Forget Me Not (16 page)

“Wow. That’s really great, Mickey,” he says, smiling warmly, and then silence. No congratulatory hug or a million questions. I guess I should’ve told Emma first if I wanted the full works.

“By EDDEX Records, for a new band,” I offer, hoping to pry a more enthusiastic response from him.

“Congratulations. We should go for dinner tonight to celebrate.”

That’s a start I suppose, but I was really expecting him to appear more surprised. It’s not every day a top producer from New York hires me out of the blue.

Then it hits me.

“Did you do this?” I accuse.

“Sorry?”

“Did you set this up? He said it was a friend that made him aware of me. Was that you?” My body tenses apprehensively waiting for an answer.

“That depends on whether you’re going to be mad at me or not.” His eyes are big and innocent like a child being scolded, but that doesn’t stop me from being annoyed. I turn away from him, feeling like a complete idiot.

“Jesse, I can’t believe you did that.”

My cheeks are flushed. I’m completely gutted. I thought I’d finally been noticed for my work, but all along it was Mr. Jenner pulling strings with his hotshot friends.

“Did what? I hardly did a thing, Mickey. I promise.” I daren’t look at him but his voice is quiet, apologetic.

“What you did, Jesse, was make this about you. I thought I’d done this myself, but I couldn’t even do that. I had to have a helping hand.” I sulk. My head hangs low, heavy with humiliation.

“No, it wasn’t like that.” I shake my head at his words. “Please, let me explain?” I motion my hand in front of me, signaling for him to say his peace. “Look, Dean is an acquaintance who happened to mention that he was looking for a photographer to shoot a cover. When I saw the direction you’d taken at your exhibition I thought you’d be perfect and told him that he should check you website. I haven’t heard from him since, so I didn’t think to say anything to you.”

Lifting my eyes to look at him I can see he’s genuine.

“I only suggested you to him on the off chance. He’s a very particular man, Mickey, and I can assure you that he wouldn’t hire you just to help out someone he knows. If he wants you to work on the album cover then that’s because he thinks you’re the best person for the job, and to be honest, if you can’t see that then you obviously don’t have enough faith in your work.” He reaches across for my hand and brings it up to his mouth, allowing his words to prickle my skin. “And you should. You’re unbelievably talented.”

My body relaxes at his touch and as a result, so does he.

“Friends?” he asks, sporting huge, puppy dog eyes.

I hesitate. “Just don’t pull anymore crap like that, okay? If I want your help I’ll ask for it.”

“I’m sorry. I was proud of you and I thought I could help. You deserve a big break.” I
deserve
it? His words register their significance, and now I get it.

“Jesse, you don’t need to make amends for anything. You know that, right?”

I watch him, but his eyes are on the road as he starts up the car and prepares to move.

“Sure,” he replies,
sceptically, and I’m left wondering how such a powerful man can be in need of so much reassurance.

Staring at the tall white church I feel peaceful already. There’s something about churches that gets to me. I’m not exactly a religious person. Throughout my life I’ve been blessed with reasons to believe, but also reasons to doubt. Nonetheless, regardless of my faith, or lack of, I still find such serenity here. I can’t say the same for Jesse, though. We’ve been sat in the parking lot for ten minutes and he hasn’t made any attempt to exit the car. With the wheel still in his grasp, he sits back against his seat, absentmindedly staring forward.

“Jesse, we don’t have to do this today. We can come back another time,” I suggest, my tone low and quiet, wary of alarming him since we haven’t spoken since we got here.

“No, it’s been too long already. Will you come with me?” Finally, he looks at me with needy eyes.

“Of course.”

We remove ourselves from the car and I rush around to be by his side. He takes my hand and we walk unhurriedly along the gravelly path towards the cemetery. The grounds are beautifully well kept with freshly cut grass and summer flowers blossoming along the border. The sun sits nicely on my skin but the heat is restrained by the steady breeze. We’re the only ones here and yet the area feels anything but lonely.

Jesse is oblivious to the beautiful day surrounding us. His body is tense and his grip around my hand is vice-like.

“I don’t know where to look for them,” he says, scanning the stones on either side of the walkway.

“This way,” I whisper.

I tug gently on his hand, pulling him towards the right corner of the churchyard. I can feel him eyeing me suspiciously, but he doesn’t get chance to say anything before I point towards two parallel plots.

My chest constricts as he edges closer to read the small engraved script on each stone. They’re simple with minimal wording and decoration. It’s clear that they haven’t been looked after in the same way that the other plots have. There’s no evidence that flowers have ever been left and they look miserably unloved. There are no clues in the wording to the people that they belong to, nothing to indicate what or who they left behind, and nothing to show for the people they were. Just names and dates.

Jesse loosens his grip on my hand and lowers himself onto bended knee. I stand behind him, reluctantly giving him some space when all I want to do is shelter him from this pain.

“I should’ve bought flowers,” he murmurs, his voice brittle.

“We can bring some tomorrow?” I propose calmly, but mentally kick myself for not thinking ahead.

Nodding, he remains on his knee and lightly dusts his fingers across the grass of his mother’s grave.

“I know he didn’t die in service or in action, but I’d have thought the army would have helped with the funeral costs for Ted. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a better headstone,” he wonders aloud.

“I’m not sure.”

After a moment of realization he sighs. “I guess Dale couldn’t be bothered to find out. I should’ve been here.”

I don’t know what to say. I doubt there’s anything I can say to make it better, I suppose he just needs to vent. He stands again and steps back to my side.

“I could’ve given them both better funerals. Dale didn’t give a shit. I bet there was nobody even there,” he snarls bitterly.

