conversation with each other. I’m surprised when it’s my father who speaks first.
“Way to freak us out. Your mom and I thought you were going to tell us something actually terrible. Like you were diagnosed with cancer.” He relaxes back into the couch, as if all he felt was relief.
“You’re not,” I pause, trying to find the right words to describe my fears that won’t hurt their feelings. “You’re not mad that I won’t be an actor like you two and Isla anymore?”
“No, of course not.” My mom reaches to take my hand in hers, ducking her head down to catch my eyes. “Why would we ever be mad about something like that?” I can hear the hurt in her voice, which was exactly what I was trying to avoid. But I remind myself that the hurt isn’t about me quitting the family vocation, it’s about me thinking they’d have a negative reaction.
“I just. You guys always used to say ‘we’re an acting family’ and I had this weird feeling that if I didn’t become an actor just like you, that I’d be disappointing you. And the longer I waited to do anything about my fear, the harder it became to talk about. And now I’ve risked my entire relationship with Alexis because of it.” I take a big gulp of air and keep pushing. Because I need to get it all out.
“Growing up without you two home all the time was really hard. Harder than you realized. And I got in this habit, or belief maybe, that if I didn’t do everything in my power to show you how amazing I was, that you wouldn’t be proud of me. And once my career began, you both were just so excited and proud that I convinced myself you wouldn’t support me if I chose to do something different with my life. And I know that’s wrong, and just my imagination, but that anxiety I felt left no room for rational thought. But Alexis helped me realize I can’t let my fears hold me back anymore. I need to live my life for me. Even if that means you’re disappointed.”
When I look over at my mom, she’s quietly wiping tears from her eyes with her free hand. A quick glance at my dad confirms he’s also crying. Apparently, we’re a family of criers. If I wasn’t close to tears again myself, I’d probably laugh.
My father sits up straight again and clasps my shoulder, turning me slightly so that we’re looking at each other. “I could never not be proud of you. You could be a full-time barista and living in our home because you can’t afford to live on your own and I’d still be proud of you. Because what you do for a living will never matter to your mother and I. The only thing we care about is if you’re happy. Do you understand me?”
I nod, emotions clogging my throat. Deep, deep down, I knew this was how this conversation would go. But actually experiencing it in reality has created a firestorm of conflicting feelings.
“The only thing I could possibly be upset about is if you let any of this steal away your chance to get Alexis back. I want her as my daughter-in-law, and I want some grandbabies soon. So, how can we help you win her back?”
I should have known my mother would find a way to make this about grandchildren.
“Well, I have some ideas. But I’m not sure it’s going to be enough.” It really shouldn’t surprise me, but I find myself filled with awe as my parents go into full strategy mode to help me win her back. Fuck, I hope she forgives me.