Page 72 of Jackson
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Jackson
Dexter was sitting on the deck with me, we’d had a long session that day and I was fucked. I didn’t want to talk to him anymore, I didn’t want to eat, I just wanted Summer, and tosleep.
“She saw you with Ted, do you remember that?” Dextersaid.
“No, I remember every fucking thing butthat.”
For a few days, I’d been totally out of it, sedated I’d found out and, boy, was I pissed off with that. I was distraught to learn Summer had left, but I didn’t blame her one bit. I’d confessed the one thing I didn’t want to. Well, I wanted to, eventually, but not the way I did. To blurt that shit out while I was fucked up, bleeding, drugged—it was no surprise she had run and didn’t want to speak to me. And as for what she saw? I had blocked that from my mind, I had no idea what I’d done, other than what I was told. It sickenedme.
“Have you spoken to her? Does she ring to ask how I am?” I asked. I was desperate for news ofSummer.
“Occasionally, but right now, I guess she needs time. Perri callsthough.”
“Why won’t she ring me andask?”
“Do you want herto?”
I stood from the daybed and paced. “Of course, I fucking want herto!”
“Then why don’t you call her?” heasked.
I stopped my pacing and turned to look at him. “Because I’m scared, Dex. I can’t hear the words that I know she’llsay.”
“What is it that you think she’llsay?”
“That she wants nothing more to do with me, that she regrets coming here, that she’s disgusted with me.” My voice had trailed off into a whisper and I turned back to face thesea.
“Just keep your goal in mind, Jack. You want her back, you need to keep fighting the urges and work onyourself.”
I sighed. That was easier said than done. I felt him pat me on the shoulder as he rose and left. I headed for the kitchen and pressed play on the music centre. I couldn’t stand the silence. I grabbed a beer and took it back to the deck. At first, I wasn’t concentrating on the lyrics of the song playing, but one line caught my attention. I listened to Paulo Nutini singBetter Man.Summer had told me once I had the same voice, gravelly. I recalled the day. We had been in a bar in London. I couldn’t remember the song but I knew it was one I liked and knew the words to. I’d sung it as we danced. In fact, the more I thought, the more I realised, we’d danced a lot. We’d done a lot together fullstop.
It was that fact that had caused the argument between Dane and me that night. He was pissed off that I hadn’t wanted to visit a strip club with him after the bar trawl. I remember telling him that he had something wonderful at home, why the fuck would he want a stripper? The argument escalated from that point. He accused me of being in love with his wife, I spent too much time with her, and she only laughed when she was with me. All of that was true, I’d told him. I think I also told him that if she were mine I wouldn’t be fucking every slut in town, and I wouldn’t be squandering money in gambling dens. I’d be fucking her every night. He took a swing at me, I raised my arm to defend myself but he missed. I fought back, pushed him away. His body did a full rotation and he stumbled back against the low stone wall of the bridge we were on. I reached out to grab him, of course I did, but I wasn’t quickenough.
I’d watched him fall; I heard the thump as the train hit him. It was a sickening sound. Then I heard the screech of the train’s brakes as it came to a halt. I looked over the bridge; I couldn’t see him. I could hear screams though. I was frozen to the spot with fear. A car pulled to a halt, a man approached me and all I could do was point. He called the paramedics, I think. The rest of the night was ablur.
I shook my head to clear the memory. No matter how much time had passed, it still made me sick to my stomach to think about that night. I was even sicker that I never told anyone what had really happened. I’d lied. To tell the truth would mean to tell Summer what we’d fought about, and at that point, I didn’t want to tarnish her memory of him. Even after she’d found out about the child, I still kept quiet. I wanted her to think it was one indiscretion. The truth was, Dane was fucking her bridesmaid at their wedding and he’d continued to fuck anything that walked from that dayon.
* * *
Idrew a lot,all were pictures of her but not sexual ones. I drew her sitting on the beach, on the daybed. I drew her laughing and smiling. It was as I studied one picture of her face that I had an idea. I grabbed my phone and keys, locked up the house, and headed for thebar.
I had something to do. Dexter had said to give him some more art and I knew exactly what I wanted todo.
The front of the bar was just a brick wall, a miserable looking red brick wall with an iron door. There was nothing on the outside to indicate it was even a bar and Dex liked it that way. The people that visited were not the ones who were strolling the streets, looking for a drinking hole. They were people that knew Dex, knew D-J and me, and sought us and the barout.
I wanted passion on that wall but not in the way Dex thought when I met him inside and explained my thoughts. He gave me free rein on the understanding that whatever it was I drew, if he hated it, it would be covered up. I agreed and grabbed mypaints.
It took the best part of a week to complete, and every day Dex would stand beside me and smile at the progress. When it was done, I took a step back. It was just a painting of Summer’s face, done in purple. She held a rose to her lips. Her eyes were why I then sprayed the word, ‘Passion.’ They were full of it. It was the eyes I saw when she looked at me, the eyes that I’d caused to shed tears, the eyes that sparkled when I held her; the eyes that had clouded with desire when I’d fuckedher.
I took a photo using my phone. I wanted that piece of artwork framed. I wanted to be able to fall asleep each night looking at her and having those eyes bore straight to mysoul.
“Fuck me,” Iheard.
D-J had climbed from his car and stood besideme.
“Most of your stuff is like, dark, fucked up mind shit. That is beautiful,” he said with alaugh.
