13. YOU’RE ALL I HAVE
13
YOU’RE ALL I HAVE
SNOW PATROL
JACK
I regret leaving Dinah in the street before I even press my hand to Petals’ door, but I know I can’t turn around. I can’t look back at those sad green eyes, disappointed in my cowardice. If I do, I’ll lose all my resolve. I’ll kiss her in the street like I was so close to doing when we were alone this morning. Before the visit with my family shoved me back into reality.
Silence. Solitude. Safe.
I mumble those wretched calming words, but my mind doesn’t feel any clearer.
I let myself get carried away today. One minute I was raging over a cat I didn’t ask for, and the next I was planning to spend my whole day with the woman who’s at least partially responsible for the cat in the first place. And if I’m honest with myself—taking Dinah to my family, eating lunch with them all, and acting as if everything is normal—I was planning for far more. I let that seed of hope sprout and bloom.
But if living this way for the past three years has taught me anything, it’s that hope is dangerous. Hope is walking onto the mound and expecting a no hitter. It’s believing an orchid can and will bloom in the dead of winter. It’s praying for the miracles you’ve read about in medical journals daily, just knowing and believing that one day you’ll be like the one they’re writing about.
Silence. Solitude. Safe.
I try again, breathing in and out. Taking three steady breaths between each word but feeling nothing. Nothing until the music blares on next door. Dinah isn’t singing along, and I don’t think the music she’s playing has any particular message for me, but it calls to me just the same. The beat to whatever raging song is playing, thrums in my chest.
She’s on the other side of my wall, and I put her there.
When I plop Cat on the floor of the shop and he meanders around the buckets of flowers like he owns the place, I tell myself he’ll go back to the shelter first thing in the morning. I can’t take care of a cat, and I don’t want to. It’s simply the way things have to be. I’ll buy Jackson a cat-shaped Chia Pet and tell him to keep that alive.
But then, running my fingers over the rows of petals standing tall from their buckets, looking for the perfect stems, Cat begins weaving in and out of my legs. He purrs contentedly and follows my feet along the old wooden floors, a shadow to my every move. And I know I won’t return him.
Despite my misgivings or any arguments against the little vermin, I find that having him here with me right now is a strange sort of comfort. One I can’t quite put my finger on.
The small bouquet in my hand is slowly coming together when Maloy and Nate push through the shop door.
“Man, is she always that sassy?” Maloy almost never says hello, usually far too concerned with whatever his agenda is at the time to greet people properly. Nate, on the other hand, follows at his side and offers a brief headnod before shaking my hand.
I decide not to play his little games today. Choosing to ignore Maloy’s question, I jump into my own. “What do you want?”
“Now is that any way to greet your oldest friends, Jack?” Maloy slaps me on the back and leaves his hand clenched on my shoulder, pointing his grin at the flowers in my hand. “And who are we saying sorry to today, big guy?”
“Come on, man,” Nate nudges his brother, smiling at his antics. “This isn’t why we came.”
“Why did you come? I’m closed today.”
Nate slides over the stool I keep behind the register and makes himself at home. “Just thought we’d check in. It’s been a while and—”
“Owen called you.”
Maloy points at me and clicks his tongue in his cheek. “Ding ding ding. You got it. Of course he did. Said you wigged out at lunch today with the family and the cute girl next door, and since we’re closed at Tots and he has practice, we’re on sad sap duty.”
Nate rubs the space between his brows. “I swear, you never stick to the plan.”
“Oh, you mean the plan where we sugarcoat things for Jack here, and he feels all better about himself but still refuses to take his head out of his be-hind?”
He jabs me in the side, and I have to keep myself from decking him in the face. These guys are my oldest friends, so punching Maloy in the face right here and now would hardly be the first time we’ve been in a fist fight… or even in a fight in Petals . I honestly think it’d make me feel marginally better.
Before I can act on my impulses, Nate steps up to the plate and pushes his brother aside. “Alright, here’s the deal, Jack.” The song changes next door, and all our attention shifts to the wall where Dinah’s voice sings along with old school No Doubt at the top of her lungs. “Man, she’s really wailing over there. Should we step in? Call someone? Check in on her too?”
“I volunteer as tribute!” Nate raises his hand and bounces on his feet like a chihuahua itching for a bone.
I slap his chest and push him down onto the stool. “Sit.”
“Good boy.” Nate pets his head and earns a slap from his brother. “So, you went to lunch.”
I walk away from them and start picking through ribbons for a quick tie on the bouquet of sunflowers, ferns, daisies, and irises I put together.
“And it went well,” Maloy adds. “Or that’s what Owen said.”
I grunt, wrap the flowers in paper, and tie a purple, velvet ribbon around them.
