I need help.
The three words stare up at me from my phone, right underneath Jason’s name. The time stamp laughs at me. I sent them six hours ago, and I still haven’t heard back from him. Did the cops scare him off? Does he think this is a trap?
Well then, he needs some encouragement. Picking up my phone, I add:
My husband is dead, I’ve lost my job, I’m broke, and the bank is threatening that they’re going to foreclose on our apartment if I can’t make another mortgage payment.
Ten minutes later, I include:
Please, Jason. I’m desperate, and I need you. You’re the only one who has always taken care of me.
I know he won’t be able to resist this. He wants to be the hero. And I’m right. Thirty seconds later, his response comes pinging into my phone.
Let’s meet.
We agree on a restaurant in London. He knows I can’t go far from Donnie right now. Meghan agrees to watch Donnie while I’m out meeting Jason. She’s been helpful since Sean’s death, dropping by occasionally with food, watching Donnie whenever if I’m too exhausted or need to go out alone. Maybe Steffan was right about her. Maybe she does have a mothering instinct, after all.
When I say goodbye to Donnie, I hug him for a long time. He’s in one of his apathetic moods, and he barely hugs me back. His arms are limp.
“Be a good boy for me, won’t you?” I whisper as I smooth back his hair and kiss his forehead. He doesn’t respond, stares at me blankly. I kiss his forehead again, blinking back my tears. “Just know, Mummy loves you, and she always will.”
His eyes seem to clear for a second, and I wonder if he’s really hearing and understanding what I’m saying. But then his face smoothes to neutral again, and when I drop him off at Meghan’s, he doesn’t even bother to say goodbye.
“Take the spare key to my apartment also,” I say to Meghan, as I hand her a bag of Donnie’s things. “In case I forgot something he needs.”
“Okay.” She peers at me. “You doing okay, honey?”
I shrug. “I’ll be better, soon.”
The restaurant where Jason and I meet is a posh one. Of course. He wants to impress me with his wealth, as he always does. It’s inside a large glass, greenhouse-like structure, kept cool with air-conditioning and decorated with hanging plants, marbletop tables, and rattan chairs stacked with pastel cushions. A tall, lithe woman with trendy tattoos leads me to my table, where Jason is already waiting. His expression is difficult to read, but he gets up to greet me and kisses me on the cheek.
“Jazz,” he murmurs. “How are you?”
The moment I sit, I begin to cry. I’m not even faking it, either. As much as I hate him, it still feels good to sit in front of someone who knows me so well and loves me so much, and just let myself feel everything that’s been torturing me.
“Oh, love…” he reaches out and takes my hand, a frown furrowing his brow. “It’s okay. You can let it out.”
“It’s been so hard, Jason,” I whisper, dabbing at my eyes with my napkin with my free hand. “I don’t feel like anything is real. It’s been a whole month, and I still can’t wrap my mind around it.”
“Grief is like that,” he says wisely. “It will take some time to adjust to. But that’s what amazing about us humans: we can adapt to anything, even the hardest situations. We’re resilient. You’re resilient, Jazz.”
Today, gone is the angry alcoholic. Once again, Jason has transformed into the caring, understanding, protective man I went to Paris with. But instead of charming me, it makes me furious. Is anything about this man real? Was it all an act, even in uni?
But I don’t let my feelings show. Instead, I hiccup, sniff, and give Jason a watery smile.
“I don’t feel resilient.”
“You are.” Jason squeezes my hand. “Look at everything you’ve overcome! It’s not easy to go from working-class Mancunian girl to successful London accountant.”
“I lost my job,” I say, and then I dissolve again into tears. “After everything… I lost my mind.”
“I know,” Jason says gently. “But we’re going to find you another job, okay? I have a lot of contacts. One call from me, and you could work as an in-house accountant at any of them. Or, if you prefer, you could take some time off, focus on healing. Taking care of Donnie.”
