by John Herrick
Jesse shifted in his chair. “I’m home.”
Chuck nodded for a second. “Permanently?”
“Yeah.” Jesse peered down at his own hands, folded in his lap.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
“I’m crashing at Eden’s for now.”
“Your old room’s available at my house. You can stay there till you get on your feet, if you’re interested.”
“Thanks, but I can’t do that.”
“Sure, I understand. So, are you working nearby?”
Jesse could see a longing in Chuck’s eyes, years of hurt piled inside, yet his father’s responses remained measured. Though Jesse pretended not to notice, he could imagine the pain he must have caused Chuck by putting distance between them. Yet to change gears today seemed unnatural, not to mention awkward, so Jesse maintained a distance and pressed a hand against the pang of regret that settled in his belly.
“Actually … look, this homecoming happened on the spur of the moment. I don’t have a lot of professional skills after all the time I pursued acting. I … I need to earn some income in the meantime, just to get on my feet here. I realize you don’t owe me a thing. I know I shouldn’t ask, but if—”
“You can come to work here. As long as you need. We’d planned to find an assistant to help with maintenance anyway. April’s almost over and the grounds will need more care.”
“That’s fine. I’ll do anything.”
“It may not be what you imagined when you asked, but I—”
“Hey, I’m familiar with the weed formations out there. I pulled so many of them years ago.”
Chuck laughed. He shook his head at the sight of his son who sat before him.
At last, Jesse thought. After all these years, another weight removed from his shoulders.
“Show up here Monday morning, and we’ll get you to work,” Chuck said.
“Thanks.” Unsure what should happen next, Jesse got up to leave when an object at the corner of the desk caught his attention. “Hey, is this the same Bible? The one you had when I left town?” Jesse asked. He picked up the thick book, its leather cover scuffed along the edges.
“Same one.”
Jesse traced his finger along Chuck’s name, engraved in the lower-right corner of the book’s burgundy cover. Its spine rebound, the pages appeared worn from frequent use, discolored with age. True to memory, Jesse found the page margins filled with Chuck’s handwritten comments that related to the verses. Stuffed between pages, random sheets contained additional notes.
Although he fingered through the book with care, a handful of sheets spilled out and fluttered to the floor. When Jesse bent to pick them up, one particular item caught his attention, its paper weight heavier than the others.
“You have my head shot in here?” Blown away, Jesse examined the photo and recognized it as his most recent.
His elbows now on the desk, Chuck rested his chin on his hands and grinned, the proud father. “Eden gave it to me. She’s done it for years.”
Jesse had to admit, this revelation came as a surprise. He’d wondered if his dad had grown so accustomed to his son’s absence that Jesse no longer came to mind. But with the discovery of his head shot, Jesse now knew his father cared about his career in L.A. And to think, all this time he’d assumed Chuck had felt ashamed of him.
Then a notion struck Jesse: Chuck didn’t know his son would appear in his office, so this Bible must serve as permanent home for the head shot.
“You keep this in your Bible? Don’t you have more important stuff to keep in there?”
With a shrug, his father replied, “It was the only way I could see you daily.”
He had missed him? Touched, Jesse felt a ray of warmth in his chest, the newness of a spring dawn.
Jesse shook himself from a trance. He stared at the photo, the one whose home sat in the middle of the sacred text—he knew the reverence with which his father treated this book. Chuck wouldn’t even set his Bible underneath a sheet of paper or set a coffee cup on this book. But here was Jesse’s head shot stuffed inside. Jesse searched for a crease in the binding where the item once sat. “Sorry, I don’t know what page it fell from.”
“Psalm 37:4.”
“Huh?”
“Psalm 37:4: ‘Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.’”
“The old-school wording.”
“King James. The dude rocked.”
By his own admission, Jesse enjoyed this interchange of cheesy minister humor, the kind to which Chuck had subjected him as a kid. But now Jesse had to ask: “So, is that verse true? Has God given you the desires of your heart?”
