Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Light You Cast - 14. Chapter 14
Slow as snowmelt, I settled into my new life in Toronto. Between long hours at the furniture store, I made time for the multitude of people who had gravitated into my circle. Phone calls with Sophie happened weekly. I shared dinner with Michael and the Gordons almost every night. They helped me feel part of the warm and happy family I’d craved my entire life. Outings with Jonathan’s crew gave me a window into their busy lives. On his days off, Jonathan spent much of his time working on his articles for the Star, but I’d come and stay the night with him once a week or so, and we’d make up for the time we spent missing each other, languishing in bed through cold spring mornings.
As the weather warmed, I began to notice the beauty of the city's trees. And with their budding came a multitude of birds. Jonathan never ceased being amazed when I recognized a waterthrush or warbler by their calls alone. I told him about my mother, who'd given me an education unlike anything I could have learned in school. It wasn't just bird songs, but how to recognize trees and wildflowers. I'd learned about the habits of many forest creatures, and the usefulness of certain plants. It was too much to describe in one sitting, so I'd simply point out things I knew as we walked along the lake or meandered through the many parks sprinkled throughout the city.
After a lot of frustration and paperwork, my ID card finally arrived in late April. Despite the fact that no police came looking for me, I remained wary whenever I saw them on patrol, and I spent many sleepless nights worrying over what would become of me once the truth was out. Rayna, Sophie and Jonathan all insisted that I begin a therapy program the moment my ID arrived. I attended a few sessions and disliked it immensely. The words I needed to say seemed just out of reach, and I always left feeling agitated, like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.
I returned home to the Gordons' after my third fruitless session, and was met by what smelled like a feast. I peeked into the kitchen to find Jonathan with Michael and the Gordons.
“Hey, E," Jonathan greeted. "We're doing a little something to celebrate your being part of society again. And Michael too.” He pushed a bottle of champagne into my hands. I looked around the kitchen in surprise. Across the counters lay dishes they must have spent the whole afternoon preparing. Glazed carrots, baked ham, green beans, mashed potatoes, and a pecan pie for desert.
“This looks incredible,” I said.
“Pop it open,” Jonathan insisted. “Let’s get the party started.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Rayna?” Michael asked.
“She’s going to be late. Something about paperwork. Anyway, she said we could start without her.”
“Rayna’s coming too?” I asked. My bewilderment must have shown on my face because Jonathan laughed and came in to squeeze an arm around my ribs.
“She’s proud of you. We all are. Don’t look so surprised, you know how much we’ve all been routing for you.”
Rachael reached over and patted my shoulder. She took the bottle from my arms and popped it open. “Jim, could you grab the champagne flutes? They’re up at the top of the china cabinet and I can’t reach.”
Michael put the finishing touches on the mashed potatoes while Jonathan sliced up the ham.
Jim brought his step stool out from the garage. He held it up for us all to admire before he used it to reach the champagne glasses, which were also too high for him.
“Took me two months but it was worth it. A fine stool, very sturdy. It’ll last a hundred years.”
“You could have finished it in a couple of days if you didn’t dawdle so much,” Rachel said. “But it turned out nicely, Jim. Very well done.”
“The next project I had in mind was a bookshelf for the guest room," he said. "Ethan’s books are piling up against the wall, and his collection just keeps growing. Might even have to make two. What do you think, Ethan? Want to help me with it so it doesn’t take me half a year?”
“Sure,” I said. “But you know I work at a furniture store, right? We could buy one on discount.”
Jim turned a frown on me and shook his head. “I have good tools that shouldn’t go to waste. Besides, it’ll be fun. Michael, you can help too, if you want.”
Rachael started filling up the glasses.
“Sure,” Michael said. “When I find time between rehearsals, homework, the Attic, and Kailey, I’ll jump right on it.” His life had changed quite a bit in the past few months as well. A new school, a new play, and a new girlfriend, too.
“We’ll give you a pass, Michael,” Rachael said. She handed everyone a glass and we raised them up. Jim took it upon himself to give a little speech. He cleared his throat, putting on a sing-song voice.
“The snow has finally melted away, and spring is in the air," he said. "It’s a season of new beginnings. Thanks for making our lives a little richer, boys.”
“To new beginnings!” Jonathan agreed. We all clinked our glasses. Michael coughed a little on his, and his face colored.
