Throwback Read online

  Throwback

  A Novel

  Copyright ©2015 Zeia Jameson

  Cover Design

  Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae

  www.murphyrae.net

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  http://www.zeiajameson.com

  facebook.com/zeiajameson

  Twitter: @ZeiaJameson

  Dedicated to my grandmother, who initiated and nurtured my love of books, reading and writing.

  I miss you and will love you always.

  ***

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  I get into my car and sit. My hand refuses to put the key into the ignition.

  This is dumb. So dumb. Just stay. Go back in there and just say never mind.

  I look up and see one of the curtains in the front window of the house flicker. I am being watched. Is she waiting for me to come back in? Is she wondering if I’m really going to go through with this? Does she think that I don’t have the balls to leave? Or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe she thinks I’m a chicken shit for leaving.

  My hand finally decides it’s time to go and shoves the key into the ignition and turns. My eyes are locked on the curtain in the window and before my brain registers what is going on, my hand has put the car into reverse and my foot is hitting the gas pedal. I’m doing it. I’m moving. I am backing away from the house. I am pulling out of the driveway, putting the car into drive and moving away from the house. Down the street. Farther and farther away. My plan has been literally set into motion and my heart wants me to stop and turn around. But the rest of my body keeps going forward. I come to a stop sign. I can turn around or keep going.

  Turn or go? Turn or go? At that moment, a car horn beeps at me from behind. I look in the rear view mirror and realize I’m holding up traffic. And when I look into the mirror, I see my reflection. I look at my worn face, dark circles, frown lines.

  The realization that I look like absolute shit sits heavy with me. And then another realization hits me. I am alone. All by myself. I haven’t been all by myself in...well, I can’t even remember. I am all alone. Most people might consider that a desolate feeling but for me, for some reason, I’m not upset that I’m alone. I feel...free?

  The car behind me honks again. I’ve made up my mind. There will be no U-turns today. I hit the gas and accelerate forward.

  Alone.

  ***

  1

  Jeremy

  Age 5

  “Mommy, are we going to have my birthday party at the Jungle Gym House like Dylan did?”

  “No, baby, not this year. We are going to have a party here at home.”

  “But the Jungle Gym House has big slides and trampolines. We don’t have any slides or trampolines.”

  Mommy shakes her hand in my hair and then kisses me on my head. “I know, baby. Maybe we’ll do it next year. You’ll be bigger and you’ll be able to do more of the activities.”

  Mommy hugs me tight. She says that it doesn’t matter where we have the party. As long as we surround ourselves with people who love us and make us smile, we will always have fun.

  “I wish daddy could be at my party.” I say. “I miss him.”

  Mommy squeezes me tighter. “Me too baby. But he’ll be watching us from Heaven. And it will make him happy to know that you are having fun on your birthday.”

  “Ok. Do you think he’ll get me a present?”

  Mommy lets me go and moves back a little so she can look at me. She laughs and wipes tears from her face.

  “Oh, sweetie. I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Once you go to Heaven, things like presents don’t matter anymore. Only the people you love matter. Daddy will be with all of his friends and family that are with him in Heaven, and he will check in on us and look over us until we get to go to Heaven and see him.”

  “So, why don’t we just go to Heaven now and see him?”

  “We don’t get to choose when we can go to Heaven. When the time is right, and we’ve done what we need to do here on Earth, we’ll go to Heaven and see daddy again, ok?”

  I nod. “What is Earth, Mommy?”

  “It’s where we live right now,” she answers.

  “I thought we lived in Franklin.”

  Mommy smiles. “We do, baby. Franklin is just one small city on Earth.”

  “Oh.” I want to ask more questions but Mommy hugs me again. Then she looks at me, wipes her face and smiles at me one more time. She kisses my cheek and straightens up my hair.

  “Let’s get you ready for school, ok? We have to bundle up extra good. It snowed this morning.”

  “Really!? Can we play outside this afternoon? Pleeeeasssseee!”

  “I won’t be home when you get home, remember? But I’ll tell Jenna to go outside with you.” She points her finger at me and gives me her serious face. “Don’t forget your snow boots this time, ok?”

  I smile. I love playing in the snow. “Ok!” I say to Mommy.

  Mommy gives me another tight hug. This one las
ts a long time.

