Swear on This Life: A Novel
Swear on This Life: Chapter 13

Back at the Holiday Inn, as I planned my trip for Nashville, I found myself staring once again at Jase’s website. In four days, he would be at his Nashville signing.

I was leaving tomorrow. I made the decision to bide my time while I was there.

Even though I knew I was slowly waking up to my life, there were still things, questions that I didn’t have answers to.

I dialed Jase and got him on the first ring.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” I said, and then felt my jaw freeze up. There was commotion in the background, like he was in a bar or restaurant.

“How are you?”

“Fine.” Before he could say anything, I quickly added, “I haven’t finished the book yet, but I wanted to talk to you. Are you busy?”

I had been avoiding the book. Somewhere deep in my mind, I was afraid to finish it out of fear that it would act as some kind of predictor for how things would go. Based on where I had left off, I knew the ending couldn’t be anything but sad.

“Just give me a sec. I’m gonna step outside.” I could hear shuffling. “Fuck, it’s freezing out here!”

“Where are you?”

“Philly.”

“Oh,” I said, though I already knew. “It’s not really important, I can talk to you about it later.”

“No, what’s up? Talk to me.”

“Did you have a lot of girlfriends in college?” I blurted out.

“That’s what you want to know . . . right now?”

“I’m curious. I just want to know what your life was like while we were apart.”

“I wouldn’t call them girlfriends, per se. Hey, why haven’t you finished the book?” I could hear his teeth chattering.

I was not to be deterred. “Do you mean that you slept with a lot of girls?”

“What’s ‘a lot’?” I could tell that he was getting a little annoyed by this line of questioning.

“I’m not getting anywhere with these nonanswers,” I said.

“Emiline, I didn’t have any girlfriends. I dated and slept with more women than I’d like to admit. But no, I didn’t really have serious girlfriends.”

“So you never fell in love?”

“No,” he said firmly.

“Why?”

“Because none of them were you.”

Silence. I swallowed. I wanted to scream, I love you, at the top of my lungs.

“Jase . . .”

“I have to go back inside.”

“Okay,” I said reluctantly.

“Night, Em. Hope you got what you were looking for.”

“I did. Night.”

A part of me still wasn’t sure what Jase’s intentions were for us, but now I knew. None of them were me.

After I hung up, I pulled All the Roads Between out of my backpack and ran my hand over the cover. I promised myself that I would finish it, but I needed to see my mom first.

I MADE IT to Nashville late the next day. I found a hotel and then went to a nearby bookstore and bought a leather-bound journal like the one Jase had had when we were kids.

THE NEXT MORNING, I drove the red jelly bean to my mother’s address. As I pulled up, I could see that it was a modest postwar house with an overgrown front yard. In the driveway, there was a mobile dog-grooming van with the words DIRTY DOGS painted in bright red across the side, along with a picture of a mud-covered schnauzer.

I was less nervous to see her than I had been to see my dad because, the truth was, I hardly remembered her. She had been a part of my life for such a short time, her absence looming larger over my life than her presence. I wanted closure, but I knew, even if I got it, it wouldn’t be as cathartic as what I had experienced over a grilled cheese with my dad.

The second I rang the doorbell, I heard a symphony of barks on the other side and the sounds of a pack of tiny lap dogs racing toward me.

She swung open the door as she kicked and shooed the dogs away, her eyes not quite landing on me yet. Her hair was short, her dye job a cheap-looking shade of red from the drugstore. She seemed much smaller than I remembered, but then again, I was just a little kid the last time I had seen her. She was round, pudgy, a little unhealthy-looking, or maybe just worn-out. If her looks were any indication, life hadn’t been easy for her.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I forgive you,” I said instantly.

She stared at me hard, and then a look of realization poured over her features. Her eyes looked far from sad, though—they looked scared. “What are you doing here?”

“I just came to tell you I forgive you.”

She blocked the door like I was going to burglarize her house. “Great,” she said, with zero emotion.

“You’re not going to invite your own daughter into your house?”

She stared at me for several long, uncomfortable moments, and then she stepped out of the way hesitantly. “Sure. Come in.”

