Reclaim: (A Redemption Novel) Read online

  “And if it’s not?”

  “Hey, at least you got to fuck a hot guy.”

  12

  Jagger

  I toe my steel cap boots off at the front door before heading inside. It’s Friday afternoon, and I just completed my first full week of working. I can’t deny the difference employment has made on my mood in such a short time. The feeling of helplessness fades as each day passes. I’m meeting new people who aren’t asking me questions about where I was and how it feels to be out. They don’t know me, they don’t have any expectations, and they aren’t walking around with kid gloves behind me worried about my transition. It’s the fresh start I need.

  The house is empty, but Hendrix’s car is outside, so I know he’s home. I pull out my wallet and grab a few crisp notes from my first paycheck and leave them in the middle of the dining table. It feels good to finally be able to contribute something worthwhile.

  My phone vibrates, and I drag it out of my pocket to see who it is. A text from Sasha appears on the screen, anxiety immediately settling in my chest. Something must be wrong. It’s been two weeks since I gave her the number, and she’s never used it.

  Sasha: Bad day at school. Can we come over?

  My fingers can’t type fast enough while my mind goes into overdrive worrying how upset Dakota must be for Sasha to reach out.

  Me: Yes. Is she okay?

  Sasha: She will be.

  “Hey,” Hendrix says, interrupting my panicking.

  “Hey.” I place the phone on the table and empty out my pockets. “That was Sasha. She’s going to bring Dakota over tonight because she had a bad day at school.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Sasha said she will be, but I’m concocting worst case scenarios in my head.”

  “Any idea what it’s about?”

  “Safe to say the kids are giving her shit about me being in jail.”

  He shakes his head and sighs, “Some kids are so compassionate, and others are fucking ruthless.”

  “High school hasn’t changed then,” I sneer. “That night Dakota mentioned it, I told Sasha we needed to talk. She wasn’t keen, but now that she’s reached out, I’m packing shit.”

  “Do you want me to give you guys space?” He offers.

  “This is your house, Drix, and you’re family.”

  “It’s our house,” he says sternly. “And you and I don’t need to rehash things. We took care of that already.”

  “It’s never going to feel like enough. No matter how many explanations I give, or how many apologies I hand out, this dead weight follows me around everywhere,” I confess.

  “You haven’t done this part yet. Maybe talking to them together will help.”

  “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  The door flies open, surprising Hendrix and me. Dakota races in, and I stand. She launches herself at me.I manage to catch her just in time.

  “Woah.” I kiss the top of her head. “It’s good to see you too.” My eyes land on Sasha and the way she’s watching Dakota and me it dawns on me this is the first time she’s seen us together. Hendrix is usually the middle man. “Want to sit down, and tell me what’s going on?” Dakota releases my torso enough that we can shuffle towards the couch arm in arm.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m just going to be in my room if anyone needs me,” Hendrix announces. I nod at him and get back to the situation at hand.

  “Dakota, babe. Your dad wanted to talk to us about a few things. I figured tonight would be a good time for you to tell him about whatever’s bothering you at school.”

  “I told you, I don’t want to,” she persists.

  “Why not?” I interject.

  She turns her body to face me, and her eyes timidly rise to meet mine. “I told mum I could handle it.”

  “But we don’t want you to have to handle anything, especially on your own,” I explain.

  “What did you want to talk to us about?” She asks, changing the subject.

  “I’ll only talk if you do,” I bargain.

  “Fine.” She isn’t impressed, but Sasha and I share a small smile. A simple victory.

  “What are the kids at school saying?” her mum presses.

  “It’s the same stuff like last time. Calling dad names.” She lowers her head, hiding her eyes from us, and I know whatever she says next is the issue, the reason behind her pain.

  I rub her back in encouragement. “Just get it all out.”

  “They call me names for shooting myself.” She straightens up defiantly. “I was only three, it was an accident.”

  “Do me a favour. Sit next to your mum.” Sasha opens her arms on the opposite couch and Dakota crawls into her lap, her age irrelevant to the comfort she seeks. “Parents are supposed to take care of their kids. Protect them. Keep them safe. I didn’t do that.” I run my fingers through my hair, scratching at my scalp in desperation. There’s no easy way to say you’re the worlds biggest fuck up. “I failed in more ways than one. My mistakes had big consequences. Dangerous and life-changing consequences. Nothing those kids say about me is stuff I don’t already know.” Shifting off the couch, I take the few steps between the two pieces of furniture and crouch down in front of Dakota. “Your heart is huge, because you should be mad at me and think the things those kids do. I’ve missed twelve years of your life. I haven’t contributed to the wonderful young girl you are, and I don’t deserve for you to call me dad, but you do. With no fucking hesitation you love me more than I deserve.” I reach for her hand, clasping it in mine. “And just like those kids, I can’t figure out why.” My body could sink into the floor from the emotional exhaustion, but I stay put and listen to every revered word to come out of my daughters mouth.

  “So, we learnt about where babies come from one year,” she starts. “And this rumour went around at school about this girl getting an abortion.”

  “Dakota, why didn’t you speak to me about this?” Sasha chastises.

