by Ashley Munoz
“I think I will see if Jimmy wants to talk about it, or to talk to me, even to check up on how I am… you know?”
Laney nodded her head again, then asked, “If he doesn’t?”
I looked out the window and tried to push away the pain that was starting to grow in my chest. “Then I’ll have my answer. I will take Mom to Chicago, permanently.”
That was the end of our heavy talk. The rest of the drive revolved around Laney’s work drama, and a few stories of her latest saga with Jackson. As usual, her conversation revolving around Jimmy’s best friend was short-lived and sparse. I didn’t mind, I knew she would eventually want to talk about it, but it was no use trying for more when I knew she wasn’t ready.
When the cab pulled up to my house, I had this haunted feeling come over me, like a monster was lurking in the bushes. I slowly got out, looked around, and started walking the steps I took just days ago. I had to remind myself that they got him, they caught the bastard. It’s safe now. A caretaker was there with Mom, and I rounded the furniture enough for her to see me. Once I was in front of her, her whole face lit up. She couldn't get up on her own, so I bent down to her and put my head in her lap. She stroked my hair and started crying, praising God in Cambodian. Mom always got really spiritual in her native tongue.
She released me, and I looked up at her, swiping at my own tears. Laney hugged my mom too. After a while, Laney mentioned she needed to head back to the city, and Mom’s caretaker finished her shift as well, so it was just me and Mom. I sat next to her recliner and went over the details as much as I could with her. I didn't want to upset her, so I was gentle and skipped a few parts, jumping to the end, where the police came in with guns and an ambulance nearby.
She cried, and I cried. She told me how Theo was here when she woke up, and the kids. She said Theo very sweetly explained what was going on, but that Jimmy had gone to get me. The kids worked on distracting her with games of checkers, and Jasmine was asking to knit. Then, this morning, they all left once her caretaker showed up, but they promised that I would be there in the afternoon, so she just waited.
Around eight, I helped Mom get ready for bed. Once she was tucked away, the whole day hit me at once. I was exhausted, but before I could go to sleep, I remembered my cell and wondered if it was in the house somewhere. Getting up, I headed into my bedroom. I saw my bed, and noticed my purse, then turned and sure enough, on my dresser was my cell, plugged into the charger. I knew it was Jimmy. I had no idea why the man was so thoughtful and sweet, but so determined to push me away.
I touched the phone and sifted through a few emails and texts, but there was nothing from Jimmy, or anyone else, for that matter. It was weird; after an earth-shattering experience like that, I kind of expected there to be more people who cared. Except that no one knew what had happened to me. Really, I wanted to hear from Jimmy, just something. I was tired of waiting.
I decided to call him. I had played his game of distance and being away from him. Now there was no reason we had to play that anymore.
The phone rang a few times. It was still only a little after nine, so I knew he would be up.
It rang until his voicemail picked up. I tried not to acknowledge how much that stung, but it did. So, I left him a voicemail and decided that would be that. I heard the beep and left my message.
“Jimmy, it’s Ramsey. I was really hoping to talk to you tonight. I think we have a lot of catching up to do, a lot of things to talk about. I understand you have had a busy day, so I won’t bother you, but please call me tomorrow.”
I hung up, then walked back into my mom’s room and curled up under the covers. I placed my phone next to me, and for about thirty minutes, I waited, but no call or text ever came. My mind wandered all over the place, and as much as I didn’t want it to, it drifted to the idea of leaving. I couldn't be here if Jimmy didn’t want me, not after everything. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I saw Rav’s face, in that room again, and I kept hearing him say, “Remember who he was, don’t let him push you away.”
I dreamt of Jimmy pushing me through a door while trying to shut it, but I wouldn’t budge… eventually he walked away entirely.
