by Leanne Davis
He closed his eyes and leaned back on his heels. “Yeah, so did I.” His shoulders slumped, and he flipped over and sat down on her bed, turning his face away from her. “Yes, the odds are definitely against me but they’re not zero. I have every intention of staying sober forever.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No. And neither can you.”
She snorted. “What? I seriously doubt very much that I’ll start pumping heroin into my veins. Is that the way you did it?”
“Yes. It’s the fastest method.”
Bending forward, he hung his head. Luna sniffled her tears up and didn’t cry. She felt numb and cold, but mostly just confused. Her voice lacked any inflection. His was tinged with despair.
“Why though?”
“Why? Why did I use street drugs? Why didn’t I tell you? Why what?”
“Why to all those questions. But mostly, what made you start using?”
“I wish I could tell you the answer. My mom, my sister, my dad and Joey… every one of them has asked me why. I never came up with a good answer. I asked myself why a million times, but I still can’t answer it.”
“How did you finally stop?”
“I almost died. More than once, but that wasn’t what stopped me. I got clean after I broke my leg and sprained my arm. I had the choice of stopping or risking more jail time and possible death. As fortune would have it, I enrolled in an extensive rehab that worked. I was very lucky.”
“Almost died? Did you overdose?”
“Three times. And the last one was the closest I came to actual death. I was discovered all alone behind a dumpster in an alley. Bad cliché, huh? Anyway, yeah.” His voice was eerily calm and serene. And his gaze remained fastened on hers. He didn’t waffle or waver. He showed very little emotion. Luna sensed he was telling her the truth, like an open book, one in which she could ask anything that came to her mind.
“You got clean after spending time in prison?”
“Yes.”
“Prison didn’t stop you?”
“Sometimes. But not entirely. You can get anything you want in there if you have the money.”
She shuddered. She didn’t want a boyfriend who had personal knowledge of such things.
“What else, Jacob? What else don’t I know about you?”
He let his head fall even lower. “Silas.”
“Silas? What about him?”
“He’s my biological son. I abandoned him when he was less than a year old. I just left him with my mom and Joey and walked away. His mom, Teresa, went with me. We couldn’t take proper care of him, and a few things happened that could’ve been called child neglect. That’s why I’m so worried you can’t forgive me, and I don’t blame you. Not after all that I did.”
“Your mother is raising your son? And your stepfather… oh, damn! So that’s why Joey is so cold to you. Did you come back to take Silas away from the only parents he’s ever known? He calls them Mom and Dad. Oh, my God, Jacob, what kind of a game are you playing now?”
“That’s exactly my dilemma. I don’t know what I want. I love to be around him and spend much of my spare time with him, but I—”
Luna tried to get back on her feet. But she temporarily forgot about her bad foot and didn’t mince any words as she cried out and tried to catch herself before falling forward. In a flash, Jacob launched himself gallantly across the small space and caught her just in time. He gently lowered her to the floor and asked, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Reacting to your answers.” She turned her head away and breathed hard after the shocking experience. “I forgot my foot for a moment.”
He released her and scooted back until she met his gaze. “That’s the shittiest thing you’ve done, in my opinion.”
“What?” He looked at her with a startled expression. “I know it’s a terrible story and a shock, but what specifically stands out as the shittiest?”
“That you came back to town without first surrendering full custody to Silas’s parents. That you would make Joey sweat bullets over the chance he could lose his child. Hailey and Joey are his real parents. You had your chance to be and you let it go. You can’t hold that over everyone’s head now. That’s why it’s the shittiest. It’s worse than all your drug use and lack of correspondence with your family for so many years. This? You clearly knew what you were doing. Holding them hostage until what? You finally decide? Once you get enough money together you’re going to take Silas away from the only home and parents he’s ever known? He’s already at home with his parents. How could you ever consider ripping him from that for your own selfish reasons? You have to let him go without any regrets. No wonder Joey hates you. Silas’s needs and well-being are far more important than your selfish happiness. How could you not see that, Jacob?”
