Poet

by A. M. Johnson

  “Melissa,” my dad hissed, but I had to keep talking or I’d start crying again.

  “Dad told him that JoJo was my son.”

  Maria’s gasp filled the kitchen.

  When I turned to her, the remaining shreds of my soul scattered into the emptiness surrounding me. Jordan was standing in the doorway, his crystal blue eyes round—his face pale and frightened.

  My father swore under his breath as I backed away from the counter on wobbly legs.

  “Okay.” My dad’s tone was placating. He was trying to talk me down, but I’d already fallen, crashed, and was bleeding to death. “Let’s just calm…”

  I couldn’t hear him over the screaming in my head. The rush of blood through my temples had made the room go hazy. I couldn’t stand the look on Jordan’s face. The devastation as his eyes darted from me to Maria and then back to my retreating form. My sweaty palm gripped the handle of the side door. All I could do was meet Maria’s tear-filled gaze before I whispered, “I’m so sorry.” And stumbled through the exit.

  A white sheet of snow covered my windshield. I’d turned the engine off thirty minutes ago and every breath I took parted from my lips in a dense cloud. I ignored how cold my hands were, abandoning the idea of warmth the minute I’d seen the confusion in Jordan’s eyes. He’s been through so much already this past month with his father moving to the east coast. Maria had sugar coated it, told Jordan he’d see his dad sometimes in the summer, but the reality hadn’t been lost on him. He was finally starting to break out of his shell and now this.

  My fingers were stiff and wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Tanqueray. I could’ve easily scored dope from one of my old hook-ups, but I’d stopped by my parents place instead on my way here. Everyone was at the party, and I knew my dad always stashed a brand new bottle of gin in the cabinets above the fridge. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but he hid it mostly for my benefit. I was sitting in a car, freezing my ass off, and staring down at an unopened bottle of alcohol.

  It was a test.

  It was a comfort.

  I was pathetic.

  My phone had been non-stop ringing since I’d left Trujillo’s Kitchen, and I ignored it about as well as I was ignoring the hollow feeling that had made a home inside my chest where my heart had once beat. The lock screen lit yet again, and when I glanced at it, the hole around my heart spread its charred borders.

  It wasn’t him.

  It wouldn’t ever be him again.

  He would’ve been able to talk me through this. He would’ve kissed me and whispered against my lips, that it was all going to be okay, that Jordan would be fine, that it would all work itself out, but that was never going to happen.

  Another frozen breath hovered over the steering wheel as I lifted my phone from the passenger seat.

  “I’m okay,” I lied as I answered my mother’s call.

  “Come home, Melissa. Stay with us tonight, you shouldn’t be alone.”

  I heard what she wouldn’t say. You shouldn’t be alone because you could use again. Because you’re an addict.

  Ice cold tears dripped down the planes of my face. “M-mom,” I croaked and sniffled and gripped the bottle tighter.

  “He’s confused, asking for you, you should be the one to tell him, Mel. It should be you.” Mom’s voice was steady, just like the day she’d asked me to go to rehab, the day in the hospital where my life had made a turn for the better. “Come home. He needs you now.”

  He needs me.

  Three simple words had my fingers unleashing the hold they had on my sins and turning the keys in the ignition. My wipers automatically turned on and the sheet of snow folded to the power, falling in large clumps to the side of the car. The cemetery was framed in my fogged-up window. Chance was out there, lying in the ground, drowning in poor choices for eternity, and here I was, self-destructing, and he needed me…JoJo wanted me.

  I threw the unopened bottle along with my self-pity into the back seat as I said to my mom, “I’m on my way.”

  The roads were nearly impassable. New Year’s and not one plow in sight. By the time I got to my family’s house, the sun had long set. I wouldn’t let myself linger in the car because I’d never make it inside the house if I did, and I was done disappointing everyone. I swore I would never disappoint JoJo and I wasn’t going to start now.

