Sophie and Jake (Passports and Promises)

by Abigail Drake

  I understood where he was coming from, and I listened, asking the occasional question, as I stroked his dark hair and let him talk. Eventually, it was like he’d emptied himself completely, and he fell asleep, his head still on my lap, exhausted. I continued stroking his hair, happy to be here with him, where I could be of some use. I couldn’t help my sister right now, but I could help Jake, and it meant so much to me.

  When a soft knock sounded at the door, I said, “Come in,” as quietly as I could.

  Mrs. Hunter stood there with a plate of food in her hands. When she saw Jake passed out with his head on my lap, she gave me a wobbly smile. “I thought you might be hungry.”

  “Thanks,” I said as she handed me the plate. “I appreciate it.”

  To my surprise, she sat on the edge of Jake’s bed. “I’m the one who needs to thank you, Sophie. I’m so glad you came today.” She looked at Jake, now softly snoring. “He needed you.”

  “I’d do anything for Jake.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “I’ve always known. I’m sorry about how I acted—”

  I raised a hand to stop her. “Mrs. Hunter, please don’t. I understand.”

  “You do?” She looked surprised.

  “Yes, I do. You were dealing with a lot. I was an additional complication. Kind of the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  She nodded, giving me a wry smile. “Nicely put. Dylan had another way to describe it. He told me I was being a dickhead.”

  We both laughed, the kind of nearly hysterical giggling brought on only during periods of intense stress. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way,” I said. “It’s a little harsh.”

  “It’s honest,” she said. “My Dylan is…I mean…was…always honest. The only time he ever lied to me was about his illness. Because he wanted to protect me. To protect all of us. I think the last few months…” Her voice trailed off as her face grew pensive. “I think he stayed alive as long as he did by sheer force of will. He wanted to live, for us, but not necessarily for himself. I guess it’s hard to explain. He was kind of a beautiful, complicated, frustrating mess.”

  “My sister is a mess, too,” I said. “She blames herself.”

  Mrs. Hunter waved my words away. “It was never about her,” she said. “The poor kid has nothing to feel guilty about at all. Dylan was on a downward slope long before he met Sam. If anything, we’re grateful to her. The weekend she came to visit was the last happy memory we have of him, and it’s because of Sam. It was a gift, one we’ll always treasure.”

  Jake stirred, looking up at his mother in surprise as he realized we were in bed together. He sat up so quickly he nearly knocked the plate full of food out of my hand. “Mom,” he said. “There was nothing going on here. I fell asleep.”

  Mrs. Hunter laughed as she got up and walked toward the door. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jake. I brought Sophie some food. You need to chill out.”

  She left, closing the door behind her, and Jake looked at me in shock, still half-asleep. “Did you and my mother make friends?”

  I smiled at him. “I think we did,” I said, but I kept the truth of the matter to myself.

  Although I wanted to forgive Mrs. Hunter, and forget the way she treated me, I wasn’t there yet, and I didn’t know if I ever would be. She hurt me so badly, and the way she’d acted…it bothered me more than I’d ever let on. But I could put on a good face, and pretend like things were fine between us. After all, I had a good reason.

  Jake.

  He meant more to me than anything…even my own stubborn pride. But he knew me better than anyone. How long would it take him to figure out the logical, empathetic part of me who’d forgiven his mom so graciously disguised the vile, evil part of me who wanted to hurt her back for the way she hurt me?

  I hoped he never saw the other side of me. I hoped no one did.

  Chapter 26

  ~Jake~

  We got through the next few days, although, in all honestly, I’m not sure how we did it. Putting everything in order, the horrific viewing, followed by an even more horrific funeral. The pain was sometimes unbearable, but we plodded through each day, putting one foot in front of the other, to make it to the end.

  And who stayed by my side the whole time? Sophie. She refused to leave, and I felt grateful to her. Her presence brought me comfort, but she did more than that. She made sure we always had food and hot coffee. She reminded my father to take his blood pressure medication. How she even knew he was on it was kind of a mystery to me. She insisted my mom get some rest, as she single handedly tackled the mass of dishes in the kitchen. Most importantly? She stood next to me and held my hand during the entire terrible nightmare.

  She stayed for nearly a week, and I assumed Mom wanted her to sleep in the guest room, but she pulled me aside the day Sophie arrived. “It’s okay if she stays with you. However she’d be the most comfortable.”

  “Uh…thanks?” As soon as Dylan died, my mother did a complete turn around. Suddenly, she was the “cool” mom. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Why are you acting like this?”

  She blinked, surprised at my question. “Well, I guess I realized I was being a jerk. Talking with the therapist has helped, and when your brother…when he died…it put things back into perspective. Sophie is a nice girl, and I gave her such a hard time. I gave you a hard time, too.”

  “Yes, you did, but I get it. You weren’t yourself.”

  She gave my arm a squeeze. “I am now. I’m sorry, Jake,” she said. “Things were so bad with Dylan, and I knew somewhere deep in my heart the outcome was not going to be good this time. I can’t explain it, but I knew. This is going to sound selfish and terrible of me, but I needed someone to blame. Someone to direct my anger toward. Sophie was handy. So were you.”