  “I love you Mommy. So much.”

  “I love you too, baby boy. So much.”

  ***

  2

  Livy

  Age 8

  “What on Earth are you eating?” I can’t see her, but I can feel my mother sneer down at my plate.

  “A hotdog. And green beans.” I look up at her and she tries to make eye contact with me but she stumbles backwards slightly and clutches one of the other chairs at the small table I’m sitting at in order to steady her balance. I had just sat down to eat the canned green beans and the hot dog I heated up on the stove when she crossed my path to go to the refrigerator. On her return to the living room, she decided to ask me about the dinner I had made myself.

  A hotdog, with no bun or ketchup or mustard. A six pack of hot dogs and a family sized can of green beans was all I could afford this weekend at the grocery store after scrounging up a few dollars in change. If I divided it out just right, it would last me for dinner all week until I could figure out a way to get more money.

  “Well hurry up so you can clean up the mess you made in the kitchen and go to bed already.”

  Why does she have to be here tonight? It’s so much better when she’s not here. When she’s home, I’m not allowed to go anywhere but the kitchen with food and drinks. I have to sit at the kitchen table and eat dinner by myself because I’m messy.

  Although I’ve never made a mess before.

  When she isn’t here, which is most of the time, I eat and drink where ever I want.

  My mom walks away to the living room to give Gator, her new boyfriend, a beer.

  I don’t know why anyone would name a person Gator.

  That’s worse than being named Olive.

  I want to ask him why his name is Gator but mom told me not to talk to him because she wants him to stick around for a while and kids annoy him, so if I ask him, he will probably leave. Maybe I should go talk to him so he will leave. He’s not very friendly. Then, mom could find a friendly boyfriend.

  Not that any of her boyfriends have ever been friendly.

  I finish my dinner and wash the dishes. When I’m done wiping the counters and sweeping the floor, I turn out the kitchen light and head towards my room. I have to pass through the living room to get to my bedroom. As I walk through the living room, neither mom nor Gator look my way. I stop walking, right in front of them both, and look over at Gator. “I think Gator is a stupid name,” I say, in an annoying way. A way that I’ve heard girls at school talk on the playground when they tease other girls.

  When they tease girls like me.

  I start walking to my room again. As I reach for my bedroom door, my mom comes up behind me and opens the door herself. She pushes me into my room and slams the door shut.

  “Why in the hell did you say that?” she yells. She stumbles toward me and I just stare at her. I don’t answer her. She slaps me in the face. Hard. It almost makes me fall down.

  “Why did you say that, you little bitch? I told you not to talk to him!”

  I just stand there and look at her. I want to touch my face to try to make it not hurt anymore. I want to cry but if I do, I know mom will hit me again. I still don’t answer her though. I don’t really have a reason why I said that. I just thought it as I was walking by and decided to tell him. But if I say that to mom, or if I tell her “I don’t know”, she will just hit me again. Really, if I say anything, she’ll hit me again. Even if I say I’m sorry.

  I just stand there. It is really the only chance I have to not get hit again.

  “You are so aggravating! Put on your pajamas and go to bed! And you better be up and ready for school in the morning!” She puts her finger in my face and shakes it at me. I do not move. I do not blink. I do not breathe. “If you miss that bus, I swear to God, child!”

  I never miss the bus. I don’t know why she even said that. I get up and ready every morning and sit outside to wait for the bus for a long time before the bus even gets there. I’d rather sit outside and wait for the bus than be in the house and risk waking up mom. Even in the snow. I hate snow. But not so much that I’d choose to be in the house instead, just a few thin walls away from my mom.

  Outside is safe, even when it’s freezing.

  Mom walks out of my bedroom and slams the door again. I put on my pajamas and crawl under my covers with a little flashlight my granddad gave me when we used to live with him. I also have a book that I found on the bus a few weeks ago. It’s about a girl named Ramona Quimby. I lost count of how many times I have read it.

  If mom found out I was reading in bed instead of sleeping, she’d probably get mad.

  But I don’t care.

  It’s not like she ever comes to check on me at night anyway.

  ***

  3

  Jeremy

  Age 18

  “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

  “Aw, come on! This is bullshit!”

  “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you.”

  “I can’t believe you are arresting me! I didn’t do nothing! Come on, Phil, you know me!”

