Page 62 of Resilient Rhythms
“What?” He pulls up to the clubhouse, but neither one of us moves to exit the golf cart.
“Big Jim, he…” I sigh heavily. “He’s not your biological father.”
Jameson’s mouth drops open and he stares at me for a long moment, his gaze assessing.
“It doesn’t mean shit. We’re brothers and we’re Mom’s sons. But I guess it does mean something, because you don’t actually have all the fucked-up genes that I do. You’re not cut from the same cloth as the bastard who bounced on us and, well, you shouldn’t carry that shit around.”
“Neither should you,” Jameson says evenly.
“I—what?”
“Mav, neither of us is responsible for the choices Big Jim made. And neither one of us inherited his poor decision-making. We can make our own decisions, our own choices, and shape our lives the way we want.”
“I guess,” I say nervously, unsure where our conversation is going. Why isn’t he freaking out? Why isn’t he angry? Or…confused?
“I already knew,” he admits quietly.
“Knew what?”
“About Big Jim. Pop told me years ago.”
“I—what?” I sputter again.
Jameson snorts. “It was right around the time he started drawing me Wilbur.”
“Willoughby?” I gasp, my fingers feathering over my ribs where my first tattoo, a caricature of Pop’s creation for me, Warren Willoughby, marks my skin. Pop used to write me letters filled with comics that chronicled Warren’s adventures. I had no idea he did the same for Jameson.
“Yep. Wilbur; he had a brother.”
“Warren,” I provide.
Jameson nods, his eyes solemn. “Pop told me the truth through comics. And, well, I’ve known for years.”
I shake my head in disbelief. Good ol’ Pop. Half of what he taught me, he did through comics. Why didn’t I consider that it would be the same for Jameson? “Doesn’t it bother you?”
He shakes his head. “You’re my brother, Mav. That’s all I’ve ever needed to know. Big Jim can fuck right off. We’re better without him.”
I think about Mom and Nico and their artistic lifestyle. I think about Jameson and his ending his relationship with Amelia. I think about me, and rehab, and Mckenna.
“You’re right,” I say quietly. We’ve all made a mess of things at one point or another but…Big Jim leaving was one of the best things that could have happened to us. “We are better off without him.”
“He doesn’t define us, Mav. And his leaving doesn’t define shit either.” My brother shrugs. “It’s just something that happened. Doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”
“But isn’t a part of you relieved that your dad, your real dad, was a good man?”
He shrugs again, his brows pulling together. “I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about it. I never knew the man. And, sure, I’d like to think he was a great guy, but it’s not like I’ll ever have the chance to know him. The father of my childhood gave meyou.” He smirks, one side of his mouth lifting higher than the other. “And it’s always been me and you.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. He’s right. Hell, I don’t even have any memories that don’t feature my big brother. “Fuck. You knew.”
Jameson nods.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want you to be upset about it. Think we were less of brothers or anything,” he explains. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Same.” I snort.
Jameson grins. “See? We’re more alike than not.”