“That’s a lot sparklier than I thought it would be,” he explained. Jonathan hid a laugh against his shoulder.
We sat down to eat and were halfway through the delicious meal when the house phone rang loudly and interrupted our conversation.
“Telemarketers,” Rachael sighed. “Just let the machine pick it up.”
When the machine did pick up, we soon realized it wasn’t a telemarketer after all.
“Hi, Michael? It’s your mom. Are you there? If you are, can you pick up? There’s something important I want to talk to you about.”
Michael looked at me with a face that seemed to be asking permission.
“Go on, pick it up if you want. It’s okay,” I said.
We tried to continue the conversation after that, but everyone’s voices grew decidedly quieter as Michael took the phone and went into the living room.
“What do you think that’s about?” Jim asked. A concerned expression sagged at the corners of his eyes as he turned to watch Michael over his shoulder.
“He’ll tell us about it when he’s done,” Rachael said, patting his arm. “No use in speculating.”
Soon enough, a light on the charger turned from red to green, indicating he’d ended the call. But Michael didn’t return to the dinner table.
“I’ll go check on him.” I stood up and pushed my chair in, casting Jonathan a worried glance before I left the table.
“Well there goes our nice dinner,” I heard him say miserably.
“Michael? You okay?” I asked as I approached the living room. He was sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest, still clutching the phone in his hands. I sat down next to him.
“Bad news,” he said.
“Is she going back to him?” I asked.
“Worse.”
“What’s going on?”
“She thinks my dad is a hundred percent cured. They want the family to get back together. So apparently they flew out here to Toronto this morning and they’re on their way over right now. They're almost here.”
“Is Leah with them?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Shit,” I whispered.
“It’s like they wanted to catch me off guard.”
I stood up and went to the front door. I turned the deadbolt and the lock on the doorknob, then turned out the porch light.
Michael watched me do this with a dark expression weighing on his brow. “I think you’re overreacting. They came all this way. They probably miss me a lot. Maybe we should just invite them in for dinner.”
I couldn’t tell whether or not he meant what he was saying. His voice sounded hollow, and he looked pale. I considered it for a while, feeling uncertain myself. Was I being overdramatic? But I didn’t need to make any decisions alone. The Gordons and Jonathan were right around the corner.
“Let’s talk to the Gordons and see what they want to do.”
He nodded his agreement. Before he followed me into the kitchen, he went to the front door and flipped the porch light back on. I noticed, however, that he left the deadbolt locked.
“We have a situation,” I said when I returned to the table. Michael sat down in his chair with his elbows on the table and his head between his hands, studying his half-eaten dinner. “The Jamesons are on their way over to see Michael. They flew in and brought Leah with them. I guess they wanted to surprise us.”
Jonathan scooted his chair closer to mine, while Rachael glanced around at everyone nervously. Jim crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“Well, I suppose if they’re coming over, I might as well set out plates,” Rachael said. “We made plenty of food. But it would have been nice if they told me they were coming.”
“I don’t know, Rachael,” Jim said. “This has the feel of an ambush. It might be wiser if I go meet them outside. I can ask them to join us somewhere tomorrow for lunch.”
“That’s no way to treat family,” she countered.
“Hey,” Jonathan whispered to me as they continued their debate. “What do you think we should do?”
I lifted my chin toward Michael and Jonathan followed my line of sight. He looked far from excited about the surprise family visit. His shoulders were rigid and tight, and he was gripping his hair between his fingers.
“I think we should get Michael out of here,” I replied.
A rapping sounded on the front door, and the debate came to a jarring halt.
“I’m letting them in,” Rachael decided. She jumped up and went for the door before anyone could protest.
“She always gets her way,” Jim sighed.
“It’s okay,” Michael said. He let go of his head and straightened himself up. “What’s the worst that could happen with all of us here?”
Jim grunted and got up to help his wife greet everyone.
“Michael!” Leah squealed. She darted into the kitchen like a mouse, but came to a jolting halt the second she laid eyes on me. Blinking at me a few times, she proceeded to make a wide arc around me before lunging at her brother from a safer distance. He embraced her, lifting her up from the floor with a sweeping hug.
“I missed you so much,” Leah said as Michael finally let her go.
“Me too,” he said. He ruffled her hair. “How was the trip?”
