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Or something like that.
But Jonas is so close to his family. They don’t live all the way across the country. They live on the other side of this little hamlet of a town. If they don’t like me, there’s no outrunning them. And worse, maybe Jonas wouldn’t want to take a chance on a woman that his family didn’t like. That might make the rest of his life miserable.
“Hey beautiful, what are you thinking?” Jonas asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
I don’t want to keep rehashing my fears to him, so I say, “I was wondering what you meant earlier when you said that the town made their own assumptions about your family and talked about you guys.”
He is quiet for a moment as if trying to sort through all of his thoughts and carefully choose his words. I look out the window, figuring he doesn’t want to talk about it, but after a moment, he begins to speak.
“I’ve talked to you about how my momma was like a superhero with all that she did for us kids, but I never really talk about why she had to step into that role. My dad was a drunk. He was that way for as long as I can remember. And I don’t mean he had a couple of drinks every night and passed out on the couch. I mean that he’d chug a bottle of whiskey a day and then go off getting into all the trouble he could think of.”
“It would always come to a boiling point, and Momma would kick him out. He’d disappear for weeks on end, sometimes months. Then, he’d come back with a smile on his face and a big apology wrapped in a promise that he had quit drinking and was getting help. Maybe he meant it, but it never stuck more than a little while. He’d fall off the wagon and start drinking again, and the cycle would start all over.
“He’d get a job around town helping people out with whatever they needed, but when he’d get drunk, he would always do more harm than good. People just got to the point they couldn’t stand him, and I think a lot of them blamed my momma for always letting him come back.”
When he pauses, I ask, “Why did she let him come back? I’m surprised she didn’t just get completely fed up with him.”
“Oh, she did. Believe me. But that woman has a heart of gold. She’d give the shirt off her back to a perfect stranger. Honestly, they were high school sweethearts, and I think she had a soft spot for him. Plus, she wanted us, kids, to have a dad around. When he’d come back and appear to have his act together, she’d want to believe him so badly that she talked herself into believing it every time.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died a few years back—cirrhosis of the liver. A transplant wasn’t an option because he openly admitted he’d never be able to quit drinking forever, and he honestly didn’t want to try. He came home and told Momma, and she took care of him through his last days.”
“Holy shit,” I say under my breath. “She does have a heart of gold.”
A laugh escapes him before silence falls between us for a few minutes.
I finally break it by asking, “So, that’s what the town talked about? I get them talking about your dad, and maybe even your mom, but what could they have to say about you kids?”
“Everyone in this place is worried that us boys are going to end up just like him. And honestly, I think Jessie is headed down that road.” He says the last words quieter, almost as though he’s speaking them to himself.
“He’s your youngest brother, right?”
Jonas nods. “Yeah. Ever since high school, he has made one bad decision after the next. Over and over. He tries to stay gone to wherever the hell it is that he runs off to, but soon, he’s back on Mama’s couch asking for money or somewhere to stay.”
“He ever ask you for money?” I continue to pry.
He scoffs. “Yeah, but he knows better. I’d tell him I’m not giving him money that he’s just going to blow on booze, drugs, or women.”
“Women?”
“He either blows it at the strip clubs he likes to frequent or finds another girl as fucked up as he is, and they spend a whole wad of cash on one wild night. I just don’t understand him. All of us have worked so hard to get out of the shadow of our father’s awful reputation, yet he just continues the cycle.”
I have no idea what to say. Hell, I was a foster kid, but I was never really around drugs and alcohol like that. If my parentswerelike that, maybe it was a blessing that I ended up in the system.
No, I can’t say that either because Jonas Mitchell turned out to be one hell of a man despite his shitty dad.
He interrupts my thoughts. “Anyways, that’s why the Mitchell kids are always talked about around town. People respect what I’ve built here, but I feel like when they look at me, they wonder if I’m going to crack like my daddy did.”
I squeeze his hand. “You’re a good man, Jonas. I don’t think you’ll ever turn out like him.”
“I hope not,” he says, looking over at me with a small smile.
Maybe some would say it’s too soon to know that Jonas is a good man, but deep down in my soul, I know it’s true. He let a woman he didn’t even know stay at his house, and he’s fed me and taken care of me ever since. Maybe he has the same heart of gold that his mom does.
My eyes look back out the window and see the hardware store…the same hardware store we passed a few minutes ago.
“Hey, Jo, are we driving in circles?” I ask.
