The Thing About Samuel

Chapter Twelve - Jason

Jason - September 2013

Jason stared ahead, the dim glow of the evening filling the windscreen like a picturesque painting as the blue of night gently tucked the sun away over the horizon. The road was quiet tonight. Jason had started to value the driving time he got alone without Samuel, his mum, or anyone else in the car beside him. It was the only time he got to be alone with his own thoughts. And so he always drove at least five miles an hour under the speed limit to savour this short time he afforded himself. He had even taken to turning the radio off to just enjoy the hum of the wheels against the road, and let his thoughts spill out into the seat next to him.
​'What do I do?' he asked the road that night.
​But alongside the words that sat in the seat beside him, there was also the card. The card he probably should have left back at the hospice with Annabelle, to make her smile and see that people were still hopeful she would get better. Maybe that was cruel, though. Jason's grip tightened around the leather of the steering wheel and the back of his jaw clenched together.
​'Come on, Jason.' He stretched his eyes wide and shook his head.
​He knew that there wasn't a way back for Annabelle and that was the hardest part to come to terms with. He never thought he would have to do any of this alone, and since Annabelle had been given the diagnosis, he felt like he was picking up a manual – the biggest one he had ever seen – and had a limited amount of time to learn everything about her side of their relationship. Her daily routine. Samuel's favourite food. What Samuel takes to school for lunch...
Homework!
Homework would now be his job. Annabelle wasn't in a place to test Samuel on spelling, or mental arithmetic, or fractions. Could he even do fractions anymore?
​Jason shook the cloud of realisation from his head and pushed his eyes back to focus on the road. She was still here. For now, he had time. His mind flitted back to a moment from years ago. He was sat in the corner of the school field on sports day with Samuel, who was taking deep wheezy breaths at a pacey rate.

'In, and out. In, and out.' Jason had motioned with his hands, as if pulling Samuel's chest in a gentle rhythm with a string tied to his palm.
​'Where's...Mum...?' Samuel forced out at the end of each out breath.
​Jason's heart always sank a little if they were the first words that Samuel would ask. He pushed a smile onto his face.
​'She's at work, Son. I'm here though,' Jason grinned in comfort.
​The worried, watery eyes of his son trembled up to face him. Sweat beads clang to his forehead, temples, and his patchy red hands clung to his sports t-shirt. His head rocked forward on his slender neck, panic filling his face.
​'Slowly.' Jason placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder and moved to block the sight of the sports day from Samuel's vision. Placing his other hand on Samuel's chest, he brought his eyes to Samuel's level.
​'Just me and you, Samuel. Try and breathe in through your nose.'
​Jason could feel the rapid beats of his son's tiny heart under his hand.
​'You can do it. In...' Jason sucked in a huge cloud of air in through his nostrils and watched as his son concentrated on doing the same. 'And out.' Together they pushed air out through their lips. 'Count it in, and out, Samuel. Close your eyes.'
​Jason smiled as he admired his son's trust in his dad's words. Samuel had definitely inherited his mother's looks. He was cute, some may say adorable, even at ten years old. Though he was sure that if he told Samuel that he would shrug it off. He was getting to the age where it wasn't cool for his dad to tell him he was a 'good-looking kid'.
​'Hold my hand.' Jason felt Samuel's small hand take his. It was clammy, but it clenched his palm as tight as a ten-year-old could. 'And count. Five.' His son's voice echoed his own. 'Four. Three. Two...'

'One.' Jason hadn't allowed his eyes to close in the car, but the silence of the empty road, and the darkness now surrounding him, broken only by a few sparsely placed streetlights, allowed him the moments of escape.
​He released his grip on the steering wheel and rested his fingertips on the lower half of the circle of leather. Jason clicked the indicator into life and began to pull off the main road and down into a more residential setting. Soon, he was driving up a street of terraced houses to his childhood home. The home his mum had chosen to stay in even after his dad had passed away.
​The street was lined with tall red-brick houses, and cars lined up all facing down the hill. It was regular habit to drive to the top of the street, turn around in the cul-de-sac, and then drive back down to park your car facing the bottom of the hill. His dad had always said it was in case your car didn't start one morning; you would be able to roll it down the hill to kick enough life into it to at least get you to the local garage.
​Jason pulled the handbrake on, and then sat for a moment, counting down from five, once again. To his left, out of the window, was a white PVC door and window with a warm glow of amber light spilling out from both. A nostalgic hug cocooned his heart.
​With a click of his seatbelt, Jason reached for the door and went to get out. As he opened it a crack, cool air filtered in, but he turned back to the seat, and the card. He sighed. What should he do? He paused for a second, and then leant over, grabbed the card, and moved out into the street.

