Lynne Heitman - First Class Killing

I felt myself saying the wordsorry a lot, and I wanted him to look at me, to give me some sense of how this was going, but he seemed to be enduring me, which really pissed me off, since I was the one who had broken radio silence and called this meeting. And then he took off again. I didn’t.

“Jamie.”

He turned and doubled back. “You’re sorry. I got that. What else do you need to hear?”

“It’s generally good to acknowledge an apology when one is offered. That way, I know that I wasn’t talking to myself.”

“What good is an apology if you don’t mean it?”

That was totally out of the blue. “Why would you say that?”

“If we had the same set of circumstances today, would you make a different decision?”

I had to stop and consider that, and when I did, for about two seconds, the answer was no. “I still wouldn’t come, but I would try to see your side of things, and I wouldn’t get so angry and bitter and emotional and reactionary and…” I needed to stop, because I was getting angry and bitter and emotional and reactionary.

“I knew it.”

“You knew what? That I didn’t want to sit across the Christmas turkey from Walter? You knew that before you ever invited him, and yet you did it anyway. Just because you’ve decided to go all buddy-buddy with him doesn’t mean I have to. Things don’t change just because you want them to, Jamie. People don’t change.”

“So you would.”

“Wouldwhat?”

“You would do the exact same thing again. You would bail on me, because that’s what you do, Alex. If the situation is not perfect for you, you bail.”

“I have never bailed on you, Jamie. Never. You bailed on me when you invited him. Did you think for one second about how I might feel? I hope you two had a great time together and I hope-”

I could feel myself getting pulled back onto the grooved tracks of attack and defend and attack and defend, and all I had wanted to do, goddammit, was apologize, and now I couldn’t even keep my voice steady. I stared at the ground, at a cluster of rocks alongside the walking path, and I tried to will the conversation in a different direction. “I called you because I miss you, Jamie. I miss you, and I thought there should be a way for us to get through this. Someone had to make the first move, and-”

“And since it was you, I should be thankful? That makes you the bigger person?”

“JesusChrist.” I looked at him. He stared back with so much darkness in his eyes that I had the terrible thought he wanted to hit me. “Why are you so angry with me?”

He jammed both hands deep into the pockets of his coat, turned away, and began a slow, aimless meander toward the Frog Pond. Feeling suddenly exhausted, I found a bench and sat on it. The walking paths were busy with walkers this time of the evening. Some had the brisk heading-home-from-work pace. Others strolled leisurely, taking their wool sweaters and anoraks out for the first spin of the season. Soon they found the widening path between my brother and me.

I sat on the bench and watched Jamie and wondered how it was that we could get to this place so quickly. Maybe fighting was better than dead silence, but in that moment, it didn’t feel that way. I wondered if he would care or even notice if I got up and walked away. I wondered how I would feel if I did that.

Before I had a chance to wonder long, he came back. He sat beside me, but only on the edge of the bench, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees.

“When you didn’t come for Christmas, I felt like…you just should have been there.”

“Why? To fulfill some fantasy you have of a happy family? We don’t have one of those. We never have.”

“Because I…wanted you there.”

I started to barrel in with another defense but stopped. His voice had cracked. He had tried to raise it in anger and swat me down, much as our father used to do, probably still would if given the chance. But Jamie didn’t have it in him. He hadn’t figured out how to turn his fear into bluster and insults. He wasn’t quite able to hide his human frailty and I loved him for that. I also realized for the first time that maybe he had wanted me there because he was still scared of Walter. Maybe he still did need me. That felt different from being judged a failure of a daughter and a sister for not wanting to be there.

I dropped my head back and stared up into the trees. “Why did you invite him in the first place?”

“He’s our father.”

“Since when does that make any difference?”

“Since I had kids of my own. Gina and I have talked about it. He’s their only living grandparent. I wanted you to be with us and I knew you wouldn’t come if I told you he was invited. I was just trying to give you a little push.”

“I don’t like to be pushed.”

“No shit.”

“And it’s my choice whether I want to see him or not.”

“Mine, too.”

“I know, but why would you-” He was right. He was right, and I was right. We were both entitled to our choices, and we had to respect each other’s. It was just that I wanted his choice to be the same as mine. “Just make sure you want him around for the right reasons.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think you’re still trying to prove yourself to him and what better way to do it than to show him all your stuff?”

“My stuff?”

“Your cars and your big house and your big job.”

He stared across to the Frog Pond. It was still too early, but within months, it would be frozen over and used for a public skating rink. I didn’t skate, but I still thought that was one of the nicer things about winter in Boston.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I think the reason I have all those things is that he made me want to work harder.”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me that’s what you think. What he did to you was-” I put my hands on my knees and waited until I didn’t feel as if my face were on fire. “Parents are supposed to make life easier for their children. You know that. You have your own now. All he ever did was make yours harder.”

“Yours, too, Za.”

I looked at him, and he was grinning. Za was my family name, and Jamie was the only one who ever used it anymore. He had given it to me when he was learning to talk, because he could never get all the way to the end of Alexandra, which was what he heard my mother call me. In that strange and magical alchemy that exists only in the minds of toddlers, Alexandra begat Zandra, which became Za. He could be pretty damned disarming when he wanted to.

“Jamie, you are a good person, and you are what you are in spite of him. I can’t stand for you to give him credit for all of your hard work.”

He leaned forward again and stared into the ground. “It doesn’t mean I give you any less.”

“I’m not…it’s not about…” But it was. He was right. He’d gotten me again. I put my hand on his back and let it settle there, and that felt about right. “Jamie, I’ve got my own issues with Walter, and someday when I grow up, I’ll deal with them. If you want him around, then you have to deal with him on your own. But I give you a lot of credit for trying. It’s more than I’m willing to do.”

He nodded. We sat for a few minutes in silence. It was nice to be able to sit quietly together. I had so much I wanted to tell him, but not tonight. I wanted to stay in the space we were in right then. He might have felt the same way, because I knew he had questions, but he didn’t ask any.

“Where do you live?” Not the hard ones, anyway.

“Down Beacon.” I pointed west. “A few blocks that way. Not far. Where are you staying?”

“In a corporate apartment downtown.” Which meant we were walking in opposite directions. Speaking of home and directions seemed to be the cue to stand. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a snazzy business card holder and a pen and started jotting. “These are all my numbers. Call me when you’re free. Gina and the kids want to see you. You can come down and spend the night with us. We have plenty of space in the new house.”