Dear Jon (19 page)

The End
, it said. This must be the last letter. She has to know I’ll be back in Manhattan soon. I’m sure she knows when the move-in days are. She’ll be going to school with me.

The End
. Like the final scene of an epic love story. I can see it now, written in a flowing typeface. White text on a black background.

The End
.

Fin
.

Finn?

How prophetic.

After Max and Will had exhausted themselves on the ice rink, I took them the hamburger place that Audrey and I had gone to on our first date. We took pictures of each other with milkshake mustaches. We even had a woman at the next table get one of all of us. We laughed so much together that I forgot about the letter for a little while.

I took them to a movie after that, and while they laughed at the inanity of the film, I couldn’t help but think that this was just the type of movie I would take Olivia to. I imagined she was sitting in the empty seat to my left. I couldn’t sustain the fantasy, though, because I couldn’t feel her touch. When we were at the theater together, not a second would go by that we weren’t kissing or cuddling or being gently affectionate with one another. I yearned for her, and I felt broken-hearted, thinking of her letter.

The End
.

On the way home from the movies, I told myself I’d call her when I got back to the house. My brothers had other ideas, though, and got out a Scrabble board and a deck of cards. Max fell asleep next to me on the couch after about an hour, but Will and I played games with my mother and aunt until two in the morning.

After I carried my youngest brother to bed and tucked him in, Will followed me to my room and talked to me until the sun came up. I was grateful for the company, and by the time we both went to bed, I was so tired that I drifted off in a deep and dreamless sleep.

It was exactly what I needed.

Mom has the day off on my last full day in Utah. We spend the day together as a family, starting it off by taking some pictures before it gets too hot. At my mom’s request, my brothers and I all wear nice shirts and ties. It’s been weeks since I’ve dressed up like this, and as I secure the knot beneath my collar, I can’t help but think of Livvy, and the many times I dressed up to take her out. I wore the same tie to her graduation. I still remember tearing it off the second I got home, feeling unable to breathe. Of course it had nothing to do with the neckwear.

The posed pictures seem silly and foreign. While I’m proud of my mom and how much she’s accomplished in the past few months, it’s not easy to forget the years of neglect we all suffered through because of her actions. I still smile, though, hoping that framed photos of us around the house will remind her why she’s doing this, and keep her from going back to the alcohol.

Will isn’t quite as accommodating. More than once, I’ve heard him mumble how stupid the photo shoot is. I am ashamed to say I agree, so I don’t. I think we are both old enough to realize this is only a start; that there is a long road ahead of us that threatens to keep us apart.

“Mom, when can we go back to New York?” he asks at one point.

“I thought you liked it here,” she says to him. “I thought you liked the school, and your friends.”

“They’re great, but I don’t like Jon being so far away.”

“I know,” she says, putting her arm around his shoulders. He shrugs away, and she looks at me, frustrated. “One day at a time, though, alright, Will? That’s how we live today.”

“Well, I want to go back.”

“I understand that,” she says. Max takes her hand in his and walks toward a small pond in the park.

“Go easy on her, Will, okay?” I plead softly, following them slowly.

“Why?” he asks.

“I know she seems fine and normal now, but she’s fighting a lot of battles you can’t see. She needs time to get into new habits and make new friends.”

“If she makes too many friends here, Jon, we’ll never get to go back home.”

“Will, I have told you I will help you come back after you graduate. Keep your grades up, get some scholarships, and we’ll make it work.”

“What if I don’t want to graduate here?”

“I can’t take you back now,” I explain, stopping beneath a tree for shade. “You know this. I have to concentrate on school, and I can’t give you two the attention you need. Mom can now. Aunt Patty can.”

“What if she relapses?”

“It’s a possibility,” I tell him plainly. “I’ll try to call her daily to make sure she’s going to her meetings and living up to her responsibilities as a mom. And if you start to see changes–any changes at all–you have to call me. You have to let me know.”

“Will you come back then?”

“I can’t make any promises, Will, but I’m going to make sure you and Max are taken care of… that you have a safe place to live, food on the table… and each other. Our aunt has committed to helping out. She’s told me you two are her top priority. She wants you to have a normal life, just like I do. No one wants things to go back to the way they were.

“I won’t let them.”

My brother nods his head and takes the knot out of his tie, letting it hang loosely. He doesn’t look at all satisfied, simply resigned. I put my hand across his shoulder and lead him toward the rest of our family.

