by Leanne Davis
It’s the greatest epiphany and perhaps it can save my life.
“So, this family you’re with now, they give you all that cash?”
“Nope. I earned it at my job. That’s it. Tell you what, shall I come back next week and give you some more?”
She nods, and her eyes gleam as she all but claps her hands together like an evil villainess. “Yes. Next week. Don’t forget about me.”
What? No more talk of going out to dinner and a movie with me? No more time to waste on me? There never was. She only bothered with me long enough to tell me what she wanted or needed from me. I smile, and my heart swells and shatters as several tears slide free from my eyes. Whispering in her ear, I say, “I won’t forget, Mom. I’ll never forget you.”
I turn, and my limbs seem too heavy. I slip out the door and nod at myself. I won’t forget. I probably won’t ever see her again either. She’ll die somehow, some way, either from drugs or alcohol or end up in prison again for messing with the wrong guy or scamming the wrong person. A nefarious culmination of her many mistakes will be the end of her. It won’t be my fault. Or what I want for her. It won’t make me glad. It will hurt like anything involved with my mom hurts. But something inside me has moved and shifted now.
She has been relegated to a disappointing memory. All my childhood fantasies of what I wished she would be in my life no longer matter now.
I nod. Yes. My unplanned trip here was so worth it. I never deserved what she did to me.
But she also never deserved me. That’s the epiphany. I see her in a new light now, and my clarified vision makes me strong enough to let go of my former childhood desires.
There is one more person I have to see. One last avenue to cross in order for me to fully understand my past and clear the way for my brighter future.
Chapter 17
WYATT
My hands are sweating as Dani drives us to the location. I’m in the back seat, staring out the window. Wesley holds the handle of the door and stares straight forward, his jaw clamped shut. No words. We’re all dead silent. I start to feel more worried when Wesley gets this quiet. It’s not like him. That level of intensity usually comes from me. I wonder what he envisions we will find. He knows. I don’t. I only have the words she told me to describe her mom. I try to imagine her childhood, but hell. My sheltered life can’t pretend to prepare me for the things she endured. Wesley knows. He’s seen it and been a part of it. He’s worried, so I know things are bad.
We’ve all called Jacey and texted her and left messages. She still hasn’t answered anyone. But at Wesley’s suggestion, a few weeks ago we had all joined a free app that tracks each other’s phones. We used that to track her down. It provided the address we are currently speeding towards.
My knee keeps jiggling up and own in a nervous tic. What if she’s not okay? What if she’s already gone? Where? Wesley said it’s possible she’ll disappear. Jenika often took Jacey and disappeared to different cities or states. Her mother’s neediness never failed to draw Jacey back into her clutches.
But Jacey isn’t an innocent, young girl in foster care anymore. She’s not isolated at the mercy of her mom or a ward of the court anymore. We are here strictly for her. We make the difference for her. I fist my hand. She has to know that, right? She’s much stronger than that. She won’t disappear. She won’t do drugs or go somewhere dangerous. I have to believe that. That has to be true. She can’t be the same Jacey that Wesley is now picturing.
That’s all we have to go on.
Wesley suddenly whips around. “Isn’t it the championship game tonight?”
I look up, awoken out of my reverie. “Yeah.”
“You… don’t you have to be there?”
“No. I don’t. I have to find Jacey.”
“We could find her.”
“No. You misunderstand me, I have to find her.”
Wesley stares at me, his gaze trailing down and then back up to me. He purses his lips, nods, and turns forward. “Got it.”
Does he finally respect me?
I didn’t forget about the game. I texted my coach and said I couldn’t be there due to a family emergency. It wasn’t my choice or my decision. It just was.
I love Jacey more than I love any game.
Clarity makes decision-making so much easier.
We pull into the parking lot that her phone shows as her last destination. It’s a run-down motel. There’s no sign of her. We stare at each other. “Now what?” Dani voices what we all are thinking.
“Start with door one on that end. I’ll go to the other end,” I say while getting out and jogging to the end of the motel. I am ready to knock on every single door, no matter how long it takes. Wesley follows me. “You won’t recognize her mother.”
I’m not thinking clearly. “Okay. So you start knocking.”
He nods and obeys. I’m grateful for his history with Jacey and his ability to recognize her mother. After twenty-five minutes, Wesley’s knocks are answered by a woman, and he suddenly steps forward and grabs her biceps. Her eyes grow large, and she starts to scream.
“Shut up, Jenika. Where’s Jacey?”
“Haven’t see her.”
“Yes, you have. Where is she?” Wesley is cool, calm, and clear. His voice is steady, and I’m relieved he’s here to handle this. I couldn’t have recognized the woman, and I don’t think I could have restrained myself. I want to see Jacey safe and sound so I’d probably grab this woman’s shoulders and shake her until she answered me… and quick.
“I don’t know where she is. She left.”
“She left?” Wesley’s jaw clicks as he mutters, “I’ll just fuckin’ bet she did. I can’t imagine what you said or did or suggested to make her leave. I hope to God each time she has to see you that it’s the last time she’ll ever have to deal with the likes of you.”
