Who’s Jackson
Daniel trudges into the dining room, clearly less awake than his twin, but he manages to find the table and the pancakes all right. “Morning, Daniel,” I say.
I get something close to a grunt in response, and I’m reminded how thankful I am not to have a teenage son anymore. Opening the fridge, I grab jam, chocolate spread, and whipped cream. I place them on the bar in front of Trevor. “Well, since it’s your birthday, you should have more options than just syrup. Take your pick.”
I hear the shaking and spray of the whipped cream can as I go back to finishing the batter. Almost done.
“Dude, really?” Brad says. “Whipped cream-that’s what you pick when you have the chocolate stuff sitting in front of you? Why?”
“The same reason I put whipped cream on anything,” Trevor says. “So I can lick it off before getting to eat the rest.”
I turn to find him looking straight at me, and I flush at the same time I feel my pussy turn to liquid. I manage to pull my eyes away from him in time to save the last pancake.
“Whatever,” Brad says. “More chocolate for me.”
I turn off the stove and ferry the rest of the pancakes into the dining room as Bradley and June come down the stairs. “Morning everyone,” Bradley says, holding out a fist to Brad. “Namesake.”
Brad bumps his fist. “Namer.” It’s a little tradition they started when Brad was little. Once Brad noticed that he and his uncle had the same name, I had to explain that I had named him after Bradley.
The pancakes go over well, and everyone seems happy. “What are your plans for today?” I ask the room.
“We’re going to visit my family today,” June says. “We won’t be back until late. I hope that’s okay?”
I wave a hand. “Fine with me. Your vacation. We have plenty of time together before Christmas.”
“What about you?” she asks.
“I need to buy a Christmas tree,” I say. “Brad, you want to come with me?”
He winces. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.
There’s a pang in my heart, but I don’t let it show on my face. “That’s okay. What have you got going on?”
“Well…” he says, “I actually need to finish a paper. I got an extension on it and I have to turn it in tomorrow.”
I see.” I put on my best mom face. “Tried to slip that one past me?”
“Unsuccessful as usual,” he says, laughing.
I take another bite of pancake. “As long as you finish. But you’re on the hook for decorating the tree with me tomorrow.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Trevor swivels around on his stool. “I’ll go with you to get the tree.”
My heart flies up into my throat. “Are you sure?” I say. “It’s a long drive, and you’re on vacation. Plus, it’s your birthday.”
“I’m sure,” he says, grinning. “I have nothing to do and I can help you wrestle the tree into submission.”
“All right,” I say, taking my dishes to the sink. I collect the rest of the dishes, switching the clean and dirty dishes in the dishwasher and listening to the bustle of my brother’s family getting ready to leave.
An hour later I’ve showered, changed, and kissed Brad goodbye. Trevor is waiting outside for me by my car, and my god he looks fantastic. Peacoat, jeans, hat, and boots. He’s a fucking a model. He smiles when he sees me. “Road trip?”
The Christmas tree farm is on the outskirts of Boston, and it takes an hour get there on a good day. But today is a good day for driving, and we’ve been passing the drive in pleasant, radio-filled silence, until Trevor looks over at me. “Can I ask you a question that’s personal?”
A bubble of laughter escapes me. “I think after what we did this morning there’s very little left that you can call personal.” He keeps looking at me, face serious. “Sure, go ahead.”
“Who is Jackson?”
I suck in a breath at the unexpectedness. That’s the last name I expected to come from Trevor’s mouth.
“I heard your sister mention him yesterday, and if I’m stepping on someone’s toes when it comes to you-”
“Jackson is Brad’s father,” I say, interrupting him.
It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the car. I try not to think about Jackson whenever possible, because it’s the nagging scar that never heals over. But when my family is around it always seems to get brought up.
Trevor shifts uncomfortably. “Oh. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay,” I say, aiming for a carefree tone and missing completely. “Umm…we met when I was eighteen. He was my first love-handsome and charismatic. We fell in love really fast, and moved in together right after graduation.”
I leave that hanging in the air, because if that had been the end of the story my life would be very different.
“What happened?” Trevor asks softly.
I consider not telling him, hiding the fact that I’m almost forty and haven’t gotten over something from twenty years ago. But everyone else knows, and with my siblings, he’ll probably find out just by listening. I swallow against the sudden lump in my throat. “Jackson wasn’t actually a very nice guy. He was rude and possessive, demanding. There was very little I did that made him happy, and he was angry a lot. But when he was loving it was like the sun came out, and it made up for all the bad. I loved him, so I explained it all away, and I stayed. He’d had a hard life, and I felt he had a right to be all the things he was.
“The day I told him I was pregnant, I don’t think I’d ever seen him so happy. Things were good for a while. But we were nineteen and poor. Bills piled up from my doctor appointments and things for the baby, and it only got worse when we couldn’t…have sex because I was too sick or too pregnant.”
I glance over at Trevor. “Brad wasn’t the easiest baby to carry. I was sick most of the time. Jackson was home less and less, was angrier when he was home. And a few weeks before Jackson was born I came home from the store to find all of his things gone.”
We sit in silence for a while, an overly cheery Christmas carol playing on the radio.
“I haven’t seen him since,” I say softly.
Trevor doesn’t say anything. But then, what is there to say?