  “Glad I could help,” I said. “But I wish you’d kept Sophie out of it. She was kind of an innocent bystander.”

  “I know, and things are better between us now, I think. She’s been good to me. She’s been good to all of us. But there is something I need to know.” She held out her hand, reaching for me. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me, Jake? Please?”

  I took her hand in mine and pulled her close, too emotional to speak. What else could I do? She was my mom, and she’d been to hell and back. Forgiving her for how she’d treated me? Easy. Forgiving her for how she’d treated Sophie? That was more complicated.

  Sophie ended up staying in the guest room, but I joined her there after my parents went to sleep. We didn’t make love; we just held each other. We slept with our hands clasped, like children lost in some deep, dark forest, afraid we might lose the other if we let go, even for a second. We managed to get through the funeral, although it left all of us feeling bruised and battered and exhausted. Afterward, I kissed Sophie goodbye, assured her I’d be fine, and watched as she climbed into the green mini-van and went home with her parents. I missed her as soon as she left, but she needed to get back to school, and so did I. Also, we faced the daunting task of going through Dylan’s things. I’d seen the boxes, the ones the hospital had carefully packed up for us, but there were a few things I didn’t know about. I found out about those when my mom called me to the kitchen not long after Sophie left.

  My dad was already there with my mom. They sat at the kitchen table, waiting for me, their faces solemn.

  “Is everything okay?”

  My mom nodded, obviously lying, and indicated I should sit. “We have something to show you.”

  I pulled out the chair and sat, pausing when I realized three envelopes lay on the table in front of us with one addressed to me. I could tell right away who’d written it. The even block letters on the front of the envelope gave it away. This note came from my brother. They all did.

  “Nurse Candy at the hospital found these as she packed up Dylan’s things,” explained my mom. “He must not have wanted us to find them right away, so he hid them by putting them into individual
socks and burying them in his bottom drawer. I’d wanted them to donate all of his things, but they told me it was part of the healing process to face and connect with the last items he touched.” She reached out a finger and stroked the envelope addressed to her and my father. “So we’re going to face this. Together.”

  “What did your letter say?” I asked.

  She gave me a little smile. “I don’t know. We haven’t looked at it yet. We’re going to open it now.”

  Part of me was thrilled to have a final message from Dylan, but part of me filled with dread. I had to guess my parents felt the same way, especially once I noticed how badly my father’s hands shook as he opened the envelope.

  They read the note in silence first, leaning close to each other and sobbing softly as they read it. My dad had to clean his glasses several times, wiping his eyes with a tissue. My mother was the one who comforted him, rather than it being the other way around. It had been that way since Dylan died. While my brother was sick, my father had been the strong one. After he died, however, my mother proved she had a spine of steel.

  “Is it worse than you expected?” I asked, dreading their answer.

  My dad shook his head. “No. It’s beautiful. And it’s…so sad.”

  He leaned against my mother, seeking some of her strength. My mother gathered him close, kissing the top of his balding head. He was big, and she was so tiny, but he curled against her, almost like a small child.

  “Would you like to read it, Jake?” she asked.

  I hesitated. “Are you sure? It seems personal.”

  She looked at my father, and he nodded in agreement. “We’d like to share it with you, as long as it’s what you want.”

  I took the letter, my own hands shaking, and cried quietly as I read my brother’s last words to our parents. My father had been correct. It was a beautiful letter, but it not at all what I expected. Yes, he told them he was sorry, over and over again, but he focused more on all the memories they made together, on all the happy times they shared. It was more about his thankfulness for what a great life they gave him than about his death.

  “We have so many good memories,” said my father with a tremulous smile. “Those will be a tremendous comfort to us.”

  I didn’t want memories. I wanted my brother back, and I wanted him happy, whole, and healthy again. I didn’t say those things, though. I knew my parents wanted them, too.

  “Are you going to open your letter, Jake?” asked my mom

  I nodded, taking a deep breath to steady myself before opening the envelope. When I saw Dylan’s familiar block lettering on the page, my eyes swam with tears. I wiped them away in order to read what he’d written.

  Dear Jake,

  I’m so sorry. I know it sounds super lame, but I mean it. I didn’t want to be like this, I didn’t want to leave you like this, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I’ve been walking around broken and damaged and hurting inside for so long. I don’t remember what it even feels like anymore not to be in constant, horrible pain. But I tried, dude. I really did. And most of the reason I tried was so I could spend a little more time with you.

  Hate me if you have to. I understand if you do. But, whatever you do, don’t ever feel like there was anything you could have done or should have done to fix this. I know you’re the guy who wants to make it all better. You’ve always been that guy, even when you were a fat little baby who drooled all the time. You were balder than Dad back then. Do you realize that? I guess the one perk to checking out early is I’ll never have to deal with male pattern baldness. It’s a family trait. I’d invest in some Rogain if I were you…just saying.

  I’m glad you’re with Sophie. She’s right for you. It makes me feel better knowing I somehow helped get the two of you together. If I’d never met Sam, you never would have met Sophie. Hey. Maybe that was what it was all about. Not because I was supposed to be with Sam, but because I was supposed to be with her long enough for you and Sophie to happen.

