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“No,” I say.Do not cry. That man did not want you.“My mother got pregnant by her boyfriend in high school with me. My mom went to Quartz High School, right here. I’ve looked for him, although I’ve heard he’s long gone.”
“Is he the father of your sister too?”
I nod. “He came back once when I was barely a year. Long enough to get my mom pregnant again. He’s never met Summer.”
A tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. He doesn’t deserve it.”
Jackson covers my hand with his, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand. I look up at him, wondering if he feels the sparks that I do. How I think about him often. That the subject of my dream was him.
He looks down, and all I see is the top of his head. His hand clasps mine as he watches his lap. His whole body takes a breath and lets it go.
“Do you want to hear something sad?”
My heart stops. Is this it? The reason Jackson is the way he is?
I’m not sure if I want to hear it. This was just supposed to be a simple lunch where I look at the changing colors of the trees. Instead, we’re baring our souls. I told him why I don’t drink and why I eat the same cheap lunch every day. He now knows about Mark.
Now, he might tell me why he doesn’t leave his house. Why he just exists and drifts through life.
“Is this…the big thing?” My heart is in my throat.
He looks up, his eyes rimmed with red, making his eyes look even greener.
“I was married. To the love of my life.”
“Okay,” I say.
“She died.”
I try not to react, but I want to cry more.Breathe in, breathe out.My stomach still drops to the floor.
“What was her name?” I ask.
“Amy. Amy Louise Finch.”
My middle name. That’s why he walked away at the barbecue.
“I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
I reach across the table, covering his hand with mine. He flinches, and his jaw clamps. Then he clasps my fingers in his. He shakes our hands together and looks up at me. I see the sadness in the corners of his eyes.
“It’s a great middle name.” I smile. “Of course, I’m biased.”
“It is.” He looks at me one last time before he pulls his hand away.
15
Jackson
I’m so sorry. That’s awful.
No “how did she die” or “how long were you guys married?” All she needed to know was that my wife died, and I loved her. That was enough to earn her sympathy.
Of course, Shiloh would know the right way to respond. She would eat peanut butter and jelly every day for lunch to buy her boss’s asshole son a coffee and Danish to make him like her. She would grab my hand, knowing a hug would be too much. She would save countless dogs, although she cries in the car afterwards.
I feel so stupid for spending so many months being annoyed by her. Avoiding her.
Life is a series of coincidences that folks try to make sense of. Nothing is meant to be, nothing is destiny. When Amy died, people tried to say comforting things like “everything happens for a reason” and “it was God’s will,” and I wanted to scream “bullshit” at the top of my lungs.
