“I think she would like that. I’ll change my schedule around on Saturday, so we aren’t pressed for time. She asked about going to the beach too.”
“We can probably manage that.”
Thoughts about having more with Logan run through my mind. I know it’s because I saw Ajay today. Logan and I are comfortable with what we have. It’s a weekend thing, a couple of times a month. If I don’t speak to him every day, no big deal. What we have works for us.
We talk for a few more minutes, and while I’m tempted to tell him about what my father has done, I don’t. Having an overzealous father is definitely a turn off to many men, even a macho Marine. After we hang up, my thoughts get the best of me and I find myself rummaging through my closet until I unearth a box. I pull it out and sit it on my bed. The writing is faded but the words are still clear in my mind, “never ever open this box.” Maybe I should heed my own advice and put it back where it was.
But I don’t. I pull, tug, and pick at the tape until it rips from the box. It’s only then that I hesitate before lifting the lid. Some of the contents I remember. Old photographs. The little cards that you get when someone gives you flowers. Notes we wrote back and forth. Things I saved because I thought they were important at the time, that I didn’t want to let go. As angry as I was, as hurt as I still am, Ajay was my first love. We experienced something together that only we can share the heartache in.
Taking a deep breath, I settle myself on my bed, open the flaps of the box and wait for the tears to come as I pull memories out piece by piece. Each picture that I take out of the box brings a smile to face. My thumb brushes over Ajay’s face. We were young and so in love. And so incredibly stupid. I continue to dig through the box and pull out his high school diploma. I set it aside, knowing full well I’m going to be the bigger person and make sure he gets it. I don’t have much in life, but I have mine and it means something. The last thing I take out of there is a sealed envelope. Looking at it doesn’t spark any type of recollection. I turn it over in my hand, seeking a name or anything to give me a clue but there’s nothing. Opening it carefully, I pull out the document and unfold it.
It takes me a moment to realize that I’m reading my divorce decree. Jameson Foster vs. Ajay Ballard – Dissolution of Marriage. I flip the pages, reading the legal jargon that still to this day doesn’t make sense. Our divorce was simple. We had no asse
ts and we weren’t married very long. The one thing we had between us was gone. The lawyer called this divorce a piece of cake and had the nerve to ask me if understood the pun. I probably would’ve had I had wedding cake, but we were married in front of Judge Harvey on my eighteenth birthday.
“Happy birthday to me,” I say out loud.
When I come to Ajay’s signature, my finger brushes over his name. He signed it so fast, without any hesitation. He told me this was for the best, but I didn’t believe him then. Now, I do. We lead two completely different lives, and I’m not sure I could’ve been the wife he needed me to be at the time. I didn’t want to share him with the world, but it’s what he wanted. He yearned to make his own money, to make a name for himself. To prove to his absentee parents that he could be something that they weren’t.
Noticeably missing from the page where he signed is my signature. In fact, it’s not on any of the pages proceeding. I pull the box forward, looking for another copy. There’s nothing. In sheer panic, I tip it over and shake it, thinking maybe it’s stuck to the underside. Still nothing. Getting out of bed, I tear through my closet until I find the box with all of Evelyn’s baby stuff. I look inside, hoping to find something buried within because the reality of the situation is bearing down on me. There’s no way I didn’t sign! As I sit on the floor with mementos spread all around me, I try to recall when I signed these damn papers. It would’ve been a milestone for me, a moment I wouldn’t want to forget. I would’ve celebrated on the anniversary of my divorce, yet I haven’t.
I haven’t because it never happened. That’s the only conclusion that I can come up with. I didn’t sign the papers, nor did I take them to the court to have them filed. I did nothing except ask Ajay to give me a divorce… one I apparently couldn’t even grant him.
11
Ajay
There are so many stories about famous people coming back to their home towns. You even hear about soldiers coming back from war and the whole town, as they should, comes out and celebrates. We’re shown stories of politicians being honored in parades, activists being given the keys to their cities, and statues being erected in honor of a celebrity because their town is proud of them. Not the Town of Bailey. No, the Town of Bailey arrests you on trumped up charges that shouldn’t even make it past an assistant district attorney. This, according to Saul, is what he plans to say to Judge Harvey today. I don’t know if this is a smart tactic or not. Someone like Harvey, who is holding a grudge, may not take too kindly to the comparison. I don’t deserve to have the red carpet rolled out for me. I certainly haven’t given back to the community and I probably should. I could donate to the music department at school, help them buy new instruments. I could volunteer to teach a music class or tutor a student — all things I do in California. The reason I don’t, or haven’t, are simple — I never wanted to come back and interrupt Whiskey’s life. Even a donation would draw attention, word would spread, and I didn’t want that for her. Yet, I think my lack of community involvement here will end up biting me in the ass.