“Sammy, use the outside part of your foot to kick the ball, it will help direct it.” I had been shouting the same thing at Sammy for an hour, and he still wasn’t getting it. Jasmine had jumped in a few times to try and show him, but he wasn’t catching on. I was about ready to grab a mitt and a baseball and call this whole soccer thing quits. I let out a frustrated sigh, and ran my hands through my hair, “Okay, buddy, let's try the drill from the top.”
“Dad, can’t we call Ramsey?” Sammy asked with a whine. He had been asking for the past hour. I had been avoiding his question for the hour, replacing his question with directions on how to position his feet. I think he was finally fed up.
“Buddy, Ramsey is still recovering, and I want to give her some space.”
I had been saying that so much to the kids that I was actually starting to believe it. I still played Ramsey’s voicemail from over a week ago, over and over at night, when no one else was awake, just to hear her voice. I hated this distance, but I was serious when I decided to let her go, and to keep her away from anything else that could cause her harm because of me.
Like a jerk, I didn’t call her back, and I have been playing the avoidance game ever since. It didn’t take much effort, since it’s the game I played while the deal with Davis was going on. Ramsey and I just fell back into that same, horrible routine. She hadn’t tried to call me again, and I knew she was tired of it. I swallowed the same damn lump in my throat that always surfaced when I pictured losing Ramsey.
Sammy’s strong kick of the ball brought me back to what I was doing, and where I was. My kids, soccer practice, and the rest of my lonely life. Sammy had kicked it halfway across the field, and it rolled to the side, where the fence opened up. Sammy took off running towards the ball, just as someone started walking to the opening in the fence. I started to call Sammy back, when I noticed who it was.
Ramsey came strolling in through the opening, her right hand still in a small cast, but her face looked significantly better. Her hair was down, and straight, and she wore a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater that somehow transformed her into this gorgeous woman who would put anyone in a magazine to shame. I loved her. Seeing her walk toward us with her hand shoved into her pocket, her face determined and strong—I couldn’t breathe.
Sammy ran to her and jumped into her arms. She wrapped her arms around him, awkwardly because of the cast, then kept walking toward us. So much for my recovery speech. I noticed that Jasmine, although beaming, was hesitant to walk toward Ramsey. I forgot about their little ice cream date, and the pain that Jasmine had endured after hearing about Ramsey's plans. I had to refer to them as plans, because I wasn't strong enough to confront what her plans really were, or what it would officially mean for us. Ramsey walked closer, and I could hear Sammy talking to her about how I had told them she was recovering. She shot me a quick look, then set Sammy down.
“Sammy, go grab me the soccer ball. I am much better now, buddy.”
Sammy took off for the abandoned ball by the fence. Ramsey stood there and found my eyes; she looked hopeful but reluctant. I looked at the ground. Like a fucking coward.
She ignored me and moved over to Jasmine. She kneeled in front of her, then, with her good hand, pushed some of Jasmine’s hair away from her face. Jasmine started to cry, then threw her arms around Ramsey’s neck. Ramsey stood with Jasmine, rubbing her back and soothing her with words too quiet for me to hear. Seeing her hug my daughter, the daughter that had no mother, that had been abandoned and left; God, it opened me up and made me want to kick my own ass for what I was doing to Ramsey, and to me.
Ramsey gently set Jasmine back down and then kissed her on the forehead. Sammy had run back and handed the ball to Ramsey. She spun it in her hands a few times, then bounced it from knee to knee, dropped it on the ground, and started to
demonstrate the same kick to Sammy that I had been attempting for an hour.
“See my toes? Sammy, watch what I do with my foot. See how it forces the ball to go where I want?”
Sammy was watching her feet intently, while I couldn’t stop watching her face.
“Yeah, I see. I just don’t know how to make the ball go that way,” Sammy replied, a little confused.
“Look ahead and see where you want the ball to go.” Sammy watched her and moved his feet, until they mirrored hers. Ramsey nodded her head.
“Exactly like that, but with your eyes, and the edge of your toes.”
Sammy brightened up as understanding seemed to sink in.