  The house was overly heated, as always. The door shut behind me, and I could hear the television, today’s news hummed up the basement stairs as I passed them. Maria and my mother were in the kitchen, and when I walked in both sets of eyes honed in on the bottle in my hand.

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t drink it.” I handed it to my mom. “It was a test.”

  Maria’s shoulders sagged, and my mother’s eyes dampened as she asked, “And you passed?”

  I nodded, unable to speak around the growing knot in my throat.

  “He’s downstairs with your dad,” Mom said as she stuffed the bottle of gin in the cabinet above the fridge.

  “I’m so sorry, Maria. I never wanted him to know. He’s not my son, he—”

  Maria held up her hand. “I always figured he’d find out eventually.” She smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “He looks just like you, Mel. He would’ve figured it out.”

  Maybe.

  “What do you want me to say to him?” I asked.

  “Tell him the truth,” my mother added her two cents, but I didn’t feel like arguing.

  Maria apparently didn’t want to argue either because she agreed. “He should know how you saved his life.”

  I wasn’t a hero. I’d been a desperate girl who cared more about her next fix than getting clean for her child. I didn’t have too long to conjure up some fairytale beginning though. Jordan walked into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Aunt Mel… I mean…” His blue eyes switched back and forth two times from me to Maria and then to my mom before anyone said anything.

  “Hey, JoJo.” My voice cracked as he climbed onto the stool on the other side of the breakfast bar.

  “I think I’ll go downstairs, Papa gets cranky watching the news all by himself.” My mother’s exit plan was obvious, but Jordan was only ten, so maybe he wouldn’t notice.

  He was wearing his Utah Grizzlies pajamas that he’d gotten for his birthday last month and his hair was slightly wet.

  “Are you sleeping over?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, Abuela said it’s too bad outside for Mom and me to drive all the way home.”

  I gave Maria the side eye. They didn’t live that far away.

  “Are you staying the night, too?” he asked.

  “I think I should.”

  His smile stretched to his ears and the intolerable ache in my chest eased a fraction.

  Maria took a seat next to her son, running her hand through his hair. “Abuela said tomorrow you can help her make pancakes.” She raised her eyes to the clock on the stove, and then to me. “It’s almost time for bed, kiddo.”

  He groaned. “But… I thought…” He trailed off, his gaze caught on mine.

  I took a few tentative steps toward where he sat and mustered every last reserve I had. If I lost everything in less than twenty-four hours, at least I had this… this opportunity to tell Jordan how special he really was. Maria’s lashes were already wet, her hand covering his on the countertop when I said, “Before you go to bed… I wanted to talk about what you heard today.”

  He nodded his head, his big eyes bright as he asked, “Is it true?”

  The lump in my throat made it difficult to speak. Jordan was looking at me, and I could see the way his stare had changed. It was filled with awe and wonder.

  He wasn’t mine.

  But I’d always loved him like he was.

  I would have never admitted that to myself before, but after today, I was done lying to everyone. Done lying to myself.

  “I was so young when you came into my life, JoJo. When I found out I was pregnant, and that I was having a little boy, I was so terrified.”
<
br />   “Why?”

  I took a deep breath. “Because I was sick.”

  His eyes turned into saucers. “You were?”

  “I was. But it was my fault…” I could see the wheels in his brain turning, trying to figure out how anyone could be at fault for their own sickness. “You know how a few months ago they talked about drugs at school?” He nodded and his lips settled into a flat line. “I was sick because I was stupid and used them. And I was scared because I didn’t want you to get sick, too.” I’d stayed sober just long enough to have him and then handed him over to my sister like he meant nothing to me. Another lie etched into my bones. “I knew Maria would keep you safe and healthy in a way I never could.”

  I couldn’t hold the tears back any more than he could. His eyes overflowed as he asked, “You gave me away?”

  “No, baby…” Maria ran her hand through the damp strands of his hair before she wiped away a few tears from his cheek. “You were my gift.”