  “I spoke to Uncle Drix.”

  “Why didn’t you speak to me?”

  “Because he keeps kids’ secret for a living.” Dakota’s answer is so matter of fact, it’s hard not to be impressed by her logic. “Anyway, I knew you were young but I didn’t really get it till I got closer to that age, and I thought of the girl… I asked Uncle Drix if you guys ever considered not having me. I made him pinky promise he wasn’t lying just to save my feelings, and he said you didn’t even think twice. So, I decided to be a lot less angry and a little bit more understanding.” Her mood has turned so nonchalant, it’s almost comical, but I stay on task because Hendrix is right--there’s only so many times we can reiterate this stuff.

  “Maybe you could use that kind of understanding when dealing with those ratbag kids that like to tease you, huh?”

  “Jagger.” Sasha narrows her eyebrows at my insult.

  “They are ratbags, but you,” I point at Dakota’s chest, “can’t call them that.” She gives me the smallest smirk. “What happened that night wasn’t anybody’s fault but mine. There’s no two ways about it. Understand?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She stands. “I’m going to find Uncle Drix.”

  She storms into Drix’s room leaving Sasha and I alone, Dakota and her presence distinctly missing.

  “She’s stubborn,” I say.

  “You have no idea. She makes sure everything is on her terms.” She gestures to the door Dakota just entered. “Case in point.”

  “Sasha.” The mood becomes heavy as soon as her name leaves my mouth. There’s so much that needs to be said between us, but neither of us know where to start. I know a lot of what I want to say is to ease my conscious, but now that I’m out and life is moving, I miss my best friend, and I want the mother of my child to tell me everything I missed out on. But we’re not there yet. For different reasons we’re still stuck in those horrific moments, love and friendship not enough to see us through.

  “I was too hurt to care,” she whisper
s. The surprise on my face must encourage her to clarify.

  “Hurt to care about you, and how hard this must’ve been for you.”

  I move to sit beside her. Resting my elbows on my thighs, my upper body leans forward as I try to prepare myself for the ripping off of the bandaids.

  “It was that solicitor that finally made me realise it.”

  “Emerson?” I question.

  “Yeah.” The thought of her sits heavy on my chest as my body yearns for her, and my mind hates that I love how I can’t escape her.

  “You were never a bad dad, and I couldn’t put the you I knew and the you that put our lives in danger together. And it wasn’t until she asked me why you did it that I realised I never asked.” She wipes the corner of her eye, stopping her tears. “Naturally, I went into mum mode, but I never stepped back into friend mode. I should’ve reminded myself of the beautiful young man who moved heaven and earth for me anytime he could, and I didn’t. I didn’t ask the most simple question, knowing that you wouldn’t hesitate to answer me, and that cost you everything.” Tilting her head she graces me with her red, water-filled eyes. “They asked me for a character reference. I don’t know if anyone told you that. But I could’ve told them the good things about you, and maybe you wouldn’t have spent so much time away.”

  “Sash.” I throw my arm over her shoulders and hug her close to me. “As wonderful as it would’ve been to hear you be able to come up with good things about me at that time, there was no way a character reference was going to allow me to walk away from those charges. Like I said to Dakota. All. My. Fault.”

  Ignoring my protest she continues, “you’re not a bad person, you just did something bad to survive, and I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge the difference until it was too late.”

  Her small steps of acceptance and forgiveness unlock the invisible shackles around my body, and for the first time in a long time, I think of Sasha, and I’m not enveloped in a dark cloud of despair.

  “One more thing,” she adds on. “Why didn’t you out George?”

  My legal representation at the time begged me to tell them if there was anyone else involved, told me my sentence would be significantly lower if I snitched George out. While I was worried about retribution from him on my family, the main reason I didn’t out George was simple. “I wanted to punish myself for my actions. Every single year I spent behind bars, I deserved.”

  She grabs my hand and links her fingers through mine. “I never got a chance to tell you, I’m really glad Dakota has her dad back.”

  “I missed so much.”

  “You did, but I know you. You’ll make up for it.”

  “You raised her beautifully.”

  “I had a little bit of help.”

  Hendrix walks out of his room at that exact moment, and I feel the anguish between them. It’s obvious they put their differences aside for Dakota and me, but why they can’t just start fresh and stop wasting time is beyond me.

  “Oh, look it’s photo time,” Dakota squeals, snapping away ten to twenty photos of her mother and me sitting next to one another. “I like this look on you two.”

  “Thanks smart arse,” Sasha calls out, rising to her feet. “Let's get ready to go home. You have netball in the morning.”

  “Wait, Dad that solicitor lady messaged Uncle Drix about you.”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t I tell you it was rude to look at my phone?” Hendrix scolds her.

  “So learn to switch your notifications off so the messages don’t show on the screen,” she bites back.

  “Dakota, apologise, please,” Sasha reprimands.

  “Sorryyyy Uncle Drix,” she drones.

  Sorry, Sasha mouths in his direction. He tips his head in reply. The chorus of “bye” rings out as the close the door.

