Mended: A Salvation Society Novel

him to Naomi’s last night and already confirmed I didn’t forget it a good amount of times. I need him to sleep to be healthy. But before opening the drawer, I need to go through a few things. I always do the same when I’m in his room.
Look into the crib—even if he’s not there.
Be sure the windows are closed—even if they don’t open.
Set the thermostat at seventy-two—even if I never change it.
Only then I can look in the drawer if I’ve given the mother of my child the miraculous pajamas. I wince at my compulsion to check the windows once more before going back to the kitchen. If I don’t acknowledge it, it’s not there. I’m about to leave the room without doing it, but the what-if is niggling at the back of my mind. Just once more. I turn around and retrace my steps. The window is still sealed closed. Aito is safe. We’re safe.
I walk around the apartment once more to be sure everything is closed or turned off, water tap, windows, oven, stove, lights, and when the doorbell announces Jackson’s arrival, I put a big smile on my face, swallow all my insecurities, take a big breath in and go meet him downstairs.
Doesn’t matter I have checked my luggage once more just to be sure.
Doesn’t matter that I’ve lost a couple of minutes locking the door several times.
Doesn’t matter I have the feeling I forgot to check on something, and it will nag at me until I return. The show must go on. Jackson can’t know before Mark what I’ve really become. If I don’t acknowledge it, it isn’t for other people to do so.
“Jackson!” I say too happily for my feelings to be true.
I’m dreading the trip to Virginia, and he knows it.
But I’m still glad to spend some time with old friends. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I’m a firm believer that if you repeat the same things over and over, you’ll believe it in the end. It’s reverse self-deprecation. If it works to tell yourself you’re stupid and believe it, why wouldn’t you repeat you’re amazing, fine, or happy and believe so as well.
So I’m happy to go to Virginia.
I thought all night about it, and I’m glad. Very glad.
“It took you long enough to come down. Everything alright?”
I look at my watch.
All my little rituals took me ten minutes.
I might need to cut it shorter if my anxiety continues to peak high.
Anna doesn’t see those things. Living with a moody rock star, lateness is now her way of life.
“Sorry, had to check on something for Aito. I wasn’t sure I'd given everything his mother needs.”
My son has become my perfect excuse.
Every time I’m running late, I blame him. It’s shitty, but necessary. A change of explosive diapers, a nap I couldn’t disturb, something I forgot for the diaper bag. I use him for all my quirks, and no one ever raises an eyebrow. Who would get mad at you because you’re a good dad?
“Everything alright?” Jackson repeats while assessing me from head to toe. I keep my emotions in check. No fidgeting. No nervousness. I’m fine. I’m normal. I’m a usual, okay guy. Everything is going to be alright.
“Yes, of course. I’m not going to lie, it’s going to be a hard trip”—unbearably hard—”but I’m happy to see Mark again and spend some time with him.”
“Uh huh,” Jackson says, opening the door of the car waiting for us and sliding in. I need to get into character and fast. Those guys went through the same training as me, and they can smell bullshit from far away. I know I could too before my brain got confused with checking for safety. I hope I still can, to help Mark with whatever he needs.
I get in behind Jackson and rest my bag at my feet. I would have preferred to put it in the trunk for safety, but I won’t say anything. I nudge it in between my feet so it can’t fly around in case of an accident. “You’re okay, though?” It takes me a couple of seconds to realize what Jackson is implying.
The car.
My hate for driving and being in anything on four wheels.
The “accident.”
If only he knew.
If only anyone knew.
“I’m fine.” Is all I say before retreating to my thoughts. I planned every aspect of the trip. I couldn’t not. And my first step is to let go. Opening my wallet, I take the pill I’ve secured in a plastic bag and pop it in my mouth with some water from the bottle I always carry around. It will take one hour to work its magic, and I can count on New York traffic to be on my side. It will just relax me before I can sleep on the plane and wake up another man in Virginia.
That’s what I hope every night when I go to sleep. To wake up someone else. Somewhere else. With Elaine by my side.
“So, what’s up with you?” I ask my friend, pretending I’m somewhat interested in what he has become. If I were, I would have come to his wedding or sent a gift when he became a dad. I never found it in me to keep in touch. That life was over the moment Elaine died.
“A much less interesting life than yours. Married, but you know that. Kids, but you know that. A job I love, but you know that. Now, if you want to tell me how the best guy at unmasking impostors became a single father and owner of a bar where celebrities hang out, I’m all ears.”
The Darling Devils.
The bane and the saviors of my existence.
The biggest rock band for the last twenty-five years. People I now call family when before my family was my unit, those guys, and everything we believed in. Remembering we used to have each other’s back, I tell him the story everyone knows if you’ve read anything about the band in the last