I followed her through a warren of boxes and piles of stuff strewn everywhere and into the kitchen, where there was even more clutter. She was clearly an incipient hoarder of things and dogs. There were at least eight small dogs of all different breeds, jumping and nipping at her feet like hungry rats.

“Sit.” She pointed to a bar stool behind the counter. I pulled it out and dusted some powdery white stuff off of it. The house was filthy. I tried to remember if ours was like that when I was little.

“You want some juice or something?” she asked.

“No, thank you.”

I didn’t know why I was staying.

“I have an appointment that I need to get to.” She stood on the other side of the dirty counter and appraised me.

“Are you a dog groomer?”

“It pays the bills,” she shot back.

“I wasn’t judging you.”

“Aren’t you, though? Isn’t that why you’re here, Emiline? To judge me?”

“No, I told you why I was here. To forgive you.”

“For what?”

“For abandoning me with him.” Did she really think she was innocent?

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘abandoned.’ You were always a daddy’s girl.”

What? “As if that’s an excuse,” I snapped. “He went to jail for child abuse and neglect.”

“You want to blame me ’cause your daddy couldn’t lay off the bottle?”

I could feel my face flushing with anger. Why am I here? It was like she had no emotions at all.

“You’re selfish,” I told her.

She looked at the clock on the microwave. “It’s time to go.”

“Where’s your husband?”

“At work.” She glared at me.

“Do you have any other kids you’ve abandoned?”

“Sure don’t.”

I stood from the bar stool and headed for the door, then I whirled around and placed my hands on my hips. “He said I was nothing like you. And you know what’s sad? I’m super relieved.” I started to get choked up. “I don’t understand. Why do you hate me? What did I do to you?”

“I don’t hate you at all. I did my best. End of story.”

“Is it?” I said. I stood there, refusing to cry, and shook my head. “How could you be so remorseless? You almost ruined my life.”

She blinked back at me. If there was something going on behind those dead eyes, I couldn’t see it.

I turned, opened the door, and slammed it shut.

As I drove back to the hotel, I thought back to how miserable my father had been after she left. Until now, I was always afraid that I was capable of what she had done, like one day a switch would flip inside of me and I’d walk out on the people who loved me. But now I remembered: her indifference had always been there. She was just a cold fish. I had never even seen her cry. The asshole in her wasn’t hiding under a sweet façade. It was always there, right on the outside. I remembered her indifference even when I was a small child. There were no hugs, no special bedtime stories, no cute names for my owies or boo-boos. She had been heartless and cold then, and she was the same now. It was my responsibility to let her go, and not to expect her to wake up to her maternal instincts.

I SPENT THE next couple of days in my hotel room, writing. On the day of Jase’s event, I looked at his website. He was having a meet and greet in a bar after a reading at a bookstore. I wanted to stay away, to figure things out, but it was as if I could feel him nearby. Call it fate or serendipity, but this mission to tie up the loose ends of my past had led me directly to Nashville. Once again, Jase and I were in the same city. It all felt a bit on the nose, but then again, I had come to him. I had put myself in his electromagnetic field, and now I was being pulled forward, inch by inch. What mysterious forces tore people apart and brought them back together again? Was it all just gravitational waves, or was there something else at work here?

I ate dinner alone and then kicked a rock a couple of blocks down the street while I tried to talk myself out of going to the bar.

But for all my wanderings that night, I ended up right in front of the bar. Of course. Jackson’s Bar and Bistro. How apropos.

The small, casual restaurant was packed. Across the room, at the bar, I could see Jase surrounded by women, talking animatedly. At the other end, Andrea stood looking on, seemingly bored.

The vibe was rowdy. There were lots of people talking, and I heard the occasional shriek from a female fan. It made me mildly nauseous. Jase looked a bit disheveled. From where I stood, it was hard to tell, but it looked like one of the women had her hands in his hair. He had the kind of hair that begged you to touch it, and it always looked perfectly mussed. He was wearing suit pants and a button-down shirt, sans tie, but the top three buttons were open. I wondered who had unbuttoned them for him.

I watched for a few moments. Jase was laughing drunkenly as he attempted to stand on one of the metal bar stools. Andrea looked a bit horrified. His fans helped him up and held him as he addressed the crowd.

