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Please don’t make me end up needing to get mean and say something awful just to chase you away. There’s too much left here… I mean, not my story, but you know… what you want to read, right?
So let’s leave this as-is right now, deal?
My father is dead.
He’s gone forever.
I have to absorb that fact, not you.
That’s for me to handle, not you.
(See? I’m getting mean already. Fuck. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.)
My last words to you?
How about something romantic?
Like this…
The journey of finding love was so fucking worth it. And now I get to spend the rest of my life spoiling the hell out of Violet. Every little dream she has I will make come true.
Is that good?
I don’t want to end this talking about my father. I don’t want to think about the life he placed in front of me. I don’t want to admit that sometimes it makes sense all he did because without it, I wouldn’t be right here.
See, if I do that - if I think that way - it makes my chest hurt. Physically hurt.
So what do you want from me?
Do you want me to sit here and think about my amazing, romantic life with Violet?
Or do you want me to sit here and grieve the loss of my father?
Tell you what - you can choose.
You pick which version of Mac (Machine…) you want to have burned into your memory.
Okay?
Because this is the last time we talk.
34
JAX
This whole thing is fucked up.
It’s a gut punch for sure.
It’s a shock to realize there are two versions of reality.
Reality is knowing Mac’s father was going to die. The man had cancer. And no matter what anyone said, time was just ticking away. He lived a hell of a lot longer than the doctors originally told him.
Which brings us to the second version of reality… the one where Mac’s father dies.
He’s actually dead.
And I’m standing across the room, staring at Mac as he sits in a chair, staring off into space.
