Jamie – Now
Ihave a shadow. I mean, obviously I always have a shadow, but today I have an extra one in the shape of Nox.
It turns out when kids don’t have a lot to distract them—like other kids and school drama—they can get a lot of work done in just a few days. Meaning Nox has completed all the work his teachers gave him and he still has today and tomorrow before his grandparents arrive to take him home to Glasgow. So, he’s been hanging out at the front desk with me most of this morning.
When the receptionist called in sick, I set aside my work onWith Love, From Skyeto help out. Gran is supposed to walk with him into town later, so I can work on the book then.
“Welcome to the Thistle & Tartan Inn,” Nox says from beside me to the couple approaching the desk. Their faces light up with warm smiles, the woman’s eyes going all soft at the sight of him.
“Thank you,” she says, delighted. “We were hoping to get an early lunch.”
“Of course,” I say, but before I can continue, Nox jumps in to help.
“I can show you to the pub, if you’d like.” His enthusiasm is contagious, and I remember being that excited about helping Gran when I was his age. Excited to be part of something like this. It was my home and I loved it, even when it meant I was left to my own devices a lot.
“Thank you,” the woman says, and he turns to lead them to the dining room. Then, to me, she adds quietly, “Your son is so sweet.” The look that goes with her words feels like a pat on the back for something I didn’t do.
“Oh, um…” I don’t really know how to respond to that. It feels awkward to say that he isn’t mine, but it’s like she’s congratulating me on how great Nox is when I can’t claim any of that. He’s all Avi. She’s raised him to be a great kid all on her own. It kills me that she had to do that.
“He looks so much like you, too. Those eyes…” she states, and then follows after her husband who’s already down the hall chatting with Nox at the hostess stand.
She’s so far off base though… Having the same color eyes doesn’t mean anything. Green eyes are much more common in Scotland than in most parts of the world. It’s just because she saw us together and assumed… And we know what they say when you assume.
But it is odd to watch him here in the inn. It’s almost like watching a blond version of ten-year-old me walking and talking and living a life just like the one I did.
I hope that means he’ll get to have the kind of childhood I had. One filled with love and friends and happiness. That is what this place was to me for a long time.
Until I let my own feelings and heartbreak taint it.
I never should’ve done that. I should’ve put my love for this place, for my grandparents, above it all.
I can’t change the past, but I will do my damnedest to ensure I prioritize the important things going forward.
“Jameson…” Gran’s voice comes to me through a fog and I shift to see her standing next to me, finding a quizzical look on her face.
“Hi, Gran. Sorry.” I pull her in and lean down to kiss the top of her head.
“Jameson?” It’s Nox this time who says my name. When I face him, a look of open curiosity lights his features. “Your name is Jameson? Not Jamie?”
“That’s me. Told you I like shortened names…Nox.” I shoot him a wink. “Gran and Grandad are the only people who really call me that anymore. And my best friend when she wants to get a rise out of me.” I chuckle and feel a soft pang at the thought of Rory.
“My middle name is Jameson!” Nox exclaims, like this is the best thing he’s heard all day. “How cool is that? We have the same name.”
He’s looking at me expectantly, ready for me to respond with a high five or some similar celebratory gesture, but a prickling sensation is creeping down my neck.
His middle name is Jameson… Lennox Jameson.
Lennox.Jameson.
Jameson?
Jameson. Jameson. Jameson.
The name hits like a snare drum in my brain in time with the beating of my heart in my chest.
She named her son after… me? Why?
My brain stutters over the word again and again, trying to make it make sense. She named him Jameson. But we were done by then. We weren’t talking. I’d walked away. She wouldn’t even respond to my attempts to contact her. She never came back. She moved on. She was with someone else.
