Dear Jon

by Lori L. Otto

  “Well, I want to go back.”

  “I understand that,” she says. Max takes her hand in his and walks toward a small pond in the park.

  “Go easy on her, Will, okay?” I plead softly, following them slowly.

  “Why?” he asks.

  “I know she seems fine and normal now, but she’s fighting a lot of battles you can’t see. She needs time to get into new habits and make new friends.”

  “If she makes too many friends here, Jon, we’ll never get to go back home.”

  “Will, I have told you I will help you come back after you graduate. Keep your grades up, get some scholarships, and we’ll make it work.”

  “What if I don’t want to graduate here?”

  “I can’t take you back now,” I explain, stopping beneath a tree for shade. “You know this. I have to concentrate on school, and I can’t give you two the attention you need. Mom can now. Aunt Patty can.”

  “What if she relapses?”

  “It’s a possibility,” I tell him plainly. “I’ll try to call her daily to make sure she’s going to her meetings and living up to her responsibilities as a mom. And if you start to see changes–any changes at all–you have to call me. You have to let me know.”

  “Will you come back then?”

  “I can’t make any promises, Will, but I’m going to make sure you and Max are taken care of… that you have a safe place to live, food on the table… and each other. Our aunt has committed to helping out. She’s told me you two are her top priority. She wants you to have a normal life, just like I do. No one wants things to go back to the way they were.

  “I won’t let them.”

  My brother nods his head and takes the knot out of his tie, letting it hang loosely. He doesn’t look at all satisfied, simply resigned. I put my hand across his shoulder and lead him toward the rest of our family.

  As we walk quietly, I imagine having a conversation with my mom if she were to relapse. I could see me yelling at her. I could see me having no patience and no empathy for her illness. I won’t stand by to watch her hurt my brothers anymore.

  But I truly feel like they’re in good hands for once. And I have to believe she’s seen enough wonderful things about Will and Max that she will want to be clearheaded to watch them grow into young men.

  “Don’t give her a lot of trouble. When you’re feeling angry, please don’t lash out at her. Walk away and take some deep breaths, but come back and talk to her. Be constructive. Set a good example for Max. What he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t need to know. Okay?”

  “I mostly just don’t want to talk to her at all,” he admits.

  “I understand. It will be hard to forgive her. It could take years. You may even want to go to an Alateen meeting or two… they actually have sessions once a week at the community center that’s two blocks away. It’s free.”

  “That’s embarrassing…”

  “Will, it’s not when you realize everyone in the room with you has had similar experiences. Just think about it.”

  “Alright,” he says reluctantly.

  “Thank you. Just try to give her one more chance. We’ve given her so many, but… maybe it’s just this one more chance that she needs.”

  Will rolls his eyes.

  “Promise you’ll call me when you’re angry and frustrated. Just promise me that.”

  “‘kay,” he says as one corner of his lip raises.

  “Okay. And call me when you need another book recommendation… or if you have one for me.” I release him and shove him away lightly.

  “I will.”

  Mom insists on taking us shopping before dinner. My brothers need some new school clothes, and she keeps asking me to pick things out for her to buy.

  “Mom, I have everything I need,” I keep telling her.

  “Let me take care of something for you, Jonny,” she begs. “Let me do one thing… I want to help you. I owe you so much,” she says, getting teary-eyed as she talks.

  “Mom,” I say as we stand outside of the dressing room my brothers are sharing, “all I want is for you to be a good mother to Will and Max. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Do you need some new shoes?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “A suit? What do you wear to work? Do they make you wear a tie?”

  “No, Mom. I don’t work directly with clients, so I can usually get by with some nice jeans and a button-down shirt.”

  “Do you need some new shirts?”

  “No. I’m set.”

  “Books?”

  “Paid for.”

  “Supplies?”

  “They’re all in storage. I’ll be getting them out this week.”

  “There has to be something…”

  “Send me a picture of all of us. I would love to have that hanging in my dorm.”

  She smiles. “I’ll do that for you. And maybe put it in a nice frame.”

  “Whatever you choose,” I agree.

  “I think I’ll go look for one now. Can you watch your brothers?”

  “Sure.” She looks so happy walking down the aisle of the department store. “What are you guys doing in there?” I ask over the door. They both start laughing. “Open up.”

  When they do, Max is dressed in the shirt we’d picked out for Will, and the long sleeves hang next to his shins. Will, in turn, has on the superhero t-shirt we’d selected for Max.

  “You’re gonna rip that, you idiot,” I tell him, laughing at his bare midriff. “You need to do some serious sit-ups, too.” I poke his belly, and he swats my hand away.

  “Want a picture of this?” Max asks, grinning from ear-to-ear.

  “Actually,” I say, getting out my phone, “I do.”

  After eating dinner at home–a hardy meal of steak and baked potatoes and grilled asparagus and salad–a somber mood settles over the house. I go to my room to do a little more packing.

  “Can I come in?” my mother asks from the door.

  “Sure, yeah.” I glance up to see her carrying a gift bag. “What’s that, Mom?”