He threw his arms out to his sides, “Thank you, all. I love you! You’re all amazing and beautiful, every single one of you! I want to take all of you home with me.” They screamed in delight at that. I gagged. Andrea stared straight ahead like she had seen it all before. He lost his balance and yelled, “Whoa!”

The women righted him, and that’s when he spotted me. I was grinning by that point. “You!” He pointed at me accusingly from the other side of the room. “Did you finish it, dammit?”

I shook my head and then he really did fall. It wasn’t pretty. Making my way over to him was no easy task either. I had to push rows of lust-crazed women aside. They were all kneeling around him like he was a wounded animal.

“Oh Jesus, move, people. Give the man some space.”

He was lying flat on the floor, looking up at me. “What you doing here, gorgeous?”

“Don’t even try it.” I held my hand out to help him up and then I shouted, “Back it up! Out of the way.” The women gave us some space as I dusted him off. His eyes were lazy little slits, but he was still smiling.

“Your hair is flying everywhere,” I said.

He bent his head toward me. “Fix it.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please?”

I tried to straighten it out but decided it looked better messy.

Andrea appeared. “We better get this guy back to the hotel before he passes out on us.”

With Andrea on one side and me on the other, we draped his arms over our shoulders and made our way outside. He kept looking over at me and smiling.

“Just walk, Romeo.”

Neither of us attempted conversation after that.

He was staying at a much nicer boutique hotel than mine. His room was a gorgeously decorated large suite with a separate living area. Once inside, Andrea broke away and headed for the balcony.

“I need to make a call,” she said. “You got this?”

“Yeah.” I walked him into the room where he collapsed onto the bed.

He was about to pass out, but he was fighting it as I removed his shoes. “Why are you here?” he slurred.

“I came to see my mom. She lives in Nashville.”

“Really?” He seemed surprised.

“I just wanted to see who she was. Now I have, and now I need to go back home. I came by because I figured, since we’re in the same city, I should say hello.”

“Hello.” He grinned. I reached for his belt, unbuckled it, and pulled it through the loops in one fell swoop. “Wow, you’re good at that.” His face scrunched up. “I don’t want to know why.”

“You can totally undress yourself, huh?”

“Yeah, probably, but you’re doing such a great job.”

“Well.” I walked to the head of the bed. “I should get going.”

He reached for my hand. “Stay, please,” he said with sweet, drunk puppy-dog eyes.

“What, with you and Andrea?”

“She’s not staying in here with me.”

“I still have a boyfriend.”

“Bummer. Ditch that guy, would ya?” His eyes started to close. I wanted to undress him and curl up beside him.

“You’re fading,” I said.

He opened his eyes wide and shook his head. “I’m still here.”

I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. He braced the back of my head, holding me down near him. He took a deep breath in. “You smell good.”

“You smell like whiskey. Why’d you get so drunk tonight?” I pulled out of his embrace and stared at him. There was humor in his expression. “What?” I said.

“Remember when you had that crazy hair when we were kids?”

“How could I forget? I was made fun of constantly.”

“You’re so pretty, Em. Your hair’s so straight now.” He looked confused.

“I have to flat-iron the crap out of it, thank you very much.”

“Ohhh,” he said lazily.

“I like that you focused on my poor hair throughout the book, but you decided to give yourself a nice little six-pack.”

“Hey, I did have a six-pack. Anyway, It’s just fiction . . .” He had a dreamy look on his face. “It has to be . . . You swore on my life . . . I got drunk because you are the slowest reader on this planet, and . . .” Two seconds later, he passed out.

I took a deep breath and sat down next to him on the bed. To those crazed fans at the bar, he was the enigmatic J. Colby. But to me, he was still the same Jase. As I caressed his face, he became an innocent ten-year-old boy again, sleeping peacefully. I left him fully dressed but covered him with the comforter, kissed him on the forehead, and walked out of the room.

Andrea walked in from the balcony. She had kicked off her shoes, but she was still wearing her black dress pants and white silk blouse with a plunging neckline. She was sexy and sophisticated. She looked like she belonged with Jase.

“Is he out?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re her? From the book?”

I nodded. “Listen, can we talk?” I said.

