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JAMESON
20 Years Old
I stare out the window of this overpriced commercial flight, wondering why the hell I am even doing this. If it weren't for Judson, I would've skipped the entire thing.
I don't want to see my father. I certainly don't want to sit through a fucking trial, yet, here I am. Crammed into this plane with a hundred other people. Makes me wonder what they are traveling for?
Are they going home to their happy families? To a wedding? A fucking vacation?
I try my best to escape the bitterness. It's not their fault. They're fucking strangers.
I stare down at the tiny folded-up paper in my lap. Pink legal notepad paper. Paper that smells just like the girl I left behind. I unfold it again, reading it for the thousandth time.
Jay,
I don't really know how this works. Some stupid part of me thought that you would change your mind or that I would wake up, and it was actually one of my bad dreams. I have them too, you know.
One, in particular, stands out. I'm running after you, I'm screaming and screaming your name, but no matter how fast my legs move, I can't catch you. I'll trip and wake up, reaching across the bed for you.
Only you aren't there.
The more I sit and dwell on it, the more I realize you never really were. Countless nights I would lay awake looking over at you, knowing that the boy I fell in love with wasn't inside. I spent two years holding onto you for dear life. Clawing and scratching to keep from losing you. I think that I was so focused on saving you from yourself that I couldn't see that it wasn't my job. I wanted so badly to pull you out of it that I made it harder on you. I realize that now.
You lit my soul on fire. You helped me see past my mother's disappointment. You made me realize that my mother didn't own me and that she never could. I'll always owe you for that, I guess.
I don't know why you don't answer my calls or texts. You probably won't even answer this note. I'll just trust that you have your reasons, and maybe it's your way of healing.
Remember when I told you that even love has its limits?
I was wrong. My love for you knows no bounds. It never will.
-Hanna
My stomach twists as I fold the paper back up, tears stinging my eyes. None fall though, I've become so empty that I don't even think I have tears. Hanna is the only person capable of making me feel.
I walk into the courthouse, and familiar faces line the aisles. I keep my face stoic, refusing to show any emotion. It's easier that way.
I take the seat next to Judson. His eyes darting to my arms, I've filled out since I left three months ago. Gained a lot of muscle, cut my hair, left everyone behind.
"You look good, bro."
I blow out a breath I've been holding since I stepped back into town, "Let's just get this over with."
He nods, realizing I don't want to partake in small talk. Hanna walks in, taking a seat a few rows back, our eyes meet, and I instantly know something is off. I can't pinpoint it, but I know her, and she's different.
I sit unfazed with my head tilted down, refusing to make eye contact with Ryan. My father. Judson doesn't realize how difficult this is for me. Of course, he doesn't. He didn't come from this monster.
I've been to therapy. I've sat through it and wondered, what's the point? It all seems so pointless. There is always a part of me that remembers he never wanted me. How miserable he made my mother feel. Maybe I'm just destined to be fucked-up. I refused to put Hanna through that. I watched my mom struggle at the expense of my dad.
I'd never do that to her.
The trial is over, Ryan is escorted back to jail, offering me one glance. One I'll probably keep burned in my brain. It's the same look he would give me before telling me how worthless I was and how hard I made his life by just existing.
We walk out into the hallway, my hand grabbing a few handshakes, my mind an incessant blur.
Hanna stands in front of me, her mouth moving, but I can't hear her.
"What?" I ask, pulling myself from the chaos of my own brain.