His mouth dropped open and he licked his lips. “I don’t know. I didn’t see that at all.”
“Then what did you see?”
He hung his head. “I can’t tell you that either. I never knew what to do. I’m not very adept. I told you before I haven’t managed to pull my life together. I have trouble making the right decisions. I used to think I was a loser and destined to become a heroin addict because I lacked something vital, like morals, good judgment, and decency. But I want to believe I have those now, Luna. My parents have them. My entire family raised me to have them. I have to start somewhere. I keep trying but I feel like I’m out of practice. You’re right. I’ll sign over all my custody rights immediately.”
“What happened to Teresa, his mother?”
“It just gets even uglier. She overdosed when Silas was an infant. She was lying next to me in bed. I woke up to find her dead body.”
“And that wasn’t bad enough to make you quit?”
“No. It just made me use more. It became an excuse for needing more.”
She shut her eyes. “And this new revelation about you is now public knowledge?”
“Thanks to the media, yeah. It’s been broadcast all week. Brianna and my mom were even targeted and questioned. They did a complete exposé on me.”
“That’s why you left just now? To see them and find out how bad it was?”
“Yes. I knew though before I walked in here that you’d probably find out.”
“So, the real reason we went away was not to ease my anxiety and public phobia but to hide you out? Don’t you see what that means, Jacob? It’s all about you.”
“Yes,” his tone was getting hoarse. She saw his head hanging in shame, and when she looked closer, she realized tears were streaming down his face. He tried to wipe them inconspicuously with his sleeve and rubbed his nose. She stared at him with her mouth open. He listened to every word she said as she chastised him ruthlessly, to a level that even startled her.
Her first impulse was to scoot toward him and wrap her arms around him. She wanted to rest his head on her chest and console him. Seeing him cry, sobbing without shame right before her astonished her. He just sat there, frozen. He seemed totally destroyed. His entire body appeared to be paralyzed.
His head eventually shook but he didn’t look up. If he had, he would have seen her staring at him. His tears were not a ploy to obtain her sympathy, but he didn’t try to hide them from her in case she did look. He seemed unaware of her. Or too overwhelmed and upset to care what effect his sobbing had on her.
“I only took you up there because I thought I could love you. I still think I could. I just…” He stopped talking, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck. Maybe I don’t know how to love. Maybe I never did. That’s why I did what I did to my dad by fucking his wife. And leaving my kid behind. I virtually killed his mom. I didn’t even cry over that. I didn’t love her. And I even left my mom. Maybe I’m just incapable of loving anyone or anything. That’s why I chose drugs. To cover up being a sociopath and a lazy, smug-assed jerk. Maybe that’s where the truth lies.” He was shaking his head and started crying again. He kept running his hands through his hair in a state
of despair. Luna never saw a man cry before or fall into such emotional distress. He didn’t wipe his tears away, but simply kept his face down.
Sitting back before getting upright, Luna was stiff and unsure. Her breathing escalated as her own anxiety spiked. She never expected any of this. And had no idea what to say or do about it. Her distress was starting to rise, and she naturally longed to reach out to him, and pull him into her embrace. It seemed impossible for her not to respond at seeing anyone in so much unconcealed pain. She’d never witnessed it from any friend or past relationship and certainly not from her own family. They never shared anything with her and perhaps that’s why she found it so hard to share herself with anyone. She could not figure out how to react to the man she… What? Liked? Held affection for? Relied on? Freaking thought she could love? Who knew what to call him?
Why did that always matter? Why did she need a label to determine her reaction to a person? Why did she have to catalogue her emotions? Why could she not respond to him as a human being? Seeing how he was in pain, which made her own heart hurt, she could not turn off her empathy. She might have been cold and walled off from other people, but she still felt everything. All the time.
