To Say Goodbye (7 page)

It was the least he could do. After all Tim had done for him, it was the very least he could do.

_______________

The next week passed with a perfunctory quality. Jackson spent his days going to work, coming home, and sleeping. It was the existence he’d acclimated to.

He’d considered calling Sophia after the night at the grave, but he thought better of it. She had a network of family and friends. He didn’t want to intrude. He was a part of Tim’s past, a part of Tim’s life Sophia barely knew. Besides, he couldn’t really do anything for her. How could he make things better? He didn’t want to start rumors around town, didn’t want to be known as the widow stealer of his best friend.

On Saturday morning, Jackson felt better. It was his weekend with Logan. He jumped in his truck bright and early to get on the road by seven. He was driving the hour to meet Chloe for the pass off. He would have two days with his son, two days he hoped would rejuvenate him.

He hated that it had come to this. He hated that he was a weekend father—or more accurately, a two weekends a month and a few court-appointed holidays a year kind of father. This wasn’t what he had planned.

He’d wanted to be the father his dad hadn’t been. Sure, his dad had provided for him, had given him so much. He hadn’t been abusive or anything like that. Still, his dad had been the cold, emotionless, authoritative father Jackson didn’t ever want to be. Jackson couldn’t remember his dad ever telling him he loved him, couldn’t remember a single hug. His father was a no-nonsense, respect-your-elders kind of father.

Things had only worsened after Wade died. The already rigid Louis had tightened up even more, afraid to show emotion, afraid to show the world the hurt that most certainly had been his over the loss of his eldest child. He shut down completely, shut them out completely, cocooning himself in an unbreakable wall of stoicism. The wall had shifted slightly, allowing some glimmer of emotion to shine through, but for the most part, Louis Gauge was still the picture of sternness Jackson remembered all too well.

When Chloe found out she was pregnant, Jackson promised himself right away he wouldn’t be Louis Gauge. He would tell his son he loved him every day, would give him more hugs and kisses than he could ever want. He would smother his son in love, teach him something every day. He would be the Dr. Seuss-reading, picture-painting, cookie-baking father he’d always wanted. He would be the kind of loving father he’d secretly always wanted.

More importantly, he would respect any career choice Logan wanted to pursue. He wouldn’t force him into the family business.

Now, though, things were so different. Jackson couldn’t be the father he wanted to be. He wasn’t showering Logan with love every day. He wasn’t the one teaching him new words or how to tie his shoes or how to use manners. He was hours away, clutching only a picture of the son he loved more than anything. He was left hoping the new man in Logan’s life was fair and loving, was the kind of father figure Logan could look up to.

Driving down the highway, Jackson glanced at the horizon, still shaded in pink from the sunrise.

He’d been telling himself everything would get better if he just hung on. He’d told himself not to give up. Lately, though, he’d been feeling utterly hopeless. He’d been feeling like all was gone. How could things get better? He’d lost. There was no one left in his corner, either, other than his parents and sister. He was a lost man, a lost dad, a lost everything.

The pull of the booze was strengthening again, inviting him into its cool, plentiful ability to drown out the world. He’d been fighting it off, but ever since Tim’s death, the pull had strengthened.

If things didn’t turn around soon, he worried he would cave to its pressures and, tragically, succumb to the fact his life was doomed.

_______________

“Daddy!” The curly haired boy charged toward Jackson as soon as his mother lifted him from his car seat.

“My man!” Jackson proclaimed, ruffling the boy’s hair as the child wrapped himself around his legs.

“I brought my dinosaur.” He held up a stuffed toy, the one Jackson had bought him during their last visit.

“Perfect. Are you ready to have some fun?”

“Yeah. Bye, Mommy.” He blew a kiss at his mother as Jackson loaded him in the truck. Once Logan was buckled in safely, his dinosaur in his lap, Jackson shut the door to the extended cab.

“I’ll see you at exactly four on Sunday. His bedtime is at eight. Please don’t screw up his schedule like you did last time.” Chloe’s voice oozed with coldness as she flipped her brunette locks.

Jackson eyed her as he stood, hands on the top of the truck door. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” he hissed, hoping to catch just a sliver of the woman he once knew.

