Finding Jamie

What can I tell you about my three sisters?

I am their older brother. And that's why just in my thirties, I'm almost as gray as a mule. But there isn't a single thing I'd change about Adele, Hunter and James.

Well one thing. They'd all three be alive.

They'd probably annoy me just the same as Adele and Hunter do now, but at least I'd get to see Jamie. That would be amazing. But Adele and Hunter, despite their untimely death, still find time to drive me absolutely nuts. And I'm grateful. Most days.

Adele was the oldest. She had bright, crystal blue eyes and blond hair that went down to her hips. She had a zest for life like nobody else her age. And the crazy thing was is despite all the wild adventures she went on; the week long hikes, the hang gliding across large canyons, the BASE jumping phase she went through, she would just want to stay home. She'd tell me all the time she'd give anything to just curl up with a good book and a cup of tea and stay at home. It was usually right before she leaped off something.

Hunter was the middle and she was supposed to be a boy. If you can't tell that by her name. And she would be what you called the rebellious one. The fiery redhead. She was the first to get a tattoo. I remember that day vividly. She was sixteen and walked in with it proudly displayed on her arm to piss mom off. I looked up from my book and watched mom eye it carefully. The grin about to spread on Hunter's face was cut off suddenly when Mom smiled.

“Your friend is a pretty good artist. Next time you should probably pay him.” And she turned around and went back into the kitchen. Hunter hadn't really learned anything from when I tried to rebel. I came home drunk one night and mom pulled me into the kitchen and did shots with me until I passed out. Hunter never learned things unless they were lessons applied directly to her. And it made her strong willed and vicious. A force to be reckoned with.

And then there was James. Mom named her James because she liked the idea of having a second girl named with a guys name. James was the docile one. The youngest. Always with her feet on the ground. And I'd tell you not to tell the others, but I told them often: she was my favorite. I never had to protect Jamie. I never had to feel like I was about to lose her. And we connected. We were friends. I was Adele's and Hunter's brother. And I took that role to heart. I'd accost their boyfriends. I'd break up their parties. I double and triple check their safety harnesses. That's normally a metaphor but in the case of Adele...that's literal.

Jamie was also mom's special girl. Because she was born right after dad passed away. The flu hit him harder than anyone I'd ever seen before and while we were in the hospital for that, Mom went into labor. Dad said while he was dying, that he was making room for their special angel. Adele, Hunter and I never even balked at that. The minute we each held Jamie, we knew....we knew she was an angel. That she was Dad's final gift to us. Whenever she got special care we never really blinked an eye. If she was favored it was because she deserved it. There was never any bitter resentment between us.

The three of them passed away pretty close to one another. That was something I didn't really have a doubt about either. Because while I was friends with Jamie, so were the other girls. But they were closer than I ever thought to being. They could talk without saying a word. I'd get messages from Adele halfway across the world. “Going to see Hunter. She's in trouble. Boyfriend trouble.” And an hour later I'd hear from Hunter about how she just found out her boyfriend had been cheating on her (I'd have killed him if I had been closer).

Adele was the first to die. The phone call came one rainy day and I answered it. It was rare for us to get phone calls out at the farm house these days. Mom and I didn't make it to town for anyone to care to interact with us. It was always just the girls.

“Yo, Phil here. Talk to me.”

“Mr. Mason? We have some bad news...”

I slowly hung up the phone. It took a minute to sink it. I turned to Mom who was rolling out biscuits in the kitchen.

“Mom. I have some...please can you sit?” She looked at me funny. Then she shrugged.

“She'll be home soon son. Don't worry about that.”

“Mom?”

“The phone call was about Adele wasn't it? What adventure was it? The rock climbing? The free climbing?”

“Scuba...scuba diving.” I sat down staring at her. Confused. What was she talking about?

“I knew she'd die doing one of those crazy things. But I expect she'll be here before dinner.”

I imagined she was in shock. I know I was. I tried calling Hunter and Jamie but neither answered. I told them to call. Neither did. Not for a few days. And they seemed as phased as Mom.

“She home yet?” And I had to tell them she was. Adele had come in before dinner and sat. She was dripping water from her wet suit but it disappeared before it hit the ground. I just stared at her, unblinking. Wondering if I was having a hallucination.

“Are you going to stay in that forever dear?”

“I can change?”

“Your father did.” And with that statement, Adele was in a more common getup. A big fuzzy green knit sweater and sweatpants. She looked so much at ease I could feel it. It took me a few days to get used to the idea that Adele wasn't gone. And that Mom had seen Dad since he died. She refused to talk to me about it, no matter how much I asked. But it all became routine, sooner or later.

