Page 52 of Jackson
I lost track of time. I think I slept, I wasn’t sure. It was dark when I opened my eyes fully and realised I wasn’t tied to the bed anymore. I was lying on my side and curled in a ball. A sweater, one I didn’t recognise, lay across the pillow and under my head. It smelled of her perfume. Every time I breathed in, an image of her came to mind and it settledme.
My cheeks felt chapped and sore. I climbed from the bed and headed to the shower. The tattoo on my wrist itched like fuck and my stomach hurt. I stepped under the shower, adjusting the temperature to cool. I stood for a while, just letting the water run over me and thought hard about myfuture.
Dex was sitting on my bed when I returned. “How are you doing,son?”
“Hollow right now but calm. Great idea with the sweater, by theway.”
“It was Summer’sidea.”
“Where isshe?”
“I had D-J collect her, she’s at my place with Alfie. He’ll mother her, just for a day orso.”
I didn’t answer, just nodded my head. Although she had only been with me for a short while, the house already felt empty. I pulled on a t-shirt and shorts and Dex followed me outside. I sat and watched the people on the beach, the families, and couples walking, holding hands. I’d never have that, at least until I got my shittogether.
“What do I need to do? I can’t live like this anymore. I don’t want Honey, or anyone else. I don’t want to cutanymore.”
“Then we’re halfway there. What is yourgoal?”
“I want Summer. I want a normal relationship with her. I want to still work at the bar, do my art, but getting her back is more important, and I don’t know whether I can stay here and do that. And, when I’m fit, I’ll go home and confront him. I think I need to dothat.”
“Okay, then that’s what we will work towards. I got you some new sketchpads. Every time you feel the urge, draw something. Design me anotherwall.”
“Go home, Dex, and thank you, I needed youtoday.”
He gave me a smile, a pat to the shoulder and then left. I sat the rest of the day, just thinking, watching the world go by andhealing.
