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25. Family Trauma

I sat down on the chair anyway. I didn't want to be rude towards the man who was paying for my food. It would make things complicated if Mr. Simmons started to hate me.

"So – you are related to Tina?"

"Yes, sir. I'm her nephew," I said, hoping that he wouldn't ask any other questions about my fake family.

I hadn't even met Tina or her sister, and I wasn't sure if I could remember everything Julia had told me about them. Thankfully, he didn't seem interested in any of that. He was looking somewhere at the ceiling for a moment before he looked at me again.

"How is my son doing?" he asked with a sad voice.

"He's getting better. Today he was only one foot away from me," I said.

He stared at me with wide eyes. "He let you in his room?"

"No. I was sitting right outside the door," I explained.

"But the door was closed, right?"

"It was open. He even looked at me and touched my hand," I said, and I couldn't help but smile at that memory.

"Well, I'll be damned," Mr. Simmons said and leaned against the backrest of his chair. "Really?"

"It's true," I said.

"How did you do it? We have tried to help him for years! Ever since we moved here, he hasn't let us in his room, and we can only talk with him over the phone or the intercom."

I wanted to tell him that in order to help Jordan, he would actually need to interact with him. He hadn't come to see Jordan, not even once, during the time I had stayed in the house. I was sure that he hadn't even talked with Jordan during that time. No wonder Jordan wasn't getting better since his mom was the only person who was talking to him on a daily basis.

"He said I was different than others. Different aura or something," I said, leaving out the rest of what I really wanted to say.

Mr. Simmons was quiet for a moment before he asked with a hesitant voice, "Do you think he hates me?"

I didn't have an answer for that. "He doesn't speak much about you." I couldn't remember if Jordan had even mentioned his father. Mr. Simmons nodded slowly, and he looked awfully sad all of a sudden.

"It's my fault, you know? You must know why he's like that," he spoke quietly. "I turned my back on him only for a second, and he was gone. I tried to look for him, but it was complete chaos in that parking lot."

I listened quietly while he spoke. He looked devastated, and I felt sorry for him.

"I didn't know what to do," he said and brushed his hand through his hair anxiously. "Where to look? Who to ask for help? I was alone with my only son, in a country where I didn't know the language. I was told to wait in my hotel for news, and I thought I would never see him again. I did everything I could – I visited every hospital twice or three times and I kept calling the local police to ask if they had found him. No one knew where he was, and I feared the worst. And then, after three days..."

Mr. Simmons fell silent and looked up at the ceiling again.

"You know, I really thought it would be best for Jordan if he was in a mental institute. It would be best for the rest of our family. I am ashamed to say that... and I do want him to be home, but this is ruining my family. I have ruined my family," he continued, looking like he was about to cry.

"If only we had left sooner, none of this would've happened. Jordy asked if we could leave sooner, but I wanted to see that stupid goal. Maybe he knew that something bad was about to happen..." He looked sad and almost angry when he turned to face me. "I haven't watched sports ever since."