  Jordan stared at my sister, and I was grateful for the moment to school my features. A sob had wedged itself into my ribcage, and I needed a minute to breathe, so when Jordan’s eyes found mine again, I was ready.

  “The day you were born I only let myself hold you for a few minutes. I knew if I didn’t let go, I never would. It was the hardest thing I ever did, JoJo, but I knew Maria would give you a life your father and I never could.”

  “Who’s my real dad? Was he sick, too?”

  “He was.”

  “Where is he?” he asked.

  “He died a long time ago.”

  Jordan’s chin dipped and his bottom lip started to quiver. “Do I look like him at all?”

  My mouth was cotton as I tried to swallow. “You have his eyes, JoJo, crystal blue, just like him.”

  He glanced up at me. His black lashes soaked. “I-I do?”

  I nodded and knelt down to his eye level. “You do.”

  “You’re my mom,” he whispered, his eyes fixed over my shoulder.

  “No… I’m not. Maria is. I love you so much, Jordan, but Maria is the brave one. The one who held you every night when you cried, fed you, loved you, loves you so, so much... enough for me and her.”

  He was too young to understand that blood didn’t make you a parent. That family was family based on who stuck around and had your back no matter what. Up until five years ago I’d been nothing but the absent incubator that had given him life. I was lucky to have these last five years with him in any capacity.

  I chanced a glance at Maria and she was smiling at me. Small and proud, and I smiled back. She mouthed the words “thank you” and something settled inside me. I’d done something right.

  “Aunt Mel, can I still call you Aunt Mel?” he asked and I puffed out a laugh.

  “Of course.” I pressed my lips together as he sniffled. “This is all so confusing for you, and one day you’ll probably get really mad at me for a while.”

  He shook his head adamantly. “No way.”

  Maria laughed. “Trust me, kiddo, you’ll hate me, Mel, and Abuela at least once or twice in this lifetime.”

  “But not Papa?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Never Papa.” Maria grinned and kissed the top of his head.

  I stood to my full height and stuffed my hands into my pockets, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his cheek. I’d told him the truth, but Maria should be the one to comfort him.

  Jordan’s smile waned and the wheels in his head started to turn again. “Did you love me when I was a baby?”

  His question stabbed my already gaping wound. “I loved you so much that I had to let you go, JoJo. I had to make sure you had a good life, a life, back then, I never could’ve given you. I’m glad I got better so I’m able to spend time with you, to see how amazing you are turning out to be.”

  Thousands of questions swirled behind the blue of his eyes. Time would only produce more, until understanding made him question us all again. I could only hope that by then, he’d know how much I loved him, and the anger he’d inevitably feel about how I’d chosen drugs over him, would never lead him down the same destructive path I’d once taken and gifted him through my tainted genetics.

  “Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”

  Mark Twain~

  “Stop pining.”

  I kept my eyes down, the words on the page were distorted. I had no idea what I’d just read.

  “Fuck off, Ronnie.” I brushed her off without even chancing a glance in her direction.

  “Wow.” She held the syllable. “Two weeks is all it takes, huh?”

  I lifted my gaze. Ronnie was leaning, no, hovering, over my desk. Her porcelain arms crossed, her fingers curled under her chin, an evil grin on her lips.

  “All it takes for what?” I asked and to my chagrin her smile grew cat-like.

  “Two weeks without your girlfriend and you’ve turned into Liam. I had you pegged for more of the mope in silence type, like Declan, but…” She stood and waved her hand up and down. “You’re all grumpy and fuck the world…it’s weird.”

  I expelled an irritated breath and lowered my eyes back to the page I’d read about one thousand times. Not even Tom Sawyer could keep my attention these days.

  “I think it’s kind of sexy… if I’m being honest. You’re all wound up, it looks good on you.” Ronnie’s soft laugh had my lips almost twitching into a smirk.

  “I’m not pining,” I said and turned the page, keeping my eyes down.

  She chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

  The air shifted and cooled and became silent. I didn’t have to look up to know she’d left the reception area. I sighed again, this time closing the book with more aggression than necessary.

