A/N: Hi all. I have a gift. A gift of a finished installment. Please enjoy and forgive me of my absence yet again! I won't be writing author's notes for the next couple of chapter. But, please read the author's note on the bottom of the last chapter 3
Chapter 20: Numb
Jessica
I sat in the practice room alone while Christian stood on the other side of the door with a phone glued to his ear. I could only hear snippets of his conversation. Patiently, I waited for him to return to the room, but when he did, he seemed to be in another world. He hurriedly started packing up, shoving his sheet music into a folder, taking his trumpet and placing it into its case.
"What's wrong?"
He paused and looked up at me with tears welling up in his eyes. He took the palm of his hand and pushed it up against his eyes wiping away the wetness. Without an answer, he bolted out the room. Not thinking twice about it, I followed him. At the door, Jordan grabbed my arm and begged me not to follow him.
"What happened?" I asked the brass instructor.
Instead of answering my question, he responded with, "I'm going to drive him to the airport tonight. He's done for the rest of the tour." Without any more, Jordan left and followed Christian into the gym. And just like that, with no explanation, Christian was gone.
I watched as the two drove off into the darkness until the outline of the car disappeared.
Christian
The airplane ride back to California seemed like an eternity. We landed at just after 1 in the morning. Waiting for me was my Uncle Jacob. We drove in silence all the way to the hospital. I think we were both in the same state of franticness and stunned.
As we reached the hospital, Jacob guided me the way to a waiting room. We sat down and with a sigh, he began to explain the situation. According to him, my dad was a couple hours deep into his heart transplant surgery. We were just waiting on the doctor for more updates.
I was restless. I paced back and forth through that waiting room for what seemed like hours. Ugh, how could I be so stupid and selfish? My dad needed me here but I was off chasing a girl that kept giving me mixed signals. Right then and there, I decided that this whole back and forth with Jessica had to come to an end. It had to stop.
It was nearing sunrise when the surgeon returned. Attentive and listening, we waited hopefully for good news. "The transplant went smoothly. He's resting now. Give him a few hours before going in to see him." He was fine. He was going to be okay.
My whole life my dad had been incredibly distant. We were only getting back on better terms just recently. I wasn't sure how I'd handle losing him; I didn't even want to think about it. I was going to use the time that I have now to rekindle our relationship. Family had to come first. Nothing else.
After a few days, my dad was released from the hospital. My uncle came to help me transport him back home. The doctor gave us many instructions on how to care for my dad and what things he was and wasn't allowed to do. My uncle even decided that he'd move in with us for a few weeks until he was back on his feet again. We had to move my dad's bed downstairs to the guest room, our fridge was filled with food that his diet allowed, and it seemed that our medicine cabinet had doubled in size with his new medication.
One day while working at the gym, Jessica's mom showed up alone. Normally, she'd have Aiden with her for physical therapy meetings with my uncle, but today she stood by herself. Nervously, I greeted her. What could she be here about? Maybe Jessica had told her that I had been ignoring her phone calls for the past couple of weeks. Maybe it had something to do with Aiden?
Once she reached the front desk, she took my hand and squeezed it. "I heard about your dad. I'm glad to hear that he's back home."
A sigh of relief. "Thanks. He's doing okay."
After a few seconds of awkward silence, she spoke again. "Did you know about Aiden's car accident?" I nodded slowly. "Why do you think she took the blame for it? Why did she let me believe it was her fault all this time?"
I could tell this had been on her mind since the dinner that the truth had been spoiled. "I guess," I began, finding the right words to say. "She felt guilty. Maybe she thought that she deserved it."
"She deserved none of it." Her mom's eyes were red and teary. "Thanks, Christian," she gave my hand one last squeeze before exiting the building.
Jessica
Finals week.
Straight to voicemail, again.
Frustrated and confused, I threw my cellphone back into my bag. The bus was crowded with other corps members getting dressed for our semi-finals show. Halfway dressed, I sat down and put my face in my hands. This had to be the worse summer of my life. While, yes, I was grateful to be marching in a corps that I've loved since I was introduced to drum corps, everything else wasn't going well.
Outside, the corps director yelled for everyone to finish dressing. Pushing through the rest of the night, I had to fix my focus off other things and everything into our show. For the rest of the night, it felt as if I had gone numb.
Later that night, laying in my sleeping bag, I went as far as to Facebook stalk Christian. Nothing had changed on his profile since leaving for tour. What was the use in calling or texting again? I knew he wasn't going to answer or return any of my messages. I had asked Jordan multiple time over the course of the past three weeks on what had happened to cause Christian to leave, but he informed me that it was Christian's wishes not to share that information.
He was cutting me out of his life; it was obvious.
Finals day arrived after a few hours of restless sleep. The corps was up and ready within a few minutes. On the field, Christian's spot was refilled by Davis who had not talked to me since I'd ended things with him. Luckily for the corps, he had his cast removed and could march again. He quickly learned the show and memorized the music just in time for finals week. The show itself was magnificent. We had grown immensely since auditions and there was a large chance we'd place in the top three this year.