He twirls around and stomps out of the room. With one last glance around the shockingly disgusting room and the woman who occupies it, I find it hard to believe she’s Jacey’s mom. Dani and I exchange a look, intimating the same message about whom we’ve both chosen to love. We really don’t know anything.
“Now what?” Dani folds her arms over her chest. I am mute and frozen and unsure. Wesley paces. He checks his phone.
“Oh, damn. She must have turned the signal back on… but… oh… fuck—”
“What?” I’m all but ready to grab his shirt in my fists and shake him until he tells me. What?
“She’s in Tukwila again. That’s… that’s where she just came from. Where Bobby lives.”
“What the fuck would she go there for?” I snarl while pacing.
Wesley sighs. “Her mom’s rejection usually causes Jacey to react impulsively. It’s like all the good she has inside her and the self-confidence she fortifies herself with suddenly wither up like a raisin when her mom gets hold of her. I hate to say this, but she might have gone to see the bastard.”
I stop dead, my sneakers squeaking on the pavement. Frowning, I ask, “To do what? For what? To tell him off?”
Wesley nods. His gaze avoids mine. “Sure. That’s what it could be.”
Or what else? Would she go back to him? Cheat on me with a guy who fucking strangled her? My stomach churns. No. She’d never… or would she? Oh, no way. No. She might want to get revenge or justice, which is equally upsetting. Fear grips me. Shit. The guy strangled her. He hit her. Physical abuse can easily turn into attempted murder. And here I’m worried that she’ll cheat on me? Now, I hope to God she went to him for that and not to exact revenge. In that case, she most likely won’t get hurt, at least not before we have the time to save her.
“We have to get to her before she sees him.” My tone is even, cool, and numb. I’m primed and ready. That’s how I get in the middle of a game when we are losing and need to score, when it’s all on me to make it happen. It’s a special skill I use to play.
But I know now, deeper than anything I ever felt, that my feelings for Jacey don’t compare
to a game. This is no game. And I’m grateful for the skills I learned in football to allow me to be so calm despite all of this stress.
“Yeah.” Wesley walks to the car, jerks the door open and flops in. I quickly do the same and Dani starts to drive. I use GPS to find the next address and we leave, again all of us silent.
I wish Wesley would say something more. But I don’t really want to hear what’s in his head. I don’t know the extent of her abuse. Not like Wesley does.
We drive the two hours. I glance at the clock. It’s now two in the afternoon. I’ll most likely miss the playoff game. But the jiggling in my foot isn’t about that. I worry what we’ll find when we stop the car. Jacey is running back to a man that abused her. It’s been only six months since she was strangled by him. It feels like a lifetime in how much Jacey changed but perhaps she doesn’t see it. Perhaps once someone is abused she can’t break free. Or maybe there is just no escaping the patterns of one’s history.
I fist my hand, thinking I’ll deal with that. If she’s cheating or attempting to, I’ll deal with it. I’ll realize that her life has taught her to do that, and in the past, it was the correct course for her. Through her own sheer will, she removed that main message in her life. She did that all on her own. So what if she regresses? Or has a bad day? Or screws up? I’ll forgive her. I’ll be there for her… if she wants me. I swear it. I’ll find a way to deal with this and give her another chance.
Just please, please, please. Let her physically be okay.
JACEY
I stare at the door and hold my breath as I contemplate rapping on the solid wood. It’s a giant step back in time. To a place I never thought I’d return. I know I’m not wanted here. But I had a compelling urge after the encounter with my mother to come here. I had to.
I cannot move beyond my mother, her chronic abuse and my internalization of it unless I come here and do what I have to. I can do it. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. I’m missing Wyatt’s big game, and I feel terrible about that. But my brain is so full of thoughts and confusion that I feel like I could explode. So I can’t go. Not this time. I’ll find a way to explain it and tell him why.
I just hope he’ll forgive me. If not now, maybe someday.
I hope.
But for now, I have to be here. I have to do this for myself before I can move forward and get on with my life. With that hope, and my stomach flip-flopping, I lift my hand and rap sharply, waiting for the door to swing open.
Chapter 18
JACEY
She opens the door with a jerk, and her entire expression changes. She goes from calm and serene to shocked. Then, quick as a blink, her professional demeanor returns, and she’s serene once more. “Jacey Walker. What are you doing here?”
“Can I meet with you for a moment?”
“You don’t have an appointment.” She frowns.
“You always do your paperwork from one until three. And that goes for Saturdays, too.” I smile, raising my eyebrows in challenge because I know this woman’s habits. I still am as sharp as she once claimed. I pay attention to details like that. Details that might seem innocuous at first glance are collected and remembered by me. I never can predict all the information I might someday need. And this is one of those times. Who would think I’d be here asking my adolescent therapist to see me as one of her patients? But today I need her perspective.
“You remember?”
“Everything. Everything you ever said to me. Now, could I have a short moment?”