  “I found something else you might want today. Don’t argue. Just open it.”

  I do as she says, pulling out a square wooden box from the paper. It’s sanded and stained, but it looks rustic and worn.

  “Is there something inside?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  I open it slowly and see another letter from Livvy. I hadn’t expected to get another. I look up at my mom.

  “Do you think they’ll all fit in there? All her letters?” she asks.

  “Mom,” I say softly. “This isn’t necessary. I don’t even know what’s going to happen with her.”

  “But I have seen how you’ve cherished her messages, Jonny. You at least need something to carry them in. If you keep the box closed for the rest of your life, well, that’s your choice to make. But someday you may want to remember her… or remember what it was like to be loved by her.”

  I nod and hug her. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll use it.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says, then kisses my cheek. “I’ll leave you to your letter.”

  I love you, Jon.

  We aren’t finished.

  I believed it when you told me that the night we fought. I have heard that phrase, in your voice, echoing since the moment you said it.

  “Don’t try to go, Livvy. We aren’t finished.”

  Do you even remember saying that to me?

  In that context, I do. I hadn’t realized she was quoting me at the end of every letter. I was trying to get her to stay… to talk to me about my plans. She was so angry with me. I don’t ever think I’ve seen her that mad. I don’t ever want to see that again.

  Her brows were furrowed in confusion and frustration. The wind had blown her hair, and it hung over her eyes. I’d wanted to move the strands so I could see her more clearly, but I knew she would slap my hand away. Her face was beet red as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. I’d hurt her so bad
ly.

  She was so caught off-guard. I never should have sprung that on her in the way I did.

  I wonder. Did I give you permission to just leave me because I drove away that night? Is that why you did this?

  It’s absolutely not why I did it. I made the choice to leave her. It wasn’t out of spite, or revenge. I was trying to protect myself, my pride.

  I can’t help but regret not listening to you. Had I stayed to talk, I wouldn’t have wrecked my car and hit my head. I wouldn’t have had a concussion. We probably wouldn’t have been fighting the next day. You would have been there to console me.

  Everything snowballed because I left you that night. You know the consequences of my actions.

  Honestly, Jon, I don’t think I want to know what you’ve done since you left me. I’m not sure I can bear the truth… or the consequences of your actions. How much will they hurt me? As much as mine hurt you? More? I can’t stand to even think about what you’ve been doing without me.

  I’m proud of how I handled myself this summer. I was faithful to her–faithful to a girl I’m not even dating anymore. As much as I wanted to walk away–to really, truly, permanently walk away from her–my heart had other plans. All along, and still. It longs to be back with Olivia Holland.

  She would be happy to hear that it didn’t stray. My mind may have wandered. My anger may have tried to push her away. But the thing that matters… my heart would never let her go.

  Maybe it’s better this way… not talking… not knowing.

  I’ve hurt enough. I’m beyond the pain.

  We weren’t finished then. You said so yourself.

  Are we now? I don’t think I need to hear you say it.

  I don’t think I ever could. Not to her face, anyway. I don’t think I want that.

  We have to work through this, somehow. I’ve made it so much worse… and this won’t be easy. It’s no longer about me forgiving her. I think I have.

  Now, I have to wonder, will she ever forgive me?

  Healing

  At the airport the next morning, I stand on the curb with my luggage on a cart and watch the sun rise over the mountain in the distance. I’ll miss the Utah skies almost as much as I’ll miss my family.

  I’d awoken my brothers early to tell them goodbye. Will was half-asleep, but Max was awake, and cried a little bit as he hugged me. He was still groggy, though, and I couldn’t really understand what he was whimpering in my ear. I’d heard “I love you,” and that’s all that I really wanted to hear. I promised him I’d call him when I landed and I gave him another big hug after I’d put him back in his bed.

  “Do you have all your things?” Mom asks, patting the top of the box next to her.

  “I think so,” I tell her. “Thank you for putting me up all summer.”

  “Anytime, Jonny,” she says. “You are welcome anytime… but I hope we can eventually come back to the city where you are. I know that’s your home.”

  “I’ll welcome you back with open arms,” I assure her. “I look forward to the day when you all can come home, but take your time, Mom. Just get better. Stay better.”

  “I’ll do my very best.”

  “I’m proud of you, Mom,” I whisper, holding her close to me. I can feel her begin to cry against me. “Don’t cry, please. I’ll see you soon. And I’ll be fine.”

  “Will you?” she asks.

  “Of course,” I say with a laugh, pulling away and looking at her curiously. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You think you’re so tough and grown up, don’t you?” She pinches my arm loosely, but then holds my hand in hers.

  “I can take care of myself,” I tell her smugly, but playfully.

  “I know you can. You always have.”

  For a few moments, we both look back out to the sunrise and breathe in the fresh air.

  “Jonny?”

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  “I never thought I’d be giving this advice to my son, but… follow your heart.”

  I’m a little caught off-guard, and I scoff at her words, feeling bad seconds later as I realize the sincerity in her sentiment. “But look what that did for you,” I tell her in an effort to explain my reaction.

