Of course I remember. I remember every single word he ever said to me, but especially that moment. We were just little kids back then attending the same summer camp. I was pretty shy, and he was already king of the whole place. He had the counselors eating out of his palms and the kids all worshipped him.
“You said, ‘hey four-eyes, come here and let me make you laugh.’” I grin at him. “You were always an asshole.”
He laughs and nods. “Especially back then. But you looked so fucking grumpy all the time, I just had to try and make you smile.”
“Yeah, well, I was better off without you.”
He scoffs at that. “Hardly. I made those camps fun.”
“I don’t think anything could make that place fun, Jackson. I’m pretty sure their budget was ten dollars, and the director drank it all away.”
He laughs at that and shrugs. “You’re probably right. I liked it, though. We used to sit on that dock after we were supposed to be in bed and talk. Remember that?”
“I remember,” I say softly, smiling at him. “So is this your plan? Bring up good old memories and hope that I don’t think about the bad stuff?”
He shrugs a little, smiling softly. “Guess so. How’s it working?”
“Not bad so far. But you’re still an ass.”
He laughs and digs into his food. I watch him for a second, smiling despite myself. Those summer camp days and nights were some of the best of my life, especially after he made me his friend. And later, when we got a little older and started to understand certain things, he made me more than that. Our first kiss happened on that dock, and while all the other guys were trying to finger their girlfriends and pressuring them to go further, he always respected me back then. We took it slow, and that only made me respect him more.
Now, looking back on it, I wish I had done more with him. I wish I had gotten to experience what it would have been like with Jackson. I’ve always wondered. I can’t really help but wonder. Jackson is so damn handsome and charming and good at everything. Sex with him would be like…. well, like a dream, I guess.
“How’s your family?” he asks me.
I shrug a little. “Not bad, I guess.” I hesitate for a second. “I heard about your mom. I’m really sorry about that.”
He goes quiet suddenly. About a year after Jackson left, his mother died of cancer. I don’t know when she was diagnosed or really much about it. I was so angry with him in those days, I didn’t really look into it at all. I wish I had, because I know that his father wasn’t exactly a good guy. In fact, I know his father was a damn drunk, and they never had much money.
“Happened on my first tour,” he says to me. “I tried to get back home for the funeral, but…” He trails off, shaking his head.
“That must have been hard. I’m sorry I never… you know.”
“Yeah, I get it,” he says. “Don’t worry. She was sick for a while, so in a lot of ways, it was a relief.”
I pause a second. “She was sick for a while?”
He nods. “I never talked much about it. She got diagnosed like a year before I signed up, died a year later. Cancer came back and got worse, you know how that can be.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” I say softly, surprised. He never once mentioned it, not even back then. We were together when he found out.
“I couldn’t talk about it,” he admits. “Dad was drinking more. My brothers were too young to do anything about it. I helped as much as I could.” He shrugs and forces a smile. “That was all a long time ago now, though.”
I watch him as he goes back to eating, surprised as hell. I knew things were bad for him at home. We never really went to his place, since his father was such a shitty guy, but I had no clue about his mom. As far as I knew, she was pretty decent. He has two younger brothers, both of them grown now, but back then they were just kids. I know he did a lot for them, but there’s only so much an eighteen-year-old kid can do for his family.
He turns the subject back onto the movie we’re filming, and we idly talk shop as we finish our lunch. I keep thinking back to what he said about his mother and the timeline, and things just seem so strange. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me back then and I can only imagine how hard that was for him.
But it only confuses me more. I don’t get why he joined the military and ran away, unless he was trying to get away from his parents, especially his father. I always assumed that was the case, he was just trying to get out of town, and he left without bringing me along. I always assumed he was too ashamed, and that’s why he never wrote back to me.