Page 79 of Jackson
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Jackson
From the moment I’d made the decision that I wanted to do something for troubled kids, from the moment I decided that my life had to change, I had thrown myself into my plans. I wasn’t someone who did things by half. Dexter and I decided that a vacant building next to the bar would be a perfect location for our drop-in centre. After borrowing a little money from Perri, we managed to secure a tenancy and set about cleaning the place up. It housed a large empty room that we’d fit with tables, chairs, workspaces, and sofas for relaxing. There was a kitchen and what looked like an old office. We decided the office space would become a therapyroom.
I spent days creating a wall of art. It wasn’t the usual dark, hell on earth stuff that I often painted. I wanted bright, fun, and cheerful. Even the usually lazy D-J did his bit. He cleaned and polished the wooden floor, and fixed windows with new locks that would open. He rigged up a music centre, arrived one day with a collection of two-seater sofas even. We didn’t ask where he’d obtained them. D-J came from a wealthy family, and although he kept away from them, he had never worked yet seemed to have access tomoney.
The local authorities came regularly to inspect and demand, to set in place rules, yet refused to financially contribute. More importantly, Dexter enquired about how to obtain his licence topractice.
I called my sister a couple of times, she told me about my trust being moved and I’d soon have access. I’d been too afraid to actually ask how much it was worth. I’d learned to live so frugally over the past year or so. She also told me that I had bought herhouse.
“How? Did you fake my signature again?” I’dasked.
Her chuckle had me not wanting to know any more. She was a lawyer! When I’d arrived home that evening, I walked through the house inspecting it. I’d been there for nearly a year but never really taken the time to get to know each room. I hesitated outside the bedroom door that Summer had slept in. I hadn’t been in that room since she’d left. I took a deep breath and turned thehandle.
She had stripped the bed and piled the sheets on the end. I bundled them into my arms. She’d left some toiletries in the bathroom, and I smiled hoping that meant she planned onreturning.
I took the sheets to the laundry room and loaded the washing machine. It was while I was in that room that I saw the sweater Summer had placed under my head. I picked it up. There was a faint hint of her scent as I raised it to my face. I folded it and placed it on ashelf.
All the time I kept busy, I didn’t think. I avoided looking into a mirror for fear of seeing my scars. The last few hadn’t healed very well. Raised, angry lines ran across my stomach and occasionally I’d run my hands over them to remindmyself.
The urge to cut was still there, the need to fuck simmered, but I fought both. The only person I wanted to fuck wasn’t in the same country and I’d wait for her. It was as I thought of that, I remembered the song she’d sent me. I pulled my phone from my pocket and played it. I’d played it many times over and it gave mehope.
I focused and worked hard. I drew, I ran way more than I’d ever before, and I sat every day with Dexter in therapy, which often exhausted me. We spoke in depth about some of my issues, skirted around others. I confessed to missing Honey, I wanted to be honest. Although there was no relationship between us, in a conventional sense, I was saddened by herdeath.
Dexter had revisited his old office at his house, the office that held all his notes, records, and study papers from his days in Australia and then New Orleans. He slowly brought that office to the drop-incentre.
Dexter, D-J, and I sat down one evening to write a list of rules for those that used the centre. We knew we couldn’t counsel; that was for Dexter and we’d need to find another volunteer for that. But D-J and I could be around to talk andlisten.
“I’m so stoked for this,” D-J said as he handed over threebeers.
We were sat on my balcony watching the sunset.
“Same. Did I tell you I now own this house? Perri did some of her magic and worked it into my trust,” Isaid.
“Fuck, that’s awesome. So you’re definitely stayingthen?”
“After what we’ve done the past few weeks, you thought I wasleaving?”
“No, but I wondered, what with Summer being in the UK,” hesaid.
My happy mood slipped just a little. “I’m hoping I can persuade her to come back, at least for a visit. I don’t know what’s going to happen there but somehow, one day, I’ll have herback.”
“So how much money do you have?” D-J asked, ratherbluntly.
“I have no idea. I don’t want to actually know. The bills get paid, that’s all I’m interested in. I need a laptop, I want to pay Dex for the car, but other than that, it will stay a secret Iguess.”
“Did you sort out medical insurance?” Dexasked.
“I did, well, Perri did,” I said with a laugh. Perri sorted everything, she alwayshad.
The guys finished their beers and left. I sat and thought. If Summer didn’t want to come back, I’d get on bended knees and beg if I had to. She was all I thought about, day and night. She was the reason for every thing I intended to do. I wasn’t religious at all, but that night I sent up a prayer in the hope it would be answered. I asked that Summer would come tome.
I couldn’t return to the UK all the time ‘he’ was alive, I didn’t think I ever wanted to return permanently. I had a house on a beach, friends, and a lifestyle many would be envious of, yet I was lonely. All that was left was to hope that Summer would make my life complete. The nights were the worst. I longed to have her in my bed, in my arms. My fucking wrist ached with the constant masturbation I needed to release the frustration Ifelt.
It was early hours of one morning, and I was still awake, when I thought of a way to tell Summer how I really felt. I grabbed a pad and pen and wrote. I tore page after page from the pad and screwed each into a ball. The floor around the bed was littered. As the sun rose, I thought I had the message I wanted to convey. I jumped from the bed and opened one wardrobe, sitting on the top shelf was an old guitar. Bridge had given it to me after it had been left unclaimed in the shop. I wasn’t a great guitarist, I could strum a few chords, but I blew the dust fromit.
I sat back on the bed and spread the pad alongside me. I familiarised myself with the strings and chords and then I sang the song I’d written. It wasn’t going be a bestseller but it was from the heart. Another thought crossed my mind. I jumped from the bed and headed outside. It was early enough not to have any noise disrupt the sound of the waves as they broke on the shore. I held my phone slightly in the air and recorded the sound. I then scrolled through my app store to find something, at first, I thought impossible. I found an app to record myheartbeat.