His father shrugged. “He brought you home, didn’t He?”
Without a word, Jesse nodded and downplayed a smile. After he inserted the photo back into the proper chapter of Psalms, he stuffed the other orphaned sheets inside the front cover and returned the Bible to Chuck’s desk.
As he headed toward the door, Jesse turned around. “Please don’t make a big deal of my coming back—no announcements at church, okay?”
“Your choice.”
* * *
On his way out of the church parking lot, Jesse felt content as he pondered the events of the last few days. After years of self-focus and months spent in agony over his regret of past mistakes, a part of him felt clean again. A small part, but progress nonetheless.
He remembered the voice message from an hour ago, the one that arrived on his way into the church. With one hand on the wheel, he retrieved his cell phone and checked the call log, which revealed an unknown number. Jesse dialed into his voice mail and listened to the message left by a female voice:
“Mr. Barlow, this is Oakside Mercy Hospital in Sherman Oaks. We tried to reach you at your home number, but a Ms. Ferrari provided us with this cell number. According to our records, you had a brief stay here recently. In the course of your treatment, the doctor ordered some blood work as a follow-up. The test results have arrived and we would like to have you come in to discuss them. Please call us at 818-555-4220. Thank you.”
Like he could afford a hospital test. He’d just begged his father for a job! Now he’s supposed to fly back to L.A. because a nurse freaked out about the aftermath of a suicide attempt?
Jesse deleted the message. As he slid the phone into his pocket, it rang again—another unknown number, this one from Ohio. Had Eden given his number to someone already?
It was Caitlyn.
Her mood sounded favorable as she got straight to the purpose of her call.
“Do you have dinner plans?” she asked.
CHAPTER 27
When he arrived, he found her at a booth near the back of the restaurant.
Jesse walked past black-and-white faux-granite tabletops, past chrome-legged chairs and booths padded with red vinyl, some with small tears that exposed discolored foam underneath.
Back in high school, Jesse and Caitlyn had frequented Brick Oven, a local dive that specialized in pizza and deep-fried, quickie Italian cuisine.
He checked his watch tonight and, sure enough, they weren’t supposed to meet for another ten minutes. And she’d arrived already. This had to be a good sign.
“You’re early,” she said. “I’m impressed.”
“Seemed appropriate.” He scanned the room, then returned his attention to her. “When will Drew get here?”
“I never said he would come tonight.” She pursed her lips as her forehead rumpled with compassion. Her voice was tender. “I’m sorry, but I have to look out for him. We should talk a little first—when we don’t have each other off guard.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He felt disappointed he wouldn’t meet Drew but understood Caitlyn’s perspective. “So how was work?” he asked. “You never told me what you do.”
“I’m an office coordinator at an insurance company. One of its local branches.”
“Exciting stuff?”
“I have some intriguing stories. But I’d ha
ve to kill you if I told you.” She winked.
They continued their small talk as an earnest Faith Hill ballad drifted from the ceiling speakers. Jesse’s nervousness dwindled as he noticed subtle mannerisms that defined the Caitlyn he remembered: the way she parted her lips when she listened to an answer, the crinkle of her nose as she made a clever remark, the dimple that appeared on her porcelain cheek when she smiled.
A waitress stopped by to take their order—a large pizza they would split—then brought their drinks.
Caitlyn took a sip of her iced tea. “So, I can thank Eden for getting us back in touch?”
“Actually, I’ve had you on my mind for quite a while.”
She nodded. Never a demonstrative girl, her slow-motion blinks revealed her relief to hear his response.
Conversation proved awkward at first. Although they had once shared an intimate bond, both had grown since that time, and because they had not grown together, today they felt like strangers in the midst of déjà vu.
The two sat silent for a while, each left to their own thoughts. Jesse fidgeted with a pair of greasy, diner-style salt-and-pepper shakers, their aluminum tops dimpled from being dropped. As he focused on the miniature objects, Caitlyn studied the curves of his hair and his green eyes.