“Yeah, it went well, and that is definitely huge,” Nate continues, then steps up to the counter, staring me down. “But you went to lunch, man. We know you haven’t been in years. And you went with Dinah. That means something, right? Why are you freaking out right now?”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“You’re a lot of things Jack Jones, but you aren’t a liar.” Nate puts his hand on mine and pushes the flowers to the counter. “Frankly, I’m tired of this. I miss you, Jack. I miss my friend.”
“And I miss my karaoke partner.” Maloy smirks but it doesn’t light up his face like usual. I can’t remember the last time I went to their karaoke bar and hung out with them. Or the batting cages. Or just asked either to grab coffee. “You disappeared, Jack, but it isn’t just because you wake up some mornings feeling like someone else.”
It feels like a gross oversimplification, and I assume my face matches my thoughts, because he rolls his eyes and attempts a clarification. “I mean, yeah, you’re different. Obviously. And yeah, it’s a little weird sometimes.”
“Dude—” Nate tries to interrupt.
“No sugarcoating, remember?” Maloy leans over the counter. “You’re different, but the Jack you are today was always inside the Jackson you were three years ago—the guy we grew up with. I see it every time you play a prank on Winnie, or ya show up quietly for one of Owen’s games, or when you leave a floral arrangement on our mom’s porch after she visits you here at the shop.”
“I don’t—”
“Save it,” he says and keeps going. “We know who you are. You’re still that same old, sappy small-town dude, devoted to his family and friends. You—Jack—just aren’t the people pleasin’ version anymore. But you’re still you.” He pokes his finger in my chest. “In here, you’re the same guy. And if Jackson is the one who shows up tomorrow, it’ll still be you too.”
He moves that pointer from my chest to my forehead. “This is the problem.”
I swat at his hand. “I know that’s the problem.”
Nate steps in, tagging Maloy out with a high-five as they switch places. It’s so them , it almost makes me smile. “You remember that first spring you worked here instead of at Peewee Camp and we all thought your Gramps hid it from your dad for a while so he wouldn’t blow a gasket that you weren’t playin’ ball?”
“I was playin’, though.”
“Yeah,” he continues, “but you know what I mean. Until that point, you lived, ate, and drank baseball. Everything we did was leading to college ball and the majors.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
I’d begged Gramps to cover for me. I didn’t want to disappoint my dad when all he wanted to talk about was my future in baseball, but all I could think about was a break. Gramps was the only one I ever told, and he offered me a job at Petals instead. Said it would be good to expand my horizons. He may have also mentioned it would go over well with girls, which he hadn’t been wrong about.
Just thinking about that spring and the following summer, and the time I spent with my Gram and Gramps, brings a flicker of homesickness to my gut. It was time well spent and basically changed the trajectory of my whole life. It was the first time I’d ever thought of a future outside of baseball.
Maloy comes to my other side, and we stand in a close, but manly triangle, surrounded by my flowers. “You lived a double life for months, putting on the uniform but going to the flower shop instead. Hiding in the closet if your folks ever came in. Workouts in the morning, practice in the afternoons, and then taking off to make bouquets and swoop all the girls out from under our noses.” We all take a nostalgic look around the store. “Man, it drove me crazy. You had everything. The talent. Girls. Your dad…”
He trails off and avoids looking at Nate, choosing instead to stare at his shoes. Their dad abandoned Charlie and her boys before Maloy could even walk. Neither remembers much about Steve Banner, but I know his absence has always weighed heavy on them both.
Nate takes over where Maloy left off, almost as if they rehearsed this intervention ahead of time. “I’ll never forget the moment we all found out your dad knew all along. He’d known and gone along with it. He gave you the space to do what you needed. To figure out what it was you wanted.”
What they never saw was the disappointment in Dad’s eyes when we finally did talk about baseball. How I’d hoped for a scholarship to school but didn’t see myself pursuing it further. That I wanted to run a business of my own some day, not unlike my folks or my grandparents, and baseball didn’t really play a part in that dream.
“We’ve been giving you space for three years, Jack. To figure things out. That baseball hit your skull, and I swore if you woke up, I wouldn’t care if you ever touched a baseball again as long as I got my friend back.” Nate's eyes fill with tears and his grip on me tightens. “You woke up, but you didn’t ever come back. Not really.”
“We’re not saying things aren’t different. The good Lord knows nothing will probably ever be the same. But you survived, Jack.” Maloy’s voice grows more serious than it’s ever been. “Now you’ve gotta decide what to do with the new life you’ve been given, but I hope you won’t continue living a double life and keeping us in the dark. Not when all we want is to be on your team.”
