Release
Sarah Hawkins pulled open her closet door and hesitated a moment in staring at her hanging dresses. She chewed on her lower lip. It wasn't so much what was in front of her that caused her trepidation, rather what was behind it. What was hidden away all over their home, stuffed into dresser drawer corners and storage areas, desk cupboards and kitchen cabinets. His things. Leland's things.
Gathering her nerve, she stretched her hand past her dresses to the back corner where his shirts still hung. Feeling her fingers brush some of the fabric, she pulled the first shirt she saw off its hanger and out of her closet. The burnished red article of clothing hadn't seen the light of day in two years, but it still looked pressed. As she brought it closer to her face, the faint smell of cologne caught her by surprise and she nearly dropped it. It had been his favorite shirt so she shouldn't have been shocked it still smelled like him, though she was confused why he'd left it behind if he liked it so much.
Just another item he forgot, she thought contemptuously. Like me, like his son.
She had a sudden violent urge to tear the shirt into ribbons - pull each piece of thread meticulously until it was nothing more than a pile of string. Then she wanted to burn it. And then she wanted to forget.
But Sarah could never forget. Even after two years, she still lay awake some nights listening to the creaking of the inn, pretending it was him walking down the hall, coming home. He'd crawl into bed, and this time she wouldn't ask him where he'd been. He would pull her close, dizzy her up with kisses.
No - that future was gone now; stolen away from her on a merchant ship. She had to move on, had to be strong for Jim. If she pined after Leland any longer she'd kill them both.
So Sarah took a deep breath and threw the shirt into the box she'd later take to the local tailor to donate. As she pulled each shirt off the rack, rifled through drawers and dug out pants and socks, she realized Leland hadn't taken much with him. That morning had been one of their worst arguments, because she knew that he was leaving and that there was nothing she could do to stop him. He'd hurriedly pulled together a travel sack with all of his essential items and a cut of their finances (he'd oh so generously left her much of their savings, telling her to take care of Jim for him). She'd erupted, shouting at him to sit down, grabbing his arm, and when she couldn't overpower him, couldn't force him to stay, she'd fallen back on pleading.
"Please don't do this to your son." Please don't do this to me.
He'd slammed the door, which had in turn awoken Jim, and Sarah, at the time, had no heart to comfort her boy, so lost was she in her own grief.
She pulled herself out of the memory by throwing another pair of pants into the box. She was so absorbed in her task of cleaning out their - her - room, she didn't hear Jim approach down the hall.
"Mom?" the ten-year-old asked, hovering in the doorway. Sarah looked up, startled.
"Jim," she sighed, managing a small smile. "How was school today?"
Jim shrugged as he dropped his school bag on the floor and walked further into the room. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, uh, I'm just...spring cleaning," Sarah cleared her throat. But Jim, clever as he was, reached into the box on the floor and held up Leland's pair of pants.
"These are dad's," he said. Sarah hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.
"Yes, they were his."
"What are you doing with them?" Jim asked, his intelligent young eyes suddenly boring into her. Sarah considered lying, but then she figured this might be a good opportunity to show him it was healthy to let go. She knew Jim still harbored fantasies that Leland would come back. She sometimes caught him watching the docks from the kitchen window as if looking for a ship, or speaking of Leland in the present tense, or picking fights if someone spoke poorly of his dad. Sarah considered it might be time for the two of them to finally discuss what happened as for the past two years she'd chosen to ignore his behavior so driven was she by her own fantasy that Leland still loved her.
"Jim," she started and smoothed her day dress as she sat down on the bed and motioned for him to join her. He did, looking perplexed. "You know that what happened that day was not your fault."
Jim looked away, his long bangs covering his face. She reached for his chin and turned him toward her.
"It wasn't," she said firmly, and released him. "But I think–I think your father, much as he loved you, can't -" How could she say this delicately? Finding no other way around it, she finished, "He's not coming back."
Jim went still, so still Sarah could have dropped a pin and she would have heard it. She pressed on, fearful her straightforward approach had had the opposite effect.
"He won't be coming home to us, honey, and I really think it's best if we -"
"He's coming back," Jim frowned, suddenly glaring at her. "Loads of people tell me their dads stay out in space for a really long time, so maybe he just got lost."
Oh, Jim.
"And he's going to come back," Jim finished.
"Sweetheart…" Sarah tried again, her voice betraying her emotion.
"You're wrong," Jim sneered. He had leapt to his feet now and snatched up the pants. "You can't get rid of his things."
"We can't keep them," Sarah replied, also getting to her feet.
Jim clutched the pair of pants tighter unconsciously.
"You can't," he glared at her. "I won't let you."
"He doesn't need them anymore, Jim," Sarah frowned. Her heart squeezed, breaking all over again, but a part of her was tired of grieving and an even smaller part of her was angry Jim wasn't letting go, wasn't allowing her to let go.
