I pick up my second sandwich as he collects his thoughts. And then something rare happens. He smiles. But it’s a real smile, one that lifts his cheeks and reaches all the way up to his eyes.
“Clancy says I could ride before I could walk, which is probably a lie but could also be true. My dad got me into horses. They were one of his two big passions in life. He was the barn manager at the Spring Mountain Equestrian Center. Do you know where that is?”
“A few towns over?” I take a guess, the name ringing a bell.
“Yeah. We lived there until I was eight.”
“What was his other big passion?” I ask.
A slight blush rises up Jackson’s neck. “Fireworks.”
“Really?”
“Random combo, I know. One he passed down to me.”
“Well, you’re a weirdo, so that tracks.”
He smiles but doesn’t retaliate. “Every single holiday where there were fireworks, Memorial Day, Labor Day, we’d stake out the best vantage spot before dawn. We’d all sit there as a family, talking and laughing and eating, waiting countless hours for the show. And even though it was a long day, it never felt boring. And then when the fireworks finally started at night, he’d hoist me up onto his shoulders, and it was just magical. That and riding a horse are two of my favorite feelings in the world. I have no words. They’re…indescribable.”
I nod along like I can relate, but I can’t. I’ve never had anything I’ve been that passionate about. But I love that Jackson has.
“You said you lived in Spring Mountain until you were eight. What happened then?”
A shadow crosses his face. “Dad died.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He blinks a little faster. “It was a heart attack. Out of the blue. No warning signs or anything. One day at work, he was loading a horse into a trailer. He fell to the ground and never got back up.” He blows out a breath. “It was a huge shock for everyone, and Mom went off the rails.”
“How so?”
“I was young, so I don’t remember too many specifics, and I’m sure I was being shielded by Clancy and my sisters. But she didn’t cope with the loss of Dad at all. We started staying at Clancy’s to give her some space. Then one day, when she was supposed to pick us up from his place, she never showed.”
“Like, at all?”
“Uh-huh. She just up and left us.”
“Where did she go?”
“We had no idea. Apparently, she left a note saying she had to leave. That was it. Eventually, she called Clancy and told him she was staying with friends in Arizona and that she’d be back in a few weeks. A few weeks became months became years became…” He releases a heavy sigh. “Never.”
I try my hardest to keep from showing the anger simmering in my chest. I feel so bad for him and his sisters. Not to mention Clancy, who, from what I know of him, wouldn’t have hesitated to step in and raise his grandkids.
“Where is she now?”
“South Dakota, apparently. I don’t really care. Clancy calls her every once in a while, which I get. She’s his daughter, and you never stop loving your kid. No matter whatever fucked-up shit they do. But she’s never made any effort with us, so why should I make any effort with her?”
“I hear you on that one.”
His eyes, brimming with emotion, lock onto mine. “Yeah, I guess you do.”
I’ve never known what to do with my feelings about my own mom. Now that she’s passed, I feel even more guilty for having any anger or disappointment toward her. Even once she got sick, I didn’t really get any closure. The woman was dying; I wasn’t going to dump all my trauma on her.
I guess that’s the thing about life: it doesn’t always wrap up neatly. We’re often left with untied threads we don’t know what to do with. The work is to find a way to accept all the things we can’t change and keep moving forward.
“You seem close with your sisters,” I say, steering the conversation into hopefully happier waters.
“I am. They’ve always been super protective of me. Especially Sib.”