  “Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

  “I can’t believe this is happening. Yes, I understand.”

  “Good. Now, Mr. Waters, let’s get you into the back of the patrol car. Watch your head.”

  Phil, Officer Santos, places his hand on top of my head and guides me into the patrol car. I’m tired. My head is spinning a little. I just want to go to sleep and pretend this day never happened.

  “Are you going to call my mom?”

  “We’ll get in touch with her once we get you settled at the station.”

  “She’s going to be so mad at me.” I lean my head back onto the seat and close my eyes. Having your hands cuffed behind your back is really uncomfortable. Phil doesn’t respond. The car is quiet and as it starts to move, I doze off. Just before sleep, I remember the last thing Jessie said to me before she ripped my heart out of my chest.

  “I’m going to college. You aren’t. This can’t work. We have to break up.”

  ~~~

  “Jeremy, I am very sorry about Jessie. But I am really disappointed in what you did.”

  Mom came and got me at 3am. I feel like such an asshole. We are in the car on the way home and I know how much I’ve hurt her. When I first saw her at the station, I could see all of the fear and worry in her eyes. She just hugged me and told me she was glad I was ok. She didn’t cry. She never does. Mom always puts on a brave face for me. But she can never hide the truth in her eyes.

  I’m such a prick.

  “Mom, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I went to Caleb’s house after school. She broke up with me in the parking lot, mom. The parking lot! She just said it was over and then she left. Just walked away. I went to Caleb’s and we took some beers from his dad’s fridge in the garage, and before I knew it, I was walking in the middle of the street, yelling at trees.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see my mom smile a little. I’m glad she finds humor in the situation. It means that she isn’t completely devastated by her derelict son.

  “I’m just glad you are ok, sweetie. I was worried, but now that I know you are safe, I’m ok. Don’t beat yourself up over it too much. I know you had a hard day. It could have been worse and I’m glad that it wasn’t. I’m glad that you weren’t driving.”

  She says the last word very quietly as she grips the steering wheel tighter.

  “Mom, I would never do that. Not only because it’s dangerous but especially because of Dad...”

  She removes her right hand from the steering wheel and holds it flat towards me to signal me to stop talking.

  My dad was killed by a drunk driver when I was five. My aunt Jenna told me all about the accident when I was fourteen. But my mom and I have never talked about it. She has told me countless sto
ries of how great my dad was. His reaction when I was born. How he tried to teach me to catch a baseball before I could even walk. The first time he and I saw fireworks together and how I was so scared until he whispered something into my ear and calmed me down. None of us have a clue what he said to me that night. I don’t remember it and mom said she never thought to ask.

  I’ve only mentioned the accident to my mother a few times. Every time she stops me.

  It’s not something we discuss.

  “I’m sorry, Mom, please don’t be upset. But please just know I would never do something that stupid. I know I’m a dumba—,” I stop myself. I don’t want to curse in front of my mother. I’ve slipped up a couple of times before and she’s never reacted to it or said anything about it. But she never uses profanity so I don’t feel like I should use it in front of her. I start my sentence over, “I know I’m a dummy sometimes, but I’m not that dumb.”

  She lowers her hand and places in on top of my hand that is resting on the center console. “You aren’t a dummy, sweetie. You are just a boy. And sometimes, boys do dumb things. Especially when they get their hearts broken. But you have a good head on your shoulders and even though I still worry, deep down, I know you wouldn’t do anything like that.”

  “Thanks, Mom. For bailing me out. And for understanding.”

  “Of course, sweetie. But, technically there was no bail out. Phil just wanted you to sleep it off. The only reason he read you your rights is because he had to cuff you and the only reason he had to do that was because you wouldn’t calm down. He told me the whole story while we were waiting on you to wake up. You weren’t processed though. No record. Phil just wanted you in a safe place until I could get to you.”

  “Why didn’t he just take me home then?”

  “Because he didn’t want me to have to deal with you being drunk. He thought it’d be best if you sobered up in the clink.” She looks over to me and winks.

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  She squeezes my hand. “I know, baby.”

  “She broke up with me, Mom. In the parking lot. She said it was because I wasn’t going to college. I told her I wasn’t planning to go to college six months ago. Why did she wait until the last day of school to break up with me?”