Who does that remind you of?
I cringe.
It’s no secret that my dad is a fucking mess. Especially not after he literally ran my sister over with his car last year. He’s an abusive asshole who used to get an ego boost from smacking my sister around and treating her like general shit. I can’t stand that I never knew about what was happening to her.
My mind rushes back to that day last year, when Rachel finally told me that my dad had been abusing her regularly during her final years of high school, after I left for college. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like that before. The bastard smacked her around and I never knew. If I had, I would have gotten her out of that fucking house, that toxic place where she started to believe she was worthless.
I huff out a breath, squeezing my hands into fists with how angry I am. Then I force myself to release my hands.
I might be angry now, but a few drinks here and there doesn’t mean I’m like him.
It doesn’t.
I wouldneverhit anyone, or try to step on others to make me feel better about my pathetic life. That’s the Frank Jameson way of operation. Not the Jeremy Jameson way.
After everything that happened last year, Rachel and I confronted him. Go to rehab, or go to hell. Well, maybe it wasn’t that nasty, but that was the basic gist of it. I was so proud of Rachel, standing up for herself. She told him she remembered when things were good when we were kids, and even though he didn’t deserve her forgiveness, she realized that he was upset about our mom walking out and was taking it out on us. She forgave him.
To hisface.
And then he basically spit on her and told her to fuck off. He didn’t need rehab, he needed us to get out of his life.
So we did.
I’ve never seen Rachel cry that hard. She’d waited until we got into the car, leaving behind the house we grew up in for the last time. And then she broke down.
I didn’t want her to cry. The guy was a bastard. We were both better off without him. So I told her that.
“I know,” she said, tears streaming down her face. Even in her despair she tried to give me a small smile. “But there’s this little part of me that always hoped he would change. You have to grieve when your hope dies, Jeremy. You have to mourn when you finally accept that something you’ve always wanted just isn’t going to happen. Otherwise, you’ll never move on from it.”
So I’d let her cry her eyes out on the two-hour drive home. And when we got back to her apartment and Charlie came rushing out to her, holding her close as they walked inside together, I realized exactly what she meant. But for me, it wasn’t about the man who let us down and pushed my sister around. It was the regret I felt, about the love I could have had, if I had just been strong enough.
That night in December was the first night I went out and got absolutely wasted. I figured the alcohol would help me mourn. Plenty of people drink their problems away, then wake up and start fresh. I’d never had a problem with drinking before.
Only, I did it the next night too. And the next. My thoughts about how screwed up my life was and the poor decisions I’d made, letting my sister down and ruining things with Charlie. They all stewed in my brain until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
And then it was Christmas, and I had to sit across from Charlie at Rachel’s family dinner. She always gives me this slightly pained smile, like she’s happy I’m there because it makes Rachel happy, but if it was up to her she’d be nowhere near me. So I’d stepped out early because all I wanted was to go to the bar and not see her.
Now it’s the day after New Years, and I’m drunk, nearly passed out in a car on the side of the road. Alone. Andstillthinking about Charlie.
I’ve had thoughts about her off and on over the years. That sweet laugh of hers kills me every time I hear it, although it doesn’t happen as often when I’m around. She’s gotten even more beautiful over the past three years, if that’s even possible. But the thing that has been killing me the most is knowing that I had her, and made the choice to let her go.
I love my life – or, at least, Ididlove it – but I can’t help but feel like I missed out on something beautiful. Something special. Something worth the care and time that a real relationship requires.
But there’s nothing I can do about it now. She hates me, I’m sure. What else should she feel? From her vantage point, I pretended I was interested in something more than one date, took her virginity, and then showed her the door.
Too bad I can’t let that little spark of hope die off, that maybe one day…
I shake myself, not wanting to get caught up in stupid hope.
I shift forward in the seat with a groan and turn off the engine now that my seat has warmed up enough to let me fall somewhat comfortably asleep. It’ll be a bitch when I wake up cold in the morning, but I’m fine for now.
* * * * *
My eyes shoot open at the sound of a knock. It takes me at least 10 seconds of staring wide-eyed at Charlie through my car window before I remember where I am. And in those 10 seconds, the reality of my current hangover smacks me in the face as my stomach rolls over.
Charlie looks at me with confused eyes, clearly wondering what I’m doing asleep and parked down the street from her and Rachel’s apartment.
I rub my face with both hands, although the cold in the air is enough to wake me up. Turning on the car, I roll down the window.