  Speaking of Sophie, do you mind asking her to read the letter I wrote to her sister? I want you to read it too. I’m not exactly myself right now, and I don’t want her to see anything that might make it harder for her. You know how you’re the one who fixes things? Sam is the one who feels guilty about things. I gave her a lot to work with, an endless ocean of guilt. Try to make it better for her, okay? She doesn’t deserve to go through this. She needs to find a way to forgive herself and move on with her life. If she doesn’t, I’m going to be super pissed.

  You’re the fixer. Fix this one last thing for me, little brother. And take care of Mom and Dad for me, okay? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I know you’ll do it. I have faith in you. I always have.

  I guess that’s it. The end of the line. I probably should have let you win at cards tonight. It would have been the nice thing to do, but I couldn’t. I like winning way too much for that bullshit.

  I love you, Jakey. I always have, and I always will.

  Your big brother,

  Dylan

  I read the note out loud, although it was a lot harder to get through than I could have ever imagined. When I finished, I looked at my father. He had his head down, and his shoulders shook. At first, I thought he was crying. It took a few seconds to understand the shaking came from laugher, not from tears. When he could finally speak, he said only three words.

  “Male pattern baldness.”

  I don’t know if the stress of the whole week had finally gotten to us, or if we’d hit the point somewhere beyond complete emotional exhaustion when silliness took over. Either way, we sat at the kitchen table, giggling together over what essentially counted as my brother’s suicide note. Not how I expected to spend the evening.

  When we finally calmed down, my mom took a deep, steadying breath and pointed to the last letter on the table. The one addressed to Sam.

  “He asked you to read it,” she said.

  I wiped a hand over my face, not sure if I felt up to it or not. I remembered Dylan’s words in my letter.

  You’re the fixer. Fix this one last thing for me, little brother.

  And I picked up the letter for Sam, and opened it.

  Chapter 27

  ~Sophie~

  What do you mean Jake wants to go to Japan with you?” asked my father. “You’re leaving in two weeks. It’s all planned.”

  “Jake got a ticket on the same flight,” I said. “And he’ll stay at a hotel near Sam’s apartment in Kyoto. I spoke with Sam, and she’s fine with me bringing a friend along.”

  “Does she know this ‘friend’ is Jake?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. Not exactly. I thought it would be better for her to find out in person.”

  “It’s a bad idea,” he said.

  I put my hands up in the air. “Gah. You sound like Jake.”

  “He thinks it’s a bad idea, too?” he asked, and I nodded. “Well, at least one of you has some common sense. Which is a comfort, I suppose.”

  My mom put a hand on his shoulder. “I spoke with Jake’s parents about this. Sam’s been in such a bad state. She’s eaten up by guilt. You know how she gets. They think the letter Dylan wrote her might be the thing to help her.”

  “I agree with her seeing the letter. I just don’t understand why we have to send two teenagers halfway around the world to deliver it in person.”

  “She needs to get it in person,” said my mom softly. “And I think she needs to get it from Jake.”

  “And what about Sophie keeping the identity of her travelling companion a secret from her sister? What do you think about that little lie of omission?” he asked.

  My mother shrugged. “Sophie has her reasons. She knows Sam better than anyone. If she feels it’s better to wait, I have to defer to her judgment.”

  Although my dad scowled at the word “judgment,” eventually, he caved and agreed to let Jake and I travel to Kyoto together. Both sets of parents brought us to the airport to see us off. Mrs. Hunter gave me a warm hug, which came as
a nice surprise.

  “She likes you now,” said Jake softly as we went through security, waving our goodbyes. “She’s officially a member of the Sophie Barnes Fan Club.”

  I elbowed him. “Stop. Don’t jinx it.”

  I still hadn’t forgiven Mrs. Hunter yet, and I had a feeling she knew it. She was super nice to me now…maybe too nice. It seemed like overcompensating for how she’d been before. I smiled and nodded and went through all the motions, but could not let it go. And it started to eat away at me. I couldn’t tell anyone about my anger toward poor Mrs. Hunter. She’d just lost her son, my boyfriend’s big brother. What kind of person harbored a grudge toward someone who’d been through so much?

  Me. That’s who. And the harder I tried to forgive her, the worse it became. Now I wanted to punish her, and I did it in subtle ways. Things only she would notice. Passive aggressive comments and mean little barbs, disguised as compliments, but meant to jab her. Dirty looks…

  Well, I didn’t actually give her dirty looks, but I imagined doing it. I also imagined telling her exactly how I felt, and explaining how much she’d hurt me, and, mostly importantly Jake.

  But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t do anything either. I kept it bottled up inside until I thought I might explode from the pressure. And, as much as I wanted to let it go, I couldn’t.

  As we got on the plane and found our seats, I experienced a rush of excitement. I’d only been on a plane once before, when I went to New York City on a trip for chorus. This was totally different, of course, and I nearly bounced in my seat with joyful anticipation. I was also happy to get away from Mrs. Hunter for a whole week, although I’d never admit it out loud. Jake watched me with a smile on his face.

  “You’d better calm down,” he said. “It’s a long flight.”