“How could I do that?” I ask, as the tears continue to leak down my cheeks. “I have to work, or we’ll lose the apartment. We’ll be… be… homeless…”
“You will never be homeless,” Jason says, and his voice is insistent. “You can come stay with me. I have a huge apartment, there’s so much room. You and Donnie can have your own floor, if you want. I’ll take care of you, Jazz. You and the baby.” He looks pointedly at my stomach, and I realise, with a jolt, that he doesn’t know. Somehow, he managed to find out that I lost my job, but he doesn’t yet know that I also lost the baby.
“Jason…” I grip his hand. The tears are gone now, as fear builds in my breast. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“What is it, love?”
I lower my eyes. “I lost the baby.”
Silence. I don’t dare to look up. Somehow, I know that Jason will blame me for this. And I’m right. He releases my hand, and when I look up, he is looking stonily at me. “You lost our baby?” he repeats.
“It wasn’t my fault,” I say, adding a pleading note to my voice. He needs to think I’m sorry about it. “All the stress and grief… my body couldn’t take it.”
“And you didn’t get an abortion, right?” The words snap through the air like a whip, and I suck in my breath.
“No, of course not,” I whisper. “Jesus, Jason, I wanted that baby!”
Jason’s jaw tightens. “It didn’t sound like it, when we last talked.”
I choose my words carefully. “I was scared, Jason. And I didn’t want to tear my family apart. Leaving Sean felt impossible. But I always wanted the baby, I loved her from the moment I realised I was pregnant. Even more so, knowing she was yours…”
Jason still doesn’t look convinced. The kind, understanding man is gone again, replaced by the furious alcoholic. “Because the police have been investigating me, Jazz. They knew I was the father. And how could they have known that, unless you told them? Unless you told them you thought I might have something to do with Sean’s death?”
“I did tell them you were the father,” I say, nodding contritely. “I was in a state of shock, it didn’t even cross my mind to lie. But I never thought you had anything to do with Sean’s death. I know you, Jason. And I know you would never hurt me. That’s why I’ve come to you now. I should have come sooner, I know, but it felt like a betrayal of Sean to run to you so soon after his death. And when I lost the baby, I was afraid you would blame me…” I summon some more tears and watch with satisfaction as Jason’s expression softens.
Then, to my surprise, I see tears gather in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jazz,” he whispers, and he puts his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I should have been there…” He sniffs, then looks back up. “But we will try again, okay? We will have a baby together, when you’re ready. We’re going to get the happily ever after we always deserved. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Oh, Jason…” My face breakfs into a smile, and I stand. “Jason, you always take care of me.”
He stands as well and takes me in his arms. For a long minute, we rock back and forth like that, him holding me tight. His tears are wet on my neck, and he holds me very tight, like he is never, ever going to let go again.
Which, I suppose, he truly believes.
And that’s the last thing he ever knows: the joy of believing he got me back, and we will spend the rest of our lives together. So in some ways, Jason should thank me, as I slip the knife between his ribs and twist.
The screech he lets out is the best thing I’ve heard since Sean died, and I savor it. The blood that pours from him and flows over my hands, hot and sticky, feels like divine retribution. This man made me bleed, made me lose my baby, and now I’ve made him bleed as well.
Jason is strong, but the pain weakens him at once. And although he clutches at me, as if trying immobilise me with his strength, I have a head start on him. Twisting the knife in even deeper, his scream fills my ears, fills the restaurant, reverberating off of the glass walls. He is going to die, right here, in this posh restaurant.
I release him, and he falls back, then onto his knees. His hands come to his side, to the knife. Then he looks up at me, shock and bewilderment streaked across his face. I don’t wait. I reach down and pull the knife out of him, so that the blood flows freely.
And then I’m tackled. Some do-gooder, probably. I let myself be forced to the ground as the screams of patrons fill my ears. I don’t raise the knife to try and defend myself. Instead, I let it clatter to the floor. And when the police arrive, shortly after Jason’s lifeless body has been wheeled away on a stretcher, I am smiling.