She used to stare into those eyes. Those eyes used to look deep into hers and speak volumes. As Caitlyn had once told Jesse, his eyes, with a single gaze, communicated intimacy and intensity, longing and frustration—signs of a restless soul.
When Jesse started to raise his head again, Caitlyn darted her glance away.
“Tell me about California,” she said.
At this point, it was a chapter of his life he wanted to forget. Jesse shrugged and replied, “Not much to tell. People glamorize it, but it’s just another state with its own set of qualities and quirks—a lot more people, an ocean within driving distance.”
“I saw you in some movies.”
“Background stuff; nothing impressive.”
“A Clint Eastwood movie.”
“He’s a nice guy. Treats people well.”
“Who were you friends with?”
“Some people who lived in the apartment below mine. I met one of them on a set. We hung out; I wouldn’t call them good friends, though.”
Here was Caitlyn, a person he knew, yet didn’t know. Who was she now? In what ways had she changed? Caitlyn folded her hands, leaned forward. Yes, she must have wondered similar things about him, too.
Caitlyn took another sip of tea, seemed to stall for time before she asked her next question. “Did you have a girlfriend there?”
Now Jesse stalled for time as he wiped the condensation from his plastic tumbler. “Yeah. She was …” He snorted in bemusement.
“She was what?”
Jesse peered into her eyes. “She wasn’t you.”
With a tilt of her head to the side, delicate in motion, Caitlyn leaned in further.
Then the pizza arrived. They parted ways.
Between them, the aroma of steaming tomato, eggplant and green pepper wafted from the entrée. Caitlyn’s favorite, Jesse remembered.
Jesse waited for Caitlyn to select her first slice, then he sprinkled red-pepper flakes onto a slice of his own. With his first bite, he savored the melted cheese and doughy deep-dish crust. When combined together, the roasted vegetables made his mouth water. He’d forgotten how much he adored this place.
Caitlyn finished her first slice. “Friday night,” she said.
“Friday night?”
“I’ll introduce you to Drew on Friday night.”
CHAPTER 28
When Friday evening arrived, Jesse didn’t find himself as nervous as he’d anticipated. After reunions with several people of his past, the initial discomfort proved fleeting. That said, tonight he faced his most important introduction yet, which elicited a mix of flutters and thrills.
Through Caitlyn’s front window, he caught a glimpse of two figures as he pulled into the driveway. Unaware of his arrival, the silhouettes moved out of the living room and beyond his line of vision.
Caitlyn answered the door when he knocked. They greeted each other. Before she let Jesse inside, Caitlyn leaned her head out the door and spoke in a low volume. “He’s looking forward to tonight.”
“Does he know? About us, that is?”
“I told him you’re a friend,” she said. “I want him to get to know you; we’ll see how things go and decide how to progress. But he can’t hear the truth tonight; it could be months before he’s ready. I’m serious, Jess: Don’t tell him.”
Jesse nodded.
“Promise me,” she said.
“I promise.”
Jesse understood Caitlyn’s concern. After all, she didn’t know how long Jesse would stay in town this time. He was sure she would keep a keen eye on him, on his interaction with Drew, every detail. Sure, he could tell she wanted him to have a chance, but he also knew she couldn’t risk additional hurt for Drew if the situation were to fall apart. To be honest, Jesse wondered how long he could trust himself. How could he expect otherwise from Caitlyn?
Caitlyn chewed a fingernail. Then she poked her head back inside, where Drew could be heard rustling in the kitchen. When she turned back, Jesse locked on to her sapphire eyes.
“Okay,” she said, “follow me.”
As they made their way through the foyer, Jesse cast a glance at the pictures that sat on the mantle, the ones he’d seen before. Last time, Drew was a figure in a photograph. But in a matter of seconds …
His back turned, Drew sat at a small writing desk in the kitchen corner while he played on a computer. His shoulders jerked from side to side, his finger clicked on a mouse. Just like in his picture, his hair, short and cropped, was light blond like Caitlyn’s.
