Page 85 of High Velocity

Any contact—which was limited to very sporadic phone calls—was initiated by me. Jackson got progressively more upset when there was nothing, no note, no flowers, and no call, coming from my father.

“Look, I’m fine. Like I told you, I’m used to it. I grew up with a dad who barely acknowledged my existence and, over the years, I’ve grown calluses on my soul. I simply don’t have any expectations. It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

He throws me a dubious look.

“I call bullshit.”

“No, honestly,” I insist. “It’s easier this way. Occasionally, I’ll call him to alleviate my own sense of guilt and duty, but other than that, I’m fine with this distance.”

Except, this time I want to see him face-to-face. I want to watch his expression when I ask him about his involvement with those bank robberies.

My father may well be the only one left who has all the answers.

Jackson

“We’ll be fine here, Ma.”

From the stubborn set of my mother’s mouth, I can tell she’s not happy with my response.

She and Ama, who is back from her family visit, went ahead and made up a guest room in the main house for Stephanie. My name wasn’t mentioned, but since I’m not about to let her sleep alone when she’s within throwing distance, that would’ve meant both of us in the same house as my parents.

Why, when we have a cabin with some privacy and a lock on the door just steps away? We’ve just spent five days in a hospital room with a constant flow of people in and out.

I want some time alone with her. Slow the rest of the world down so we can catch up. No way we can do that with my mother or Ama hovering around all the time.

“What if something happens when you’re out on a search?” Ma persists.

“Then she has a phone, or she can use her two healthy legs and one arm. She’s not helpless.”

“Leave them, Alex,” Jonas urges her as he walks up behind her, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Let those kids catch their breath.”

“At least let me pack you up some food,” Ama offers.

Since that’s what I came in for in the first place, I agree to that.

“Oh fine,” Ma finally gives in. “But you’d better make sure my number is programmed in her phone, just in case.”

Again, an easy concession on my part, since I did as much already when I picked up a new cell phone for Stephanie yesterday. Apparently, her old one ended up at the bottom of a rain barrel.

It seems to appease my mother, who walks away with what she perceives to be a win. If I want any peace in the coming days, I’m not about to disavow her of that illusion.

Jonas claps me on the shoulder, while Ama starts filling up containers from the pans she has going on the stove.

“She’s rattled,” he explains. “Has had bad dreams every night since it happened. Your ma is a tough cookie, but she walked in on a brutally violent scene, the kind of which she’d never been exposed to before. Not like you, me, and even Stephanie, in her line of work. The reality it could’ve easily been one of her loved ones lying in a pool of blood hit home hard. Be patient with her, and if she’s a little invasive, it’s only because she needs to reassure herself you’re both okay.”

I’ve been so busy looking out for Stephanie, it didn’t even occur to me that what played out five days ago must’ve left its imprint on my mother as well.

“Shit. I didn’t think of that,” I admit.

He gives my shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand.

“You don’t have to. I did, which is my job. Yours is looking after your woman, which I’m glad to see you doing.”

It’s funny, I can almost hear Thomas in those words. I miss him. Every time I walk up the porch steps now, my eyes are drawn to the empty rocking chair.

When Jonas turns to follow my mother out of the kitchen, I call after him.

“Hey, Dad…you gonna be around after dinner for a drink and a stogie on the porch tonight?”

---