Chapter Three – His New Life
The small boy who put on a brave face finally grew up
And he became the man who shut out the world
Believing everyone had turned their backs on him
When it was him who chose to shut everyone else out
Choosing to revel in his pain for a while before moving on
But never truly letting go of the pain
-Jace-
"So these are the new plans? Did they give a projected start date? I don't want any interference with our day to day operations." I asked Isabelle at the morning meeting.
When I took over Taki's from my father, I promised him I wouldn't lose it or be forced to close it because I couldn't turn a profit. And so far I was doing a good job of keeping the bar running like a well-oiled machine.
Upon graduating from East Carolina University, Isabelle returned to help me run the bar in my father's absent; bringing with her a lot of ideas she picked up partying in between classes and final exams. Despite her being an occasional thorn in my side, she did have some good ideas and knew exactly how to read the customers.
So Izzy became the face, running bar on our busier nights, duping poor suckers out of all their hard earned cash while I managed the business side. After fielding many complaints from the summer crowd about not having good hangover food near their summer rentals, I expanded the take-out counter to include delivery. Sebastian was good for that. The women loved him and all the frat meatheads wanted to party with him.
I even made the bar available to rent out for private parties, mostly family reunions and a few 'Lost Weekend' type getaways. I even hosted a couple of bachelorette parties but those had to stop as I was often waking up next to the bridesmaids.
Under my management, we were turning a little more than twice what my father did when I was younger.
"They figured at the end of the season. We'll have to shut down for five months if we don't want sawdust in everyone's drinks. So I was thinking we could make the announcement at the Labor Day Tiki Bash for the regulars, close up and just supervise the renovation."
"Well these look good, just have the contractor make this window here a little wider and I'll drop off the check later today. Was there any other new business?" I asked, noticing Isabelle was holding her position near the door.
"Remember I told you I was going to hire some help; another person to help run the bar?"
I nodded, not liking how she was dancing around the subject. Isabella asked me to have an open mind before she threw open the door and motioned for someone to come in.
In walked a leggy blonde with bright blue eyes and a sexy air about her. She was dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a pink and purple plaid tank top that showcased her more than ample chest.
"Jace, this is Kaelie. Kaelie, this is my cousin and your boss Jace."
I turned on the Herondale charm and gave her "that" smile, enjoying watching her eat it up. A slight blush crept into her cheeks and I knew I had her.
"Why don't you open the bar and I'll show our new employee her station." I told my cousin, watching Kaelie twirl her hair and bat her eyes at me.
Isabelle rolled her eyes but did as I asked while I escorted Kaelie to the bar, checking her out as she walked in front of me. Something about her was so refreshing, so unknown around these parts. I couldn't put my finger on it but I was determined to find out.
"The morning usually brings in the regulars and people passing through on their way back to the city. It usually won't pick up until 3, sometimes 4. If the bar isn't busy, then help out the kitchen with any food orders until Sebastian comes in."
I showed her where everything was and the inventory room where she purposely brushed up against me as she grabbed some bottles needed for the bar. She was straightforward and blunt, my favorite.
As the first customers strolled in, I watched Kaelie flawlessly fill their orders for a bit before heading back to the office to handle some paperwork.
Isabelle popped in every couple of hours, as always, keeping me updated on how Kaelie was working out. The regulars were distrustful of her the same way they were when Isabelle started. But the summer crowd appeared to love the new direction the bar was heading, believing I was turning Taki's into a "Coyote Ugly" type bar.
Promptly at 6, I left for the day like I always did. I put away the packing slips and checked my math for tomorrow's liquor delivery, placing it where I was certain Isabelle would find it before turning off the lights and locking up.
"Kaelie, is my order ready?" I called out over the roar of the customers. Word had spread like wildfire among the town that we had hired a new female bartender so we were packed wall to wall.
"Yeah, its right here Boss. That's a lot of food you have there. Is it date night or something for you and the girlfriend?"
I leaned against the counter and pushed my hair back and stared at her with my smoldering aureate eyes. "And what if it is?"
She shrugged but I could see the jealousy burning behind her eyes. I chuckled and straighten back up as I explained it was for my dad.
"He still lives in town so I always stop by for dinner before heading to my place. Alone. If you want some company after work, you should stop by." I winked, slipping her my address.
