Perfect Redemption

One: In Which He Gets Held Against His Will By a Sword

When his fame skyrocketed, he tried to persuade my mom and I to follow him. But mom had family and relatives at Boston, so she didn't want to move. This argument lasted for several months and it resulted in a messy divorce that may have taken more of a toll on me than my actual parents.

But whatever.

Dad had to leave—an inevitable thing—and I was stuck with mom. I couldn't blame him for taking off. Hell, I would have too. Mom and I never got along very well and things started to get worse when she got together with my step-father. So naturally I was jealous of my dad. Jealous and angry that he didn't take me with him. But after a while, those feelings turned to admiration whenever I saw him on the face of my television.

It didn't take him long to get famous, and often forget about me. He starred in more successful movies and he acquired a high profile. But after a while, he started getting into tv shows instead. He said in interviews that brought him a more stable income to provide for his family—what a load of nonsense. Even though some of that money did go to me every month, he spent vast amounts on in supporting his own lavish lifestyle in LA.

I would be a brat and complain about that, but just looking at the mansion in front of me now, I'd rather just keep my mouth shut about it and be happy about what I got.

"Yes, I watched your show. You're a horrible actor," I say irritably. That statement isn't exactly true. I may have hated his guts for leaving, but he is possibly one of the best actors that has ever walked this earth. It's a shame he constantly gets cursed with the most horrible tv show contracts.

"Thanks," my father says flatly, "but I know when you say something, you actually mean otherwise."

"You wished I said otherwise. There is a difference."

My father's laugh echoes through the phone. "You're a complicated man, Jackson. Even if I haven't been there during your recent years, I know you like the back of my hand."

"Is there anything else you'd like to say to me before I hang up on you?" I say, yawning. "Because I just arrived at the mansion and I'm just about to go in. And please do not tell me you left the keys under the mat. Because if you did, that's probably the most idiotic thing you've ever done. No, scratch that. The second most idiotic thing. The first one would be turning down the chance to star in the latest Mission Impossible movie."

"Don't worry, I didn't leave the keys under the mat. I have standards, you know." My father scoffs. "And really? MI was what really did it for you?"

"Tom Cruise turned it down. You could have taken the role before he decided to snatch it back." I say as-a-matter-of-factly.

"You know he would have gotten the contract back regardless of me taking the role or not," he tells me. "Anyway, call me when you're settled down at the mansion."

"Whatever. Anything else before I cut you off?"

"Just... I just want to say one more thing," my father starts off. "I know I haven't been around for a while, but I just want to say that I'm really happy you're here."

"You do realize that I'm not actually here for you, right?" I say.

"I know," I can hear the hurt that laces his tone, "but if you ever need me, Jackson, I'm just a phone call away."

"Yeah. Okay." I nod. "Bye."

And then I hang up on him.

I slide my phone back into the pocket of my jeans, and I start to get to work. Heaving the suitcases to the front porch ain't easy task. I may be a fighter, but the shit that I pack in here weighs a ton. I even bought my own punching bag so I can hang it up in my room. It seemed like a very stupid idea, but it sounded good at that time, so I won't question it any further.