She frowns, eyeing me up and down. “This is highly inappropriate and impetuous of you. We talked about the dangers involved before. There must be boundaries—”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not dangerous. I’m not carrying a weapon to hurt you if that’s why you’re scanning me. I don’t stalk you. I found your new office location by a web search, and this is the address you have listed. I did come without an appointment, but only because I don’t live close by anymore, and I had to speak with you. Could you spare me just a few minutes?”
She gives me a stern look and steps back. I enter her office and sit in one of the red wingback chairs she provides.
“So…?”
“I saw my mother.”
“Oh. You’ve learned nothing, have you?”
She’s ticked off that I’ve come here so unexpectedly. It’s crossing a boundary and a clear no-no to Rachel Lesley. “Actually, I have. I walked out on her after a few moments. She’s exactly the same. She looks gross and just wants money and nothing more.”
“And you realized that?”
“Well. Yes. I did. I still gave her some money. But not all the money I had. It’s strange but I wanted to give it to her. I think… I did it to say goodbye forever.”
“Forever?”
I nod. “She’s incapable of changing. She doesn’t love me. Waiting for her to love me is like beating a dead horse, and the beating is wearing me out, not her.”
“Yes.”
“I missed you. You could have taken me on as a charity case. I needed you.”
“That’s not how it works, Jacey. I’m assigned cases from the state. A certain number. And when your time is up, it’s up. It’s the standard process, and we do it that way for a reason.”
“I had no other adult in my life. And certainly no one I could trust. You realized that.”
“You were the adult in your life. That’s what I tried to teach you.”
I straighten up. I have to consider her words. Legally, yes. True. Emotionally, I still feel like a needy, little girl. “First thing I did when I left here was hook up with a guy who wound up hitting and strangling me.”
“That’s… unfortunate. Did you stay?”
“No. I left about five minutes after he did it. I ran off to Wesley.”
“Ah, yes, our friend Wesley. How’s he?”
“He was there for me.”
“Like any decent friend. Find more people like him. But you must realize I was paid to help you. I’m a therapist. Not your mother.”
“You knew I wanted you to be my mother?”
She nods, cool as ever. “I knew.”
“You hurt me deeply by refusing to see me anymore.”
“I was doing my job, Jacey. Did I help you? You left your boyfriend and your mother. That seems like two pretty huge wins for the adult Jacey.”
A small smile fills my face, and I lower my head. “Yes. It really does when you put it that way. I don’t feel like an adult, however.”
“No one ever does. You’re not special in that. People who say they are, particularly at your age, are just grandstanding. Exaggerating. Or else they’re just raving idiots.”
Her words make me snort. She always clarifies her words with a non-professional quip. That’s what I always liked so much about her. Her sarcasm and wittiness made her relatable.
“You’re saying?”
“You are an adult. You have the capacity to make decent, good decisions. It’s your responsibility now. Whatever you choose to do, it’s on you. You can’t blame your mother or your childhood any longer.”
“Is there a reason I can’t see you and still do that, too? If it made it easier and more helpful to me? Could I come here and see you? As an adult Jacey Walker?”
Rachel nods. “I—I’ve never had any discharged ward of the state ask to keep seeing me. Yes. I suppose you could.”
“You never considered it until now? That I should keep getting counseling because it helped me so much?” I tilt my head.
She opens her mouth, then closes it and shakes her head. “I—no. I never considered that.”
“Would you?”
“Would I consider what?”
“Seeing me still?”
“What are your circumstances?”
“I live with this family—”
“Who are they?”
“My boyfriend’s parents. But really, they became Wesley’s parents. They took him in and helped him, and I ran to him after I got strangled and the
y took me in, too. I liked their son. He’s Wyatt Kincaid, a football player from University of Northern Oregon.”
She blinked. “I know him.”
“Surprised? He’s just as real and decent and good as he’s reported to be. I mean that.”
“But…?”
I shake my head. “No buts. I was just telling you about him. And I live with his parents. I also work at their café.”
“It’s normal to accept help, Jacey. It doesn’t make you weird or a failure.”
“My point is: I will pay you for our sessions. I felt far more confident under your supervision. So maybe it’s just a precaution, but I don’t want to go back to the old me ever again.”
She nods. “That’s a pretty good start. Okay. But you can’t drive this far every time.”
“Every other week?”
“Fair enough. Saturdays at three o’clock?”
I nod, keeping my expression as neutral and dry and unremarkable as hers. But I notice the small, tiny tilt of her mouth and a twinkle in her eye. “Right after the paperwork?” I inquire.
“Yep.”
I hesitate before adding, “I don’t let Wyatt’s mom get close to me. She’s so nice and decent and everything that is good. Do you think I have a problem trusting women because of my mom? Well, no, that’s not true. I do have a girlfriend. Wyatt’s ex-girlfriend, which is crazy. But she’s smart and sweet and—”
“And so are you. You always were. That’s what you miss. That’s what I always knew. I just had to draw it out of you. Underneath all the crap your mother tried to bury you in. Of course a nice friend is hard to find. So I’m glad. You haven’t had too many good friends. And yes, I imagine having older women try to get close to you must be hard. Why would you trust them, after never trusting your own mother?”
“Should I?’
“I think that is an issue we could definitely address.”