"No!" Jim shouted. All of the rage, the fear, the anxiety that had been frothing beneath the surface, hidden beneath their sadness for the past two years, was finally erupting, venting like an active volcano. And Sarah, already emotionally drained from the day, reacted.
She reached quickly for the pants, but Jim jumped backwards.
"Keeping his things won't bring him back, Jim!" she snapped, then caught her mouth at the shock she now saw splashed across Jim's expression. It morphed quickly back into a simmering glare, however.
"I hate you!" he roared. "You won't let him come back. You're the reason he's gone."
And before Sarah could stop him, Jim had thrown the pants back at her and sprinted from the room.
Sarah, defeated, sank back onto her bed, tears once again pricking her tired eyes.
The remainder of the later afternoon passed without much consequence. Sarah, after composing herself, finished cleaning out her room, throwing anything that was Leland's into the boxes she planned to sell or donate to local businesses. She tossed out several books - though Leland was never much of a reader and had never finished the ones he bought. She threw away gizmos and gadgets - he was a lot like Jim in that he liked to tinker. In her haste to rid the room of him, she'd uncovered a dusty shoebox beneath her bed full of the love letters he'd once written her in high school, before they had ever moved to Montressor. Back when life was as simple as a school-girl crush.
She hadn't had the heart to throw them away. Not yet, but maybe soon. Similarly the holo-locket that hung around her neck had been a gift from him, but she kept that more out of necessity as it still had Jim's baby images downloaded to its core.
As the evening sun cast a warm glow through the inn's windows, Sarah could finally gaze upon her clean room with a mild hint of satisfaction.
But the feeling was short-lived when she thought about how she'd spoken to her son earlier. Of course Jim wasn't ready to let go. How could she blame him for that? Pushing him before he was ready had only made him resent her. She needed to make things right.
So she checked his room to see if he had tucked himself away inside, but she realized she should know Jim better than that by now. The window was open where he had escaped out of, probably to go ride his solar surfer. She'd just have to wait until he came home.
To occupy herself, she decided to make a late supper. Sarah was just laying out two bowls in the dining room when Jim walked through the front door.
"Jim!" she cried in alarm upon seeing the gash on his temple. She ran to his side, but Jim stepped back, covering his face with his hands. She'd have none of it and gently, yet firmly, pulled his hands away from his face to see the injury.
"Mom, it's not a big deal," Jim mumbled.
She gave him a flat look and shook her head. Questions and reprimands lay on the tip of her tongue. No doubt the injury was from his solar surfer, and she'd be prying the story out of him eventually, but at the moment her son didn't need a disciplinarian. He needed a mom.
"Come on, let's get this cleaned up," she said instead.
She had Jim sit down while she fetched some antiseptic and a bandage. When she came back into the room, Jim was already eating dinner, though his mannerisms seemed stiff and his eyes had a faraway look in them. She had him tip his head back so she could dab at the injury.
"Mom," Jim groaned and rolled his eyes.
"Oh stop it," she tsked, finally applying the bandage to seal the injury. "There, now was that so hard?"
Jim didn't reply, merely returned to his meal. He was pulling away from her. Almost like Leland had, and that thought made her stomach turn. She had to apologize, had to make things right. She wished Jim would let go, but it was unfair to ask a ten year old to carry the burden of loss. Sarah took a deep breath.
"Jim I—"
"I don't hate you," Jim whispered suddenly, then tucked his chin to his chest so he wouldn't have to look at her. He set his spoon down in his bowl and pushed the dish away.
"What?" Sarah asked, unsure if she'd heard him right.
"I don't hate you like I said earlier," Jim sniffed. "I didn't mean it. I got so mad, and I didn't mean it."
"Oh sweetie, of course you didn't mean it."
"I don't want you to leave me too," Jim's voice broke as he raised watery eyes to her, looking at her with anxiety and desperation. So much so that Sarah was almost knocked backwards. Within a heartbeat, she was gathering her son into arms and holding him as tight as he would let her.
"I will never ever leave you. Never," she promised him, kissing the top of his head. Jim's arms gripped her tightly in return. "And you are not the reason your father left. Don't you ever blame yourself for that, Jim. You are not the reason he left."
"Then why did he go?" Jim choked out through his tears, his voice also muffled by her dress and shoulder. For so long Sarah had tried to keep their small family together by making excuses for Leland or constructing stories to shield Jim from the harsh reality that his father was a self-centered man. But in so doing she had pushed Jim away, lost pieces of his trust, made him believe he could have been the reason for Leland's abandonment.
"I don't know," Sarah admitted. She didn't know. She had been asking herself the same question for years. "But you are and always will be his most precious gift to me."
