“Yeah…”
“Sleep. Your secret is safe with me, Junebug.” He uses the nickname he used to call me when we were younger, and my heart shatters. I sob into the pillow while he holds me tight, holding all my broken pieces together. Then, I close my eyes and fall into a fitful sleep, wondering if he really means it.
Is my secret safe with him?
19
Jackson
Seeing her pain for the first time is like ripping the scab off an already healing wound. I thought what I was doing was the right thing. I thought she was bluffing, pretending that she felt bad, but the proof was right there. I thought that discovering her pain—seeing her suffer—would give me more satisfaction than it did. Instead, it made me sick, made me hate myself a little bit. Knowing she was cutting herself, causing herself physical pain. All along, she had been suffering right in front of me. I was just too self-absorbed to see it. Too wrapped up in my own pain, in wanting to make sure she was hurting, to notice that she was.
I spent all night holding her in my arms, listening to her sob. I can’t wrap my head around her thinking I was going to tell. Make fun of her. I almost scoff at the thought. It’s totally understandable why she would think that, but I’m not that big of an asshole. I won’t have her doing it anymore now that I know though.
What if she cuts herself too deep?
I can’t have her death on my conscience, and I can’t lose her. I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive her or if I ever fully can, but I don’t want to lose her.
After not sleeping a lick, I drove back to my apartment just as the sun was rising. Yes, I’m a pussy. I didn’t want to be there when she woke up. Mainly because I’m not sure what I should say to her. I don’t know how to react to the knowledge that she’s been hurting herself, cutting herself for god knows how long to deal with the pain.
I think about what my mother told me as I toss a ball at the wall and catch it. I haven’t dealt with my sister’s death because I feel like the moment that I do, the moment that I accept she’s dead, I’ll start the process of moving on, of forgetting her, and I can’t imagine ever forgetting someone like her, even if she is dead.
Then the shit with Kennedy makes me feel guilty, it makes me feel like I’m betraying my sister. Yet, I can’t shut off the fact that I care about her.
Sighing into the empty room, I wonder what Jillian would want me to do? Would she approve of me caring for Kennedy? Would she be okay with me forgiving her?
Confusion seeps into my bones. I don’t get a chance to focus on it, though, because my cell phone starts ringing, interrupting my thought process. I grab the device from beside me and look at the screen.
It’s my mother. I haven’t talked to her in some time, and I kinda miss her. Hitting the green answer key, I put the phone on speaker.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart, how are you?”
“I’m doing good.”
“You don’t sound good, you sound sad. Is everything okay?” Of course, my mom can read me, even over the phone. Must be some motherly instinct or some shit.
“I’m sorry about acting like a total ass last weekend. Kennedy ran off because of it. Like left school and hid out in a hotel.” I mean, that’s not the complete reason, but I’m not telling her everything. Some things my mother doesn’t need to know.
“Oh, Jackson, I know you’re still hurting, but it wasn’t Kennedy’s fault. It was an accident. Yes, Kennedy made a stupid choice, but she was so young, and people make a lot of mistakes when they are young. I know in my heart, she would never hurt anyone on purpose, least of all her best friend. She loved Jillian, probably as much as you did.”
Damnit. There isn’t any denying what she says. Jillian and Kennedy were connected at the hip. They loved each other as much as any sisters could. I know it because I was afraid that if I ever made a move on Kennedy, it might ruin her relationship with my sister, and I couldn’t risk that.
“I know, but it’s so hard to let that go. It’s so hard not to blame her when if she had just waited for me, things might have been different.”
“You’re right, things might’ve been different, or they might not. Your sister could’ve got in a car accident later on, anything could’ve happened. It’s important to remember that tomorrow is never promised. Your sister’s death opened our eyes to that, and I wish it would open your eyes too.” I kinda sorta hate how right she sounds right now.
“I just… I feel like if I let it go, if I start to forgive, to move on…” my throat tightens, “I feel like I’ll forget her. If I don’t remind myself every day, then I’ll forget her…”
“You’ll never forget her. She’s your twin, a piece of her lives inside of you, and we both know she would be angry as hell to see you and Kennedy suffering because of her.” A smile tugs at my lips as I picture my sister staring me down, her hands on her hips. “I promise, it’s the only way to move forward. It’s time for you to start living your life without carrying around all that pain, all of the time. It doesn’t have to be this way, Jackson.”
She’s right, she’s so right, but I’m not sure if I can forgive and forget so easily. It still feels like she died yesterday. I can start to try though.
“Okay, I’ll try, Mom.”
“That sounds wonderful, sweetheart.” I can see her smile in my mind, and I know she is happy about this. Happy that I’m taking the first steps of learning how to deal with Jillian’s death. “Why don’t you come home to visit next month?”
“Sure, why not. I’ll look at some dates and call you in a few days.”
“Great!”
“One more question… did you get Kennedy’s cell number while you were here?”
“Yes, why?”
“Can you send it to me? I want to talk to her.”
“Sure, I’ll send it right over. Please, be kind to her, Son. She blames herself enough, and even though you don’t want to believe it, she lost Jillian too.”
“I know, Mom.”
We say our I love yous and then hang up. Part of me feels the phone call was what I needed. I’m terrified of what will happen next, but this has to happen eventually. Being angry and bitter every day is killing me on the inside. Destroying the best parts of me. Jillian would kill me if she was here right now and saw the way I’ve been acting.
My thoughts of Kennedy swirl, and I wonder how I’m going to approach this with her. She’s my trigger in the big mess of things. Scrolling through my phone, I open my mom’s text and save Kennedy’s contact info. I’m tempted to go over to her place, but then I’ll want to fuck her, and I won’t get to say what I want. Plus, I’m not sure she is ready for sex yet, and I don’t want to push it. I’m going to do my best not to hurt her anymore. I don’t want to be the reason she continues to hurt herself.
So, I send her a text that says, hey.
Instantly, I get a reply.
K: Who is this?
I contemplate telling her that it’s Jackson, but I figure what I’m about to say is enough knowledge for her to get the hint.