“Now go practice, superstar.” She patted his head lightly as Sammy took off toward the field. Jasmine joined him, so he would have some competition while he worked on the drill.
That just left the two of us, and I was so cowardly, I was ready to fake a phone call to get out of having to face her. She must have seen what I might do, because she turned to me with her arms crossed and her face set.
“I just came to see the kids, Jimmy. I don’t want to make this awkward for you, but I wanted to say goodbye to them before I leave tomorrow.”
Her tone was sharp, and I hated it. She was mad at me, and some part of me that was still alive and breathing wanted to caress her hair and rub her back, and do everything to make her happy again.
My heartrate had spiked, and breathing was difficult. It felt like a lifeforce had claimed my body and refused to cooperate with what I wanted, which was Ramsey. I didn’t trust my voice, but I had to say something to her.
“How long will you be gone for?” I kept my eyes on the kids.
She shuffled her feet and watched the kids as well.
“Three weeks. Mom has a chance at surgery, and some other methods that might help…”
She stopped talking and watched the circle she had drawn in the dirt with her foot. My fear had become a reality—I had pushed her too far and now she wanted to leave. I didn’t realize that I had stopped watching the kids and started watching the ground by my feet until I heard her speak again.
“After that, we might stay there. It will all just depend on a few things and how they go. I will work remotely for you, and for Sip N Sides, if that’s okay?”
I finally turned to look into her beautiful clear blue eyes. I nodded my head, because my words wouldn’t be enough. She looked like she wanted to say something else. I waited and prayed it was anything but goodbye.
“Jimmy, I…” she tried again. God, I wanted to kiss her, to take her and never let her go. I hated this, hated me, hated everything.
She looked like she was holding back some tears as she finally said her peace. “Goodbye, Jimmy.”
The air left my lungs, my stomach cramped. Goodbye. There it was, the word that would finish us. All I had to do was say something to stop her, grab her arm, pull her in, hug her. Something. Anything.
Instead, I stood there, allowing the weight of departure, and the finality of her getting free from me, hang between us. I reminded myself that she was better off. She needed better, deserved better, and eventually would get better. I watched her walk away from me. Watched her cross the field. Watched her kick the ball several times with the kids, and then she knelt down in front of both of them and hugged them tightly. She stood, and without a single glance back at me, she walked back through the gate.
I was folding clothes in the living room when Dad came home. He wore one of his flannel shirts, with his dark navy-blue coat, and a black snow hat. We didn't have snow yet, but the weather had turned colder over this last week. As if I needed proof, I felt a shiver run up my arms as the cold air crept in with him when the door opened. He had red in his cheeks from the cold, and his expression was happy as he made his way from the entryway into the living room. He started to shrug out of his coat and hat, then turned and with one look at me, his whole face changed. I finished folding the pair of Spiderman pajama bottoms and turned away from him. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss Ramsey, or her leaving. I knew he wanted her to stay, and he knew that I would somehow manage to screw it up. I placed Sammy’s clothes back into the basket and started up the stairs until Dad’s voice stopped me.
“So, that’s it? You give up, and she leaves, and that’s how this story ends?”
His voice was gruff and laced with anger.
“Dad, this isn’t a story. She’s going to Chicago for treatment for her mom for a few weeks. She might come back… might not,” I replied, while holding the basket against my hip and leaning against the wall.
Dad looked at the ground, then placed his hands on his hips. “I see.”
He sounded sad. I hated that I had ruined this for him, and for the kids, but eventually they would understand that love isn’t selfish. Selfish would be to keep her, knowing that I was the reason she was kidnapped and hurt. I was the reason she wore a cast on her hand.
Seeing that my dad wasn’t making any moves to continue the conversation, I turned and headed up towards the kid’s bedrooms to put their clothes away.
I took my time with the clothes, and then with the dishes, then with the dusting. I didn’t stop moving until well after midnight. I didn’t want to stop and think or remember the look in Ramsey’s eyes as she said goodbye to me. I was about to head out into the garage to work on my bike when I heard my Dad making his way upstairs.