He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, pressing so hard, it had to hurt. “I’m such a fraud. Everyone says how brave and heroic I was. I just reacted. Fuck. I just remember thinking if I got shot, it would be like, I don’t know. Maybe a type of redemption. Like karma. Can’t you see now that I was never a hero? I was a chickenshit. It seemed a lot easier than facing myself. The guy I was and am. What I fucking am now. I only half believed I’d come out on the other side and that was okay, at least it was in that critical second. It wasn’t bravery at all. It was—”
He sprang to his feet. She was startled when she found him beside her on the floor. “I’m sorry. So sorry. See? You’re right. There is something undeniably wrong with me. I turned it all about me again… Poor little me…. You were secondary again. Fuck.” He started backing up, his eyes awash in more tears and obvious pain. He started to turn away to leave, and Luna panicked.
She was getting used to panicking, but she didn’t want him to leave. Not like this. Not when they hadn’t finished talking about this or sorted things out. Fuck this. He still hadn’t answered all of her questions, so she reached toward him, calling, “Jacob!”
But he was already heading toward the living room. Her crutches weren’t nearby. “Damn it, Jacob, wait!” she yelled after him. Muttering, “Fuck it!” she started down the hallway in a crawl. She used her elbows to drag her body after him. “Jacob! I can’t fucking walk! Wait!” This time, she screamed. “If you really don’t want this to be all about you, then don’t go off and leave me lying here on the fucking floor!”
She thought he left. He was done. Her stomach dropped. Where would he go now? And in so much pain? All of a sudden, there he stood. He appeared at the end of the hallway, and the light silhouetted him. He hurried back and knelt beside her, sliding his hands under her armpits and pulling her upright. “What are you doing?” he asked her breathlessly.
His voice was garbled and raw, although his tears had stopped. Luna could still detect the streaks of wet shimmering on his cheeks. “Coming after you. But I can’t run or walk, and I didn’t have a chance to grab my crutches.”
He sighed and stared at her. “You shouldn’t come after me.”
“You shouldn’t run and pretend it’s all about me.”
He stared at her. “Don’t you want me to leave? I can disappear.”
She shook her head, and their gazes locked. “Right now, I need to… well, to get my ass off the floor.”
He squeezed his eyes to stop the tears and unbelievably, a small retort escaped his mouth. “That’s just one of many things you need.”
She gripped his shirt in her hands as they huddled in her hallway. “I don’t think you’re so selfish that you can’t love, Jacob. You can love. I know you can. And you did go after that shooter. Your motivation was irrelevant. There wasn’t time to even think, Jacob. I know your first instinct was to go toward the problem. So, I know… I really do know.”
His hand came out to grip hers. “I don’t usually cry—”
“You just did.”
He hung his head and she reached out to run her fingers through his hair. “And I cried about the shooter and eight dead and how I can’t face a public space without triggering an episode. Isn’t that selfish? I’m crying for myself. We all have strengths and weaknesses and don’t give me that fucking, old school cliché that boys don’t cry. Maybe if you’d cried a long time ago you wouldn’t have wanted to numb yourself with chemical substances.”
“I teared up when my mom opened the door to me in November. I teared up with my dad when I first saw him. That’s it. I didn’t cry when I left Silas. I didn’t cry when Teresa died or when I hurt my dad and left home for good or when I let them all think I was dead. I didn’t cry when I ransacked places and stole items. I did bad things. Too many to remember.”
She reached out and cupped his face. “Stop. Let me just process a few things at a time. I want you to stop throwing so much at me as if you think I can decide right now what I feel. It’s kind of melodramatic, you know? There’s no timeline. No hurry. Just help me up. My foot is aching, and I want to lie down.”
“I’m sorry. Your foot. Of course. Here…” He quickly crouched beside her and helped her up, holding her arm steady.
She touched his hand as he held her arm just below her elbow. “I know you put me first in all your actions. So, I know your actions don’t match the words you just said or the history you just told me.”