Then came the call about Hunter. This one wasn't as bad. I almost took on Mom's mentality about the whole ordeal. Almost. I couldn't help but be shaken up by it. But I figured she'd be home by dinner. A little thing like a car accident wouldn't stop her from being home for dinner.

She took three days to get home though. Which unnerved me. Adele said it was because she liked to sight see. And I figured being dead probably kept you from all sorts of hindrance the living had. Like tolls and stuff. I expected her to be mangled like the car accident but by time she made it home she had figured out how to change into her favorite clothes. A tank top and black jeans. It was her bartender uniform, the brief time she did that. I never thought that had made her happy but I was wrong. And so things settled back into the regular routine. The girls seemed to enjoy just reading all the time. Mom would bake. I would do the chores around the house. And study at night. I'm not sure why I was studying to be a lawyer. I didn't think I could bring myself to leave the farm. There was too much here. And I imagined Mom would stick around too when she kicked it. You can't keep a good Mason woman down I wagered.

Jamie's call came near the end of the year. I wasn't looking forward to this one but something told me it was going to happen. And I did cry when I was told. Jamie had been the victim of an arson. I cried because that was always her worst fear. The girls cried with me. Mom too. And Hunter said the worst thing she could have said.

“I hope she can find her way home.”

It was a month before I realized she probably wasn't coming home. And I cried then too.

“She's just lost Brother” Adele assured me. “You have to find her.”

I shot up. I had to find her. I ran up to my room and grabbed my year book and brought it back downstairs. And opened it to where Jamie had signed it.

“Brother, if ever I should get lost. I know you'll be the one to find me.”

Hunter smiled at me. “See? She knew.”

“But where do I start?” And that's when I got the normal shrugs I got whenever I asked them a question. “You're both useless.”

The journey took me across the states. The last time we had talked to Jamie she had been living in Ashland, Oregon. But despite the constant contact, she hadn't told us everything.

One of her old classmates told me she had moved to Medford, just a little further north of Ashland. With her roommate. They had both gotten jobs there. He wasn't sure where at. I asked around a bit more in Ashland and found out she had gotten a job at FTD. The floral place? I had hoped she hadn't dropped out of school. But I guess at that point it wasn't important.

The people at FTD wouldn't tell me anything but I did manage to find one girl who was willing to tell me where her old roommate now worked. So I made my way over to the Costco, right across the street.

“She moved to the coast before she died.” He said. The man's attitude was a tad flippant for my tastes but to be fair I hadn't introduced myself as her brother, I hadn't introduced myself at all. “Brookings. That's where her building burnt down.”

“Thank you.” I loaded up and took off. Consulting my phone's map function I found the best path to Crescent City and headed that way. I wasn't sure what I was going to find at this point.

The building was still wrapped in yellow ribbon when I made it there. The burning smell still clung to the air, thick like a blanket. It made me gag and eventually vomit. Then I cried. And when I got a hold of myself, I began to ask questions.

“She was living with Abigail. They were best friends.”

“They were sister's I think.”

“I don't care. Stupid women.”

I wasn't getting anywhere. But I did remember something Jamie had said to me when we were younger then. The smell of the salt water reminding me. I took a deep breath and reminisced.

“The ocean. That's the goal. I want to live there someday.”

“What if...a big shark comes out of the water and eats you?”

“Shut up Phil! That won't happen!”

I laughed and opened my eyes. I was standing on the edge. Near the water. I could see it crashing against the shore. I smiled. I wasn't sure how I found myself there. But I'm pretty sure someone had led me...

“A shark didn't come and get me. Not in the sense you were talking.” I looked over to my left and I could see James standing next to me. Her dark brunette hair pushed behind both of her ears, held down by her glasses. Her favorite pastel colored sweater on, not quite fitting her. The arms coming down to the middle of her palms. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared out at the sunset.

“Come home James. Please.”

“I can't Phillip. I can't ever come home.” And I shook my head in disbelief.

“There is no reason why...”

“I wasn't just living with Abigail, Phillip.”

“So? Your point?”

“She was my girlfriend. Do you think Mom would accept me like that? I think she'd disown me.” I sighed and rocked back and forth on my feet.

“I think you're selling Mom short there Jamie.”

“I don't! So many people rejected us Phillip! Her parents, her brother's and sisters. But I really was in love with her. She was just an amazing person. I loved her with all my heart.”

“And so I love her too James.” Mom's voice surprised me as I turned around. She stood there in her favorite apron, the sea breeze blowing her gray hair in the wind. “For your heart, all my childrens hearts, are mine. You are always welcome home.”

I could see the tears stand in ghost Jamie's eyes.

“Mom...”