  It was almost closing time. Kemper and the other guys had left about an hour ago. And when the back door jingled, I figured Ronnie had now escaped, as well. The only sound in the shop was the light hum of Liam’s machine.

  I hadn’t allowed the guys to play music since I’d broken it off with Mel. Every damn word reminded me of something I’d rather forget. While I was home, I could easily break down, pour everything onto paper. But here, I was forced to maintain a modicum of normalcy, and listening to music made that impossible. Even Liam’s angry shit didn’t help, it just pissed me off even more.

  Technically, I could leave now, too, let Liam close up shop, but I wasn’t ready to be alone for the night. Kemp and Asher had tried several times to get me to go out with them, but I’d rather not douse myself in gasoline and light the match just yet. There were only three places I’d been able to go lately. Three places that soothed the wounds I’d been nursing since I’d walked away from her: church, my apartment, and Declan’s place.

  Church was a sanctuary. It was easy to pretend my life had never changed while I knelt in prayer, or gave Father Becker my confession. The familiar rituals were like a salve. And my apartment, it was the only place I could really wallow without being called a pussy, or a baby, or an asshole. Declan’s house, though, it had become my favorite place. Being around my brother and Paige, his family, it should hurt, but seeing his happiness made it easier for me to remember everything happens for a reason. And hell, Indie, her calm eyes and sweet giggle, she would always be my number-one girl.

  The incessant buzzing abruptly stopped, and I heard Liam’s deep timber. The girl was flirting with him, but he just ignored her, soldiered on while he gave her after-care instructions. It wouldn’t be long before I was forced to go upstairs, forced to face another quiet night with nothing but the reel of tape that sped through my head when I tried to sleep. Her voice. Her laugh. Her lies. I’d even deal with Liam’s long-winded speech about how I’d fucked it all up if it would hold off the inevitable sleepless night.

  After New Year’s, I hid our break-up for as long as I could, but it only took a few days for Liam to sniff it out. Surprisingly, he’d taken Melissa’s side, but I wondered how much of that had to do with Kelly. Kelly
was pissed at me. She had no qualms about letting me know how miserable Mel was, and how I needed to stop being a dick and call her. Liam had topped it all off with a “don’t be like me,” and “remember what I said, about forgiveness and fighting, now’s the time to use that sage advice.”

  Melissa had lied. She hadn’t told me the truth and I’d given her...

  I couldn’t forgive her.

  I’d had that phrase on repeat, but recently, I was starting to hear the cracks, the false bravado in the steadfast declaration.

  Liam had accused me of judging her and one night in private, he’d said, “Look, from what you’ve told me… I’d have a hard-as-fuck time swallowing all that down, too. All the shit she’s done, the guys, the drugs… if that’s why you don’t want to be with her, if you can’t see past that, then I get it. I can understand it, but I’ve never known you to be a judgmental prick… that’s my thing.”

  As much as I wanted to believe what Mel had been through hadn’t affected my decision to walk away, it had. I didn’t care about the guys; if I was a normal twenty-seven-year-old I’m sure I would’ve racked up a few notches on my belt. It was why she’d been with them in the first place. She was an addict, so much so she devalued herself in order to score drugs. She let her boyfriend use her over and over again so she could continue to get her nightly fix, and that… that was what scared me the most. All it took was one slip. What if I’d built a life with her? Jordan’s name set my jaw into a firm line. His face, his features, just like Mel—my stomach twisted. What if we one day had our own family and that sickness, that need took over again, would she leave us, too, throw everything away?

  My chest was heavy and that loss curled its fingers around my throat. We’d only been together for a short time, but there was something about Mel that’d had me thinking in distances that were measured by words like always and love and lifetime, but her lies had turned what I wanted as a reality into a fucking fantasy.

  “Hey,” Liam said as he handed me his bill. “Three-fifty.” He turned to the girl and gave her his usual half-hearted smile. “Keep it covered, at least till you get home.”