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“Not much,” I said, hoping he’d continue.
“Well, Jamie and Dad never really got along too well.” He shrugged his shoulders. “They’re just very different people.”
“That part I’d sort of heard about,” I said.
“The night before Jamie died, he was actually over here. We had some awkward family dinner. Jamie must have been extra stressed from work… you could see it in his eyes…” Doug shook his head, drifting away again as if he envisioned the story in his head while telling it. “The day before Valentine’s Day. I’ll never forget it. Dad started going on about his other sons… and how they’d all made something of their lives. He listed all of us, all of our jobs and what he considered our accomplishments, but he didn’t once mention Jamie or anything he had done with his life.”
My heart grew heavy. “This all happened the day before he died?”
“The very day before. I was watching Jamie. He sat and took it for a while. Then, without a word, Jamie shot up from our kitchen table and stormed off. I found him dead in his apartment the next day. Only went over there ‘cause I was worried sick. Something didn’t sit right in my stomach. I had a spare key and let myself in.”
“God…” My words trailed away, stomach tight. Mom’s laughter carried through the whole space again, and I gazed over at her as Doug continued speaking. She looked so fake-happy. So oblivious to all the shit going on with anyone else in this room, especially in her own daughter’s mind.
“Dad’s problem was, he always tried to control us,” Doug continued. “He wanted us to be perfect replicas of himself. Jason and I… we got the good educations. Jamie never went to college. Jason’s a lawyer… Jamie was a cashier. Dad had so many things he constantly harped on Jamie about. I’m sure a part of Dad thinks he caused Jamie’s death, whether he’d admit to that or not. But I don’t think it was completely Dad’s fault.”
“You don’t?” I asked.
“Nah.” Doug’s voice grew softer, as if he didn’t want his family to catch the next words for obvious reasons. “Dad has a tendency of being a real dick. But I always stuck up for Jamie. I was always there for him and looked out for him. Even took a couple of the backlashes for him. You know who I really blame?”
Doug stared at me a moment, then took a deep breath before adding:
“Jamie.”
I swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. This was Jamie’s brother dealing with the grief in his own way. Of course there was going to be anger. Of course Doug would feel slighted. Of course Doug would be mad at Jamie for doing what he did.
But what Doug didn’t understand was how hard it was for people like us.
When I didn’t respond, Doug continued. “Jamie had people around him all along, and he chose to ignore them or push them away. And he never once stood up to my dad and told him to knock off his shit. Maybe if he had…”
“That isn’t fair,” I said. “Jamie was scared of him.”
“So was I. But guess what? I stood up to him enough times, and he let go of the things I did that he didn’t like. Jamie should’ve stood up to Dad, even if only once. Jamie should’ve talked to me about how he was feeling. Instead of shutting even the good people out of his life. He shut you out, too, didn’t he? See, I know without even knowing. Because that’s what Jamie’s like now. He shuts everyone out.”
“He’s not like that anymore,” I said before I could stop myself. Doug narrowed his eyes, giving me a questioning look, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop now. “It was just… hard for him. It’s always hard. Especially standing up to people. There’s so much humiliation associated with it… standing up to the people who should love you. No, not just love you. Love you the right way.”
I focused on Mom again who now jabbered on. I heard so many words associated with fashion fall from her mouth. Not that there was anything wrong about giving product recommendations, I realized now. But something in the way my mother faked nice in front of everyone, faked a certain air…
“Can you really blame Jamie for being so lost he couldn’t bear the thought of continuing anymore?” I asked. “Especially when there’s someone in your family who should be there for you. Who should make you feel valued and appreciated for who you are? And not just your own damn mother, or the boy you loved, or the man you married… but also the father who should’ve loved you so much he reconsidered taking his life. Because if it’s anything my dad had… he had me. Someone who loved him for exactly who he was. He had what Jamie and I both needed.”
“Are you okay?” Doug asked.
“No, I’m not.” I shook my head. Then I let out a sigh and glanced back at Doug for a moment who more than likely thought I was going mad. “I’m sorry again for your loss, Doug… I’m so sorry. For everything you must’ve gone through and for what you’re probably still going through. But… you’ll have to excuse me now. I have something I need to do.”
I approached my mother who was in the middle of saying something and interrupted her mid-sentence.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” I asked.
Mom cocked her head to the side. Through gritted teeth, she smiled. “Of course, dear. Should we go outside?”
What she really meant was: no, Jemma, of course not. You’re taking me away from my social pleasantries. But I didn’t give a shit. I also didn’t give a shit that we were in the middle of a party honoring Jamie’s life. Considering we were with a bunch of assholes—people who claimed to be family but who treated their kids like shit.
Why the fuck should I care about what I had to say next? Even if it was going to cause a scene.
“You know what? I’m good,” I said. “I can say what I have to say right here.”
Mom started to stand. “Why don’t we—”
“We never talked about Dad after he killed himself.”