“The airplane ride was so cool. I’ve never looked down at any clouds before. But landing was scary.”
“Well now you’ve gotten to do something I never have,” Michael said.
“What, you’ve never been on a plane?” she gasped.
“Nope. Just you.”
“Woah, cool.”
“Leah! Come back here and take off your shoes,” Annette called from the entryway.
“Be right back,” she muttered. On her way out of the kitchen, she made the same wide circle around me, and gave no other sign of acknowledging my presence.
What had happened between now and the last time she’d seen me? I wondered. The Leah I knew had worried over me frequently and vied for my attention. Even after what I’d done to her father, she hadn’t wanted me to leave.
“Are you hungry?” Rachael asked. She led everyone into the kitchen and gestured at the platters spread across the table. “Come sit down and eat with us. We were just in the middle of dinner and there’s plenty to go around. Luckily, we have just enough chairs for everyone.”
Seeing Mr. Jameson again, after all this time, after all this worry, was a humbling experience. It might have only been a few months, but he seemed so much smaller and meeker than I remembered. His eyes stopped on me and widened, not unlike the expression Leah had shown me. Then his gaze slowly traveled over to his son. He smiled, but his eyes looked sad and tired. Mrs. Jameson also looked worn down. Thin and bowed, grey around the edges. Their lack of liveliness and color made them seem older than the Gordons, in a way.
I gripped the edges of my chair and didn’t say a word of greeting. Jonathan gave them a small half-hearted wave.
Michael stood up and gave his mom a hug. She kissed him on the cheek and rocked him back and forth for a long moment with her eyes squeezed shut. When she finally let him go, she put a hand against his face and looked him over. Then she gave him a pat and turned back to the Gordons.
“I’m so sorry for intruding on your dinner like this,” she said. “We’ve just been so worried over Michael and we couldn’t seem to get our act together. It was all so last minute.”
“Well, you’re forgiven,” Rachael replied. “You chose the right night to come for a visit. Any other night and there might not have been enough to go around. But tonight we’ve been celebrating.”
“Oh? Celebrating what?”
“Oh, lots of things. Michael’s doing well in school, rehearsing for a play coming up in June. Ethan’s met a few milestones of his own. With the days warming up and getting longer, we all thought it would be the perfect time to celebrate everyone’s accomplishments.”
Mrs. Jameson gave an unimpressed hum. She cast me a pinched face before everyone took seats around the table. Leah pulled her chair as close to her brother’s as she could, the Jamesons taking seats across from me and Jonathan.
“I’m a little confused,” Mrs. Jameson said as she spooned some mashed potatoes onto her plate and passed the bowl to her husband. “I don’t want to be rude. But I don’t know how else to put this, exactly. Why have you welcomed Ethan into your home exactly? Personally, I wouldn’t consider it a safe decision. I’m sure I made you aware of everything that’s happened.”
Rachael looked aghast. She made an offended sound and sat there speechless.
Jim took over for his wife. “Annette, thank you for being so concerned about our safety. But I’m sure you don’t have anything to worry about. He’s been nothing but gracious and kind, and he’s been a very good friend to Michael.”
Mr. Jameson quietly filled his plate, apparently content to let Annette speak for him. But Annette didn’t need to voice her concerns. Leah was the one who burst out with it.
“He almost killed my Dad! And he stole Michael away from us!”
Silence met her outburst. She clung to Michael’s arm after that, even though he was looking at her like she was crazy. I tightened my grip on the seat of my chair and clenched my jaw. Jonathan leaned in closer to me as my heart rate sped up. I swallowed dryly and wanted to reach for a glass of water but didn’t want her to see me give any kind of reaction at all.
“Um, Ethan?” Jonathan said in a controlled, very quiet voice. “Maybe this is a good time for us to go.”
Michael overheard and gave us a big-eyed stare, pleading no with a few tense shakes of his head.
Jonathan took out his phone and started fiddling with it.
"What are you doing?" I asked under my breath.
"Rayna needs to know what she's walking into," he explained just as quietly.
Jim looked from Leah to her parents with an eyebrow raised. Rachael sat there with the platter of green beans still in her hands, face turning red. She still hadn’t spoken a word. Jim continued. “Michael, why don’t you show Leah around the backyard?”
“That’s a great idea,” Jonathan said. “Come on, we can all go together.”
