Hello dear readers,
Little pieces from 'The Life of Jack' ... ;-)
Note - Re: the dates - I used my imagination and worked with the fact that Jackie was 19/20-ish in 2004.
More to come, I hope.

L.


Memoirs of a Mercer

Lansing, Michigan -1985

By age twenty, she'd already lost two children to the child welfare system. She'd been 'using' on and off during this pregnancy but by some miracle, he'd turned out perfect and cute as a button. This time she was going to clean up her act, for this baby's sake at least.

Six weeks after he was born, her landlord found her lying on the dirty linoleum in the kitchen; a rubber band clinging to her forearm. The apartment had been ransacked. Her crying baby wailed in his tiny crib, starving for food and attention.

Too late ... she was already gone.


Oakland, Michigan -1994

He was huddled behind the smelly red couch in a corner of the cold, damp room. It was completely dark except for a little light streaming in through the dirty basement window. He could hear the loud screams upstairs, coupled with the deafening noise of glass crashing against the walls. They were at it again, and when things got this bad, the best place to be was down here, out of sight and away from the ruckus. He pulled his little legs closer to his chest and held onto them tightly.

This month would be his sixth at the Peterson's; the longest damn six months of his entire existence. He had grown accustomed to the occasional slaps in the face and the verbal abuse but those were nothing compared to what Mrs. Peterson endured. Last week she'd been rushed to the hospital after tumbling down the stairs from a blow her husband landed on the back of her head. The week before that, he'd been forced to witness the old geezer violate his wife with a beer bottle right there on the kitchen table.

He thought of running away ... some good that would do. He'd run away from his first foster family, look where it'd gotten him – right back here in another shitty-ass foster home. He sat there busily contemplating his options or lack thereof, when he heard the gunshot upstairs. He buried his head between his knees and rocked back and forth as the sound left loud echoes in his head.

The last thing he remembered before he fainted was the sight of Mrs. Peterson standing by the kitchen table; the front of her nightgown covered in big red stains, shaking violently as she clutched the pistol she had used to drive a hole through her husband's skull.


Detroit, Michigan -1997

Evelyn folded the adoption documents neatly and placed them in the little chest she kept underneath her bed. He was a quiet, emotional, sensitive thing and she wanted so much to protect him, to alleviate some of the burdens that weighed down on those tiny shoulders. He'd had a very traumatic childhood, she'd read all the reports. She wasn't about to let him down or give up on him. She believed in these kids and what they could become.

She closed the chest and smiled to herself.

Her boy; he was her little boy now - her son.


Detroit, Michigan -2003

The drive to the airport was mostly quiet. All he was taking with him was one suitcase and his guitar. She found some reassurance in that - it wasn't like he would never come home again.

"Jackie, take care of yourself, ya hear? I know you're a big-shot rock star, but absolutely no drugs! Make sure you eat properly and stay safe. California's no picnic." Her pleading eyes held his.

"I know Ma. We live in Detroit… I can handle L.A.," he smiled and drew her close for one last hug. She sighed and clung to him, "I love ya. Call me when ya get there."

"I love ya, Ma.."

She sat there for a long while after he'd checked-in and disappeared down the long hallway that led to his airplane. "I'll miss you.." she whispered, as if to a ghost.

(640 words)