  “No,” she says, grabbing me by the shoulders and speaking passionately. “You listen to me. One day on this earth with you is worth all the moments of heartache I have suffered because of that relationship. In everyone else’s eyes, it was a failure, but you came from that… and there is not an ounce of failure in your body. You are my greatest success, Jonny. You remember that. Good things always happen when you follow your heart.”

  “Mom–” I nod my head, having never heard her speak like that or say such things. My eyes well up with tears. “Thank you,” I tell her, hugging her with all my strength. “That’s the kind of advice I need to hear from my mother.”

  “I love you, Jonny,” she says. She’s crying uncontrollably now, freely. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she struggles to say.

  “Mom,” I whisper, still holding her, unable to stave off the urge to cry. “Thank you. I love you, too.” I tuck my head into her shoulder, not wanting everyone else entering the airport to see me… but I don’t want to stop crying yet. I don’t want to leave this moment. I’ve never had a moment like this with my mother.

  “If you learn nothing else from me, do that.” She pushes me away just enough so she can kiss my cheek. “Follow your heart. Promise me.”

  “I will.”

  REUNION

  “So they won the bid?” Frederick asks as we both settle into the dorm room. We’d arrived only moments apart, and decided to relax for a minute before continuing the arduous task of unpacking.

  “They did,” I tell him. “The firm left a message while I was on the plane home. They want me to call them first thing tomorrow to let them know my school schedule. It sounds like they want me to be pretty involved in this project.”

  “That’s incredible!” my roommate says.

  “They said those bench structures I’d designed were one of the things that helped sell it.”

  “The natural ones?” he asked. He’d been at the desk next to me when I had the idea.

  “Yeah.” I smile, proud of my contribution. I can’t wait to get back to the office now.

  “Well, it looks like you won’t need help with job placement once you graduate.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I guess anything could happen between now and then. That’s a long way off.”

  “That’ll look killer on a resume, though. This bid process has been pretty high-profile, from what I hear. My mom tracked its progress, since she knew you worked on it.”

  “Your mom’s awesome,” I tell him with a laugh.

  “Speaking of that…” He gets up to get something out of his duffel bag. “Mom made them just for you.” I open the tin, seeing a mound of peanut butter cookies. When Frederick brought them back from a weekend visit last year, I told him they were the best cookies I’d ever had.

  “Oh, man, no way.” I offer one to him before taking one for myself. “When you call her next, let me thank her.”

  “Sure thing.” He starts to open boxes, starting with a large, flat one. I know what it is. “Can we hang it?” he asks after revealing the Richard Meyer drawing.

  “Yeah. Same place?” I ask, getting up to grab my small tool kit for a hammer and a nail. We center it on the wall between our desks, so we can both look at it and be inspired by the brilliance of it.

  “How are things?” Fred asks.

  “Same as last time,” I explain. “She kept sending letters.”

  “You never wrote her back?” I shake my head. “You’re through?”

  I don’t really know how to answer him. “We’re… I don’t know. I’m sure she’s rightfully angry with me now.”

  “Are you mad at her?”

  “No,” I admit. “I get it. I still wish she’d never kissed him, but I believe with all my heart there were no feelings shared
between them. I’d like to hear it from him,” I tell him, “but I know Livvy doesn’t like him like that.

  “The last few letters seemed like she was losing hope… which, in a way, I kind of want to start at zero with her. I think we both need to go back to being friends and learning about each other. Our feelings were intense when we were together–always. I want to know if they were real. I want to know if we’d still choose one another after everything that’s happened.”

  “I can understand that. So what are you going to do now that you’re home?”

  “I guess I hope to run into her on campus someday. I want it to be casual and light. I know long conversations will have to follow, but I don’t want getting back together to be a chore. It shouldn’t be an assemblage of altercations. We should want to be together, not feel like we have to be.” I haven’t really been able to figure out how I wanted things to go in such a succinct thought, but that seems pretty perfect. “I guess she’ll be moving into her dorm next week. Then classes will start a week later, and we’ll just see where things go from there.”

  “You’re gonna be so busy with school and work now… maybe this is a good thing, putting the relationship on the back burner for a bit.”

  “Maybe so,” I agree. I hadn’t even had time to think about that yet since landing. How would I fit her in, with everything else? We’d have to meet up on campus between classes. Have lunch together. There probably wouldn’t be more date nights than what we’re used to. I know it’s not what she’d always wanted for us, but it may be necessary.

  As I put my clothes away in the single dresser we’re allotted, I think about that conversation. If she couldn’t accept it, then maybe I’m not what she’s looking for. I can’t put my dreams on hold for her. She would have to understand that.

  After all my socks are organized in the top drawer, I shut it and glance up in the mirror. If I close my eyes, I can still see her face looking back at me. I’m still ashamed about how things happened that day in my dorm, but I still can’t regret any moment I was with her.

  “Can I come in?” a woman says from the door. It’s Fred’s girlfriend.