Jason: The Philistine Heart (Book 1)

by Jean Evergreen

  I stare at Jason, dumbfounded, as though I’m watching him on the other end of a tunnel, where all of the horrific acts he’s described unfold. And with every terrifying revelation, flashes seep in. Memories of my past that I would sooner forget. How many times did I see my father standing over my mom, as she cried and whimpered, pleading with him to stop? When he punched her in the mouth, and broke her two front teeth, she had to wear a wire for a year. Or that road trip when my dad argued with my older sister — he stopped the van, and we all watched him relentlessly beat her with his belt as she huddled in a corner. She ran away for a week afterward. And the time he whipped me with a switch because he wanted me to confess to stealing my sister’s socks. My arms were covered with slash marks for a month. I didn’t do it.

  All the nights I lay awake in my bed, tortured with sounds of him screaming at my mom behind the closed door of their bedroom. There was so much banging around, as though things were being punched or thrown. And my mom, sobbing, crying out in agony. I remember being afraid that he would kill her one of those nights. Then my sisters and I would be left with him. And if he became angry enough, he might kill us too.

  Jason hides his face behind his hands. To see him in such pain — it’s heart wrenching. It has me torn. I can’t help but wonder, who is this man that sits before me? Surely it can’t be my gentle and caring Jason. The perfect man that I fell in love with and shared so many nights. The man he described is nothing short of a monster.

  “After I realized what I’d done, I called an ambulance,” Jason continues. “She lay still on the floor, barely breathing. I stayed with her until the ambulance came and rode with her to the hospital. When questioned about what happened, I lied. I said I found her that way. After years of lies and manipulation, this one came just as easily as all the others. I knew they would believe me, for the same reason everyone did — because they wanted to. They saw a guy like me and wanted to believe that I was good.”

  I suddenly feel nauseous as it hits me that Jason’s talking to me like a serial killer that enjoys bragging about how he gets away with murder to his victims, before killing them. All those times I stared into his dreamy eyes, melting at his smile, I thought that was all just for me. But what if it was another one of his manipulations? It’s hard for me to believe that he would ever deceive me in that way, but perhaps I don’t want to see the truth because I want to believe that he’s good.

  “Amber remained in critical condition. She went into labor that night. And the next morning our child was born, one month premature. I didn’t know what to do; I was alone, and Amber was still unconscious. So I called my parents. And they, in turn, called Amber’s parents. However well I thought I could manipulate strangers, my parents didn’t entrust me with the same level of confidence. I’d lied to them too many times. Amber’s parents never liked me anymore than my parents liked Amber. They suspected foul play on my part from the moment they arrived at the hospital.

  “It dawned on me that I might have finally done something so horrific that even my lies couldn’t save me. One look from Amber’s parents told me they were out for blood. They were ready to make sure I paid for what I did. I wasn’t sure if even my parents, with all of their money, could protect me. I might have to face real consequences that I couldn’t talk or charm my way out of.

  “Then something surprising happened. Amber’s parents agreed not to pursue charges against me. They said Amber had been through enough, and they wanted her to come out of this ordeal unscathed. At first, I thought this was my parents doing until it was explained to me what they wanted in return for their benevolence. They wanted me to waive all parental rights to the child. At the time I was incredulous that I could get off so easy. All that would be required of me, to make that living nightmare disappear, was to sign my name on a piece of paper. The answer was simple. I didn’t have to give it a second thought. I signed that day.

  “I never saw the child, but I learned it was a boy. The doctor who delivered him said he was a crack baby and that it would be a miracle if he survived the week. I walked out of that hospital feeling like I narrowly escaped what could have been the greatest train wreck of my life. I made a promise from that day forward to turn my life around, for real this time. And I‘ve kept that promise for all these years.

  “I graduated from Princeton, then pursued my MBA at Penn State where I graduated at the top of my class. That made my parent’s happy, but I never fully regained their trust. Every time I looked in their eyes, I could see the pain my lies caused. After college, I wanted to distance myself from my past, and that meant New York, my parents, and Amber. I decided the best way to do that was to relocate all the way across the country. I lived in Los Angeles for five years, then San Francisco for two…”

  “Then Seattle,” I finish for him.

  “Yes, then Seattle. Over the years I kept my promise to myself: to not look back, to not relive my mistakes. I never put much thought into the child I left behind. Or Amber, for that matter. I thought it was better if I didn’t know. The truth is, I didn’t want to know. I was afraid that knowing their fate would cause me to hate myself; and I would be right to do so. But I’d been down that path before, and I knew where it would lead. I didn’t ever want to be that person again. So for 12 years, I never asked.

  “Then, one night, several months ago, I got a call from Brent. He had news about Amber. You see, when I left Amber in that hospital all those years past, she was unconscious. What I didn’t realize is that she never woke up. Brent called to tell me that after 12 years of laying in a coma, Amber was finally awake.”