She pulled back from their embrace to wipe some of his tears away as Jim ran the sleeve of his shirt over his nose. "And I think it's time for us to let him go too."
Jim dipped his head in a nod, resigned to what his mother was suggesting.
"Although," Sarah hummed, having a thought. "I don't think the local tailor will take all of his clothes. We might just have to keep a few." She gave Jim a small smile seeing his expression turn hopeful.
Soon the two of them found themselves opening up the boxes in Sarah's room, digging through Leland's things. In her earlier haste to clean the room of memories, Sarah had almost forgotten to find closure in the objects herself. Although she still planned to get rid of most everything, she did dig out his favorite burgundy shirt again just to remember his smell one last time.
"I know what I want," Jim suddenly spoke up, interrupting her reverie. Sarah lowered the shirt.
"Oh? What did you find?"
"This."
And before Sarah knew what was happening, she was thrown back in time. Back to when she had first met Leland Hawkins and fallen in love with all his boyish charm. Back to when she'd hold his hand after school or he'd climb their forever tree to show off. Back to when he would throw rocks at her window so her parents wouldn't know they were sneaking off to share kisses at one of the docks.
Jim pulled his arms through the sleeves of the black jacket, the same coat that Leland had once worn all through high school, and Sarah felt she was drowning in memory all over again. As Jim adjusted the fabric, Sarah had to chuckle. It was far too large of a jacket for Jim at his age, but it was befitting in a way. Because the one item that reminded Sarah of why she had fallen in love with Leland was the one item Jim had chosen. Of course Jim didn't know any of this. He had selected the jacket because it looked cool and made his shoulders look bigger. He fiddled with the sleeves, trying to adjust the length making Sarah smirk.
"Come here," she beckoned as Jim walked over to her. She straightened out the coat and rolled back the sleeves to expose his small hands. "There. You're all set for adventure," Sarah smiled.
Jim grinned in return.
"And I'll tell you a secret," she leaned in conspiratorially. "All the best spacers wear coats like this."
"Why?"
"Because it keeps them warm and reminds them that they always have a home to come back to."
"Mom, that's baby talk," Jim crossed his arms, his lip jutting in an unconscious pout. Sarah laughed. It had been a while since she really truly laughed.
"Perhaps, but that doesn't change the fact that I'll always be your home to come back to, Jim. No matter if it's after school or after a future voyage out there amongst the stars, I will always be your home."
Jim looked thoughtful for a moment before wandering to the window, pushing it open to let in a breeze. The sun had now set over the quiet town of Benbow. People often looked at Montressor and saw only a rundown mining outpost of a planet, but if one stuck around long enough, they'd quickly find Montressor's crowning attraction: it's view of the galaxy.
The billions of stars, the nebulous line that marked one of the galaxy's spirals, the white light of Crescentia - it was all so infinite, so mesmerizing that the eye couldn't determine what to focus on.
Sarah approached her son at the window, admiring the view beside him, pondering which star Leland might have chased, which planet he might have landed at.
"I'm going to see 'em all someday!" Jim boasted, playing with the sleeves of his new spacer's coat.
Sarah realized then that she didn't care where Leland was. The only thing that mattered anymore was where Jim was. Where she was. Because Jim was her home.
"Then I'm going to come back and tell you about it."
And she was his.
A/N: Well, the ending might have been weaker than I wanted, but overall, I had fun writing this piece. I wanted to focus on grief and loss in the wake of Leland's abandonment. Particularly Sarah's struggle. She married her high school sweetheart, had a child with him, then watched him walk out on her. The movie details how Jim dealt with Leland's abandonment, but it didn't give much insight into Sarah's emotions. I was inspired thinking about how she might have experienced things differently.
Ultimately, this story is not a happy ending. We all know that Jim doesn't magically get over Leland's leave. Jim grows up and becomes a moody teenager, still feeling as though he drove Leland away, even quietly resenting Sarah at times thinking she also played a part (according to an art book I have on the movie). I wanted to bring that into this story here - Jim thinks his mom is trying to erase his dad, but Sarah is trying to move on rather than remain miserable. That puts the two at odds with one another.
I also had this thought about Montressor having a great view of the galaxy. Maybe that's why Dr. Doppler set up his observatory there - because Montressor was a good planet to view and study the stars. This also could add to the meaning of Montressor's name: Mon Tresor means My Treasure.
And you all know where the black jacket comes from. In the movie Jim wears it when he's guarded or lacking confidence - he only sheds the coat when he takes the helm and charts his own course. I figured it would be neat if the jacket belonged to his dad - that's why it looks a lot bigger on him. So when Jim finally takes the jacket off at the end of the film, he's not only shedding his grief, he's shedding the notion that he needed his dad in order to turn his life around.
Anyway, thank you to all who favorited, followed, or reviewed the last chapter. Really appreciate it!