Page 103 of Memories By the Shore
“Sounds good, Son. Call me if you need anything,” he says before we end the call.
I toss the phone onto the passenger seat. The silence is deafening. Sadness and regret and anger bubble over. I loosen my grip on the steering wheel, swing my arm back, and punch the center console. It takes a few more good swings before I feel any relief.
Pulling out of the hospital parking garage, I’m a mess with emotions. A few more tears fall before I reach the highway. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Freebird”comes on the radio as I plow down the dark road. In less than three months, my life has been turned upside down in the best way, and now, to have a portion of it taken away is unfathomable.
I drive for an unclear amount of time before I realize I’m at the beach house.
Pulling into the vegetation-covered driveway, I park my truck and head inside. Everything is precisely how Avery and I left it after we’d gotten married. This place doesn’t even feel like mine anymore. It’s a ghost of what once could have been. My family. My life.Will Avery want to stay married now? Will we have no reason to stay together? Will this mean she’ll now move to Arizona for college?I’ll be losing my baby, my wife, and my future with them both.
Dad: Just checking on you. We’re back at Helen’s. Avery is asleep.
I start to tap out a quick response, but the heaviness in my chest combined with the lack of interest in communicating with another human is enough to slide my phone back into the pocket of my shorts, ignoring my dad and the rest of the world.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Then
Jasper
Each episode, unlike the one before, I’m sent into a tailspin the last couple of days. This one came on faster than they typically do. When I arrived at the beach house two nights ago, I was going to stay for a few hours to clear my head, mourn, and then head back to Helen’s to be with Avery. But I didn’t. I was gutted and in disbelief, but then slowly the emotions melted away. They transformed into a painful weight pressed on my every limb, but in a way, I couldn’t feel anymore.
I roll over to the side of the bed and snatch my phone from the wooden floor. I’ve kept it off since I got here, only checking it twice. Pressing the small button on top, I watch as my phone turns on—and with it, a slew of concerned text messages.
Dad: Where are you?
Arizona: Just got home. Your dad said you’d be here soon.
Arizona: Where are you?
Arizona: Is everything okay?
Arizona: I’m getting worried. Where are you?
Arizona: Text me back. I need you.
Dad: Got worried. Drove up to the beach house.
Dad: I see your truck here. I’ll give you space. Please let me know if you need anything.
At least my dad knows now.
Arizona: Jasper? Please answer my calls or text back.
I should be bothered by her pleading, but I can’t get there.
Arizona: I’m sad. I miss you.
Her words mean nothing in this moment, and I hate myself for it.
Arizona: I can’t stop crying,please come cuddle me.
Dad: Avery is worried. I won’t tell her where you are, because you seem to need space, but I’m only giving you another day and then we’re coming to get you.
Arizona: Spoke with your dad. He reassured me everything is alright. He doesn’t seem worried.
Arizona: Does he know where you are?
Arizona: Jasper, I need you. Please.
