“You really need to leave this room, Jordan.” He sits on the edge of my bed. “It’s been two days. This isn’t healthy. Let’s go to the movies or something.”
I tilt my head, moving my mouth from the pillow. “Not in the mood.”
“Well, can you at least consider taking a shower because the stench in this room isn’t Dozer, it’s you.”
“I’ll shower when I’m ready.” I press my face back into the pillow.
“Look, son. I know you’re hurting right now, but it will get better.”
I snort. Then get another lung full of Mia. It makes my chest burn.
“I have been through this myself … when I was younger. With Belle—”
My muscles knot. I lift my head. “I don’t want to talk about her right now.”
“I know you’re angry with your mom—”
I roll onto my back. “Angry doesn’t ever come close … I just … I don’t understand her. Why she did what she did.”
He sighs. “I didn’t either. But it’s not for us to judge. We weren’t there. We don’t know where her mind was at, or how limited she felt her choices were.”
“I just wish…” I sigh. “I just wish Mia could see the bigger picture. I wish she … I don’t know what I f**kin’ wish!” I throw my hands up in the air, feeling helpless.
What I want is to not feel this way. Like I’m f**king dying – slowly.
I turn over, putting my back to him.
“You wish she’d see past it and come back.”
Tears sting my eyes. “It’s too late now. She’s gone.”
“It’s never too late. You know how Belle broke up with me after high school, when she’d left for college. I was pretty much like you are now. I was low and didn’t want to talk to anyone. I guess I was lovesick. I just wanted to reach her … so I wrote her a letter and made her a mix-tape.”
I let out a small laugh. My first in days. “That’s pretty lame, Dad.”
“Yeah, it was.” He runs his hand over his hair, smiling lightly.
“Did you hear from her after you sent the letter and tape?”
He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t hear from her until she came back after I’d had you.”
I sit up, back against the headboard. “So you’re saying I should write Mia a letter and make her a lame ass mix-tape when it didn’t even work for you. Mom married someone else and didn’t come back to you for years.”
“No, it didn’t work for me … not right away. Doesn’t mean it won’t for you. But I’m telling you this because whether it worked in a day, or years later – it worked. She never got rid of that letter and tape, Jordan. She kept them for all those years. She never let me go, not fully. And when she needed help … needed me most, that’s how she knew she could come back. That letter and tape reminded her that she could. Reminded her of what we once had. That I’d always be there for her, no matter what.”
He gets to his feet and pats Dozer’s leg. “Come on, boy, it’s feeding time.”
Dozer climbs down from the bed, standing by Dad’s legs.
“Just think about it. You’ve nothing to lose by reaching out to her. Write and tell her everything she doesn’t think she wants to hear, but needs to. Tell her how you feel.”
“Basically make a fool of myself.”
“Men generally are fools in love.”
“Yeah, well I’d definitely look a fool if I send her a lame ass mix-tape.” I know I’m stepping out of line and he doesn’t deserve it, but I’m feeling bitter and angry, and I don’t want to be alone in my pain.
“Well, I think it’d be a mixed CD for you, son, or even an iPod if you’re feeling flashy, as they don’t make tapes anymore.”
I give him a look and a grunt.
Yeah, I’ve turned back into a fully-fledged teenager.
“Look, son, all I’m saying is, music can evokes memories and feelings. It can enhance those words you write to her. It’s just knowing which memories you want to trigger, what words you want her to hear, and which song will do that for you.”
He leaves my room with Dozer, his words lingering long after he’s gone.
***
Day three: post-Mia…
“Jeez … you’re listening to Damien Rice. This is worse than I thought.” Beth drops down onto my bed beside me.
“Can’t you people just leave me the f**k alone?” I pull the duvet over my head.
Beth pulls it off and sniffs the air. “It smells really bad in here, did you know?”
“I’ve been told.”
“I don’t think its Dozer.” She leans over and sniffs me. “Jesus Christ! It’s you – you smelly bastard! When was the last time you showered, or brushed your teeth?”
“At three o’ fuck off a clock.”
“Funny.” She pokes me in the back. “So to what extent am I going to have to annoy you to get you out of this bed and into the shower? Or at least get you to visit with a toothbrush?”
“You’re already annoying me and it doesn’t look like I’m moving, does it?”
“Come on, stinky breath.” She tickles my side.
I push her hand off. “Beth, seriously, knock it off. I’m not in the mood.”
Her silence has me feeling guilty. “Look … I’m just not up for company right now.”