Blue Jackets

"So tell me. Why are you always wearing that?", Drew had asked with his mouth full of fries.
"What? This?" I replied even though I knew what he was talking about. I stopped toying with the strings on the jacket. It was a fidget I developed when I was a kid; I would play with the string when I got nervous or scared or even bored. "It's a long story, and you wouldn't want to hear it."
"Uh, Yeah I do, and I'm not exactly going anywhere soon", he waved his hand in front of me, reminding us of the 12 hour road trip to my father's, but still not taking his eyes of the road.
I sighed, "Can't it wait? Until after we see my Dad?"
"No. I want you to tell me now. Please? Pretty please? With a ice cream scoop on top?" He begged, looking at me with a terrible impression of puppy dog eyes. I waited for a moment thinking about it. I eventually decided on telling him the story.
"Alright, but I'll only tell you what I know. Got it?"
"Yeah, sure."

About a week after my dad adopted me, he gave me this jacket, being seven at the time I thought it was his. As any one would at first.
"Listen Morgan, I'm going to give you something special okay?" He was kneeling next to me and I still had to look up at him. I nodded without saying a word. Growing up at an orphanage as the lonely child didn't give you much experience with social situations.  "Here", he told me as he started to put the jacket on my shoulders, "This jacket is very important. So promise me you'll always keep it safe." And I did for five years. Until 6th grade.

Every class has that one child that stands out above the rest, that isn't afraid to speak out against what they believe in. Usually in a negative way. Essentially a bully of sorts. Well mine had a common enough name, "Alex!" I laced his name with malice. "Give it back!"
"Give it back." He mocked. "Or what? You'll punch me?" He laughed at his own joke. To this day people still think he was a prick. But he was right I wasn't going to.
"Just give it back!" I screamed once more reaching for my jacket. He pulled away farther so I couldn't touch it. After a few more minutes of me yelling at him over his immaturity and laughter the teacher cane over to separate us.
"What the heck are you two fighting over?" I flinched at the yell but Alex did not. Without missing a single beat he replied with a complete lie.
"They keep trying to take my jacket."
"W-what no I'm not."
The teacher turned toward me, "Morgan, go sit down!" She scolded pointing towards my seat. Which I sat down in without protest, pouting and trying not to cry as I think of my father and what he will say.

"What!?" He yelled at seemingly nothing.
"He lies and took the jacket. Please don't be mad." I pleaded as tears streamed down my face. He looked around the room until he found a book. An album actually. I had always wondered what kind of pictures were in it. He would stare in it when he thought no one was around. Then he took it and put it back in the drawer where it always was. He put his own jacket around me and ushered me into the car.
"I'm not mad at you Sunshine, I'm furious at this um, uh. What did you say his name was?" He answered my question as he started the car and we put on our seatbelts.
"Alex" I replied quietly.
"Yes him."
"Where are we going?" I asked as he pulled out of the driveway. He replied with silence. The only sound was the radio in the car softly repeating the same song it always does. I day dreamed looking out the window and listening to the lyrics of the singer. I don't remember the name of it. Something like "Daydream" maybe "Wish". I turned to my father and asked him what the name of it was.
"Fantasy."
"Oh." Satisfied with the answer I looked out the window again to see my school. There we're still kids outside of it despite how late it was. We got out and walked to the front door. Nervously I walked close to my father as he seemed to tower over everyone we ran into. He always seemed so tall to me. Maybe he was the tallest person ever I thought as a child. We walked inside and as my father talked to the secretary at the main office. I stared out the window at the other kids playing soccer. I watched until my father tugged on my shoulder to signal that we were heading back to the car. Another quiet car ride.

Knock Knock
As the door opened, revealing a woman about the same age as my Dad.
"Hello?" She asked me and my Dad.
"Hello, this is Morgan and they wanted to ask your son if he can return what he took from them." I nodded at what my father said as confirmation.
"What did Alex take?" She asked almost annoyed at the this confrontation. Perhaps it wasn't the first time this happens.
"A blue jacket." I told her. Then she closed the door and left us waiting. She returned holding it and gave it to me without saying anything and closed the door. We left to go back home.

"Why is it so important?" I asked.
"What is?" My father answered.
"The jacket there isn't anything special it's just a jacket." He didn't reply. He was silent the whole ride home. When we arrived instead of the answer I had hoped for, he had taken down the photo album and shoved it into my hand.
"What's this for?"
"Open it." I did as I was told. Inside we're pictures of two youngish kids, a guy and a girl, probably 16 or 17. They wore the same jacket I did in one picture the boy wore it, the next the girl and so on. I flipped the page. As I did they progressively got older. Soon they were 20. And then there were no more pictures. Just one of me and Him.
"Who is they?" I said pointing to one of the pictures.
"That's me," He pointed to the boy in the picture. "And that's who would've been you're mother."
"What happened?"
"It was her 21st birthday. So as every 21 year old does, her and her friends went out. She never came back. Car crash. But when we were young she made me promise we would have a kid no matter what. I promised and here you are." He smiled but his eyes betrayed him spilling tears. At this point was the first time I saw him cry. He always had this facade of being strong and collected. But all that was gone. He got on his knees and wept silently, hugging me. I understood why everything he did for me was so important. Why the jacket was so important. I was his last remaining happiness. I was his last memory of her. Yes I was adopted but that didn't matter to him. He still loved me. So I made sure that for as long as I lived. I would make sure my Mom's memory lived on. For him.

"So that it?" Drew asked as we unloaded the stuff from the back of the car.
"Yeah. That's it. "
"Huh. I thought it was just an expensive jacket."
"Nope. I think he said it was like 20 bucks." We walked over to my Father and set the picnic blanket on the ground. "Hey Dad. I got these for you." I put flowers on the ground in front of him. "And these for Mom." I left them in front of her too. And I sat down as my friend made his way over with the basket.
"Do you think they're happy now that they're together?" He asked plopping down next to me.
"Yeah. I think so" I stared at my Mother and Father's gravestones imagining them peacefully together. "No." I grinned warmly at the stones markings. "They're definitely happy."
There are some things people have when they lose others. For some it's a necklace. Someone's may be a picture. But no matter what almost everyone who has experienced a loss has one. It doesn't even matter what kind of loss. Always keep in mind that that one jacket, ring, picture, even that one blanket of someone's could have a story.