  23

  Consequences

  I remember the first night Jason and I were together, and what almost happened between us. I also recall, with vivid clarity, the call that brought the events of that night to a screeching halt. I always wondered why Jason took that call. Now I know. That’s why I recognize the name, Brent…

  “Brent said that Amber asked for me when she woke up,” Jason continues. “She hadn’t realized 12 years had gone by. To her, what happened between us occurred only the day before. At first, I declined, I thought it would open old wounds that had since healed. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that, at the very least, I owed her a meeting. So I took a couple of weeks off around Christmas so I could fly out to see her.”

  “That’s when you told me you were going to see your family,” I say coldly.

  “I wasn’t lying Bridget. I did see my family. I also saw someone else; someone who I never thought I’d meet — my son. He lived, against all the odds, he lived. And he’s healthy, but more importantly, he’s happy. When the doctor told me he only had a ten percent chance of surviving, he might as well have said he had no chance at all. He was only ever an idea to me that never took form. I never grieved him. In my mind, there wasn’t anything to mourn. I was young and self-absorbed. The only life I valued was my own. I’m not trying to make excuses for my callousness, only explain it. Because when I met him I could no longer deny what I’d done. Grief wouldn’t begin to describe what I felt.

  “I’ve never been a religious person, but when I laid eyes on my boy, with Amber’s blonde hair and my green eyes, I believed I saw in him a miracle. His name is Daniel, and from the moment I saw him, I loved him more than I ever thought possible. But I had no right to him. Even if I hadn’t signed it away, I gave up on Daniel. He was with Amber’s parents, where he belonged. And that’s where I expected him to remain.

  “Then, three days ago, I received another unexpected call — this time from Amber’s father. Amber tried to commit suicide. Somehow she got hold of cocaine and overdosed. I flew out to New York that afternoon. When I saw her in the hospital, she was in bad shape. Her parents told me she’s been having a difficult time adjusting to her new life. Everyone from her past was either dead or had moved on. She was depressed and alone.

  “Her father took me aside that night and asked me if I wanted to be in my son’s life. When I said I did, he told me he would
allow it on one condition: that I move back to New York. He didn’t want me in and out of Daniel’s life. Even as he said this, I knew what he was really after. He wanted me there for Amber. He thought I could help her. I wasn’t sure that I could, but I agreed to his terms nonetheless. I owed it to both her and Daniel to try.”

  “That’s why you lost the account at work and missed our meeting,” I say, starting to put the pieces together. “Because you were in New York.”

  “Yes,” Jason replies.

  “And why you argued with the marketing VP and got fired?”

  “I didn’t give him specifics. I told him I had a family emergency. He didn’t want me to go. When I didn’t close that account, and we lost the client, he fired me. I got the news this morning.”

  I can’t help but think that at least the marketing VP got an explanation. All I got was a vague note and an endless train of unreturned calls and text messages. “You left me to take the streetcar,” I say, almost in a whisper.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to upset you. I needed to be alone.”

  I wince to hear him use that word. That word, once cherished when spoken from his lips, carried with it a tune so sweet and silvery that stirred me to my core. Now, to hear it articulated in an unfamiliar voice, from a man I apparently don’t even know, spoils it’s meaning — and it is no longer sweet. Who does he think he is to call me honey?

  “Where did you go?” I ask absently, uncertain if it even matters at this point.

  Jason is silent for several moments before answering. “I went to a bar. When I left this morning, it wasn’t the destination I had in mind. I didn’t have any place in mind, honestly. I saw it along the road I was driving, and stopped in without giving it much thought. It was the first time in 12 years that I’ve stepped foot inside a bar, with the intention of drinking. And it will be the last.”

  “Did you?” I ask, unable to finish the sentence.

  “I didn’t. I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “You did. With everything that’s happened in the last few days, the only thing that’s truly frightened me is the thought of letting you down. I know how you look at me Bridget, and part of that is my fault. I never told you the truth about my past. I wanted to live up to the kind of man you believed me to be. I wanted to be worthy of you.”

  I suddenly become aware that I’m staring at my hands. This morning, a declaration like that would have sent me into an arduous daze of fanciful emotion. Now I view Jason like an infected limb that I need to amputate. My heart wants to see my body whole, but my head knows that by doing so, I risk the infection spreading. Then I’ll be threatened with losing more than just a limb.

  “That’s not good enough, Jason. You’ve been lying to me the entire time we’ve been together. How can you expect me to move across the country with you when I can’t even trust you?”

  “That’s why I wanted to tell you everything. I don’t want any secrets between us, Bridget. I understand why you’re angry. It’s been tearing me up inside keeping this from you. I can’t stand the idea of moving to New York without you.”

  “Do you hear what you’re saying? How is that going to work? How are we going to support ourselves? We’re supposed to move without a plan?”

  “Not without a plan. I have three job offers already, all of which pay substantially more than I was making. We’ll be okay. And you won’t have to work if you don’t want to. I’ll take care of you, Bridget. You won’t have to worry.”

  “Well, it sounds like you have everything figured out,” I reply, sarcastically.