The warm woman was gone, replaced with a cold version of her, an ice queen who felt nothing for him.

“Me too. I wish I didn’t have to give you any visitation rights. If I had my way, you’d be gone from his life. But I don’t. So just be sure you don’t screw up. Because if I hear you were drunk around our son, it’s done.”

“Chloe, I won’t. I love him. You know why I turned to the bottle.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“Let’s not do this again, okay?”

“You made your choice.”

“And you made yours. Need I remind you I came home to be with you, and you had been cheating on me?”

Chloe rolled her eyes and stomped away. Jackson closed his eyes and reminded himself to breathe.

It was so hard to imagine a time they had been in love, a time their relationship had been sparkling with hopes and dreams. How could love turn so cold so quickly?

It pained him they were at this point. It wasn’t because he still loved her. Sure, a piece of him would always remember, would always love the woman he’d fallen for when they first met. But the fantasy was gone now. What devastated him was the hostility and how it was affecting Logan. He didn’t want that.

He wished Chloe could understand it was a mistake. He hadn’t meant to become a bad role model. It’d happened without warning. He’d been at such a low place, a place he thought was impossible.

I can’t go back,
he thought as he climbed into the driver seat. Looking in the rearview mirror, he saw Logan talking to his stuffed dinosaur.

No matter how much Chloe took away from him, no matter how little time he had with his son, he wouldn’t mess it up. He would be the kind of father Logan would idolize, would look up to, even if it was only two weekends a month.

_______________

“That was fun, Daddy! Dinosaurs! Rawrr,” Logan shouted, squeezing Jackson’s hand as they left the theater that afternoon. Logan was skipping, holding his dinosaur in his other arm.

They’d gone to see the latest animated dinosaur movie, the one Logan had been talking about. Jackson had planned this for weeks, couldn’t wait to see his son’s face, couldn’t wait to see the amazement in his eyes.

But after they bought their popcorn and sodas and found seats, after the previews were over and the movie started, Jackson’s heart was stabbed again.

“Daddy took me to see this,” Logan mumbled, looking at Jackson. “I sawed it.”

“No buddy, we talked about seeing it on the way here. We haven’t seen it.”

“Yuh-huh. Me and Mommy and Daddy sawed it yesterday.”

Jackson froze.

His anger seethed. He balled his fist in his hand, clenching his jaw.

He’d told Chloe he wanted to take Logan to see the movie.

So she’d taken Logan with Seth yesterday apparently.

Then his anger pressurized. He realized Logan had called Seth Daddy. Just like he’d suspected. He’d have to fight to stay in Logan’s life.

He sighed, exhaling.
Let it go. It doesn’t matter. Breathe.

“Well, buddy, did you like the movie? Do you want to see it again?”

Just then, the dinosaur ran across the screen, causing a cascade of giggles from the kids around them. Logan looked at the screen and laughed too.

He was entranced. Obviously, the answer was yes.

Jackson tried to let the hurt roll off him, tried to wash it down with soda and popcorn butter. It was hard to know Logan was slipping away, a replacement daddy waiting in the wings. It was impossible to be okay with some strange man, some man who had stolen his wife, now stealing the most important thing to him.

As the weekend rolled on and their bi-weekly goodbye inched closer, Jackson felt his life floating into thin air. The gloom of the days without Logan crept back in, and the old Jackson seemed to be coming back.

“Daddy, why you no live with me anymore?” Logan asked Saturday night when Jackson tucked him in—at nine o’clock. Screw Chloe’s bedtime orders.

“Well, buddy. Things are complicated right now. I want to spend more time with you. I do. I love you.” Jackson hugged his son, held him close, and prayed Logan would never doubt those words.

_______________

Tears streamed down Logan’s face. Jackson stooped down to eye level with him. There was a soft drizzle falling, and the air had grown chilly.

“Logan, listen, it’s okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, all right? And then, before you know it, I’ll be back for you again. Next time, we’ll go to the diner again and see another movie. What do you say?”

“Daddy, I miss you.”

“I know, Logan. I miss you too. These next few weeks will go so fast. Now give me a hug and then get in the car with your mom, okay?”

