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He gives me a wan smile.
“Which room is Mick O’Donnell in?” Jack asks while tapping the pen on the clipboard. It makes a ticking noise that echoes in the quiet area.
I notice the receptionist’s reaction to Mick’s name, and I have an unsettled feeling in my stomach. There was a slight twitch in her eye and her smile faltered for a second. I wonder if Jack noticed.
“Let me get the director for you.” The receptionist presses a button on the phone and speaks in a hushed tone. Once she puts the receiver down, she directs us to the small common area. There is a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table.
Another family passes through and a young child waits for his mother to pick a book from the shelf. I watch as Jack takes the seat next to me, unsure of where to place his arm, and nervously swipes his hand through his hair. I think he feels it too, the uneasiness in the air.
I reach across the space between us and link my fingers with his, hoping that whatever news he is about to receive will be a little less painful because I am here.
“Mr. O’Donnell?” An older woman, who must be the director, approaches us.
“I’m Louise.” She gives us a pleasant but somber smile. “We spoke on the phone.”
“Yes, I remember.” Jack clears his throat.
“I wasn’t expecting you after we spoke,” Louise says in a calm, practiced tone. It sounds like their conversation was not pleasant.
“I wasn’t sure I wanted to come,” Jack explains.
“Sometimes that can be a hard decision to make.” Louise gives him a sympathetic smile. She seems well-practiced in dealing with these situations. Jack can’t be the only child to come visit a parent who is dying, especially when that relationship was strained.
“This is my friend, Mia.” Jack introduces us and my hand slips from his to shake Louise’s.
“It is nice of you to accompany Jack,” Louise says to me. “Did you know Mr. O’Donnell?” she asks politely.
I shake my head “No, I didn’t.” I knew of him and saw him around town, but I never met him and I never wanted to. I wished things had been different for Jack. Maybe he would be a different person if his father was a nice man. But then, maybe Jack wouldn’t have been so ambitious. I wished a lot of things were different.
“Can I see him?” Jack speaks up.
I can see the look in Louise’s eyes and before she even explains, I already know.
“I’m so sorry, but your father died last night. He has already been taken to the funeral home.” Her eyes are somber as she tells Jack the news that I think he might have already known as well.
I can feel the energy in the room shift, and my heart breaks for him. Who knows if Jack would have actually gone into that room, or if Jack’s father would have given him what he wanted. These questions will always go unanswered.
“I see,” Jack says. I turn to see him staring at the floor, his hands clasped together, his thumbs rubbing nervously over each other.
“I would have called you, but after our last conversation…” she trails off. I can only imagine what Jack said to her. When backed into a corner, I know how Jack can strike with venom.
“I do have a few of his personal effects, if you’d like them?” Louise asks. “And of course, you are welcome to contact the funeral home. I can give you their information.”
Jack would never get the closure he was hoping for and it broke my heart, but it was also a reminder not to waste the opportunity to make amends. Tears spring to my eyes and I grab onto Jack’s hands, hoping to give him some support.
“Oh, Jack.” I touch his face and feel the stubble along his jaw. He hasn’t slept and his eyes are red-rimmed. I never thought I would see Jack cry, but tears pool along the edges and he blinks them free. They fall uninhibited down his cheeks, and I wish I could swallow them up for him.
As soon as Louise enters the room again, he brushes away the tears and stares at the clear plastic bag she places in his lap. It looks like his clothes are neatly folded inside, but when he opens the bag, he pulls out a wallet. Inside the creases is a folded picture of a woman holding a baby. I don’t ask him who she is, but judging by his face, I can tell this is what he came here for.
He never talked about his mother, but I know she died when he was very young. Before I can ask him, he folds it back up and places it inside his pocket.
“Where’s your restroom?” he asks. I look at him with concern. This is the sort of thing that could push Jack to start using again.
“Down the hall on your right.” Louise points in the direction she came from. Without looking back at me, Jack gets up from the chair and walks towards the restroom. He deserves his privacy, and so I let him go with a heavy heart.
A few moments later, I watch as the young receptionist who greeted us at the front makes her way down the same hallway. My eyes narrow as I see her open the door to the men’s room.
In the music business, I have seen a lot of questionable things; men in power trying to take advantage of a young, eager female artist. Egotistical front men who think they are God’s gift to women. This may be a first for me to witness a ‘fan’ take advantage of a grieving, vulnerable man.
