Bags // Clairo

Holly

Hours later, Mom is finally discharged with strict orders regarding rest and healthy eating. I've always fed her meals I've made at home, but apparently budget friendly meals aren't exactly teaming with nutrition. Mom needs all of the immune support she can get. I'm doing the best I can but all of a sudden, I feel completely inadequate.

Jackson insists on driving us to Julia's in his truck. We'll come back later tonight to pick up my mom's car. The ride is quiet, Mom settled between Jackson and I, leaning against me for support the entire way. I can't bring myself to look at him, not after everything that's happened today, everything he saw. I know he saw me wince when he touched my face, but he hasn't asked about it, yet. The bruise is still well covered with concealer. I made sure of that. The conversation is coming, but I don't know if I'm ready to have it.

"Here we are," he says pulling into the driveway of a two-story suburban home. It's all I can do to keep my jaw from dropping as I take it in.

My house is a shack compared to this. A beautifully manicured lawn lined with blooming foliage stretches across the front of the house. A porch, complete with a swing, wraps around the side. Topiaries are placed artfully on either side of the front door. Walls a rich brown with deep black trim, the exterior looks freshly painted. It's like looking at a magazine cover of the perfect family home.

I pull myself together long enough to help my mom out of the truck with support from Jackson. We get her to the door, Julia already waiting at the threshold to grab what little we brought with us. She smiles as she shows us inside her home.

There I'm greeted with more disarming beauty. The inside is even better than the outside. Each step we take into the home confirms my original thought: I live in squalor. I knew this. I was fully aware. And yet, this jarring difference between my daily experience and Julia's has me speechless.

"Now, we have a guest room right here on the first floor, so you won't need to worry about the stairs." Julia leads us to a room at the back of the house. A large fluffy bed with white linens and plenty of pillows takes up one wall. It would engulf my entire room at home, but here it's the perfect fit.

"I'll let you get settled. Let me know if you need anything," Julia says as she retreats to another part of her home. I say little as we move around the room, Jackson and my mom doing most of the talking.

After Jackson and I get my mom situated with Julia, he drives me to my house to pack some necessities. My mouth is dry, worrying that Dad will be waiting for us there. Jackson told me we'd check it out first, but the thought of another confrontation has me sick to my stomach.

He pulls onto my street, my eyes roaming for any evidence that my dad is still around.

"His red cab is gone," Jacksons says.

"You saw it?"

He nods. "I came here first, looking for you. He wasn't here. At least, he didn't answer the door during the ten minutes I was banging on it. I noticed the cab parked a few houses down, so I peeked inside."

"He uses his motorcycle when he's in town." Dad keeps his hog, as he calls it, in the back garage covered with a tarp while he's on the road.

"Figures. I didn't see any sign of him, but maybe he was already out looking for you."

"Maybe." I'm exhausted. Physically bone tired. But it's not just physical, it's emotional, too. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. There's always a level of psychotic drama when Dad's in town but this—it's too much.

We get out of the car, but Jackson has me stay back while he unlocks the door and checks out the house. He steps in, disappearing inside while I gaze on. It really is a shack compared to Julia's house. Her place was so beautiful it took my breath away. She's not rich. It wasn't a mansion. But it was filled with comfort and love and joy. My newly critical eye catches every broken board and siding now, things I'd look past before today. My eyes no longer brush past the flaws, the cracks in the foundation. Is this a metaphor for my life?

Jackson suddenly steps onto the porch, a fire burning in his eyes. Only it's not the fire of passion that heats him up. This is pure fury.

"What is it?"

"I think your dad trashed the place."

My stomach drops. "Are you serious?" I take large strides to reach the doorway, but Jackson takes me by the shoulders, stopping me.

"What did he do to you." His words are clipped, his tone deep.

It's the conversation I've been dreading on too many levels.

Instead of answering, I look down. Jackson tips my chin up to face him, not allowing me to skirt the issue even though I'm desperate to leave it alone.

"Tell me." This time his words are tender. I close my eyes as a tear slips down my cheek.

"He didn't hit me. He never has."

Jackson's fingers slide from my chin to my cheek, dusting over the tender spot left by my dad's anger.

"Then what's this. I can see the bruising in the sunlight."

"He shoved me into the door jam in the kitchen."

I open my eyes to see Jackson's face filled with pure rage. His nostrils flare. His eyes are burning. He's taking measured breaths.

"I knew I'd end up in jail if your father came to town."

"No." I wrap my arms around this man who's cared for me more than any person in my life ever has. But there's no way I'm allowing him to unleash vengeance that will get him arrested.

"He's not worth it."

Jackson leans back, looking me in the eyes. "But you are. Don't you get it? The two of us have been handed a shitty couple of parents. But there's no way in hell I'm letting him hurt you ever again. Do you understand me? This is over."

I nod. My eyes flutter closed and the tears I've been holding back all day, all my life, burst out. I can't hold back anymore. Not with Jackson telling me I'm worth protecting.

"Please," I can hardly breath let alone talk, but I have to get this out. "I n-need y-you."

With that, he wraps me up in his arms, holding me as close as he can.

"You have me."

"D-don't go to j-jail. Don't l-leave me alone."

