I end up calling Jax since he’s the only other person in my life I talk to anymore besides Charissa, but there’s no way I’m telling her any of this.
“Hey,” he answers after three rings. “What’s wrong?”
I slump back in the seat and pick at a crack in the steering wheel. “Why would you automatically think something’s wrong?”
“Because you’ve never called me while I was in school unless there’s something wrong.”
“You know me too well.” I sigh. “I just… I’m worried. I think I might be in over my head with something and just needed to talk to someone. Or procrastinate doing something.”
“Mason will be fine,” Jax reassures me. “He’ll get past the absent dad thing eventually—we both did.”
“I know that.” My head falls back against the leather headrest and I wish I was staring at the night sky instead of the cracked ceiling of my vehicle. “That’s not what I was talking about though.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “Is it drinking? Do you feel like you’re going to drink?”
My mouth sinks into a frown. “Have I ever had a problem with drinking in the two and a half years I’ve been sober?”
“I don’t know… You never talk about yourself, Avery, at least on a personal level. Just Mason and me, other people, bills, laundry, and school. That’s it. So I never know what’s going on with you. Fuck, you could be dating someone, and I wouldn’t even know it.”
After momentarily pondering his words, I realize just how right he is. All that time I spent crying in my car, stressing at night, and unable to sleep, and I thought no one had any idea. And that’s how I wanted it. At least, that’s what I thought until Jax told me last night that he already knew about the crying.
Maybe it’s time to start opening up a little.
“Okay, I’ll try to work on that in the future, but right now, I have to ask you a question.” I raise my head up and flip down the visor to block the sunlight. “So there’s this guy that I’ve been hanging out with—”
“It’s not Conner, is it?” He sounds so disappointed in me. “Because if it is then—”
“What? No! Like I would ever get near that asshole again after what happened.”
“Sorry, but I had to check. Sometimes that happens, you know. People go back to people even when they’ve done unthinkable things to them… like Mom and me. Even I think about going back to her sometimes. I used to go back to her all the time when I was living with her and she begged for my help. I’d always say it was the last time, but it never was until she was gone.”
“You think about going back to her still?” I’m shocked and kind of appalled.
“Not to live with her or anything,” He quickly says, “just to see if I can find her and see if she’s okay. I mean, I know she did a lot of fucked up stuff, but it’d be nice to know if she was dead or alive.”
“I know,” I agree quietly. “I wish I could find out where she is too, without actually having to talk to her. I wish you never had to go through that stuff with her.”
Silence stretches between us. I’m uncertain what Jax is thinking of but I’m remembering that night I got a phone call from him, the one where I decided it was time for him to come live with me. He sounded so broken, so unlike Jax, and I felt so guilty—still do—for the stuff he went through. Stuff he sometimes talks to me about but I’m sure I haven’t heard all of it.
I finally clear my throat and break the silence. “Well, I’m not going to go back to Conner. I can promise you that.”
“I know you’re not,” he says. “I just… worry.”
“Me too.” I touch a small scar on my upper arm. It’s so faint that hardly anyone notices it unless they look really hard. I notice it all the time, though, never forgetting. “It’s this guy I met at Habitat for Humanity. His name is Tristan and he… Well, I barely know him, yet I feel like I need to help him for reasons I can’t explain to you right now.”
As a gap of silence passes between us again, I wonder if he thinks I’m crazy. If I worried him even more.
I don’t want him to worry.
He should never have to worry.
“Tristan… the guy who wrote on our cupboard?” he finally asks. “Was that the guy you had a dream about last night?”
“Yeah. You know about him and the cupboard?” I’m stunned again by his awareness of what’s going on in my life.
“Yeah, just like I know you fall asleep in front of it all the time.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure how I feel about Jax knowing so much. Just what else does he know? “Well… Yeah, it’s the same guy.”
“Okay, so what do you need to help him with exactly?” he treads cautiously. “I can’t give advice without more details, Av.”
“With sobriety stuff. He has some problems.”
Silence.
And I wonder what he’s thinking again.
Or if he’s remembering…
Everything.
“Even though I love you, and you’re super good at taking care of stuff,” he says. “You’re not a sponsor. Nor do I think you have time to be one. You already have too much on your plate.”
“Yeah, I know, but…” What am I supposed to say? That I had this dream about Tristan needing my help. That ever since I came back to life, I’ve felt like I was brought back to help somebody. That I had to in order to pay for what I did. That I’m starting to think Tristan might be that somebody I’m supposed to help. “What if I want to help him? Not just for him, but for myself? Call it selfish, but what if helping him gives me self-gratification?”
“Then I’d say it was a whole different story because you deserve some self-gratification,” Jax replies. “But you should make sure.”
“Make sure of what exactly?”
“That it’s what you want to do. You already do a shitload of stuff for other people. One of these days, I’m worried you’re going to fall apart or something.”
“I’m never going to fall apart like that again,” I promise him in a harsh tone. “I’m not that girl anymore.”
“I’m not talking about that night. I’m just talking about life and making sure you take care of yourself before you take care of others.”