I’m glad he sits next to me because if his story’s as sad as Parker’s, I’m going to lose it.
Jay takes a deep breath as he thinks about what he is going to say. The muscle in his jaw flexes as he clenches and unclenches his teeth, wrestling with his inner demons as he decides if he wants to tell his story. With a sigh, he starts, “My dad’s a Navy SEAL, so we’ve lived all over the world but mostly in warmer climates. When I was nine, we moved to Colorado, so my dad could do a joint class with some other Special Forces units at the Air Force Academy.
“We weren’t used to the weather in Colorado, but we managed to get by. I was enjoying that year in school. I was able to hang out on campus and learn with some of the college students. My dad had me working out and taking martial arts lessons since the time I could walk. He taught me how to use lethal weapons as well as everyday objects as a self-defense means.
“All my weekdays were the same. I would take the bus to school, my mom would pick me up after-school and drop me off at the campus, I would do my homework in my dad’s office, and then I would spend the rest of the day working out and learning with his students. On weekends, my dad and I would go hunting, fishing, or hiking.” He tells the story in a flat tone like he’s detached himself from the story.
“We didn’t see my mom much. She was pregnant and didn’t want to go out in the cold if she didn’t have to, but she was happy sitting at home in front of the fire, reading her books.” A wistful smile graces Jay’s face temporarily before his expression goes blank again.
“One Saturday, my dad had to leave me to go work on campus. He didn’t want to take me with him because the work didn’t involve his students. I still wanted to go, though, so while he was saying bye to my mom, I snuck into the backseat of his car and hid where he couldn’t see me.” The muscles in Jay’s arms become hard as rocks as tension builds in his story. Just like with Parker, I want to tell him he can stop. I don’t hold his hand because he’d likely break my fingers with as tight as his muscles are.
He closes his eyes. “When my dad got to school, I snuck out of the car and ran to his office. There was a small hiding place between a chair and a couch that were pushed together. If I ran fast enough, I could make it there before him. When I heard the door open, I’m ducked low, and a woman’s laugh hits my ears. I couldn’t remember there being any female instructors on his rotation, so I tried to sit up slightly to take a peek at the situation.
“The girl was a student, but I didn’t recognize her from any of the classes I attended. She had her hand on my dad’s cheek, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. I was too absorbed in what I realized was happening.”
Jay growls as he continues. “The girl leaned forward and kissed my dad. I was hoping he backed off her, but no, he kissed her back. Before I knew it, I jumped out and hit my dad in the face. I remember screaming at him, but not what I was saying. My dad grabbed me, spun me around, and sat me in the chair next to where I was hiding. The girl was screaming, and I was wishing I would’ve hit her to make her shut up.
“My dad asked her to leave the room, and he walked over to me. He didn’t touch me, but he knelt in front of me. He said, ‘I’m not sure how to feel right now. I’m guilty, you caught us. I’m mad you snuck out. I’m proud you would defend your mom. I don’t know what to do.’ I wasn’t sure what to do at this point.”
Sadness fills Jay’s voice, and I realize there’s more. “He told me he should have my mom come get me because I snuck out, and he would talk to my mom later, but he had to clear up the situation there before it got out of control. He promised he wouldn’t do anything else with the girl. He pulled out his cell phone and called my mom.”
Tears form in his eyes, but I’m not sure I want to hear what happens next.
“My mom never made it to the school. Her car hit a patch of ice then slid into a tree. I was told she and the baby died instantly.” His hands cover his face and he cries openly, now.
Not knowing what to say, I put my arms around him and just hold him as he whispers, “It’s all my fault she’s dead. If I hadn’t snuck out, she would still be with me, and I would have a baby brother.”
He puts his head on my shoulder, and I kiss his temple. “It’s not your fault. You can’t control the weather or the road conditions.” I plan to leave it at that, but I hear him blame himself again. “You’re not to blame. There was a series of horrible events which led up to that moment. You were only in control of a few of those. You have to let the guilt go, Jay. You’ll never be able to move on if you don’t.”
We sit like that for about ten minutes, and the rest of the guys clean tear tracks from their faces. Jay finally sits up, but his eyes remain distant with none of the usual sparks. He kisses the top of my head. “Thank you for listening to me.”
I give him a final squeeze. “I could tell you didn’t want to tell that story. I’m glad you did, though. Thank you.” After another minute, I speak up. “I’ll tell the next story. It’s more of the scary than sad kind.”
No one says anything so I go ahead. “I’ve lived in and out of foster homes all my life. The longest I’ve ever spent in one place is about six months. When I was twelve, I lived with this nasty couple that treated me like a maid and a babysitter. The creepy man would always brush against me, which made me uncomfortable.”
I realize they’re going to take this story in the wrong direction in their heads and try to get it back on track. “Whenever I could get out of the house, I would. I used to walk around the park and over to the school. On days when classes were available, I would hang out at the Rec Center. I used to love the Rec Center classes.
“One day, while I was at the park, a man grabbed me from behind. He told me not to scream, that he wasn’t going to hurt me. I didn’t believe him, but I panicked. This man was so much bigger than me, and I knew I couldn’t fight my way out. I worked on calming myself and thought of a way to get away. If I did something stupid, I’d get hurt.” Years later, I can still feel the strong arms around my chest and waist.
“He told me again that he wasn’t going to hurt me. He told me he needed me to listen carefully because he had something important to tell me. I let him think I was listening to him and relaxed a little. When he felt my tension lessen, he loosened his grip some. That’s when I bit his arm as hard as I could. He screamed and let go of me. Then, I took off.” I was pretty proud of myself for being able to do that. Suddenly, I remember something else about that day.
Jay leans into me. “He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He must have felt me stiffen from the memory.