“Sure.” She walked to a table with an open bottle of wine. She held it up. “Would you like a glass?”

I shook my head.

She poured herself one and then sat on the arm of the couch while I stood near the door. “What do you want to talk about?”

I hesitated. “Does he drink like that a lot?”

“No, I’ve never seen him do that. He rarely has more than a glass of wine or two.”

“Okay . . .”

“Why, are you worried about him becoming . . .” Her face softened. I realized, as Jase’s agent, she probably knew the book intimately.

“I guess. I feel really strange talking to you about this. Jase told me you two have a . . . relationship.” I waved my hand around like I was trying to look for the right word.

“It’s over.” She smiled. “Listen, I love the story. That’s why I was dying to rep him and sell this book. Our relationship started with business and will continue with the business, but that’s it. It’s impossible not to sound crass here, so I’ll just say it. Jase and I were just using each other. That’s it.”

“But you have to have feelings for him. I mean, he’s amazing.”

“Emiline, I’ve been around the block a few times. I have no interest in being in a relationship with a man who’s in love with someone else.”

“Oh.” The word left my lips like a breath. “I have to get back to California. You and Jase will be in New Orleans next week, right?”

“Right. What are your plans?” she asked. “I mean with Jase? What will you do?”

I thought her line of questioning was nosy, but then again, she basically knew every personal detail about Jase and me.

“I don’t know. It took me many years to figure out how to let him go.”

“I bet.”

“Now I have him back. I think I just want to keep him safe, right here, with a little bit of distance.”

“The two of you are a lot alike. It’s no surprise that you grew up together. You both have a lot of fear, but I understand what you’re saying.” She smiled. “I think it’s important to recognize the risks he’s taken.”

I nodded. “Of course I do.” I was a hundred percent sure what she was talking about. I was still afraid that if Jase and I finally gave in to the force driving us together, we would crash into each other so hard that we’d break apart into a million pieces, impossible to put back together. My plan would keep us safe.

“I’m heading back to Ohio tomorrow for one last thing, so I’ll be there for at least another night before I fly home to California.”

“I’ll let him know. Which hotel will you be in?”

“The DoubleTree in New Clayton. Why?”

“In case the charming J. Colby wants to send flowers for your help tonight,” she said, with a laugh and a wink.

“Thanks, Andrea.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

I left the room and walked back to my hotel in the cool night air. When I got back to my room, I finally dug the book out of my backpack and settled into bed.

From All the Roads Between

I felt gutted to know Jackson had written a book all those years ago that I had never known about.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” the young woman who worked behind the counter asked.

“How . . . how much is this book?” I asked, out of breath.

Taking it from my hands, she said, “Well, let’s see what it says.” She opened the front cover. “It’s a dollar twenty-five.”

“Okay, I want it.”

“Sure, ma’am. Do you want me to bring it to the front for you?”

“Yes, but I also need to pick out some shoes.” The book would leave me with eight dollars and seventy-five cents. I found some black sneakers that had the slip-resistant soles I needed for waitressing. The price tag said nine fifty.

“Oh dammit.”

“What is it, ma’am?” the girl asked from the counter.

“I’m seventy-five cents short.”

She looked behind her to make sure no one was watching and then turned back to me and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover it. Come on.”

She took my ten dollars and handed over a bag for the book and shoes. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy the book. I think my mom read that one. Yeah, as a matter of fact, I know she did. She said it was sweet.”

“I’m definitely going to read it.”

And that I did. I read it in one sitting as I sat in the empty living room of my apartment.

The first ten chapters were about me and Jax on the dirt road, though he used different names, of course. John and Allie. They went through all the hard parts, just like we did, but unlike Jax and me, they were never torn apart. They just lived like two lovesick kids their entire lives. They traveled the world, had children, and through all of their adventures, they had no regrets.

It made for a short book, and it was kind of boring. But I cried when I finished it.

Looking in the mirror, I studied my old face and the wrinkles worn like reminders of the hardships I’d gone through. Was the book Jax’s way of living out his dream for us? Just a big what if? What if I hadn’t led the police to us? What if I hadn’t married David? What would have happened to us? Would we have ended up like Johnny and Allie?

My life was so full of regret that I didn’t know if I could go on.