As we walk quietly, I imagine having a conversation with my mom if she were to relapse. I could see me yelling at her. I could see me having no patience and no empathy for her illness. I won’t stand by to watch her hurt my brothers anymore.

But I truly feel like they’re in good hands for once. And I have to believe she’s seen enough wonderful things about Will and Max that she will want to be clearheaded to watch them grow into young men.

“Don’t give her a lot of trouble. When you’re feeling angry, please don’t lash out at her. Walk away and take some deep breaths, but come back and talk to her. Be constructive. Set a good example for Max. What he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t need to know. Okay?”

“I mostly just don’t want to talk to her at all,” he admits.

“I understand. It will be hard to forgive her. It could take years. You may even want to go to an Alateen meeting or two… they actually have sessions once a week at the community center that’s two blocks away. It’s free.”

“That’s embarrassing…”

“Will, it’s not when you realize everyone in the room with you has had similar experiences. Just think about it.”

“Alright,” he says reluctantly.

“Thank you. Just try to give her one more chance. We’ve given her so many, but… maybe it’s just this one more chance that she needs.”

Will rolls his eyes.

“Promise you’ll call me when you’re angry and frustrated. Just promise me that.”

“‘kay,” he says as one corner of his lip raises.

“Okay. And call me when you need another book recommendation… or if you have one for me.” I release him and shove him away lightly.

“I will.”

Mom insists on taking us shopping before dinner. My brothers need some new school clothes, and she keeps asking me to pick things out for her to buy.

“Mom, I have everything I need,” I keep telling her.

“Let me take care of something for you, Jonny,” she begs. “Let me do one thing… I want to help you. I owe you so much,” she says, getting teary-eyed as she talks.

“Mom,” I say as we stand outside of the dressing room my brothers are sharing, “all I want is for you to be a good mother to Will and Max. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Do you need some new shoes?”

“No. I don’t.”

“A suit? What do you wear to work? Do they make you wear a tie?”

“No, Mom. I don’t work directly with clients, so I can usually get by with some nice jeans and a button-down shirt.”

“Do you need some new shirts?”

“No. I’m set.”

“Books?”

“Paid for.”

“Supplies?”

“They’re all in storage. I’ll be getting them out this week.”

“There has to be something…”

“Send me a picture of all of us. I would love to have that hanging in my dorm.”

She smiles. “I’ll do that for you. And maybe put it in a nice frame.”

“Whatever you choose,” I agree.

“I think I’ll go look for one now. Can you watch your brothers?”

“Sure.” She looks so happy walking down the aisle of the department store. “What are you guys doing in there?” I ask over the door. They both start laughing. “Open up.”

When they do, Max is dressed in the shirt we’d picked out for Will, and the long sleeves hang next to his shins. Will, in turn, has on the superhero t-shirt we’d selected for Max.

“You’re gonna rip that, you idiot,” I tell him, laughing at his bare midriff. “You need to do some serious sit-ups, too.” I poke his belly, and he swats my hand away.

“Want a picture of this?” Max asks, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Actually,” I say, getting out my phone, “I do.”

After eating dinner at home–a hardy meal of steak and baked potatoes and grilled asparagus and salad–a somber mood settles over the house. I go to my room to do a little more packing.

“Can I come in?” my mother asks from the door.

“Sure, yeah.” I glance up to see her carrying a gift bag. “What’s that, Mom?”

“I found something else you might want today. Don’t argue. Just open it.”

I do as she says, pulling out a square wooden box from the paper. It’s sanded and stained, but it looks rustic and worn.

“Is there something inside?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.”

I open it slowly and see another letter from Livvy. I hadn’t expected to get another. I look up at my mom.

“Do you think they’ll all fit in there? All her letters?” she asks.

“Mom,” I say softly. “This isn’t necessary. I don’t even know what’s going to happen with her.”

“But I have seen how you’ve cherished her messages, Jonny. You at least need something to carry them in. If you keep the box closed for the rest of your life, well, that’s your choice to make. But someday you may want to remember her… or remember what it was like to be loved by her.”

I nod and hug her. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll use it.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, then kisses my cheek. “I’ll leave you to your letter.”

I love you, Jon.

We aren’t finished.

I believed it when you told me that the night we fought. I have heard that phrase, in your voice, echoing since the moment you said it.

“Don’t try to go, Livvy. We aren’t finished.”

Do you even remember saying that to me?