“Jimmy, you up, son?” he called as he drew closer to the top of the stairs.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m right here.”
Dad came to a stop when he saw me. He carefully made his way up the last three steps, then stood in front of me. He looked down, then hesitantly lifted his right hand that held a book…
“Look, son, I found this, and I think…” He trailed off, sounding as if he was reconsidering his decision.
Putting the small leather-bound book in my palm, he looked me square in the face as he finished his thought.
“I think you should read this. I don’t share it lightly, and would never betray her thoughts, but I can’t shake this feeling, like maybe you need to read it.”
I looked down at the small book and noticed a dried flower holding the place of a page. I ran my hands gently over the pages and carefully opened one of them. Black, cursive ink jumped out at me, and the top of the page was dated 1978. My eyes shot up to my dad’s, whose were worried, and misty.
“Is this her journal?” I asked, a little out of breath, because the idea that my father had this the entire time made me feel confused and angry.
“Why did you keep this from me? I would have wanted to read her thoughts… you knew how much I missed her.”
The words were choppy and strained. How much more of my mother was my father hiding from me?
“Son, I understand your hurt, but these were private thoughts from before her and I married, before you entered our lives. There's things in there that I didn't want....” Dad trailed off with a hint of sadness. He gripped his neck and looked at the ceiling.
“There's things in there that I didn't want you to read about me. To know about me,” he finished with a gruff finality to his voice.
I saw his point, but it still was painful. Mostly because I just missed her and would love her advice right now. I pushed aside the hurt that was now making its way through my chest and closed the book. I carefully ran my hands over it and gave my father a small nod of thanks, then turned around and headed to my room.
I shut the door behind me and placed the journal next to my bed on the nightstand. I sat down and looked at the tiny book as emotions rolled through me. There was something precious about getting to read someone's rumination after they have left this earth, and it wasn’t something that I was going to take lightly.
I laid back against my headboard and reached for the journal. Cradling it in my hands, I opened to the page marked by the flower, dated April 14th, 1978.
April 14th,
Today was a painful day and honestly, I am shoc
ked as hell right now that I am up at this hour writing. My mind can’t seem to shut off, or stop playing what happened over and over, like some horrible movie.
I went to Pikey’s bar tonight. I met Theo there because he wanted me to. God, I love that man, so he knew that I would come, even though I hate biker bars, and I hate that part of his life. He had called me while I was at work and agreed to meet for dinner at the bar around six. I went straight there after work, walked in, and found him playing pool, drunk as a skunk. Again. If this was the first time he'd called me to meet him, only to end up getting hammered before our date, I might be surprised. Sadly, it was a regular occurrence for him. I knew before he even turned toward me that he was hammered, and probably high. When he called me earlier, he wasn’t stoned or drunk, so he must have gotten busy between now and then. Tonight, was supposed to be a fresh start for us. He promised me that he was pulling out of the biker life, pulling out of illegal things, pulling out of all of it. Silly me, I actually believed him and the rest of my shift at work, I smiled and even felt excited about seeing him tonight.
I stood there in the bar with my arms crossed, waiting for him to see me, or recognize that he’d done it again—called me, made plans, only to end up too hammered to follow through. I waited for ten minutes before I walked over to him. I was so embarrassed that I was the one who had to physically pull him away from the pool table he was at. Once I did, he laughed, then tried to kiss me. I slapped him and walked away. He didn’t follow.
I came home and showered off the smell of that place and washed away all the tears that I cried over this man that held my heart and continually crushed it. I didn’t know how to be free of him, I loved him so much it hurt. Because when he isn’t drunk or stoned, he’s amazing. He’s funny, and charming, thoughtful and kind, and the type of man that I could see being a father to my children, and a husband to me. Later that night, Theo came by the house. Stacey let him in, knowing that it was important for me to see him.