  Jason stares back at me, confused and helpless, as I sit in silence. “What are you thinking?”

  I look again into Jason’s imploring eyes. Those beautiful piercing green eyes, so filled with excitement and life — they had me mesmerized from the instant I looked into them. How sad they look right now. Today their effect is futile against the cold that grips me, as it often does in times like these. The ice cage that seems to freeze around my heart to protect me, the one that Jason melted with his love, it’s back and more a fortress than ever. I could fight it, but it seems a welcome friend that will allow me to do what I need to do — survive Jason. Survive in the absence of his love.

  I look straight into those familiar eyes as though they are my enemy. I stand across from him with my shield of ice and ready with words that will cut through what he chooses to leave exposed, like a dagger through flesh. He will bleed. And I will let him.

  “You hit her. You beat her until she was unconscious.” I can hear the sharp edge in my voice. Jason’s face twists as though I’d just struck him. I hate being the one to cause him to look that way. I have to do it. I don’t have a choice. I have to say these things out loud. I have to stop looking at Jason through the eyes of a naive lover who only sees a perfect man. I have to see him as he is. He’s unstable. He’s a former drug addict and an alcoholic. He almost killed his ex-girlfriend. What if he snaps again? Then I’ll be no better than my mother—who stayed with her abuser. Who allowed a man to beat her, to tear her down emotionally and terrify her children.

  “I did. I can’t make excuses for who I was. I was stupid and irresponsible. But I’m not that person anymore.” Jason says, in his most conciliatory tone.

  His eyes are hopeful, searching mine for weakness. He wants to break me. To make me doubt myself. How many times did my father do the same to my mother when she was ready to leave? She never had the nerve to walk away. She would always coward, let the emotion of the moment dictate her future ill-fated decision.

  “I’m sorry, I sprung this on you. It’s not fair for me to expect you to make a decision tonight. We can talk about it — anything you want to know, I’ll answer.”

  Now he wants to talk? What about the past couple of days when he was going behind my back to see Amber? What about the last six months that he could have at any point told me about his son and he didn’t?

  “When you were at the bar today, do you think you could have stopped yourself if you started drinking?”

  “I’m honestly not sure.”

  I can feel my stomach tying in knots. That was not the answer I wanted to hear. “If you had come to me drunk, would you be able to restrain yourself?”

  Jason’s forehead furrows as his face sets into a deep frown. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I mean that if it came down to it, and you were upset or angry with me, what would stop you from taking out your aggression on me, the way you took it out on Amber? Would you hurt me the way you hurt her?”

  Jason looks at me bewildered. “Bridget, no, never. I would never lay my hands on you. Don’t you understand that I couldn’t do that to you? I was going to drink, but I didn’t.”

  “You almost did, Jason. That’s the thing. You almost did. Now you want me to move across the country with you to New York. Where you’ll be around your troubled ex and a son that you haven’t seen for 12 years? What happens when I become a weight for you, just like Amber? And you no longer tolerate the feeling of being average as you put it? You might have stopped today, but what will keep you from going over the edge when the reality of living this new life sinks in?” I ask, sneering at the onset of each question.

  “Me. I’ll stop myself. Just as I have for the past 12 years. You have to believe me, Bridget. I wish you wouldn’t focus on that. It was a momentary lapse of judgment. I know you have an aversion to alcohol, but I don’t understand why my drinking would bother you. I was a kid when those things happened with Amber. I never felt about her the way I feel about you. You’ll never be a weight, and you’ll never be average. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Jason’s amorous words do nothing to mollify the violent doubt I have for his character. How can he say he doesn’t understand why I’m so upset? Who in their right mind wouldn’t be upset to learn her boyfriend is a former drug addict, alcoholic and woman beater? Even as these horrific thoughts take
shape in my mind, there’s still a part of me that wants to fall into his arms and tell him I know he would never hurt me. And I would, but for the cautionary voice in my head that whispers: he only hasn’t hurt me yet.

  “I haven’t known you for the past 12 years, we’ve only dated for six months. There’s a lot I don’t know about you. A lot we don’t know about each other. If you had asked me yesterday, I would have sworn that you could never hurt a fly. I would have also sworn that you were a stand-up guy. I couldn’t have imagined the things you told me. People don’t just change. I don’t know who you are. No matter what you say, I don’t know what you’re capable of, even when it comes to me. You’ve kept so much from me. I’m sorry, I can’t trust that what you’re saying is true. That the person you were is gone forever. Just because he didn’t resurface today, doesn’t mean he won’t, tomorrow.”

  Jason kneels down in front of me and places his hands over mine. “The man you see right now, kneeling in front of you, is who I am, and that’s the man who will be here tomorrow and every day after that. I’m not going to change, Bridget.”

  I look at him, wanting to believe what he says. But I know better, even if he doesn’t. “You’ll change, you’ll have to. Even if it’s not for the worst, things will be different between us. How could they not? You’ll have a whole other life that I’m not part of.”

  “I want you to be part of it. That’s what I’m saying.”