In that context, I do. I hadn’t realized she was quoting me at the end of every letter. I was trying to get her to stay… to talk to me about my plans. She was so angry with me. I don’t ever think I’ve seen her that mad. I don’t ever want to see that again.

Her brows were furrowed in confusion and frustration. The wind had blown her hair, and it hung over her eyes. I’d wanted to move the strands so I could see her more clearly, but I knew she would slap my hand away. Her face was beet red as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. I’d hurt her so badly.

She was so caught off-guard. I never should have sprung that on her in the way I did.

I wonder. Did I give you permission to just leave me because I drove away that night? Is that why you did this?

It’s absolutely
not
why I did it. I made the choice to leave her. It wasn’t out of spite, or revenge. I was trying to protect myself, my pride.

I can’t help but regret not listening to you. Had I stayed to talk, I wouldn’t have wrecked my car and hit my head. I wouldn’t have had a concussion. We probably wouldn’t have been fighting the next day. You would have been there to console me.

Everything snowballed because I left you that night. You know the consequences of my actions.

Honestly, Jon, I don’t think I want to know what you’ve done since you left me. I’m not sure I can bear the truth… or the consequences of your actions. How much will they hurt me? As much as mine hurt you? More? I can’t stand to even think about what you’ve been doing without me.

I’m proud of how I handled myself this summer. I was faithful to her–faithful to a girl I’m not even dating anymore. As much as I wanted to walk away–to really, truly, permanently walk away from her–my heart had other plans. All along, and still. It longs to be back with Olivia Holland.

She would be happy to hear that it didn’t stray. My mind may have wandered. My anger may have tried to push her away. But the thing that matters… my heart would never let her go.

Maybe it’s better this way… not talking… not knowing.

I’ve hurt enough. I’m beyond the pain.

We weren’t finished then. You said so yourself.

Are we now? I don’t think I need to hear you say it.

I don’t think I ever could. Not to her face, anyway. I don’t think I want that.

We have to work through this, somehow. I’ve made it so much worse… and this won’t be easy. It’s no longer about me forgiving her. I think I have.

Now, I have to wonder, will she ever forgive me?

Healing

At the airport the next morning, I stand on the curb with my luggage on a cart and watch the sun rise over the mountain in the distance. I’ll miss the Utah skies almost as much as I’ll miss my family.

I’d awoken my brothers early to tell them goodbye. Will was half-asleep, but Max was awake, and cried a little bit as he hugged me. He was still groggy, though, and I couldn’t really understand what he was whimpering in my ear. I’d heard “I love you,” and that’s all that I really wanted to hear. I promised him I’d call him when I landed and I gave him another big hug after I’d put him back in his bed.

“Do you have all your things?” Mom asks, patting the top of the box next to her.

“I think so,” I tell her. “Thank you for putting me up all summer.”

“Anytime, Jonny,” she says. “You are welcome anytime… but I hope we can eventually come back to the city where you are. I know that’s your home.”

“I’ll welcome you back with open arms,” I assure her. “I look forward to the day when you all can come home, but take your time, Mom. Just get better.
Stay
better.”

“I’ll do my very best.”

“I’m proud of you, Mom,” I whisper, holding her close to me. I can feel her begin to cry against me. “Don’t cry, please. I’ll see you soon. And I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say with a laugh, pulling away and looking at her curiously. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You think you’re so tough and grown up, don’t you?” She pinches my arm loosely, but then holds my hand in hers.

“I can take care of myself,” I tell her smugly, but playfully.

“I know you can. You always have.”

For a few moments, we both look back out to the sunrise and breathe in the fresh air.

“Jonny?”

“Yeah, Mom?”

“I never thought I’d be giving this advice to my son, but… follow your heart.”

I’m a little caught off-guard, and I scoff at her words, feeling bad seconds later as I realize the sincerity in her sentiment. “But look what that did for you,” I tell her in an effort to explain my reaction.

“No,” she says, grabbing me by the shoulders and speaking passionately. “You listen to me. One day on this earth with you is worth all the moments of heartache I have suffered because of that relationship. In everyone else’s eyes, it was a failure, but you came from that… and there is not an ounce of failure in your body. You are my greatest success, Jonny. You remember that. Good things always happen when you follow your heart.”

“Mom–” I nod my head, having never heard her speak like that or say such things. My eyes well up with tears. “Thank you,” I tell her, hugging her with all my strength. “That’s the kind of advice I need to hear from my mother.”

“I love you, Jonny,” she says. She’s crying uncontrollably now, freely. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she struggles to say.