Jesse

39: A Father's Love

39: A Father's Love

            An entire week had gone by since…Jesse's burial service, and five day since my parents figured out who I really was. The true relationship between Jesse and I. Dad and I hadn’t talked at all, well, except the usual: heys and goodbyes. Mom and I still talked, but it wasn't like how it used to be. She told me things would get better, it would just take time. Time to adjust. Time to accept. Time to heal. Always time.

            The initial shock of Jesse's death and the sudden, overwhelming anger and breathlessness I had from it all, faded. If only but a little, it still faded. But when I woke up every night dreaming of him, and what had been, the scar opened once more and without fail it all bled over me again. The absolute gutting, hollowing pain erupting from within. In the morning I feel a little better, but not the same. I would still be numb.

            My reflection showed that enough with the purple, creased circles constantly under my eyes and that ragged look about me all the time. Now there was only a dull throbbing, aching within me, every time I thought of Jesse, every time I looked at my necklace; every time I happened to glance at his house, I tried not to anymore, but still it was hard not to; and every time I thought of his letter, I had stowed away in the drawer of my desk to be out of sight, every time I looked from my window into his and saw that it was still empty, still dark, and still abandoned—I would be reminded he was dead. Dead. Still no Jesse.

            I want more than anything for things to be right again: between me and my family, for Jesse to be alive, for me to be alright with myself. But I have realized nothing will ever be exactly the same as it was, as it had been. Jesse's death changed everything. As much as I hated to admit it, if Jesse hadn't died…I would have never came out to my parents, the truth would still be hidden secrets, that I apparently hadn't hidden enough from my Mom. Mothers always knew…But why did he have to die for this to happen? It wasn’t fair.

            Life’s never fair. Is it?

            Last night, I had lied awake for hours on my bed. Thinking. About Jesse. About his death. About what my Dad thought of me being like I was. Of the relationship I had with Jesse. Missing it. Missing him. As clichéd as it sounded, Jesse had been the sunshine to my life. Now. There was only darkness. I didn't know where I belonged anymore. Sure, I had Joann to confide within now that well…we became somewhat of friends, I guessed. Another thing Jesse's death had done: bring me and Joann together. The only person on this damn planet who understood everything, was the person I knew the least…

            I saw something glimmering in the faint moonlight coming through my window. I blinked, turning my head. It was Jesse's iPhone. She had given it back to me, saying she had pulled it from his pocket and used it to call me when he had been…When Jesse had been shot. Joann said it would be best if I had, since I did give it to him, and I had been his boyfriend. She also gave me her phone number, and told me to call her whenever I needed to talk. I felt that time was fast approaching.

            Promises. All of what Jesse had asked of me, before he died. I had yet spoken to Joann about taking them to New York with me, but I would soon, maybe after we visited his Dad in the local penitentiary. Mom had called the place and scheduled it for the Saturday she was off. That sent my heart into overdrive. What in the hell would I say to…him? The same man who had tried and nearly killed his son. The same man who abused, and tortured Jesse in a closet. The same man who had given Jesse nothing but hell since his Mom's death. Would he try to kill me? No, he would be in handcuffs. But still…the terrifying thought was there, taunting me in the back of my mind.