Logan woefully nodded, tears still streaming. Jackson hugged his son tightly, clasping onto him. As it always did, Jackson’s weekend with Logan flew by. He felt like he was just playing at the role of father, barely having time to settle Logan in before it was time to turn around and meet Chloe again.

Chloe glared from behind, her foot tapping, her hood up to protect her from the drizzle.

“Come on, Logan. Let’s get in the car.” She reached for her son’s arm, tugging him toward his seat.

After a long moment, Logan followed his mother. Logan’s doughy brown eyes looked at Jackson in a way that made him want to crumple on the pavement. He didn’t though, standing stoically, perhaps channeling the stance his own father had shown him so many times.

“I love you,” he said to his son as Chloe shut the car door after buckling in their child.

“Goodbye, Jackson.”

“Chloe, wait. You see what this is doing to him. Please reconsider.”

“The court has made its decision. I’m not going to talk about this every time.”

He reached for her arm. “Please. I know I made a mistake. I know. But I didn’t hurt anyone. And I would never endanger Logan. You know that. I was just devastated about you, about us. I felt you slipping away. I was pissed you did that to me.”

“I’ve heard this. It doesn’t matter. The court heard your story. And they sided with me.”

“Chloe, it’s not like I murdered someone.”

“You could’ve. You could’ve murdered our son. What if he had been in the car?”

“I would never do that.”

“We’re done here.”

She got in the car, turning her back on him, as she’d done so many weeks now.

It was hopeless. There was no fixing this.

Jackson

H
e knew he should turn the truck around, go back to his apartment, and watch television. This was a bad idea. A weird one. She would think he was being creepy, odd.

No matter how much he rationalized, however, he couldn’t make himself turn the truck around.

November 14.

He’d been watching the date on the calendar, knowing it was going to be a rough day for everyone, especially for Sophia. The first year was always the worst. The first day without them, the first holiday.

Tim’s first birthday since his death, and, thus, the first birthday he wouldn’t be able to actually celebrate.

He’d thought about calling her, just to check in. He’d thought about doing nothing at all, leaving it to family and friends. Then he thought about Tim, thought about the man who always knew what to do, who never worried about appearances when it came to helping someone out. He would want him to check on Sophia, to make sure she was okay.

He pulled into the driveway and noticed the parked red Corolla. She was home. Turning off the truck, he sat for a long moment, contemplating. He was just doing this because he was worried about her, because he had a connection with her through Tim. He just wanted to make sure she was okay.

Grabbing the bag on the passenger seat, he shuffled to the door. He wondered for a brief moment if she might be busy. Maybe she was with her family or Stella. Maybe he would be intruding.

He rang the doorbell, deciding it was too late to turn around. He’d just hand her the food, see how she was, and leave.

A moment later, the door opened, and a surprised Sophia stood in front of him. Her hair was pulled back into a disheveled ponytail. Her mascara was smudged, clearly hinting at the tears she’d been shedding. She wore loose sweatpants and a tank top. An unbuttoned flannel shirt loosely draped over her.

She looked the part of a saddened widow on the birthday of her late husband.

“Hey,” she said, looking both surprised and relieved to see him.

“Hey. I don’t want to intrude. I just thought today might be rough.”

She silently nodded, stepping back and gesturing him in.

“Am I interrupting?”

“No. My parents were here, but I sent them home. I didn’t want to see anyone.”

His stomach fell. This was exactly what he was afraid of. “Listen, I can go. I just wanted to bring you dinner in case you were hungry.”

She studied him, her blue eyes sparkling in the light of the kitchen. She paused, her face softening. She seemed to be thinking something.

Finally, after a long pause, she simply said, “Stay.”

He nodded, ambling to the island in the kitchen with the paper sack. “I brought some hoagies from Wayne’s Place down the street. Their food is good.”

“It’s the best. Tim loved that place.”

“Sorry.” Great. He was screwing everything up. He was making everything worse.

She shook her head, reminiscing. “No. I think it’s good.”

He sat down on a stool at the island, unfolding napkins and pulling out the sandwiches. She sat beside him, hugging one knee to her chest, looking at the food, looking at him.