Saul paces my room as he talks to himself while I stand on the balcony watching traffic move at a snail’s pace down Main Street. I’ve spent many hours standing here, taking in life around me. It’s so different here versus Los Angeles. Everyone is in a rush out there, moving at the speed of light, and here, they seem to slow down. People in Bailey stop to talk to you on the street, they care about what’s going on around them. Not that I’ve spoken to anyone but Mrs. B. She grew concerned when she hadn’t seen me leave my room and started bringing food to me. For that, I’m thankful because just the thought of running into Whiskey physically hurts. Seeing her from afar is doing enough damage to last me another lifetime. I wish Mrs. B hadn’t told me her schedule, yet I’m thankful that she did. Even the smallest glimpse reminds me why I left… so she could have a better life. For years, I struggled, barely making enough money to put a roof over my head and eat one meal a day. Everything changed when I took what I had left and entered the Battle of the Drums contest. Winning the competition and subsequently meeting Harrison James changed my life.
Down on the street, a black Escalade pulls up to the curb and the doors open. I recognize Katelyn first, followed by Elle. I’m assuming Harrison has gotten out of the driver’s side. I step back inside of my room where Saul is still talking to himself. “I’ll be right back,” I tell him as I leave. The entrance isn’t far from my room, but still down a flight of stairs, which I head down as fast as I can and come to a halt when I see my band family in the entryway. As soon as Katelyn sees me, I’m in her arms and she’s telling me that everything will be okay. I wish I had her confidence, but I don’t. Harrison and I hug quickly, and Elle doesn’t say much. Not uncommon as our relationship is a bit different from what I have with her parents. She’s my boss and I respect that.
“Saul’s upstairs, talking to himself.”
Harrison laughs. “He’s good like that. His father could carry on conversations with himself and never miss a beat.”
“Good to know,” I sigh. I motion for them to follow me, but Saul appears on the steps before we can head to my room.
“Perfect. I’m glad you’re all here,” he says as he comes into our fold.
“Did you arrange this?” I ask.
He looks at me oddly.
“Mom wanted to be here,” Elle says. “I would’ve been here regardless. Dad followed because I took his plane.” She acts like it’s no big deal, commandeering a jet.
Katelyn comes to my side and wraps her arm around mine. “We’re family, and family always supports family.”
“Thank you,” I tell her and the rest of them. Saul claps his hands and tells us all it’s time to leave. As I walk by Mrs. B, I let her know that I’ll be back later. Hopefully, it’s only to get my stuff, but with Harvey, I can’t be so sure.
Harrison and Saul sit up front while Katelyn, Elle and I pile into the back. There’s third row seating, but none of us care to use it. Katelyn sits in the middle and holds both mine and Elle’s hands. I’m in complete awe of the relationship she has with her daughters. Sure, they’re adult women with one already married and the other traveling the country with a band, and yet they still hold hands with their mom. I wish I had a relationship like that… or one at all with my mother… although I don’t know what I’d say to her after all this time. She left me when I was six to fend for myself.
It doesn’t take us long to get to the courthouse. During the short ride there, Saul continued to talk to himself, practicing his summations on Harrison, who deemed this trial business nothing but bullshit. I happen to agree with him but saying as much in court won’t get me very far, especially with the likes of Judge Harvey.
After Harrison parks, the five of us walk up the courthouse steps and go through the metal detector. One of the guards asks for Harrison’s autograph, to which he replies, “Depends on my mood after this trial.” I think the guard was taken aback, but the man is one pissed off dude right now. With his hand on my shoulder and Katelyn’s arm wrapped in mine, we follow Saul down the somewhat busy hall. I think everyone is here to bear witness to the fact that I’m here, and not really conducting any actual business.
When I see Whiskey standing at the counter, I freeze. I would know her anywhere by the shape of her neck when her hair is pulled up. I spent many hours memorizing every inch of her skin there. “What’s wrong?” Katelyn asks.