"Baby," he whispers, pressing his lips to my neck. "No. Never. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you."

I sob, my body wracked with so much pain and need all at once. "I love you."

"I'll figure something out. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of this." His hands rub up and down my back. "Let's pack some things for your mom. You're staying with me so take whatever you need from now on. I'm not letting you back in this house without me so you might as well stay at mine."

I nod. I can't speak. He's taking care of me so all I can do is listen and agree.

"You can stay with Julia and your mom for the evening. Relax. Drink some tea or something and hang with the girls. Once you're settled there, I'm paying Grinder and my dad a visit. We'll think of something. We'll all protect you."

Relief washes over me, so strong my knees buckle.

"I've got you, baby." Jackson's strong arms hold me up. "Let's hurry so we can get out of here."

"Yes."

He practically carries me into the house, past whatever mess my dad created as I avert my eyes, and right into my room with orders to pack whatever I can carry. He does the same in the bathroom before we move to my mom's room to start the process all over again. Jackson takes loads to his truck while I finish up.

"Are you okay to walk out?" he asks, taking my hand. "He must have been really pissed off. I'm not sure you want to see what he left in his wake."

"I'm okay. Let's just get out of here." I take a deep breath before we step back into the living room not knowing what I'm about to find. It's when we get there that another realization hits me. What Jackson saw left him fuming. He thought my dad had been so mad he left destruction in his wake. I expected to see furniture upended and broken glass.

But what I saw was exactly how it had been when I rushed away from my dad. A plate of food he'd thrown against the floor. A dent in the wall where he'd thrown an elbow. Some bills scattered and ripped up on the table.

Where Jackson saw rage, I saw normalcy. Where Jackson was ready to go to jail to exact vengeance, I was resigned to my fate.

That realization stung as I walked through my house for what I'd just determined was indeed the last time. What I experienced my entire life was a tragedy my mind had painted as typical. It was anything but typical. And my dad would never get the opportunity to hurt me ever again.

I'd see to it myself.

***

"Can you believe this bed?" Mom whispers her shock as we sip apple-cinnamon tea that Julia made. "It's like a fancy hotel."

"Is it comfortable?"

"Like a cloud." She smiles. I smile back from me seat on the little couch in her room. "I feel terrible."

This pulls me forward. Leaning closer I ask. "What for? Do you need more medicine?"

Mom waves me off. "No, no. I haven't felt this energetic in a long time. I'm fine. But to put them out like this isn't right. I can't stay here long. Maybe just for tonight."

I stand and take the three steps to her bedside. "No way. You aren't going back there. Our days of living there are done."

Her face pales more than it already was. "I couldn't. Where would we go?"

I decide not to tell her that I'm basically moving in with Jackson. Not yet, anyway. Not until her situation is settled.

"For now, you're staying here indefinitely. Jackson is talking to Grinder and Butch right now about next steps with Dad. He can't keep doing this to you. To us. Mom, he's out of control. He's always been this way. You know it, and I know it." I reach out and cover her hand with mine. "He hasn't been a good husband, ever. And he's no father to me. He's made our lives miserable. It's time to be free."

Her lips quivers, tears filling her eyes but not spilling over.

"Are you scared?"

"Always."

"Of him?"

"Of life."

Oh. This I knew. She'd given up so long ago. Maybe that's why her illness took over so viciously. She stopped fighting against it. I can't really blame her, though.

"I'm here, Mom. You aren't alone."

Her eyes find mine. "But I am. I always have been. Judge took me in when I had no one. Course, our marriage was never joyous. It was more like a contract. He wanted someone to take care of him. Have his baby. I think he thought you'd be a boy, not that it's any excuse. But then I could never have more. Just never happened for us again. I couldn't give him what he really wanted. Once my body slowed down, he started staying gone longer and longer. He could have left me high and dry, but he didn't. I'm still not sure why he stayed with me."

I listen in horror, realizing how broken my mother's spirit truly is. If she had put up with all she had from him and still had a sense of gratitude that he'd stayed with her?

"Course, I always figured he must have someone on the side."

"Of course." I don't bother holding back on the sarcasm. The disgusting images and angry words fill me. "You don't need him. What has he ever done for you, Mom?"

She looks at me with loving eyes. "He gave me you. The best gift in my life."

I put our teacups down on the side table and climb into the bed with her. We cuddle together under the blanket.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, baby girl."

Jackson won't be back for a while so the two of us settle in to watch a movie. Mom falls asleep before its even halfway over. My mind is filled with questions I'll most likely never have answers to. And that's okay. Today is the beginning of a new life. One I'm determined will be better than the life I'm leaving. For both of us.

Not exactly a cliffhanger, but definitely not an ending, yet! Jackson is no longer the one who leaves. Now it's Holly's turn, and much too long in coming.

This part has been so hard to plot as I go, but I do have at least two more chapters in the works. Fingers crossed the momentum continues to build.

Bags was originally chosen as a mini Jackson/Holly breakup song. But the plot never truly went in that direction. Instead it's now a 'Holly takes her life back' song in the general sense. She's breaking ties with her dad (although its never really that simple so expect some bumps!)

https://youtu.be/L9HYJbe9Y18

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