We’re all sniffling and avoiding eye contact when Cat meows loudly from wherever he’s been hiding during our heart to heart and pounces onto Maloy’s leg.
“What in the—” Maloy screeches at an unnatural octave, shaking his leg and only encouraging Cat ’s claws to dig in deeper. “Is that a cat?!”
“He’s Jackson’s,” I mutter, pinching the tears from my eyes and trying to decide whether I should attempt a rescue or not. “And Dinah’s, I suppose. They got him together.”
“Is it rabid?” He pulls Cat off and nearly throws him at me. Surprisingly, the gray furball curls into my arms and seems to settle, gently pawing at my chest like he’s making a nest, and then attempts to climb up my neck, nuzzling his nose against my skin.
Nate chuckles and slaps me on the back. “Whew, buddy. That girl has got your number.”
“The cat isn’t staying,” I announce, though there’s no conviction in my voice. Cat gives me an annoyed mew, like he’s sayin’, “Come on, man, I thought we were past this.”
“Sure.” The music next door changes, and suddenly Miley Cyrus and Dinah are both singing about how they can buy themselves flowers. Maloy poorly covers his grin.
“Don’t,” I grumble, petting Cat’s soft fur and telling myself it’s only to keep him content.
Maloy lets his head fall back and laughs over the music. “It’s about time some girl isn’t romanced by your dang flower shop.”
Peewee.
Something’s up with Dinah.
Chipper clawed my chair!
It’s been three days since my family lunch failure and the pep talk from Maloy and Nate. I thought long and hard about what they said, stewing over it after I delivered the apology flowers to Dinah’s hallway door, hoping she’d find them on her way upstairs that night. Though if Jackson’s Post-it notes from the past two days are any indication, the flowers may not have gone over well. All his notes seem to have the same panic written across each as I pass through the loft.
Call Owen.
Apologize.
Cat training camp.
Dr. appt next week.
I decided when I woke up this morning to Cat cuddled and purring on my chest that Jackson may not have been so wrong about a feline friend after all. He is surprisingly comforting in a roommate that isn’t fully litter-box trained sort of way. Mostly, the idea of even admitting to Dinah that I returned this little guy to the shelter was enough to stop me. All I had to do was imagine the resounding disappointment that would fill her eyes, and I knew I couldn’t go through with it.
He chases my steps around the apartment as I pick up more Post-its and go through my morning routine. But today, instead of waiting on Owen to make his morning call, I take Jackson’s advice and call my brother first.
“Bro, what’s up?” Owen answers, and grunts once.
“Um… hey.” I suddenly feel a little insecure. Initiating contact is new for me.
“Oh, Jack? Sorry. Hey, man.” He clears his throat. “What’s up? Are you okay? Have a migraine starting?”
“No. Nothing like that. I just…” I don’t know why this feels so hard. I talk to Owen every day, but as I stand in my empty kitchen, holding a kitten in my arms like he’s a comfort blanket I desperately need, that conversation with the Banner boys chimes in my head.
“Jack?” Owen sounds concerned, and I hear him say something rushed to someone in the background. “You okay? I’m leavin’ the gym now and I can be at your place in ten.”
“No, no. I’m okay. I just wanted to see how you’re doin’.” I look at the time and know I’m caught.
“At five thirty in the morning?”
“Knew you’d be up.”
“What’s goin’ on, Jack? Is everything okay? Did something happen with Dinah?”
I run my hand through my hair and fall on the couch, nestling Cat into the crook of my thigh where he seems to like to snuggle. “Do you think I’m still… me?”
It’s a simple question, but one I know I can trust Owen to answer honestly. We’ve danced around the conversation for years, mostly thanks to my belligerence over the topic. But when I woke up this morning, I knew that before I could take any steps towards that life Maloy and Nate are convinced I can have—or the girl on the other side of the wall I desperately want to pursue—I needed some clarity.
Owen sighs heavily, and I picture him adjusting his baseball hat a few times like he does when he’s uncomfortable. “I can’t tell you who you are, Jack. All I know is, it doesn’t matter to me whether you wake up tomorrow as Jackson or Jack or a whole new character. You’re my brother. Every version of you is my brother.”
I sit with that, mulling over the truth of his words and how they aren’t so different from the countless times he’s tried to pull me from the depths of self-pity, but today I guess I feel a little different.
“Jack?”
“Thank you,” I say, emotion clogging my voice, “for giving me time to figure things out.”
“I love you.” Owen gives his love so freely. A classic middle child. It’s something I want to be better at.
“I love you, bro,” I offer, cringing when the word bro leaves my lips, and Owen chuckles before I ask, “You still need a coach for Peewee Spring Training?”
I hear the tears in his voice when he answers, “Definitely. I’d love to play ball with you, Jacky.”