Page 31 of Pieces of Us

As if on autopilot or reflex, his message unlocked that deep part of me that went excessive with exercise. I ran for an entire hour on the treadmill before doing a YouTube high intensity dance workout. It was this sort of physical reaction that he incited, which made me realise just how triggered I still was by him.

After my limbs were nothing more than wet sandbags, I called an emergency session with my therapist. Luckily, he was radio silent for the rest of the week.

The only reason I am at Uncle Jacob’s today is because I know Lincoln won’t be. Dad asked me to come and pick up some papers for him. Which is lucky for both of us, because I want to kill two birds with one stone and chat about my own project I want to work on.

I’m not sure if I would ever return to living here, but I want to at least have that option.

‘Are you just going to stand there all day?’ Uncle Jacob bellows through the open front door as if he were anticipating my arrival even before I rang the bell. I know I never need to knock, but it makes more sense, after all these years. I haven’t come and gone like I used to for a very long time.

‘I’m just soaking everything in.’ It’s a vague reply, which has got him curious.

‘Honey, we have all afternoon. Get in here so we can properly talk about why you have a permanent scowl on your face.’ He opens the door, waiting for me to walk past.

‘Study or lounge?’

‘Study, so I can get those papers for your dad and work on your designs in real time. Want a drink or snack?’

‘Water and maybe a cheese toastie?’ Uncle Jacob makes the best cheese toasties. We re-route to the kitchen. With the sandwich maker plugged in, he grabs the contents from the fridge and starts chopping up the ingredients.

Before I forget, I reach for the framed photo in my bag that I forgot to give him at his party. ‘Here.’ I slide the rectangular gift towards him on the breakfast bar. I love how casual it is between us. Unscrewing the lid, I take small sips, observing his perplexed reaction over the gift. ‘Forgot to bring it on the weekend,’ I gargle over water.

When he peels the paper back he lets out a ‘Fuck yes!’ and laughs in disbelief. The way he’s holding the precious frame is as if it’s a newborn baby. I didn’t let on at the time to Dad, but I indeed got a personalised autograph for Uncle Jacob from the Peaky Blinders crew.

‘And Jas and Linc wonder why you’re my favourite,’ he jokes, clutching the gift to his chest. Not even the mention of Linc can make the side-splitting smile on my face fall. Such a small gesture has made Uncle Jacob so happy. Like Dad, he’s been through his fair share of shit in life. Unlike Mum, who chose to be a far-away parent, his wife, the other member who made up their foursome, died. Since then, his sole focus has been on the business and his kids. You never want to think of your second dad as someone who is somewhat of a playboy, but rumour has it, every woman knows he’s just there for a good time. When his wife died, his heart did too.

‘They were honestly so much fun to interview.’ I delve into every minute detail as he prepares the salivating sandwich I’ve had walking, talking dreams about for years. Even though I have the recipe, I can never make it the same.

Once I finish every morsel on my plate, we head to the study.

‘Let’s cut to the chase. Seeing Linc didn’t go well, did it?’ He is rustling papers, trying to find whatever files Dad needs. I slump on the lounge.

‘You could say that. I’m still so mad, you know?’ I sigh, punching the pillow on my lap.

‘I know.’

‘It’s so stupid, I know. I just…everything that happened was the catalyst for the trajectory my life took. It’s not that I’m not in love with my life. It’s that I let him, her—them—affect me to the point that I didn’t recognise myself anymore.’

Uncle Jacob turns and stares at me. I think he’s shocked that I’m finally opening up. Still, without a word, he lets me continue.

‘I’ve done things…I’m not proud of…Let them get me down to a place so low that there were times I didn’t think I’d ever come back.’ My voice wavers at the admission.

‘Dad…and Mum…and Jagger, Lily, Rome, my team…they all helped me through it.’ I skirt around the intricacies of my demons. ‘I’ve come a long way, but seeing Lincoln again…it has resurrected some of those behaviours and thoughts. I’m scared that if I let him in again, he’ll ruin me beyond desolation.’

I feel a slight weight lift from my shoulders, finally being able to tell the detrimental effect his son’s actions had on me.

While the room is still and silent, it isn’t suffocating like it was when I was in Lincoln’s presence. It’s not that Uncle Jacob is trying to tread carefully. It’s that he’s taking measured time to give me—and me only—the right advice. It isn’t about his son and what’s best for him. It’s what he thinks is best for me. With his arms folded and ankles crossed at the knees, I can tell he’s relaxed, just trying to ingest what I’ve told him.

Finally, he moves next to me, hugging me from the side and causing my head to fall on his shoulder.

‘Don’t let him back in if it means you damage a single part of you. He made his mistakes, and he has to live with the consequences. You don’t. You were collateral damage, and no one gets to have that hold on you anymore. Do you hear me? You just do what you’ve done for seven years. Protect yourself. You put your wants and needs ahead of anyone. Don’t let my son ruin what you’ve created. Do you hear me, sweetheart?’ It isn’t a rushed speech or one that is rehearsed. It’s simply one of the closest people to my heart, protecting and loving me in his own way.

A tear slithers down my cheek and I sniffle at his tenderness. He didn’t press or push me on the semantics of what I went through. He just let me unravel. How can his son be such a fucking asshole?

‘Thank you,’ I muster, feeling safe from his words.

We sit there for a while just catching up on our lives. It’s nice to have our one-on-one time, and for me to understand how Dad has been these past six years without me—seven, if you include my absent, hollow year twelve year.

I feel content, knowing Dad really has been okay. Uncle Jacob is rather tight-lipped when I press him on Dad’s love life, but I respect his loyalty, even if I’m dying of curiosity. He waves me off, saying there is nothing to tell, but he uses his lying voice. The one he used when he told us Linc’s old dog, Rambo, went to live on a farm, when in fact it was just code for ‘he died’.

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