Chapter IX: The Unforgivable

Jaci didn’t do much that day. She wasn’t feeling well and her back and shoulders ached more than usual from sleeping on the swing. After breakfast, she sat on the front porch, legs crossed at the ankles, thinking. Thomas sat next to her, watching the many butterflies and birds fly around the flowers and bushes.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asked, shifting in his spot. He turned so he was facing her.

Life. she wrote.

“What exactly?” he pressed.

I had a full scholarship to Cleveland Institute Of Music. She stopped. But after the

accident, I stopped playing the piano. They told me that if I start to play by the beginning of the next school year, they would allow me to keep my scholarship.

“Wow, so you’re good at the piano then,” he said. “That’s amazing.”

Kind of. The thing is, I don’t want to be forced back into playing the piano. It was always

something I loved to do and that’s why it was so easy for me to master it. She clarified.

“Oh,” he nodded. “Jaci, I think you might be worry a bit too much.”

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I feel like maybe the reason you stopped playing the piano wasn’t because you didn’t

find happiness in it anymore but rather that you stopped finding happiness in yourself. I think, deep down, you knew that and you didn’t want to ruin music by attempting to use as an escape when you’re not forgiving yourself.”

She looked down at her hands which were clasped in her lap.

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” he said.

She shook her head. No, I get what you’re saying.

They sat for a moment, each in their own thoughts.

Dad hasn’t forced me to go back to playing just yet but I know he will. I don’t know if I

can though, she told Thomas.

“Maybe you should try to forgive yourself, to forgive your father, your mother, or anybody else really that you feel has hurt you. Maybe you should ask some people for forgiveness. Maybe you’ve blamed the wrong person and need to get that straight,” he shrugged. “But I’m no professional.”

You’re just like your mom. Jaci wrote.

He smiled. “I'll take that as a compliment."

She looked at him for a moment. His brown eyes seemed to be glazed over, more of a

matte brown then a glossy chocolate color. He seemed to slouch more than usual and Jaci got the feeling something was on his mind.

What’s wrong? She asked.

He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

You’re not being your usual self. She wrote.

He laughed, sounding kind of forced. “What do you know about my usual self?”

She knew he was joking, not really meaning it in a rude way, but it still kind of hurt. On the second day she was here, she had seen the happy him, the normal him, and today, she was seeing the side he probably kept hidden. The quite, sad, side.

You can talk to me, you know that right? She said.

He nodded.

Then why don’t you? She asked.

He took a deep breathe. “Please don’t get offended by what I’m about to say but I don’t

know if you’ll understand.”

Jaci shrugged. Maybe not but it doesn’t hurt to talk to someone. Even if they don’t understand.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, seeming to size her up in a way. Maybe seeing is she was capable of understanding.

“I feel alone,” he began. “Not in the way you feel, like you’re lost, without a voice, not being able to express yourself. I feel alone in the fact that I can’t turn to anyone. I’ve always been the type of person to keep it all in, to carrying my own burden and ignore all those who offer to help. That’s how I’ve always been. Maybe because when I was grieving about my father’s death, so was my mom and it was like I had no one strong to turn too. Does that make sense?”

She nodded, prodding him on.

“And then, she suddenly seems to be okay with everything and I’m sitting here, asking myself what happened that she can suddenly be so strong again? I don’t understand it. By the time she was finally strong enough for me and Mike, I’d already been carrying my grief for too long,” he stopped, eyes looking down. “You’re the first person I’ve really talked too about it.”

She smiled sadly. You’re the first person I’ve really talked to too. Dad would hire therapists specialized in different fields to get me to let it all out. He was paying them to pry my head open and wave a magic wand, getting rid of all the bad thoughts and memories but what he didn’t realize is that when I lost my voice, I lost my ability to rely on others.

Thomas, I’m here for you, okay? If you ever need to spill to someone, you can talk to me. It doesn’t have to make sense, okay?

He looked at her for a moment, smiling a small smile.

“Thanks,” he said.

She nodded. Anytime.

*****

In the afternoon, Jaci unloaded her suitcase and got settled into her room. She sat her bed, back against the headboard, thinking. Her notebook sat in her lap, pen in the folds of the paper.

Thomas’s words rang in her ears. “Maybe you should try to forgive yourself, to forgive your father, your mother, or anybody else really that you feel has hurt you. Maybe you should ask some people for forgiveness. Maybe you’ve blamed the wrong person and need to get that straight.”

She picked up the pen and began to write.

Dad, I’m sorry being so uncontrollable these past couple of months. I’m sorry that I blamed you in a way. I’m sorry that I changed. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me and I hope you can continue to love me as your daughter even if I don’t deserve it. Life is full of ups and downs and the accident wasn’t one I was prepared for and during the weeks of recovery after it, I guess I neglected the fact that you weren’t prepared for it. When Mom skipped town, that made everything worse and I guess, it didn’t help you. Mom was supposed to be with us through thick and thin and she wasn’t there when we needed her most but Dad, always know that I’m here and I promise to be a better daughter.

Jaci stopped writing and turned the page.

Mom

She hesitated.

I will never forgive you.

She slammed her notebook shut, the words she’d just written all to true. Tossing it onto her bed, she got up and walked to the door, shutting it behind her. She made her way down the stairs, out the door and into the bright sunlight. The green grass swayed before her but she didn’t have time to admire the beauty. She needed to clear her head.

She broke out into a run, quickly climbing the hill. She didn’t stop at the top but ran down the other side and into the valley, following the trail into the woods. Winding her way between trees and over fallen limbs, she found herself at the edge of the cliff face, looking down at the water. So clear. So beautiful.

Without letting herself think, she stepped off the edge, plummeting to the cold, yet gently, waters below.

Jaci let all the water out of her lungs so she sank to the bottom. Her feet touched the sandy yet rocky bottom and she crouched their, arms floating above her. She didn’t want to breath. Maybe she didn’t even want to live anymore.

She stayed there, mind empty of any thoughts, until her lungs ached for air. Pushing off from the bottom, she broke the surface and took in a gulp of breath. Pushing wet strands of hair form her face, she looked around. The world around her seemed so calm still yet inside of her, her thoughts were like a million bullets, ricocheting through her body and mind.

Why did she hate that woman so much?

It was her mother after all. She had that woman's DNA.

Jaci took in more air before dropping back under, letting it all out in a stream of bubbles. This is where she wanted to stay. Surrounded by nothing but quietness and peace.

Just like the moon, half of my heart will always love the dark. -Quotes 'n Notes