She blushed again but nodded slyly returning to her customers. I shook my head and turned, immediately greeted by Isabelle and her cocky smile.
"I'm getting you a bell cousin." I snapped at the suddenness of her presence.
"Admit it, I was right. Kaelie is a great bartender." She smirked.
"She's okay but I still think you should keep looking." I joked before grabbing my food again.
Isabelle's face quickly changed and she pulled me in for a hug. "Tell Uncle Stephen I said hi."
I nodded and headed back to my childhood home.
As I pulled into the driveway of the small 2 bedroom home, I sighed and contemplated not going in. Just walking away and putting everything behind me. But I knew that I never would. So I got out of the car and walked the short path and opened the door as my father shuffled into the room.
Right around his 45th birthday, I began noticing small changes in my father.
He developed a temper and problems with his vision. When I asked him about it, he claimed nothing was wrong other than old age getting to him, but I knew it was something more. So when he fell in the stock room and couldn't speak, I rushed him to the hospital. The doctors informed me he had a stroke, his third one that year.
After his hospital stay, we sat down with Doctor Branwell and learned what the next step was.
-Flashback-
"Mr. Herondale, your father suffered a stroke in the right side of his brain. That's why he experienced the vision problems and paralysis. Those were warning signs that his brain wasn't receiving enough blood to function. These were things I personally informed him to look for after he suffered his last stroke."
"Yes, well I wasn't informed that he suffered any health problems but from here on I will be accompanying him to all his appointments."
Henry nodded and began explaining the steps to recovery and his treatments.
"Some side effect may lessen with time and therapies but some may be permanent. We won't know for certain until we begin. But some common effects are memory loss, difficulty processing new memories. Loss of balance and coordinating his body movements, central pain syndrome, and trouble with communication or swallowing are ones that almost never go away fully.
"You may notice him expressing signs of depression or drastic personality changes. He may become angry that his body cannot function the way it once did."
"How so?"
He sighed and gestured with his hands to show the infinite possibilities. "Many patients feel that their body has failed them in some way when they develop sensory problems like the ability to feel hot or cold, urinary or bowel problems, even perception of familiar surrounds. Your father may think someone is moving furniture around or things are a greater distance than they actually are."
I listened intently as he continued to discuss the warning signs and how to continue his therapy once he was home. He offered a lot of tips as to proofing the place so he would have an easier time getting around.
"You can have him perform simple tasks, like getting up out of bed on his own or sitting into a chair. You may think it's silly but much of his recovery will consist of his ability to perform these. If his speech has been affected, then he will need to see a speech pathologist twice a week."
It was a lot to take in but Doctor Branwell assured me if we followed the steps and managed his daily life well, he would be less likely to suffer another stroke any time soon.
-End Flashback-
When he was released, I put a stop to him working in the bar and hired Isabelle on full time. for the first couple of weeks, I stayed in my old childhood bedroom and watched over him. Just like the doctor stated, he accused me of moving his chair and the television and had trouble measuring his perception. I devised little tips for helping to get around and reorganized the house, moving things to higher shelves and removing some padding out of his chair, to work his limbs.
As for his speech therapy, I labeled everything and forced him to speak the proper name for something rather than just pointing to it.
I did what I could to take care of him but I couldn't be home all the time. And I feared if I did leave him alone, I would return to find he set the place on fire or fall down the stairs trying. So I hired a full time nurse to watch over him, to his dismay.
"I don't need a babysitter Jonathon. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And your mother can do all the rest."
All my life, my father only called me Jonathon when he was truly mad or disappointed in me. I sat him down and looked him in the eye before asking if he knew who I was.
"Of course, I know you who are. You're my son, Jonathon."
"Yes but do you remember what you always call me?" I searched for a sign of recognition but there was none. My father shook his head and asked me to stop acting foolish before calling for my mother to bring him a glass of water.
Doctor Branwell warned me he could develop Early On-set Alzheimer's as a result of the stroke but I wasn't prepared for it to happen.
So I hired several nurses finally finding one that could handle the cantankerous old man.
"Hey there Jonathan. Have you seen my glasses?" he asked, patting his shirt pockets.
