♪♫••═════ PART TWO~CHAPTER : 35 ═════••♬ ♭
The jar of the wheels hitting pavement woke me, and as turbulent as some of the flight had been, I marveled that I had slept through the last part. Tristan, who was buckled in the connected seat, appeared to also be waking up.
This plane was smaller than the one we had arrived to LAX on, weeks ago with Jack, but just as comfortable. Upon hearing about my mother, Jack had immediately made the arrangements with the jet charter company he belonged to, overriding my protests that I would fly commercial.
Logically, he had reasoned from miles away, "Mariss, it's paid for. No reason to pay extra by buying a ticket when it's covered in the monthly fee."
No reason except the smaller jets, even as nice as they were, freaked me out.
I hadn't known to put Olivia on the security list, and since Tristan still could not walk long distances, we had to wait for a wheelchair that I could push to the main concourse where my friend waited.
"Rissa!" Olivia body slammed me. "I'm so glad you are back. But sorry about your mother." As my friend exclaimed over Tristan, swearing he had grown, I assured myself, as well as my friend, "It's supposed to be a minor surgery. I mean, I know no surgery really is when you consider everything, but it should go well."
"It will," Olivia agreed and when both looked down to see Tristan's unsure gaze as we spoke of his grandmother, Liv quickly diverted his attention. "Guess who is in the car?"
"Bally!" Tristan's astute guess was an exclamation, and I smiled to see his face light up.
A breeze was gusting as we walked to the car, and the pleasant instead of scorching temperature at this time of year reminded me of LA. Olivia could not get enough of watching Tristan walk, and once we reached the car, Bally did not know who to snoot first in her excitement.
"So Tristan, are you still eating chicken strips, or have you gone all sushi like your Momma?" Liv followed the signs out of the airport and onto the highway as she continued to draw happy smiles from us both with her banter.
I cracked my window, drawing in breaths of the Gulf air instead of the Pacific and tried to sort out what I was feeling. On one hand, this homecoming felt wonderful even if it was for a bad reason. However, there was a niggling feeling that a part of me now belonged in LA.
Walking into my house was strange. The walls seemed to close in, and everything seemed smaller. Despite sleeping an hour on the plane, I dropped in exhaustion to the couch. Propping my feet on the table, I sipped at the iced coffee I had ordered when Olivia had hit a drive through for Tristan's chicken strips.
"Mom, my channels!" Tristan wailed while flipping through a television of static.
Olivia quickly solved the problem with a DVD.
Jack had insisted on sending my bills to his accountant. My pride had kept me from being happy with the arrangement, but I had been too happy with the idea of being with him to argue about anything. Obviously, the accountant had deemed active cable in an empty house a waste of funds.
Once Tristan was engrossed in the program, Liv propped her feet on the sofa table and asked, "So. Did you talk to Jack yet about the paternity test?"
I had vented the entire story on my friend within hours of finding the letter. Now, I explained that in light of finding out about my mother, I had put off the discussion with Jack. My curiosity was killing me to know what reasons he would give, and my anger festered knowing no reason would be acceptable, but it was something I wanted to do face to face instead of over Skype or the phone.
"And your brother is in town?" Liv wondered. "That is what worried me about your mother's condition."
I nodded in complete understanding. It was rare that my brother made a trip back to his hometown, even for holidays. "From what I understood, he's living here now. Going through a divorce."
For several minutes, we watched the 'Bandit' movie until Liv pushed her own empty cup away and asked, "Are you really good in Cali?"
Automatically, my lips curved before I dropped the fake smile whispering, "No and yes...Sometimes. I don't know..." Picking at my fingernails, I held my eyes to the decorative decals and the glitter adorning the polish.
Olivia stayed with Tristan while I borrowed her car to go to the hospital. There was nothing I dreaded more than pushing open the door to the sterile room my mother occupied. It was going to be hard to see my parent sick and hard to listen to the guilt trip for not staying in touch.