“Drew,” Caitlyn said, “time to get off the computer. Come meet Mom’s friend.”
“But I just started.”
“Drew.”
He huffed in the typical fashion of a ten year old, but closed the application on the computer and wandered over. Height wise, he reached Jesse’s chest. Jesse looked closer and discovered he and Drew shared the same eye color.
Caitlyn waved her hand toward Jesse. “This is Jesse.”
The boy stared up at his mother’s friend. A smatter of faint freckles speckled his nose and cheeks. An air of innocence overshadowed Drew’s face, his eyebrows raised in a combination of boredom and indifference. Yet at the same time, he seemed to evaluate Jesse’s appearance, no doubt wondered why this other man had entered his mother’s life.
Awestruck, Jesse marveled at the sight before him.
In an effort to appear calm, Jesse extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.”
“I like your name.”
“Thanks.”
This was his little boy.
This little boy was a part of him.
As Caitlyn watched them interact, a smile flickered at the corner of her mouth.
Nothing could have prepared Jesse for what he saw. The simplicity of another human being—but Jesse had played a role in this human being’s existence. Even today, he could recall the day of this little boy’s conception.
Yet Jesse had no idea what to say next. The kid was shy, just stared at him.
“So, you’re into computers?” Jesse asked. “What kind of stuff?”
Nonchalant, Drew looked over at the computer. “Oh, that? I was playing a game with someone.”
“That sounds cool. A kid from school?”
“A kid from Ireland. It’s a game site on the Internet. You play against kids from all over the world—they’re not awake in Japan right now, though.”
Caitlyn swept in. “He’s addicted to the computer. Gaming, emailing. Aren’t you, honey?” She ran her fingers through Drew’s hair. He, in turn, ducked a few inches out of her reach.
“I’ve embarrassed him in front of our guest,” she prodded. Then she grabbed hold of him and, for extra measure,
planted a kiss on the top of his head.
Drew pretended not to giggle as he squirmed out of her grasp. “Mom, stop.”
“Come on,” she said, “we’ll grab a bite to eat at the park.”
* * *
This first week of May had brought temperatures in the upper sixties. By seven that evening, beneath a still-sunlit sky, Jesse could feel a hint of spring warmth on his face as he strolled through a community art-and-craft fair with Caitlyn and Drew.
The annual event, held in a nearby park, featured a series of tents under which local artists displayed and sold their creations. For Jesse, the scene drew to mind the craft stations lined up along Venice Beach, which formed a long barrier between sand and shops. Tonight, as Jesse, Caitlyn and Drew wove their way past homemade jewelry, paintings and leather-craft accessories, they poked their heads into each tent. Like most others in attendance, they browsed but didn’t buy.
The trio munched on hot dogs and sodas as they watched kids chase each other around the grass. Peals of laughter erupted among families that had emerged for the event, relieved that the cold had indeed thawed for the season.
Drew caught sight of a Ferris wheel from afar. As they approached it, he saw more carnival rides and game booths.
Drew’s jaw dropped. He swiveled around to his mother and shouted, “Mom, they have bungee-jumping! Can I try it out?”
Though not keen on the defiance of gravity, Jesse, eager to sample the parenting role, spoke up nonetheless. “Of course. Let’s go.”
When Caitlyn returned a look that could penetrate an ice cube, Jesse knew he’d given the wrong response.
“Or maybe you should ask your mom,” Jesse offered in a recovery attempt.
Caitlyn looked at the miniature contraption with reservation. It was more like a safer, hybrid version of the real thing. A lone father watched as the structure flung his kid several feet from the ground. And with that, Jesse saw a decision solidify in Caitlyn’s eyes. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t trust that thing!” she said.
Jesse, by his own admission, didn’t blame her. If that father over there decided to go for a whirl on that oversized rubber band himself, Jesse wouldn’t put it past the device to come snapping apart and send the guy airborne.
