A Fractured Echo

Chapter 24

Lifeless.

It was the only way to describe my profound state in the week following Selena's shock arrival, and equally swift departure. Amplified by the early morning encounter in the kitchen with Jackson, every physical action was robotic, going through the motions because I simply had no way to process the unrelenting swell of emotion.

Throwing myself into working on the ever-increasing task list for the arts centre launch shielded me from overthinking during the day.

It was the nights where I couldn't hide.

In the silent refuge of my bedroom, Jackson was ever present, invading my thoughts the moment the catch clicked into place as I closed the door. Thoughts that were a jumbled mess, fuelled by overwhelming concern and the residual sense of futility that cloaked the dull ache in my chest.

He'd gone completely off grid following the chat with Constance, no random calls, no cheeky texts, not even his weekly dinner date with her. That was the part that worried me the most. The only reason he ever skipped out on that was if geography prevented his attendance, yet there'd been no mention of him being away. Unless he'd specifically requested it be kept from me? That notion triggered the panicked theory of possible deliberate avoidance. As the days ticked by agonisingly slowly, with no sign of him resurfacing, I was like a caged tiger, prowling in agitation, torn between the temptation of contacting him, the desire to give him space, and the fear it could be perceived as interference. Gnawing worry over how he'd coped after the conversation with the grief counsellor also echoed loudly in the quiet void. Had it gone well? Did he think it would help in the long term? I itched to be the one he needed to share that experience with, reassure him when the sharp teeth of the past tore into the fleshy wounds of anguish, to hold him in the moments when talking was just too hard, and just be there for him. Yet the crippling fear of rejection froze my fingers every time I was tempted to reach for my phone.

Almost two weeks later, the white noise became too much to bear, causing me to crack over breakfast with Constance. Loading my bowl with a large spoonful of berries, I watched intently as the vibrant juice from the fruit bled into the creamy white porridge beneath. Unable to lift my eyes, fearful of what the answer might be, I whispered; "How is he?"

"Up and down, but he's working through things." Came the terse reply, as she set her own spoon down and squeezed my arm as it rested on the table. "I'd quite merrily throttle that unscrupulous little harpy."

Glancing up, her mouth was set in a hard line. It was peculiar to see Constance angry. I'd witnessed her outraged, and indignant, but the disgust dripping from her tongue as she spoke made me wish I'd bothered to slap Selena on her behalf.

"You and me both. She's a piece of work." I muttered in agreement, finally digging into my porridge.

"Gerry and I met her a number of times over the years they were together. She seemed perfect at first. Her family was decent, she was well educated, seemed to worship the ground that boy walked upon which was a huge plus for me. It was also the first time Andrew had openly shown Jackson any approval over his choices in life. Sometimes I wonder if the boy simply got swept up in that." She lamented bitterly, a hint of annoyance at the mention of Jackson's father.

Hearing Constance talk with such candour, was a shock. I'd expected her to remain closed on the subject. She might be aware of what Selena had done, but I didn't know how much Jackson had told her about what had happened the day she turned up at Factory.

"Have you not spoken to him?"

The question hung in the air, while my answer caught in my throat, making it difficult to swallow what was in my mouth. How did I answer this without it seeming strange? I'd convinced myself of the desire to give Jackson room to breathe while he was processing things, that he needed his family more than he needed me. Yet, there was a tiny voice inside my head that was screaming at maximum volume "you're avoiding him, and lying to yourself", and there was a fear I'd give myself away with whatever I said.