Stiffly, I stood up. But Mrs. Jameson put up a hand.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to start any arguments, and I can see I’ve offended you, Rachael. Jim, I’m sorry. I was just surprised and caught off guard, seeing him here.”
I hovered by my chair, unsure what to do.
“Ethan is more than just welcome here, Annette,” Rachael said, finally finding her voice. “He lives here with us. And I consider him family, or as close as it gets. Right now, I’m about an inch away from asking you to leave.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Jameson took a breath. “Can we start over?”
“Delicious ham,” Mr. Jameson said. For the first time since he’d sat down, I studied his face. There was a scar under his left eye, I noticed. His skin looked saggier there. The rest of him had recovered well enough from the beating I’d given him, it seemed. He kept his eyes trained on his meal and pretended not to notice me at all.
Slowly, I took my seat again. I didn’t feel hungry anymore. I reached for my glass of water and drained it. After I put it down, Jonathan found my forearm and gave it a squeeze under the table.
“Michael, we miss you, honey,” Mrs. Jameson said, eyes apologetic. “It’s been a few months now. You’ve had some space to figure things out, and so have we. I think we’re in a much better place.”
Michael set down his fork and looked back at her. It was clear from his eyes that he missed her, too. He leaned into Leah and gave her a side-hug.
“I’m enrolled in this great school, mom. They’re all about the arts. There’s musicians and dancers and actors like me. Everyone is so talented, it’s really cool to see. You can come to my rehearsal tomorrow, if you want.”
“I would, if only we had the time,” she said, but she didn’t sound like she meant it. “I'm glad you're having fun at this new school, but don't you ever miss your friends back home? They’ve been asking about you. Seems like you’re not really keeping in touch.”
Michael's expression turned solemn. He took a long breath and played with his fork. “I know, mom. I have kept in touch with a few people. But I’m trying to move on with my life. I’m making new friends.”
“But isn’t that painful? Just to leave behind all the connections you made? You had so much fun with them all.”
Tears sprang to his eyes, but they didn’t fall. He frowned, mouth tightening. “Of course it’s painful, mom. Why even ask me that? You think this is all just so easy for me?”
“No. But I think it’s time for you to come home, Michael. We’re your family. We belong together.”
Michael slowly shook his head. “That’s not what it felt like before I left. Not at all. Why do you think I even left?”
Mrs. Jameson glanced at Leah, then back at Michael. Leah had her head on his shoulder, and she seemed to be ignoring the conversation in favor of relishing in the contentment of having her family back together again.
Mr. Jameson cleared his throat. “I think I should probably say something, Annette.” He raised his eyes to meet Michael’s with a forlorn expression. “I owe you an apology, Michael. I let the alcohol reel me in again, and you always seem to take the brunt of it when I slip up. But I can make you one promise. I haven’t touched a drop of it since you left. I can only hope you’ll find it somewhere in your heart to forgive your flawed old dad, who still loves you very much. Who wants more than anything to keep his family together. Is that something you think you can do, son?”
“Please,” Leah said. “I want you to come home.”
Rachael finally set down the bowl of green beans. The clatter startled almost everyone at the table.
“You don’t need to make any decisions right now, Michael,” she said firmly. That seemed to snap Michael out of his trance. He tore his eyes away from Leah and pushed his plate away.
“Where are you staying?” he asked his mom. He shook Leah off his arm and stood up. “This is all coming out of nowhere and you’re coming on really strong with this. I need some space. I really think you should all go for tonight.”
“We’re not staying anywhere,” she admitted. “We were planning to come get you and head straight home. Your dad couldn’t take any time off work.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Michael asserted. “My life is here now. I like it here.”
Leah started to cry.
Mrs. Jameson turned to her husband. “You said he’d be like this. It’s like he has Stockholm Syndrome, Jack.”
Michael threw up a hand, exasperated. “What do you mean, Stockholm syndrome? Are you trying to say I’ve been kidnapped or something? Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“It’s Ethan’s fault,” Leah cried. “He took you away in his truck and now you don’t wanna come back.”
“That’s enough,” Rachael asserted, pounding a fist on the table. “Annette, you might be family, but you’ve clearly crossed the line. It’s time for you to go.”
Mrs. Jameson stood up, and she pulled her husband up with her. He hastily dropped his fork and napkin.