I placed the food on the table and guided him to his chair, retrieving his glasses from his hair and placing them in his hand.
"How was your day Pop?" I called out as I walked into the kitchen to prepare the food I brought.
"I'm telling you Jonathan, she's stealing my medicine. I know she is. This morning I counted 18 pills before she got here. And when she left, I only had 12. I bet she's selling them to pay for the make up she cakes on her face." He commented on his disdain for his nurse, Sophie Collins.
"And like I told you earlier when you cornered me, Mr. Herondale, the missing pills are the one I gave you today with your meal." She retorted, getting his food tray set up.
Sophie was slender with dark hair and dark hazel eyes. She was kind but tough and wouldn't put up with much; but was a bit guarded and self-conscious due to the scar on her face. Sophie didn't speak about it but began covering it up after my father pestered her for the first three weeks she was on the job.
Finally she broke down and told us what happened, not looking for sympathy but in the hopes of making him understand why it was a touchy subject.
"I was a nurse for a young man; the spoiled kind. He had crashed his new Porsche just two hours after he received it as a birthday present. I won't go into the details but the accident was bad. He needed constant care; something his parents believed should fall onto the shoulders of someone else.
He couldn't have been no older than 21, 22. He was enamored with me and I turned him down every time. One night when I was changing his dressing on his cuts, he grabbed a pair of scissors off the table and WHOOSH!
"He cut my face open. I went to his mother but she claimed I was seducing him and fired me. I went to the hospital and got it stitched up but there was nothing more they could do to make it less noticeable."
The next day she came over, her scar was covered but my father still accused her of stealing his medicine to cover the cost of makeup.
Coming to gather his pills and some water she greeted me. "How are you Jace?"
"I'm fine Sophie. How is he today?"
"The doctor said he may need to be put in Hospice by the end of the year. He's having trouble recalling the smallest of new details and continues to mix up the past with today. They don' think the meds are working; that it may be best at this point for nature to just take its course."
"You know your mom, she never wore any makeup. She never needed it." he sighed wistfully from the living room.
When I was younger, he would never talk about her. I didn't know it if was because it was too painful or he was simply suppressing the memory of her last day. All the pictures were removed and even my aunt and uncle were cautious about mentioning her.
I thanked Sophie and carried the food out to the living room while she went on her evening break.
As I placed his plate in front of him, he looked at it unblinking before looking at me, as if unaware of my presence; he was looking right through me.
"Jonathan? When did you get here?"
"Just now, Pop and I brought you some food from the bar. Hamburgers and fries."
He looked down at the plate in front of him and smiled. "You remembered my favorite!"
"Yeah, you don't remember asking me for it yesterday?" I peered into his eyes, hoping to see him recall or recognize something.
"Yesterday? We watched the News when you came by! And we had chicken strips and some salad, right?"
I smiled and nodded; hoping today was going to be one of his good days. Some were better than others. Some days he could recall all of my childhood memories and other days he couldn't remember where he placed his keys or glasses. Since his last stroke, there hadn't been any more but his brain never fully recovered, the section that processed memories suffering the most damage.
"You want to watch the game?" I pointed to the television as he took a bite out of his hamburger. As he cheered on his team, I informed him of the goings on at the bar.
"We hired a new bartender and Isabelle and I are going to fix it up once September is over. You think maybe you wanna come by one day and see the place."
He took another bite of his sandwich and nodded, patting his pockets for his glasses once more.
"They're on you face Pop."
His wrinkled hands slid up his face and felt the arm of his frames. He let out a chuckle and shook his head. "I tell you Jonathan. I would lose my head if it wasn't attached to my body," he paused and looked thoughtful for a bit before saying, "Your mother use to tell me that all the time. She always worried about me."
I kept my mouth shut until my father spoke again. "How's Clary? Is she still taking good care of you?"
I stopped chewing my burger for a second before continuing and swallowing the small bite that weighed a ton. In all this time, I hadn't thought of her and my father never mentioned her despite his memory book being filled with photos of us along with Isabelle and Alec.
"You remember Clary Pop?" I asked cautiously. Many times when he was presented with a question, he would become furious, accusing the person of patronizing him.
He patted the leather book beside his chair. The memory book was suggested by Sophie after one of his doctors' appointments. She thought if he could look at things from the past it may help stimulate some brain function and assist his mind in repairing itself.
