What We Create

Chapter 6, 7, 8 - with chapters by Jessie's mom and brother

Chapter 6

Jessie's Mom, Jan

I rubbed my eyes, and pushed my short blond hair back behind my ears. A headache throbbed behind my eyes. Brown spots, and veins were visible on my hand as I picked up the coffee pot. When did I become an old woman? I poured myself a cup, and added cream and sugar. As I stirred, I thought about what Jessie said.

My house slippers whispered against the carpet as I shuffled to the dining room table. The look on Jessie's face before she left killed me. Pain, and betrayal, etched around her eyes. I recognized the look on my own face countless times. Every man I ever loved caused that look, except for their father, Lou.

Lou truly loved me. In my opinion, the only man who ever loved me. I could be myself with him and he loved me still. And he loved our kids too. Jessie would see that eventually. I was sure of it.

I rose and walked a few steps over to the china closet. Hundreds of pictures filled the drawer I pulled open. The pictures mixed together in chaos. I forgot why we put them in this drawer in the first place. They all just ended up here.

I grabbed a handful, and started to look through them: Jessie as a baby. Black silky hair covered her tiny head. She had been the best baby. Slept through the night, smiled at everyone... my beautiful baby girl. The joy of my life. I loved her stubbornness and confidence.

Friends, and relatives assumed she favored Lou's coloring, but a few close friends, and my parents knew who she really resembled. Jessie resembled her mother. An eighteen-year-old girl who gave her up because she didn't have a way to care for her. Our church arranged the private adoption. I remembered the last time I saw her through the window of a hospital door. Our eyes met, I nodded, and raised my hand. She nodded back to me. I promised to take care of Jessie with my nod. She let Jessie go with hers.

I took a deep breath. The last time I thought of her had been years ago. As Jessie aged, her mother's fragile beauty emerged.

I picked up another picture, this one of Brian and Jessie caged on our front porch. At one time, we gated the small, front porch so the kids could play there. The low black iron-spindled fence and gate kept them from wandering off. Brian pretended to be a lion tamer with a stick instead of a whip. He wanted Jessie to stand on the overturned bucket as the lion, but she would have no part in it. Initially, I overheard them from the kitchen, but when Brian told her to stand on the bucket, I snuck around to the front yard with the camera so I could capture the moment.

My hand clamped over my mouth to keep from laughing when I saw her little face. She pressed her chubby cheeks so hard against the bars, as if the sheer force of her will would move them. Before she hurt herself, I rushed over to pick her up. I kissed the red mark left by the bars on each chubby cheek.

I knew my stubborn little girl. She would keep the promise of never seeing or speaking to me again. I couldn't bear the possibility. But I didn't know what to do about Lou. He drank more than ever, and his temper raged the more he drank. He swore to me he wouldn't hit the kids again, but he had. My options consisted of leaving Lou, which I didn't know if I could do, or trying to make Lou stop drinking. Neither option seemed likely. If I left Lou, I would barely have enough money to put food on the table, and nothing for Brian's college. Brian must go to college, he needed the opportunity to do more than Lou or I. Honestly, if I admitted it to myself, I didn't want to live without Lou's love and attention. Who else would love me?