“I was there,” I admit, unsure whether I should be telling him this, but hoping that it allows him some relief from his misguided guilt. He looks at me sharply, and I check his face for any conflict, but there’s only confusion.

“You went to my mother’s funeral?” he asks.

“And Ted’s.”

“Why?”

“I thought you might be there, I guess.” I’m suddenly shy. Although I have already exposed the devastation caused by his departure, my declaration makes it all the more obvious that the aftershocks lasted for many years later.

“I should’ve been,” he sighs, pulling me a little closer. “I just couldn’t face returning for Ted’s funeral when I knew that Dale would be there. I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself and a funeral is no place to get even.”

Staring back down at his mother’s grave, his hand rubs the back of his head. His breath catches and I look up to see traces of tears glistening in his eyes. I cling to him, wrapping both arms around his waist, every ounce of me yearning to take on this grief for him. I can’t bear to think of him so torn up inside.

“I didn’t even know about my mom’s death until after the funeral,” he reveals. I pull away just enough to see his face. He wipes his eyes quickly with the back of his hand.

“Dale didn’t tell you?” I ask, incredulously.

“Of course he didn’t.” He sniffs. “Remember Smithy?”

I nod, a little confused.

“He was working the doors of one of my clubs and he’d heard the news from his parents. He passed on his condolences without even realizing that I didn’t know.”

I can’t handle anymore. My eyes are now teeming with tears. I bury my head in his chest, hiding my anguish. He has plenty of his own to deal with without being faced with mine.

Shuffling his body around so that he’s completely facing me, he wraps both arms around my back and squeezes gently. He’s so tall and broad, I feel so miniscule in comparison, so protected and safe. I only wish I could return the favor.

“Jesse, I don’t know what to say. I wish I could make it all better. Maybe if I’d tried even harder to find you then I could have told you myself, or maybe I should have organized the funerals so that they could have had better send offs. I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.” My voice breaks and I briefly hold my breath to halt the sobs.

“Hey.” He pulls back to look down at me. “Mickey, you didn’t have to do anything. You don’t owe me. And, just you being here with me now helps more than you could ever know. If it wasn’t for you then I’d never have even come back.”

Wiping my cheeks with his thumbs, he clears my face of tears. He kisses my forehead and pulls me into another embrace, eliminating some of the pain in my chest.

“I love you so much,” I whisper.

“I don’t deserve your love,” he bites, quietly.

“Jesse!” I exclaim. I look up at him, shocked by his self-hatred.

“But I love you too, and I need you.”

“You have me,
deservedly
,” I state, articulating the words clearly, hoping that they sink in.

We don’t break the connection as we walk back to the car, our arms linked around each other’s waists. As we reach the passenger door he slowly comes to a stop. His previously gloomy blues are now serene as they stare down at me. Wandering hands gradually make their way to my hair and his fingers weave between the loose curls. His mouth finds mine and we’re lost in another moment, cocooned in our little bubble. We console each other in the most sincere way we know how before he releases my lips, resting his forehead against mine as we catch our breath.

“I thought you didn’t do public displays of affection?”

He smirks deliciously. “Sweets, I’m making up for ten years worth of lost time. I want you anywhere I can get you.”

“Even outside a church?”

“Even
inside
a church…at midnight mass. I’m not going to waste my time worrying about what other people think of our PDA’s.” We laugh together, relaxing after an incredibly tense half hour. “Now come, before I have you in the parking lot.”

What a start to the week. Mundane Monday it is not. The three of us are currently relaxing on the couch after Jesse treated us to a congratulatory meal at the local seafood restaurant in the town centre. The food was perfect, and the company was exquisite.

Benjamin has been stuck to Jesse like glue since we showed up at his soccer practice in the Mustang. His friends were awestruck at the beast, as were many of their parents. Benjamin lapped up the praise and his sweetly smug grin has remained with him all evening.

We finally let him in on the fact that Jesse and I knew each other previously. There was no need to touch on the specifics, all he knows is that we were very good friends, a very long time ago, and now we are friends again. Unsurprisingly, Benjamin took on this information with ease. He didn’t bat an eyelid at us holding hands or when Jesse kissed me pleasantly on the cheek after making a speech in my honor. I think he’s aware of far more than we give him credit for, but if he’s ever ready to ask questions, then I now feel that I could be comfortable answering them.

I’ve no fear of Benji rejecting Jesse, or specifically, our relationship. There’s a connection forming between the pair and I know it’s very early days, but I can’t help but feel hopeful that there’s a genuine bond there. That growing bond only instills my willpower to make this relationship work, not just for my own happiness but for my son’s too.

Yet again, I feel as though I’m slipping into a food coma, and it appears as though the feeling is mutual when Benjamin actually insists on going to bed.

“Okay, sweetheart. You’re pretty beat, huh?”

“Yeah,” he yawns.

“How about you go and get changed for bed and brush your teeth, then I’ll come and tuck you in?”

He nods sleepily and hoists himself off from the sofa next to me. To my utter surprise he walks over to the end of our corner sofa where Jesse is lounging lazily. He climbs into the space next to him and falls into Jesse’s open arms, which quickly respond with a reciprocated hug.

“Goodnight, Jesse,” he sighs, sleepily.

“G’ night. See you for breakfast.” Jesse must be shocked too, but he gives away nothing, not even to my trained eyes.

“Can we have eggs again?” Benji perks up.

“Sure.” Jesse smiles warmly.

The embrace brings tears to my eyes, beautifully happy tears that I want to welcome but can’t. I don’t want to make a big deal about this. I open my eyes wide trying to disperse the tears but they betray me and fall anyway. I quickly dab them away with the palm of my hand just as Benjamin turns back to me.