"Of course I remember her. You two were always together. Why don't you bring her around anymore? She could put a smile on your worried face." He joked.
I cleared my throat and explained to my father that Clary and I weren't together anymore. I was beginning to see what Sophie was saying about him mixing up the past with the present.
"Remember Pop, we broke up eight years ago. She moved to Pittsburgh for school and I stayed here to help you run the bar. Then you got sick and I hired the nurse to look after you."
"Yeah, the one who wears too much make up. I told she's steals my pills, right Jonathon?"
A single tear left my eye as I nodded. It was becoming too painful to watch his mind slowly drift away.
"Yeah, Dad; you told me."
When Sophie returned, she helped my father up the stairs and into the shower before passing me his pills that needed to be refilled. I promised I would drop them off in the morning before heading to the bar.
"And Sophie, I don't think that memory book is helping him any. I think it's time to try something else."
She arched her eyebrows at me before explaining that when he flipped through the pictures she saw that he was remembering things. "He can name every single person in that book. It conforms him to see a life well lived. Why would you want to take that away from him?"
"Because he needs to remember the present, not things from the past that he can't change!"
"Is this about you or your father?" she asked, crossing her arms and setting her gaze intently upon mine.
"Just get rid of it. I'll bring his pills over round 8." I huffed as I left.
As soon as I walked into my place above the bar, I turned on the light, receiving a hiss of welcome from my cat, Church. He stared at me with his menacing yellow eyes, a look that said, "It's about time you got home."
"Don't give me that look or you won't get any dinner." I snapped, walking right into the kitchen. I grabbed a can of cat food from the cabinet, pulling off the top and dumping the wet, congealed mess into Church's bowl.
"Here you go." I placed the bowl on the ground and backed away before he scratched me for being in his space. Isabelle got me the cat as a house warming gift, claiming he was just like me.
"Both of you hate people so he's perfect for you."
"And just what am I supposed to do with a cat? Take up knitting?"
"Talk to him and keep him alive."
At the time, I thought Izzy was crazy but as time passed, it became therapeutic for me to have someone I could vent to and not worry about offering their unwanted opinion.
"I saw my father today. It was one of his good days; he didn't forget as much this time. But he's mixing up his memories. Today he asked about Clary. He wanted to know if she was still taking good care of me. He seemed so hurt when I told him that we weren't together anymore. And it made me realize that it's been years since I've thought about her or even spoke her name."
Church meowed and licked his chops before giving me an exasperated look. I chuckled and said, "You're right. Why mess up a good thing," just as someone knocked on the door.
I gave him a curious look before heading to answer it, surprised it was Kaelie.
"What are you doing here?"
"You invited me remember?" she asked, feigning hurt that I didn't remember our exchange from earlier.
"No I remember, it's just I hadn't realized the time."
"Yeah well Isabelle said you usually sit up here and go over her paperwork and I shouldn't disturb you until later. So are you going to invite me in and give me the grand tour of this place?" she asked flirtatiously.
I smirked and widen the door allowing her entrance. She let out a low whistle at my place, commenting on how much it looked like a bachelor pad before catching sight of the bed.
She sauntered over and plopped down on it, crossing her long, tan legs.
"Care for a beer?" I offered, heading back to the kitchen to grab one for myself.
When I closed the door to the fridge, I was surprised she was already relieved herself of every article of her clothing, with the exception of her panties. As I stood there, all the blood rushing from one head to another, I thought about the last time I was up here with a girl. In the past, I spent my time with those lucky enough to warrant my presence at their place. This place was off limits, a monument that that night did happen.
But what was I holding on to it for? We were different people after that night and even now. I was still here and she was somewhere off in the world, spending her evenings with another.
Kaelie jarred me out of my thoughts by pulling me in, her indubitably pointed nipples rubbing against my chest.
"You know it's considered rude to ignore your company." She purred in my ear, her whispers tickling more than my lobes.
"You're right. Let me make it up to you." I teased, my hands moving to relieve her of the only article of clothing she was still wearing.
AN: Long chapter I know but I couldn't stop the words once they flowed from me. Chapter four will skip ahead to sometime in June and will be from Simon's point of view.