“You are not broken Jamie. You can be told a million times by a million people that you are. But to me, to the people that matter, you are not broken. Come home child. We can join your sisters and rest.” And Jamie stepped forward and took Mom's hand.

Took Mom's hand.

“Mom...what does this mean?” I ask. Stepping forward.

“I think you know what this mean's Phillip.”

“I lost you too?” And Mom smiled her warm smile that always made me feel better.

“No. The night I died I was home before supper. I made it home before your father. Son. You did an amazing job guiding your sister's to adulthood. Raising Jamie. I stood by you. But my god did I raise an awesome son.”

I stared at my Mom's ghost for longer than I should have before turning back to the ocean. “I didn't...I...”

“Come home Phillip. We'll be waiting for you.”

“I told you you'd find me.” Jamie said. I wasn't looking but I could tell she was smiling. When I turned back towards them they were gone. I sighed. I guess it was time to head home.

I would not be home before supper.

Where The Light Gets In

        She sits you down across from her at the table and the look on her face scares you. Scares you and you're not a man who gets scared easily. But the one thing you fear is written plain across her. And you see her wrinkle her nose in the way that tells you she's trying not to cry. Trying not to feel what she's currently feeling. And that scares you. It's written there plain as day though. And why wouldn't you know that? Haven't you spent the last five years loving this woman? Learning to read her like a book. Cause isn't that what love is? And the look she's giving you now that's not what you want to see. That's a look you've seen before. That's the look of her letting go. Your greatest fear. Her giving up on you. The first tear rolls down her cheek. It's too late. She's already made her decision. Many more tears will come. You know they will. Again, you know this woman better than you know yourself. And the way she's looking at you right now, that's not what you want. That's never a look you wanted her to put on you. Maybe that's not what it is though. Maybe there's something else. You can work through anything she's about to tell you. Is that right though? Can you do that? Are you willing to? Yes. Because you love this woman. And that's what love is.

        You reach across the table to take her hands and she pulls them away from you. And that single act, that single moment hurts more than anything she can tell you. Anything she can do to you at that moment will not tell you any more or hurt you anymore than what she's already told you by pulling away from you. No longer does she accept your touch. No longer will she accept your loving affection.

        You ask yourself what it is you did wrong. What is it you didn't do right? What more could you have acted upon. What more did you need to learn or unlearn or needed to change? What more could you have done for this woman to make her love permanent? You run it through your head a million and a half times in a matter of seconds. What did you do wrong? Maybe it wasn't you. Maybe you did everything right. Maybe it's her. Maybe she just didn't want to accept it from you. Maybe she was selfish. Maybe at the end of the day it wasn't you but her. But you hate yourself for thinking that because how could it be her? How could you blame her for any of this? You love her. And blaming her for any of this seems to taint that.

        She'll never think of you again. And you know that now in your heart. When she's cuddled with someone new. She'll never remember the cold nights you did that with her favorite movie. When her kids are having snowball fights she'll never remember climbing the hill in the winter and you falling on your ass getting her a walking stick and her thinking it was the most hilarious thing in the world. When it's pouring down rain she'll never remember how you laid your jacket down on the bench so her pants wouldn't get wet. She'll never remember you going out late at night to get her her favorite soup. Or the nights you rocked her to sleep because of the pain in her stomach. Or learning to cut pineapple for her. She'll never remember all of these things because once you're unlaced from her life you'll no longer matter. Because as much love as you gave her, it never filled her up. She never realized how much you really did.

        Didn't you try? Didn't you try everything in your power to make sure she loved you? You were devoted. Loving. Caring. You listened. In the end though what's it matter? To what end did it solve anything? You wasted your time for 5 years you wasted your love with this person and all you manage to learn was that it hurts. And that's something you can't stand anymore. Is it? No. You are cracked. You are broken. And you had thought she was the one to heal all that but just when you thought that there was no longer damage she hits you. And hits you hard. The pain breaks you for good now. And instead of crying you sit and stare at her. She tells you it's not you. But you know. And you can't react. You draw your hands in. You draw your heart in. You draw your mind in. And you know that you'll never love again because what the fuck is the point of love if it's never truly reciprocated? If it's never really given back to you then why would you give it away? No you'll keep it to yourself now. In your cracked box. The tears she cries mean nothing. The house you lived in mean nothing. The pain you felt now means nothing. And it won't ever again. Because these five years had become nothing more than just an exercise on how cracked you could become before you can't feel a thing.

        There's something you remember down the road. Sometime later. Something your mom would always say to you. Something that plays through your head as you start your car. You were going to be ok. Yes you're broken. Yes you're cracked. But the cracks...

                

                                        That's where the light gets in.