'Hello, love!' his mum, clad in a plush silver dressing gown and slippers, greeted with a kiss to his cheek. 'Can I make you a tea? Have you eaten tonight?'
​'Yes please, Mum. And no. I was going to grab something at the hospice but didn't feel up to it.'
​His mum's hand gently squeezed his upper arm. 'Of course. I'll make you some cheese on toast too. Samuel's in there, asleep.'
​As Jason moved into the living room from the hallway, he saw his son sprawled out on the sofa with a fleece blanket wrapped around him up to his neck. From behind it, a single arm clad in a Pokeball print stretched above his head.
​'He's as elegant a sleeper as his dad,' Jason's mum mocked as she brought a mug of tea back into the living room for him.​
​Jason eased himself down onto the sofa near his son's feet.
​'Toast is on, shouldn't be long,' his mum smiled. 'How is she?'
​Jason took a moment to realise that his mum was referring to Annabelle. The presence of the card in his hand was taking all his concentration – wondering how best to mention it. Or if he should mention it at all.
​'She's not great.'
​His mum offered a comforting nod of understanding and then her eyes moved to the card.
'What's that, love?'
​Jason let a small laugh escape his lips. 'You always know when something's up, don't you? Dad always said that about you. It's why he couldn't ever get away with anything, he said.'
​'And he was right. I could read that man as easy as Samuel's schoolbooks. And, I'm afraid, it's a trait he's passed down to you,' she chuckled.
​Jason looked to Samuel, his gentle rhythmic breaths moving the blanket up and down.
​'Let's sit at the table, I'll get your food.' His mum gestured to the dining room table that sat beyond a wide arch and halved this long rectangular room.
​As she left, Jason leaned over and pecked his son on his forehead before easing himself up onto his feet and moving over to take a seat at the dining room table. On the wall around this part of the room were several family photos. His mum and dads wedding day. The family holidays to Scarborough when Jason was a child. The wedding anniversary weekend in Whitby. And Jason's twenty first, where Annabelle attended as his girlfriend. And Samuel was only a baby.
​'Here you go, Eat up,' his mum offered quietly as she placed a perfectly grilled two slices of cheese on toast. The top of the cheese had bubbled and crisped ever-so-slightly brown, and the toast was crunchy, but not blackened as his dad had sometimes done.
​'So, what's in the envelope?' his mum asked after a few minutes of watching patiently and sipping her tea.
​Jason sighed and tried to find the words but couldn't. So, instead, he placed the card on the table and slid it over to his mum. With his eyes, he gestured for her to read it.
​His mum eyed the card suspiciously as she unsheathed it from the envelope, and then she opened it. Jason continued to eat but observed his mum carefully as her eyes passed over the writing, the generic text of the card, and finally, the sign off.
​Her eyebrows lifted into an arch and then she smiled as she placed the card on the table and met Jason's gaze. She sipped her tea first, and Jason saw that she firstly checked Samuel was still sleeping before speaking.
​'You know, when your dad passed away, I thought that was it for me. I had been in love, and there would never be anyone else that I would feel that way about again.' Her voice trembled slightly, and she ran her thumbs in patterns around the mug she now held in both hands.
​'When it happens, it's like losing your best friend, your partner in everything. Even if your dad was useless at remembering everything on the shopping list or would always throw in a bag of nuts or sweets every time even when we didn't really need them, he was always there. And that's something you get used to. Suddenly, those odd nights of sleeping alone where I'd have to watch television until late at night, or read to coax tiredness on, whilst your dad was out having a drink with his mates or entertaining a potential client would now be every night.' She let out a small laugh. 'I still don't sleep on his side of the bed, and I always say goodnight to his photo on the bedside table.'
​Jason warmed with adoration. He had always looked up to his mum and dad's relationship, and even now, it was still strong when he wasn't here.
​'But then, after a short while, I realised that your dad still lived on. Through you. And him.' Her eyes flashed to Samuel, and she smiled. 'He would want me to enjoy being here with you, and Samuel. Why would he want me to go on being miserable?' She sniffled a little and brushed a small tear from under her eye.
​'Sorry, love.' The apology came with empathetically raised cheeks.
​Jason reached across and placed his hand on his mum's around her mug. In return, she moved one of her hands to lay on his.
​'The point I'm trying to make is that even when they're gone, they're not really. Everything around us, and the way we live our life, is something we created with them. And they live on in who we became with them, too. So, all you can do is ask yourself what Annabelle would say if you could speak to her? Would she say not to get in touch?' she shrugged. 'You and Samuel may soon have your own life to build. And, whilst you do have the chance, why don't you speak to Annabelle? She may not be able to reply very much right now, but you will know what she is thinking. She is your wife, and your first love, Jason. You've been together for a long time and know each other very well.'
​'But she can't say yes or no. She can't tell me what the right thing to do is.'
​'Jason.' His mum's grasp over his hand tightened. 'Trust me, you will know.'
​She moved around the table and kissed him on the forehead again.
​'Love is a powerful thing.'
Jason looked up to her and, as her lips spread into a comforting smile, she nodded to the card once again.