Chapter Text
“Hey. Been awhile. I hope you’re okay.”
Jamie closed his eyes and put away his phone, not letting himself stare at the screen, waiting for dots to appear. Dread didn't have to time to set in before the door opened, and he was greeted by two of the people he cared about most in the world. They came with champagne and laughter, and he didn't bother checking his phone for the rest of the night.
But the next day, his phone dinged with a notification from an unknown number. “Hi Jamie. It’s your aunt Margo. I have your dad’s phone. He’s at rehab.”
If he hadn't already been sitting, nursing his swollen ankle on his day off, he would've had to take to seat. It took a minute to process the message. Rehab? Jamie couldn’t remember a single time in his entire life that his dad had gone 24 hours without a drink.
The text being from Margo was nearly as surprising as the rehab part had been. Margo was James’ younger sister, and unsurprisingly, they didn't have a great relationship. As far as Jamie knew, his dad and his sister talked about once a year, usually on Christmas, and that was just a formality. Jamie knew that she had kids but he’d never met them and she wasn’t sending around Christmas cards or anything. He’d only met her once himself, when he was 17 and he'd had to attend his grandfather's funeral. They hadn’t talked much to him either. The Tartts didn’t talk to each other much, period. Weren't exactly a close-knit bunch, were they.
Soon after the first message came another one. “If you’d like, you can text or call me. Here’s my number.”
Another few days went by before he opened the contact she’d sent him. He decided to put the number in his phone under ‘Aunt Margo.’
He sent a brief text late at night. “It’s Jamie. Was it court-ordered?”
Twelve hours passed before he got a response. “Pretty much. I don’t know the details.”
Five hours. “How long?”
Ten minutes. “About six weeks. Has another six left.”
Two days. “Have you visited?”
An hour. “Yes. Twice. They have visiting days every two weeks.”
A few more days passed before he just decided to pick up the phone and call. He knew it would be painful but he didn’t know how to type out the words he wanted to say.
Margo answered the phone after a few rings.
“Um, hey, Margo.”
“Hello, Jamie. It’s been a long time.” Her voice was harsh like she’d smoked a lot in her life, but it was also kind.
“Oh, um, yeah.”
She was silent, waiting, knowing this wasn’t a social call, leaving the ball squarely in his court.
“When… uh, when are visiting days?”
“There’s one next Saturday evening.”
“Oh, um, okay. I haven’t seen him in a long time. Like a year. We didn’t really go off on the best of terms.” He thought about Wembley, but pushed it out of his mind just as fast.
“I heard.”
“You did?”
“Yes.” Jesus Christ, it was like pulling teeth. He tried not to imagine what she’d been told.
“I know that you don’t… I know you can’t… well, I just… Do you think… Do you think he’d want to see me?”
Margo sighed. “Jamie. Your dad is a… Well, he’s a hard man. Our dad weren’t so great either. James took after him in a lot of ways, didn't he. I didn’t see me dad for the last ten years of his life.”
He swallowed. “Did you regret that?”
“No,” she answered without hesitation. “I tried to have a relationship with him. He didn’t want it. He was never going to change.” Jamie could hear his mom’s words ringing in his ears. “He never tried. Not once.”
Jamie sighed, supposing that he’d gotten his answer. “Yeah. I guess dad’s like that too, yeah?”
“I don’t know, Jamie. You know I haven’t seen James much in the last ten years, either. But I’m here now. I guess I thought I’d give him another chance now that he seems like he’s trying." She paused and her voice got firmer as she continue. "But that don't mean you have to. It ain't on you, Jamie. Just because he’s trying don't mean you have to put up with that.”
His heart swelled against his better judgment. “Do you… do you really think he’s trying?” Hope and dread fought in his chest.
“Yeah… Yeah I actually do." He could hear the heartsick hope in her voice. "I don’t know that it’ll stick, but I haven’t seen him look this… soft since we were young.”
“Are you gonna go on Saturday?”
“I think so.” It sounded like she probably wanted a brother just like he wanted a dad.
“If I wrote him a letter, would you give it to him?” He didn’t know where the idea came from but he was asking before the thought had fully formed.
“I’d be glad to. Ya know, I wrote me own dad a letter once. I think it was good for me. I told him about how poorly he’d treated me and how I wasn’t going to put up with it anymore. I gave him the choice: be better or don’t have a relationship with me. I told him that he’d never get to see my kids again. And honestly, when he didn’t respond, it made my decision for me, made me realize that there was no point in trying with him. I don’t know what I would have done if he had tried. But maybe it’s worth a shot. Maybe it’d help you too.”
“Thank you, Margo.” His eyes watered, thinking about the vulnerability it took to put yourself in that position. He hated his dad but he always hoped in the back of his mind that one day he’d be better. It hurt to think that he’d put himself in the position to know that he never would be. “I, um, I hope you’ve been well. And um, the kids?” He couldn’t remember their names. He knew they were about his age.
Margo laughed. It reminded him of the old ladies he’d known all his life, the ones who’d been really hard done by, but who'd pat him on the head and give him a caramel if he was a good lad. “You don’t have to pretend to know me, Jamie. You could if you want. Just reach out again whenever, hun. I’ll text you my address if you wanna send me that letter.”
“Okay. Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome. Bye.”
“Bye.”