“Is that how you feel about Dad?”
She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. “I love that man. More than anything, I love him, and I tried to be everything I could for him. I wanted to be perfect so he could love me back. The truth is, he’d never be able to love me the way I love him, and that breaks my heart.”
“Oh, Mama…”
“I guess this is what I get for treating you the way I did. I guess this is my humble pie.”
“I’m so sorry you’re hurting.”
“For so long, I thought I was unworthy of love. I prayed on it each night, asking God to heal my broken pieces. To make my husband love me, but he couldn’t. And now, Samuel says he doesn’t want to be with me. That I deserve more. What does that even mean? More than what? All I know, all I’ve ever known was how to be his. To be the pastor’s wife. And now, he’s leaving me, and I’m…” She took a breath and closed her eyes. “I don’t know how to be alone.”
“You’re not alone, Mama. I got you.”
Her eyes stayed close, and her body began to shake. “I’ve been so hard on you.”
“Yeah, but I get the feeling you’ve been harder on yourself.”
When her eyes opened, I felt as if I saw myself staring back at me. “How did you do it?” she asked me. “How did you begin again after years of being someone else’s?”
“You take small breaths. Whenever you feel overwhelmed or heartbroken, just remember to take small breaths.”
“Small breaths…I can do that.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I just don’t know who I am anymore. Without Samuel, do I even exist?” she asked me.
How odd was that? Hearing my mother repeat all the same questions I’d asked myself. “You probably exist more in this moment than you ever have in all your life. You’ll be surprised by all the things you learn about your heart and how it beats. And if you need to get away, you can come stay with me for as long as necessary. I have a spare room.”
“You’d do that for me?” she questioned, her voice cracking as if my offer stunned her.
“Oh, Mama.” I pulled her into a hug and held on tight. “I’d do anything for you.”
She inhaled deeply and exhaled slow. “Small breaths,” she whispered.
“Yes,” I replied. “Just take small breaths.”
51
Jackson
As far as I knew, Dad had been able to stay away from the bottle. I was thankful for that, too. I never wanted to see him in that shape ever again. I’d never been so terrified in my life.
On Thursday afternoon, I walked over to the auto shop, and I felt a knot in my stomach as I looked up at Dad on a ladder as he hammered away at the Mike’s Auto Shop sign in front of the building.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I asked walking over to him.
“Closing shop,” he replied.
“What? What do you mean closing shop?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” The sign dropped to the ground with one more hit, and then Dad started climbing down the ladder. “I sold the place,” he grumbled, walking into the shop, leaving me flabbergasted.
“Are you drunk? You can’t just give all this away,” I argued, following right behind him.
“Actually”—he shrugged—“it turns out I can. I sold the shop and the cabin along with all the land. Got a pretty penny for it, too.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s my home.”
“Yeah, well, now it’s not.”
“Who did you sell it to? I’ll get it back. It’s obvious you’re not in the right state of mind. You’ve been through a lot these past few weeks, and your mind just isn’t making sense.”
“Nah. For the first time ever, I’m thinking straight.”
“But—”
“What type of art?” he asked me, throwing me off completely.
“What?”
“What art style would you study? Where would you travel to see different techniques?”
“You need a nap.”
“I’ve been sleeping long enough. Now here.” He nodded me over to him, and I hesitated. “Come on, boy, I ain’t got all day. Get over here.”
He handed me a check with a huge amount written on it. “What is this?” I asked him.
“Your cut from the sale. Of course, you won’t see any real payoff until the paperwork goes through and all that bullshit, but that’s enough for you to live off of for a year or so.”
“What?”
“You’re free, Jackson,” he said, giving me a half smile. “Go find yourself.”
“Dad, you’re being ridiculous. I know exactly who is behind this, and I’ll get everything figured out. Don’t worry.”
Before he could reply, I was already on my way to Loretta Harris’s home. It was clear that she was the one behind the sale of the property. She was the only one ever pushing for land for that church of theirs. This situation had her name written all over it.