Hours before our slot time at the Lucas Oil Stadium, our techs had us warm up in the parking lot doing plenty of long tones, articulation, and lip exercises to loosen us up for our last show. "Alright, guys, "Jordan shouted out. "Let's take a 10-minute break! There's water by the buses."
The corps broke from attention and scrambled around. Some huddled in groups while others made their way for the buses. Inside the bus, I rummaged through my bags in search of my phone in hopes that I had received any sort of message from my former bus buddy. I stared at the empty phone screen.
"Jessica!" one of the mellophone players broke my attention. "There's someone outside looking for you." My heart panged. I knew there was a slim chance that it would be Christian, but still I hoped. Taking the steps off the bus, I found someone completely unexpected waiting for me.
My mother, of all people, was standing in front of me.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" I stammered. I was in disbelief. The woman who fought so hard to not let me march flew across the country to be here? There had to be a reason. "Is everything okay at home? Aiden?"
"They're all fine," she managed to get out.
There was an obvious space between us. We hadn't talked since she found out the truth from Aiden about the car accident.
"I talked to Christian," she began. My eyes perked up. Well that makes one of us. "He said that he knew about the accident. I just…" A pause. "I just want to know why you didn't tell me."
Typical. "That's all you came here for? Why I told Christian and not you?" Thank you for the support, mother. I can always count on you. I shook my head and began to leave, but she caught my arm and pulled me into a hug. I could hear her quiet sobs in my ear.
"I should have been there for you." She should have. The trauma, the pain – I had to endure that on my own. And to top it off with her constant disappointment with me, sometimes it was too much to handle. "I'm sorry, Jessica. I'm sorry." She held on tightly as if she'd never see me again if she'd let go. I left my arms at my side not knowing how to react.
From the lot, I heard our techs call us back. "I have to go," I told my mom, pulling her away from me. "We can talk more after the show." I ran back towards the rest of the group and saw my mom disappear into the crowd. How could I forgive her after all the torment she'd put me through? After all the blame, and the yelling…
Christian
After a long shift at the gym, I had to borrow my uncle's car to get back home. My truck was still in a school parking lot in Santa Clara; I had to get it back at some point. When I arrived home, I found my dad sitting on the couch with a laptop on his lap.
"Mijo!" he sounded excited. "Come sit. I paid to watch the drum corps finals on here."
Hesitant, I sat beside him. I didn't want to watch it in all honesty. All it did was remind me of a horrible summer I had. But my dad seemed so excited, so I sat quietly next to him watching dozens of drum corps perform.
When it came time for the Vanguard to perform, I watched as all the familiar people on the screen begin rolling on into the field. I could pinpoint where my spot used to be and, subsequently, find exactly where my former co-drum major was on the field. We sat in silence as the corps opened with a powerful chord.
"So," my dad said in the middle of the ballad. "Where's the girl that you like?"
I got up from the couch. "I'm going to take a shower," I changed the subject. "Yell if you need me." My dad rolled his eyes at me. When did he get so intrusive into my personal life? Maybe I liked it better when he ignored me for all those years.
Upstairs in my room, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. When the screen lit up, I found a couple more missed calls and text messages from the same person. I wish she'd get the picture. It's been three weeks. She had to catch on at some point.
Jessica
The night went by so quickly. The awards ceremony flew by (the corps placing third), and without realizing it, it was time to face my mother again. After talking with Jordan, he gave permission for me to go back home with my mom rather than in the buses with the corps. My mom waited for me outside the bus as I packed up my belongings. I was purposely going slow so that I'd have time to mentally prepare myself for the storm up ahead.
Back in my normal clothes, I hauled my backpack and suitcase out of the bus. It had to be late – probably nearing midnight. My mom took my suitcase and we walked in silence to her rental car. We drove to the hotel she had booked.
I sat on the bed while my mom stood in front of me. "Jessica," she began, tears welling up in her eyes again. "You performed so amazing tonight. I'm incredibly proud of you." She reached for my hands and squeezed them.
It had been a long time since I heard any sort of approval coming from her mouth. I sat in silence unsure of what to say.
"You're probably tired. We should get some sleep." She began to open her suitcase finding clothes to wear to sleep and a toothbrush.
"I'm not that tired," I told her. She stopped searching in her bag. With every ounce of courage I had left, I suggested, "We can… talk? About the accident?"
She looked intensely into my eyes. "Only if you want to." She tried to put no pressure on me, but the situation itself was stressful enough.
I took a deep breath as I began to tell a story that I had told my old enemy a long time ago. She listened intently and quietly. I watched her as her hands formed fists and her jaw tightened when I got to the worst part of my story, but she still sat in silence just consuming every word I said. And when I finished, we sat in pure silence as she digested the news.
Out of nowhere, she pulled me into the biggest hug she ever gave. She kept repeating 'I'm sorry' over and over again through her sobbing tears.
"Are you okay?" she genuinely asked me, while she wiped tears from her eyes with her sleeves.
"I'm fine," I tried to reassure her. "I'm okay. Promise."
"Do you need to see a psychiatrist or something?" my mom returned to her motherly self. "This sort of thing you should probably see someone for. Like to talk to someone."
"Mom, I swear, I'm fine." This time, I pulled her back into a hug. "All I needed to talk to was you."