"Marissa!" In astonishment, a fork dropped to her meal tray, and her face illuminated at the sight of me.
The surprises just continued. Despite an upcoming surgery hours away, my mother was in a wonderful mood. After the picked over dietary supper tray was whisked away by a hospital attendant, I grew uncomfortable under my mother's scrutiny. However, it was not unexpected. It was time for the guilt trip.
"Marissa, why did you not say anything about Jack being a very successful musician? A rock star even. Right?"
I warily eyed my mom, and took a seat on the tiny sofa in the room.
"You could have told me, you know. Years ago even. I would have understood."
"You would have thought I was some stupid groupie."
"I wouldn't have. I would have understood," My mother insisted, and her eyes went beyond I to another place. "I was always drawn to musicians. Loved one dearly. I waited tables, did odd jobs, supported him. While he practiced, hunted down shows, and hoped for his big break." Snapping out of the trance, she declared, "I'm so happy that won't be your life."
When I only stared, appalled, my mother exclaimed, "I'm talking about your father!"
"Daddy?" Suddenly my childhood flashed back. So many things made sense, and with new understanding of old memories, my parents' divorce made sense.
"Of course, I guess Jack having already made his way comes with its own ups and downs. Your brother was showing me some of the things on the 'innernets' that you have been dealing with." My mother's words were sympathetic, and my chest heaved in a few silent breaths. "Just be very sure that is the life you want before committing to it."
Usually, it grated on my nerves when my mother mispronounced internet, but this time I had more important thoughts.
Jack was my world. I loved him with all my heart. I could not imagine falling out of love with him. Yet, our life together, in a few short weeks, already had not been easy.
Every day came with some sort of outside interference, whether it was the assistant that lived with us, the rude publicist, his family, the demands of his band and its members, and now the tour. Jack Stone shared the same body as Jack Loren.
Now, he had gone behind my back and paternity tested Tristan at the first doubt his family showed—something that I could not even properly confront him about because I never saw him.
These were the thoughts rotating round and round in my head creating more thoughts. Like the colors on the pinwheel Tristan had begged for as we walked the beach one afternoon with Olivia. Only my thoughts over the next days weren't too colorful.
Each day, when I talked, Skyped, or sent a text to Jack, I kept the doubts to myself.
¨♪♫¨
When my mother had been recovering at home for a week, and when Tristan was walking without tiring, Jack brought up flying us to meet him on tour. Staring sadly at the phone, I made excuses to stay where I was.
Almost a week later, it was more difficult to make excuses to his face, but I did, falling back on my mother's health the day and night that he had come to see us. Feeling like a heel, I watched him roll out of bed, dress, and trek to Tristan's room for a goodbye hug.
In a post-show two a.m. phone call, a few days after that, he pressured me harder. The pain of missing us was obvious in his voice, and I missed him terribly, but I swallowed my own emptiness. "I need a favor."
"Anything. You know that."
"I was thinking of staying here until the tour is over."
Jack was quiet for so long that I wanted to take the words back. From the den down the hall, I heard Tristan singing, and I knew that he was hopping and dancing around to the song on his show.
"Wait, where are you?" Jack asked. The disorientation was something I had heard before. As the tour progressed through so many cities, and he grew wearier, he would become confused over what day it was, or whether it was morning or afternoon. Now, he was wondering if I was in LA or Gulfport.
"Gulfport."
"Why would you want to stay there until the tour is over?"
As I tried to gather the courage to tell him I needed a break from LA, and as I tried to hold back my hurt and need to confront him over the DNA test, his growl rumbled through the phone. "What the hell?..."
"I don't know," I whispered into the phone. It just feels better here. I think I just need a break."
"From what?!" He exploded, and reflexively I pulled the phone a few inches from my ear. "From swimming pools? And shopping? From mani's, pedi's, and makeovers? From a sick ride to drive you all those places and a driver if you don't feel like driving yourself?"
The anger bleeding into my ears seemed irrational. Scorn dripped from his words, and I felt shocked that my simple question had released that degree of ugliness.
