Page 46 of Hard To Leave

Chapter 15

Jack

I pulledinto the driveway of the brick mansion that held most of my childhood memories. It looked cold, big, and empty, and it was way too much space for one person. Sometimes I wondered why my mother insisted on hanging onto it considering it wasn’t chock-full of pleasant family memories.

You’d think it would be easier for her to sell, move on, and start over. My father’s presence still lingered everywhere, even though I knew he was gone. I still watched and waited for the garage door to open, expecting to see his black Audi to come rolling down the drive.

These visits with my mother were getting harder and harder to take. I had to remind myself that she was still a work in progress and that things would get better with time.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there has been something off lately with her. One minute she would be breaking down in tears, telling me how overwhelmed she was, and the next, she was insisting that she wanted to handle everything on her own. Which made no sense at all because she knew nothing about 401k loans and stock options or real estate investments. I was the one with the business degree, and my rates were affordable. Free of charge, actually. The only thing “financial” she was familiar with was swiping her black Amex card through the card reader at Neiman Marcus.

I stepped out of my Jeep Wrangler and fixed my windblown hair, it looked like the head of a troll doll. I really needed a haircut.

I adjusted the Oakley’s on top of my head and made my way up to the garage door. The sooner I got this visit out of the way, the sooner I could get back to Chloe. Just as I was about to punch in the code, the door lifted open.

The Styrofoam coffee cup in my hand froze. The investment banker who handled my family’s investments strolled over to an older model BMW which was parked on my father’s side of the garage. He dangled his cheap, gray suit coat over his shoulder, which was probably purchased on a two for one deal at JC Penny. His clothes looked wrinkled, his hair looked a mess, and he wore a grin that matched mine when I woke up next to Chloe this morning.

His feet stalled when he caught sight of me. My fingers practically crushed the coffee cup in my hand. I never trusted that son of a bitch, and now I knew why.

He took a step back, holding his hands out defensively. “Jack.” His face contorted into panic. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

My nostrils flared. “First, it’s not Jack. It’s fucking Mr. Jenson to you, asshole. And second, what do you think this looks like?” I tilted my head to the side and pinned him with my icy stare. “To me, it looks like you were just banging my mother.”

He swallowed nervously, glancing over his shoulder. “I care about your mother very much.”

“My father trusted you with his fortune, and this is how you repay him? By fucking his wife?” My jaw turned to stone, my voice sounded more like a growl. “Save your bullshit for someone else because I’m not buying today. For Christ’s sake, she’s old enough to be YOUR own goddamned mother!” I prowled toward him, feeling the adrenaline race through my veins. “You only care about your future commissions,” I spat. “You don’t give a shit about my mother!”

He looked about two seconds away from cowering on the concrete floor. “Jack,” he sputtered. “I mean, Mr. Jenson, I’m sorry for your loss, and I know this is a lot to take in, but…”

I got right up in his face, meeting him eye to eye. I had at least a couple inches on his scrawny little ass. There was no doubt in my mind that I could kick the living shit out of this turd. He looked like he never lifted a weight in his life.

“But nothing, you slimy piece of shit. You’re fired. Kaput. Done. I’m moving all my father’s money out of your company. I’m sure your partners will be delighted to hear that you were fucking the grieving widow of one of their biggest clients. Don’t you ever step foot on this property again. Do you understand me?”

I stormed around him, fighting the urge to throat punch him into the ground. I flew into the kitchen and raced to the bottom of the stairs, hearing the shower running in the upstairs bathroom. I always knew my mother was unfaithful, but to move on so soon, with a piece of garbage like that? It was almost too much to take.

I walked past the walls lined with family photos over to the familiar liquor cabinet. I found an old bottle of Captain Morgan’s, which was my father’s favorite. I twisted off the cap and poured myself a glass. My good mood from earlier had evaporated in a matter of minutes. I chugged the glass, feeling the sting of the rum in the back of my throat and slammed it down on the bar where it shattered into pieces. “Fuck,” I hissed out, checking to see if I had cut my hand.

I looked over at the picture on the end table. It was a photo of Dad and me standing over a Blue Marlin we had caught in Mexico on a fishing trip last summer. Even though I spent half the time on the boat throwing up over the starboard rail, it was one of the last good memories I had of him.

I stood there and took a deep breath. I was trying really hard not to lose my shit. Things were already tense between my mother and me, and running into her fuck buddy/financial advisor had me wound up tighter than a roll of Saran Wrap.

How could she do this? What the hell happened to her? Nothing about this made sense, but at the same time everything started to add up, and it made my stomach sour.

I heard my mother’s soft footsteps as she came padding into the room. Her hair was damp from the shower.

For a brief awkward moment, her gaze held mine. The sight of her had never felt so painful. Questions flickered in her eyes, but nothing came out of her mouth.

She tugged nervously on the sash of her cream-colored robe. “Jack.” She took a hesitant step toward me. “You’re early.” She eyed the splattered glass before slowly sliding her gaze up to my face. No matter what I thought of her right now, she was still my mother. My father would have expected me to behave accordingly.

“I ran into our well-rested financial advisor on the way in here,” I said with a sarcastic bite. “I only have one question. How could you?”

For the first time, I could see the hurt and the guilt flash in her eyes. She straightened her shoulders and spoke in a low voice that I almost didn’t recognize. “Jack, you don’t understand. I don’t want to talk to you about this, because it isn’t fair to you. Just know that I loved your father very much, but our marriage was far from perfect.”

I threw my hands up in frustration. “There is no such thing as a perfect marriage, Mother. Everybody knows this. You don’t think I knew about all the men you slept with over the years?” Her eyes grew wide, and she reached out to touch me, but I took a step back. “You don’t think Dad fucking knew that his wife was running around behind his back? Or that I didn’t know that my mother was a drunk? Do you know what it’s like to be a child and have to live with all these secrets and pretend that everything is normal?”

All the painful, ugly memories unleashed inside me, twisting around in my gut. They hurt so fucking much, I wasn’t sure I could ignore them anymore.

She hung her head and sighed. Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, but I wasn’t sure if they were for Dad, herself, or me.

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