  Walking back, I sink into the couch. I glance up at Hendrix, and he throws his phone at me in understanding. Catching it effortlessly, I stare at the text and wonder what she wants. I also know there’s only one way to find out.

  13

  Emerson

  My phone rings, and an unknown number flashes across my screen. Thinking of the text I sent Hendrix over an hour ago, I decide to just deal with this in the morning.

  The high from Taylah’s pep talk has died down, and now I’m just awkward and embarrassed at the possibility of Jagger calling me back. Or even worse… him not calling me back.

  I’m the one that turned him away, and now suddenly I’m changing my mind? That’s enough to give anybody whiplash.

  Switching my phone to silent, I set it face down on my bedside table. I just want to have one sleep where I don’t dream of russet brown eyes, stuck in limbo. Focused on the past and scared of the future.

  Tossing and turning, my brain won’t switch off, and I’m fighting every single muscle not to grab my phone and check for messages.

  Losing count of how many times my eyes open throughout the night, I give up on trying any further. Sliding my phone off the dresser, I turn it on to see it’s only five am. But that one red number still sits next to my phone icon, with a matching one sitting on the green text square. Taking a deep breath I open the text first, knowing it will tell me who the call is from.

  Unknown Number: Did you get to the next life before I did?

  I smile at how candid he is, foregoing awkward introductions or worrying I won’t know who he is. After saving his number, I type back, taking courage from his forwardness.

  Me: No, I’m still in this one.

  Jagger: What changed?

  Me: Shit, you’re awake?

  Jagger: I rarely sleep, but this is the time I leave the house for a run.

  Me: You run?

  Jagger: I do.

  Sitting up in my almost pitch black room, I acknowledge sleep is futile. Instead, I press the call button and wait.

  “Hello.” His voice sounds deeper over the phone. Rougher. Tighter.

  “I’ll run with you,” I blurt out.

  “I don’t know where you live, and I don’t imagine it’s close. So, how are we running together?”

  “Um, maybe we can put earphones in and stay on the phone?” I suggest.

  “You know it’s hard to talk and run, right?”

  “So, you don’t want to run together?”

  “I didn’t say that. I was just stating it might be difficult, but I definitely did not say no.”

  “Okay, I’m going to get dressed.” I pull back the phone and look at the time. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Yanking out every item of clothes I own, I dig deep for the Lorna Jane activewear Taylah and I bought at the beginning of this year under the pretense of getting fit as one of our new year resolutions. Still there in the bag is the black and blue, mesh-panelled tights, three different coloured tanks, and a phone holder that straps around your arm with velcro. Perfect. Measuring each item against myself to see if it still fits, I look at my reflection and shake my head. It’s not like he’s going to see what you’re wearing Emerson.

  Quickly dressing myself, I find my earphones, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and I’m ready to go. I jog down the fire escape stairs instead of taking the elevator, preparing my body for the shock I’m about to throw its way.

  Putting my wireless earbuds in, I strap my phone to my arm and press call.

  “You sure you want to do this?” he asks as soon as he answers.

  “It’s never too late to get fit, right?”

  “If you say so. I usually run for an hour. If you need to slow down or don’t want to keep going, just stop. I’ll still be here on the phone, okay?”

  “Got it.”

  The silence ensues between us, but it’s comfortable. I can hear his pace pick up as his feet hit the pavement.

  “You do this everyday?” I ask.

  “Yep.” His short, clipped answer makes me second guess my decision to push myself on his morning routine.

  “Don�
�t feel like you need to talk while you run. I don’t mind staying on the phone in silence or hanging up.”

  “Talking doesn’t come as easy as everyone thinks.” His breaths are deeper and longer between every word. “And sometimes that little voice in your head makes you think you don’t have anything worth saying.”

  “I could probably name a few people that would hang off every single word you say.”

  “Somedays, that’s all that matters.”

  My jog turns to running and I feel the burn with every stride, I’m not sure why people do this to themselves.

  “I’m sorry you left dinner early the other night,” he says.

  “Oh, no. It was probably about time anyway.” The sun begins to rise, and I observe the rest of the world wake up as I maneuver through my surroundings. “Taylah and I, we’re about to kill each other anyway.”

  “Taylah? She was who you were with?”

  “Yes. She’s my best friend. We met when we both started at Legal Aid,” I explain. “I’d met up with my parents before and was in dire need of a drink and some dessert.”

  “You don’t get along?”

  “We, do. But I’m an only child, and talking about yourself gets really exhausting.” There’s less apprehension on his end the more I say. I take note and remember to occasionally take the focus off him throughout our exchange.

  He chuckles, “Can’t say I ever had that issue. My mum only ever talked to me when she was pissed off, so I tried to stay away.”

  “How about now? Is she glad you’re out?” My questions are borderline invasive, but I’m all in now, and if I don’t have his facial expressions to deter me, I’m going to use it to my advantage.

  “I wouldn’t know. She isn’t one of people I’ve wanted to catch up with.”

  “I guess I’ll add this to my list of things about Jagger.”

  It takes a few beats before he asks, “Is the list long?”

  “Surprisingly,” I say, the smile on my face reflected in my voice, “it’s growing.”