Page 69 of Best Man on Campus

“Stop it. There’s no such thing as a Disney life. Life’s whatever you make it. And I want a life with you. Don’t push me away, Jazzy. I want you, every part of you, the good and the bad, the sharp edges, the energy, the passion, the beauty. All of you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she says, not hearing me, lost in her misery. “I didn’t want Killian to be what he is. I wish I never knew him. Except he was all I had. Grams and him and he was so good to me. Right up to that last night. The night he died.” She sobs.

“And now I’ll never get to fix things to get over him or past him or around the fact that Killian, my uncle, is a horrible monster and a loving man, kind and decent and a deplorable molester. He betrayed me and he loved me. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

She sobs, one more time. “Fuck, Bennie. I don’t know who I am—a demon bitch or a poet? I’m like him, like my uncle.” She snorts. “I suppose it’s better than being like my mom. A worthless piece of shit drug addict. You can’t believe a word she says.”

“You’re you, Jazzy. No one else. You have gifts and a strong giving spirit. The only destruction I’ve seen you do is to yourself.”

“And you.”

“Not me. You can’t hurt me.” It’s a lie I wish was the truth right now, because she can hurt me. I feel the darkness of potential pain closing in around the edges of our relationship, ready to snuff it out and replace it with thundering hell. My heart beats out of my chest as I resolve to handle it, to gather my strength and stand up to whatever punishment she can dish, and to love her anyway, and hope that’s enough to get her to her future, to a place she can stand without worry about collapsing. Does it matter if we have the foundation of a good family or bad? How much of our future is ours to determine?

“I won’t let you hurt me--or yourself, Jazzy. You have the strength of any ten people I know, enough life in you to stand on your own no matter who the fuck your parents were. You have your own choices to make.”

“And I suppose you want me to choose you, hockey boy?” she attempts a smile through her tears and I haul her into me, hugging her for all I’m worth, giving her everything I have.

When I get her inside, Majik takes over. She gets Jazzy to her room and I sit in the small living room with the gigantic television. There are only two chairs, Majik’s impressive lounger and a smaller version, Jazzy’s chair. Majik doesn’t bother with being prepared for company. She doesn’t invite people into her house. The only reason I’ve been here is because I took her to the hospital that time.

After sitting in the dark for a long ass time, Majik comes into the room, flicking on a light.

“She’s okay.”

I let out a deep sigh, but my body and soul is still shot with tension because she’s not in my arms, because things aren’t resolved between us and I despair of whether they ever will be. I stand to go.

“Where the fuck you think you’re going, hockey boy?” Majik stares at me until I sit back down. “Tell me about Ronnie Romano.”

“I got her phone number from Sarah. She’s living in Texas. She was surprised—shocked to hear from me, anxious to hear about Jazzy. Knew about you, that Jazzy was at SPU. Didn’t give herself much hope of contact. Figured Jazzy was doing well without her.” I pause, not knowing what else to say except to ask about Killian

“Spill it.” Majik’s voice is back to normal though she’s still standing like a sentinel, arms fold across her ginormous chest. The scariest and saintliest woman I know—next to my mother.

“Did you know about Killian, what he did to her?”

She nods. “It was in the social services file. They knew what happened to her right away, knew she’d blocked it out, that the trauma allowed her selective memory as a defense mechanism. Dr. Delray made progress, but hit a wall. Once Jazzy turned eighteen, there was nothing either one of us could do.” She stops and stress at me.

“But you knew I could do something.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sport.” She sighs. “Sure, I hoped you’d jog her. Give her a reason to move forward, but truthfully I was hoping you’d talk her into going back to seeing Dr. Delray, not give her shock therapy and set her off to do who knows what.”

“Yeah. I get it. But things don’t always work out. Especially if you don’t give someone the whole truth up front.” I’m not above throwing my own accusation at Majik, feeling like a patsy, more than a little used and abused.

Not that it changes anything. I’m still fucking lost in love and I still have to deal with a broken Jazzy. I don’t know if she’s more or less broken than when I found her, but if being loved helps, then I’m hoping for less broken with all my heart. Betting my heart and soul on it.

She shrugs without apology. Exactly the response I expect. But I know she feels guilty on the inside and predict she’ll make it up to me in typical Majik fashion. Maybe a surprise chocolate peanut butter cake.

“Ronnie told me that Killian always liked Jazzy, especially because Jazzy had that voice, could sing since she was young. She said Killian had some kind of obsession with her. She wasn’t around much, but talked to her mother on occasion when she needed money. She sounds changed now though.”

“Maybe. It happens sometimes”

“She wants to see Jazzy though, reconnect with her. You have a problem with that?”

“Not my call.” She heaves a sigh. “Either way, you did good. Killian was a creep and we owe Sarah.” She pauses, lets her hands down to her sides. “You look beat. Go home, Ben.”

* * *

Hockey is saving my fucking life today. Or saving me from letting darkness settle on my soul. Hockey is the reason I get out of bed in spite of the clouds, in spite of not knowing if Jazzy will ever be whole or talk to me again after last night. In spite of the uncertainty about my father’s health. And in spite of my narrowing chances of getting into med school, Jazzy is the trouble on my mind.

Tonight is the semi-finals of the Frozen Four tournament and I want Jazzy to be there, but it seems like a trivial thing in her life. Or maybe it’s a distraction she needs now. Until she can close the chapter in her life titled Killian. I’m not sure how that’ll happened because all I’ve done with my truth-finding is kick up the dust into a fury of blinding clouds, creating confusion and turmoil. Fuck.