“We’ll go gladly, but Michael has to come with us. This has gone on long enough, Michael. It’s time to come home. I don’t know what Ethan’s been telling you, or what he’s been doing to you. But we’re your family. You belong with us, and if you won’t come, I’ll call the police. I’ll be happy to charge Ethan with kidnapping. He’s done enough to break our family and he shouldn’t get away with it.”
I felt frozen solid. I could only stare at Mrs. Jameson. The power she wielded over me became an overwhelming force, locking me in place. Never, in all this time, had I considered what she was capable of.
Jonathan’s grip on my arm turned iron. Michael stood with his fists clenched at his sides, trembling. The Gordons were speechless. Leah sobbed, and no one comforted her. We all remained at a standstill.
“Go ahead and call them. Michael’s not going anywhere.”
Everyone turned their heads towards the new voice. Rayna stood calmly at the entrance to the kitchen. She wore in a clingy green cotton dress with leather boots up to her knees. With a hand on her hip, she casually checked her shiny set of nails, as if she was bored. Jonathan’s grip relaxed on my arm and I could almost feel his sigh of relief.
But I couldn't relax. If they called the police, I'd be dead. I glanced at the door, and prepared myself to bolt.
“Ethan, don't even think about it. Michael, if they call the police, you can go get in my car. If they want to charge someone with kidnapping, they can charge me. We’ll see how much the police like the pictures I took.”
Mrs. Jameson made a face distorted somewhere between offense and confusion. “Who are you, and what on Earth are you talking about?” she asked.
Rayna gave the woman a cutting glare and pulled out her phone. She wasn’t about to play any games. “Michael’s very brave. He let me take these photos his second day on the job.”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to show me, but I can tell you one thing, Ethan’s a dangerous man who beat my husband nearly to death. He probably did the same thing to Michael. And God knows what else. Imagine how terrified I felt when I heard that he’s a homosexual on top of being an aggressive thug. He spent a lot of time alone with my son and—”
“Don’t think for a minute you can gaslight me,” Rayna spat. She shoved the phone forward. “Take a long hard look at what you’re asking him to return to. These are from almost a week after he left home. Just imagine how he must have felt when they were fresh.”
Mrs. Jameson covered her hand with her mouth. Rayna scrolled to the next photo, and the next. She looked over at her son, then back at the photo. A nearly silent sob escaped her, and the tears poured over. She shook her head and proceeded to turn her glare down to her husband.
“I can’t do it, Jack. I can’t do this for you anymore.”
“Annette, I’ve quit drinking,” he pleaded.
“I think you can work this out somewhere else,” Rayna said. She pointed straight at the door, acrylic nails glistening.
Shaking her head, Annette gathered up Leah and rushed out of the house. Mr. Jameson trailed along after her, looking lost and forlorn.
Rayna watched them go and didn't turn back around until the door had shut behind them. “Everyone okay?" she asked.
“Rayna,” Michael said. “Can I give you a hug, please?”
Her tough visage melted just enough. Michael shuffled over to her, hugged her tightly for a long minute, then let her go. “You are the baddest bitch I’ve ever met. Thank you so much.”
“I told you I’ll do anything for my boys,” she said with an intimate little smile for him. Then she gave the Gordons a sympathetic glance. "Well, it seems over with but I'm sorry to say that I don't think it's really done. I’m taking Michael to my place tonight. Ethan, I'll give you both a ride over to Jonny's place. And you two,” she said to the Gordons. “You need to lock up your doors tight. That man's probably going to get drunk and who knows what will happen after that.”
The Gordons seemed shell-shocked. I felt the same way.
“Are you going to be okay?” Rayna asked them.
“I think so," Rachel said in a shaken voice. "But that was not how I expected our celebration to go. I’m sorry it was such a disaster. I never should have let them in the door.”
Jim rubbed her back. “You’ve just got a big heart. It’s over now. Let’s clean up the dishes and get to bed early tonight.”
“We’ll try it again soon,” Rachael said. “Maybe in a week or two.”
“Don’t forget to lock the door behind us,” Rayna reminded them.
Rachael nodded her assent.
I grabbed a few things from my room, stuffed them into an overnight bag, and with them I stuffed down the cold wave of panic that had come disturbingly close to the surface. We piled into Rayna's car and sped off into the night.
- 14
- 5
- 1
- 1
- 3
- 7
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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