"Is that who you think I am? I was never that girl, Jack..."
Ignoring my indignation, he smoothly shot back, "I've got almost ten thousand dollars on a charge card, plus a new car note that says you are."
How dare he come up with some total, and in doing so, have thrown in purchases that I never would have made had it not been expected of me. It certainly hadn't been my idea to spend what I considered a small fortune on my outfit for the drop party. And I had not asked for or expected a car—especially that one!
"Fuck you!" The hyperventilation and pounding of my chest was a silent addendum to my curse.
"No Marissa. Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you. Fuck you!—"
Pressing the end button to save my ears from any further four letter words, I let the phone fall from my hand and dropped my head to the bed. The volatile anger threading through his curses shocked me.
The words would not stop rattling my brain. In a tailspin, the conversation had gone from one of his typically sweet phone calls to strings of four letter hate.
"Anything. You know that...Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..."
The day felt lonely, and lonelier still, when he didn't call to Skype after the show.
Moreover, he didn't call or text the next day, so I sent a text the day after.
Call me later?
Sent 10:00 AM
After waiting hours for an answer, I sent another.
Did you get my text?
Sent 4:05 PM
And another.
What are we doing?
Sent 2:01 AM
His answering text stung like a slap.
JACK
Taking a break like you wanted.
2:02 AM
You know that is not what I meant
Sent 2:04 AM
JACK
Whatever
2:04 AM
Barely, I restrained myself from thumbing a four-letter word into the phone, and instead I fingered a four-letter gesture at the phone.
Finally, I cried, the sobs jerking my body, itching my eyes, and stuffing up my nose. How the hell could something so good go so bad so fast?
Six hours later, his ringtone had me throwing off my depressed tent of blankets to grab the phone, but without preamble, he asked to speak to Tristan. Lurking in my bedroom doorway, I listened as my son giggled at whatever Jack said, and offered up Bally's latest escapades.
"I love you daddy. I miss you too...yes sir. Bye daddy."
My heart clenched as I eavesdropped. Tristan soon skipped down the hall to return my phone, and I eagerly grabbed it, but the call was ended. My control snapped, and I jabbed 'Call' but was not surprised when voicemail clicked on.
"Listen you son of a bitch. You are a son of a bitch!" Okay, I really should have thought my dialogue through. Taking a breath, I struggled for clarity. "What right do you have to be mad at me for not bringing a four-year old on tour to watch his dad be groped by groupies?" That was unfair, but it just shot out of my mouth.
Breathe Marissa, breathe. My heart was thumping painfully.
"You lied to me. You said you knew Tristan was yours. You brought us to LA as one big happy family then sneaked off for a paternity test. You asshole..." Clicking 'End' before I said something else stupid, I collapsed on my bed.
His return call came directly, and even though I had waited for that ring for days, I obstinately hit ignore. The beep of a voicemail did not follow, and I remembered his stubbornness when it came to leaving a message.
'I didn't say I didn't want to talk, I said I didn't have a message.' His words from that day at the hospital taunted me.
I longed to call Jack again, but what would I say? What was the use if I hadn't changed my mind about sitting out the tour, and he hadn't made an apology for his reaction?
When a week passed, it seemed as if I weren't only sitting out tour, I was sitting out so much more. Our love, our life together, was on ice.
I didn't know where I and Jack were going from here. The tour had him stressed to the max. I was sure that accounted for the way he had spoken to me. I was keeping important anger to myself again, choosing to seethe over the lab tests instead of talking to him about my feelings of betrayal. What kind of relationship did we have though if it couldn't survive those stresses?
♪♫••══════════════════════════••♬ ♭
as always, you guys rock. thanks for the support and feedback!
★Some fans are not seeing the Jack Who private chapters, here are the links to the ones that are actual chapters and not just previews. Thanks for letting me know! :
sizzling chapter 20 http://www.wattpad.com/18261252
sizzling chapter 29 http://www.wattpad.com/18658301