He stopped and stared at her. “You think I might be—”
“Loveable? Capable of love? Yes. Your crying was because of your regrets and guilt, Jacob. A sociopath doesn’t feel guilty or regretful.”
He helped her to the bed and she sat down and leaned back as her foot throbbed and felt like it was on fire. Jacob used a mound of pillows to elevate her foot. It helped, but nothing would alleviate all the pain except time. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth and was seriously sick of dealing with it. When she opened her eyes, he stood nearby, concerned by her grief-stricken face. How did it all go so wrong so quickly?
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. It’s just going to hurt. Sometimes you can’t fix everything, Jacob. You just have to let people work things through, including pain. Sometimes you can’t fix problems, and you have to respect the decisions you can’t control and just be there.”
“Can I be here? For you? Now? Or do you want me to leave?”
What did she want? Luna’s exhaustion and pain cut her deeply. So deeply that when he began crying, she was unable to reach out to him. How could she face that again?
She shuddered. That never occurred to her. She never expected to learn what she did about Jacob Starr. What did she feel? He’d already shown her how he felt. Sad. Regretful. Humiliated. She understood that clearly and even respected it. But it didn’t mean she could put aside her own shock and fears to comfort him. Not yet. Not now. Maybe never. Perhaps tomorrow. She couldn’t know and didn’t know.
“You have to realize that I don’t know if I can do this. My image of what you were addicted to makes me fearful. I don’t want to spend all my time worrying that something I say or do could upset you, even something else entirely unrelated to me could upset you and then you’d go off angry, or guilty, or regretful, or whatever used to trigger your need to use. My greatest fear is that you’ll return to drugs to ease or numb the pain. We’ve all seen the stereotypical alcoholic who relapses, but a heroin addict? Those statistics of recovery are very low. I don’t know if I can face that problem, Jacob. I do believe you, though. You are obviously sorry and full of regret. The Jacob who went to prison and did that to your mom and Silas is definitely not you now. Not the Jacob I met and know. But I also realize that drug addiction runs very deep, and it might rear its ugly head again. I don’t want t
o live my life watching you for the first signs of a relapse. Alcoholism is bad enough, but heroin?”
He swallowed. “You don’t hate me? You really believe me? And forgive me? But you just don’t trust me?”
“Yes. To the first three. And as for the last? It’s the addiction I don’t trust, which is much deeper than trusting you. I believe you intend to never touch drugs again. I see that as your best intention, but what about five years from now if we’re married with a kid and your job starts to bore you? Or we fight about God-only-knows-what and your commitment starts to fade a bit? And all I see is that I’m saddled with a heroin addict. I just don’t know what to do yet.”
His mouth opened and closed, and he started shaking his head. “I can’t fucking argue with that. It’s entirely logical. And rational. Although not what I expected. I get it. I can’t guarantee that reality and I can’t deny the possibility of a relapse.”
“No. You can’t. And it has to be my decision if I want to live with that risk.”
He reached over and set his hand on her calf. The heat of his palm seared into her flesh and her sense of numbness started to thaw. She wanted to go back to the day before when she didn’t know about this. She wished she never knew Jacob Starr was a former heroin addict with a son whom he abandoned and then returned to make a half-assed claim for custody. She only wished she knew what to do now. She wished she were strong enough to handle it. He squeezed her leg muscle, his gaze roving over her as if he wanted to memorize every single detail about her. “It is your decision, and I respect that. I respect you, Luna. More than anyone I’ve ever met. I know I’m not good enough for you now, never mind my history. But I swear to you, I will make it my life’s purpose to live up to your standards and give you what you deserve.”
“No! I don’t want to hear that. Don’t put your sobriety on me. I can’t be the reason for your sobriety or your possible relapse. Don’t you see? I can’t live with that kind of pressure. I respect you too, Jacob, even knowing all of this now. I appreciate hearing that you beat the addiction and you haven’t relapsed yet.”
