45 | Jessica
Jessica
After we had breakfast at Rosa’s, the boys drove back to the house, and I took Liam’s motorcycle to my father’s place. We will be leaving soon, and I know he was not the best father, but I need to get some essentials. Why not try for a little closure as well?
As I reach our driveway, I park the bike under a tree near the gate, shielding it from view from the house.
I take my keys out of my back pocket as I walk through our yard and slowly reach the front door.
I unlock it with hesitation, unsure of what I am going to tell my father.
I don’t expect him to have noticed how long it has been since the last time he saw me, or the fact that I’ve been gone for a few days.
“Dad? It’s me, Jessica,” I shout as I enter the house. But as I expected, he doesn’t respond. I call out again, “Dad, are you here?”
To my surprise, this time I hear footsteps in return, and my father soon appears from the living room.
But it isn’t the broken man I left here the night before the AA meeting standing in front of me. This man looks like my father, but he isn't. He is clearly sober, well-dressed, and clean. The last memory of my father looking this way must be from a few days before my mother’s death.
“Jessica? I’ve been worried about you.”
I just stand frozen in place, hearing him talk, unable to wrap my head around what I'm seeing.
“You’re sober,” I state, not expecting much of a response.
“Yes. When you didn’t return for the last few nights, I started thinking something happened to you.
The idea of losing you too brought me back from the nightmare I’ve been living in since your mother died.
I thought my best chance of finding you would be to be sober when I went to the police station to report you missing. ”
I nod in understanding and walk toward the living room. He follows me and continues telling me what I missed while I was gone.
“I got sober the next day, and I haven’t had a drink since. It’s been almost a week now. I was going to head to the police station today to file a missing person report, but you don’t look like you need one,” he notices.
“I don’t. I was with some friends,” I tell him, but he shakes his head.
“Alan said he saw two men drag you inside a van after the meeting.”
I laugh, even though this is true. “No, Dad, Alan must have been mistaken. I am clearly fine,” I assure him. He seems to believe me. “However, I did find a job in New York. My friends offered to have me join them there. We leave in a few days, and I just need to pack some clothes,” I add.
“I understand. I will help you pack,” he offers, and I feel the need to give him some reassurance that he won’t be left to fend for himself just because I decided to leave everything and move.
“Dad, I have some money saved.” I explain.
I saved part of my paycheck every day I worked.
“I want you to have it.” I had planned to use the money to find an escape from this town, but the guys offered me a way out anyway.
They don’t seem to struggle for money, and Nate already told me they will cover my expenses. I don’t need the money anymore.
“I can’t accept it, Jessica. Thank you, but I refuse to take any more help from you.
You’ve done so much for me over the past few years.
You deserve to do something for yourself.
” With that, he turns to leave the room, but he pauses right at the doorway and adds, “I found a job; I start tomorrow. I will be okay. Good luck, Jess.”
Without another word, he leaves. Good luck to you, too.
I head to my room and open my closet, finding a backpack and a suitcase.
Walking over to my dresser, I empty the first two drawers of underwear and other essentials into the backpack.
Then I walk into my bathroom and grab every skincare product and makeup item I own—not that there is much.
I was never into makeup and didn't have anyone to teach me. My mother died before she could.
I take the suitcase and open it on my bed, packing the rest of my clothes neatly while I type a message on my phone to Mike: ‘I am ready. Come pick me up with Liam’.
I decide to spend the rest of my time here having one last bath.
I take the change of clothes I set aside out of the suitcase and bring them into the bathroom with me.
I turn on the hot water to fill the tub and light the two candles on the counter.
That has been my own little ritual before bed, my favorite time of the day since I was a kid.
I have memories of my mother preparing this exact bath for me.
I still use the same salts and soaps she used.
I open the bottle, and the familiar scents fill the air, bringing back a fleeting memory of her before I drop some into the water.
This is the only way. I need to do this.
There is nothing keeping me here, I remind myself as I step into the bathtub.
The hot water brings a cozy sensation to my skin, and I feel relaxed after years of feeling constantly on edge.
I let myself enjoy this one last time while I wait for the guys to come pick me up.