I persist and resist the temptation to ask you
If one thing had been different
Would everything be different today?
We were something, don’t you think so?
Rosé flowing with your chosen family
And it would’ve been sweet
If it could’ve been me
In my defense, I have none
For digging up the grave another time
But it would’ve been fun
If you would’ve been the one

---

July 2004

It was a sweltering summer day, with the sun high in the sky, burning down on everything its rays touched. But in the middle of Port Charles park, underneath the canopy of trees, it was just a little bit cooler.

Not that Jason ever noticed — he didn’t feel temperature the way everyone did. He could still freeze to death, still pass out from heatstroke — but he wouldn’t know he was in danger until it was too late.

So he didn’t notice the heat or think much of it as he crossed through the park, taking the short cut from downtown Port Charles towards the waterfront. The northern edge of the park was just a few blocks from Courtland Street, and he had a bookie to track down.

He followed the path as it wound through the heart of the park, then dipped into one of the clearings with a stone fountain and circle of benches in matching material, then he stopped because a familiar figure was sitting on the edge of the fountain, holding an infant in one arm, the other hand gliding across the surface of the water, then flicking a few drops in the baby’s face. There was a gurgle, almost a laugh.

She smiled at her son, then that smile widened when she saw him at the edge of the clearing. “Jason!”

“You’re back.” Jason cleared his throat, closed the distance between them, and sat a few feet away from her on the fountain ledge. The bookie completely forgotten. “Emily didn’t say anything—”

“I got home a few weeks ago. I, um—” Elizabeth settled the baby on her lap, wrapping her arms around his pudgy middle. “I saw you at the funeral, but I didn’t want to…intrude.” The smile faded slightly. “I didn’t feel right saying anything.”

He hadn’t seen her there. Hadn’t even known to look for her. They’d been in the same church, same cemetery, and he hadn’t known? “You could have. You wouldn’t have intruded. We’re friends.”

“Friends,” Elizabeth repeated. “Who don’t talk.”

“We—” And he realized, no, they didn’t. Outside a handful of conversations after Emily’s cancer battle the year before, the brief interactions that spring after her marriage had deteriorated, they hadn’t been friends in nearly two years. “We’re always friends,” Jason said firmly.

“All right. Then—” Elizabeth slid closer to him. “This is Cameron. Cam, this is Mommy’s friend, Jason.” She flashed another smile at him. “You’re having a baby, Emily said. I’m so happy for you. You’re such a great father—”

“I’m—” Jason grimaced, looked away. “No, I’m not.”

Her brows drew together quizzically. “What? You were so good with Michael. Don’t worry about being out of practice or whatever. I mean, I’ve only been a mother for a few months, but I think about what you used to say about babies being aware—”

“I’m not having a baby.”

The words hung between them for a long moment, and she exhaled slowly. Looked at the water pooling behind them. “Emily wondered, but she didn’t know how to ask you. Didn’t know if you’d tell her the truth.” A corner of her mouth twitched.  “She didn’t want you to lie to her.”

“I—”

“I told her not to be silly. Jason doesn’t lie.” Her eyes found him. “After all you never told me Sonny was dead. You avoided being alone with me so you didn’t have to lie to me.”

Jason dipped his head, stared hard at the ground. “You didn’t think that then. You were angry.”

“Not because you lied. Because you didn’t trust me. But you’re lying now. Because of Sonny and Carly, right?”

“The boys—” Jason exhaled slowly. “The boys deserve their family together. Sonny and Carly will drag them into court—”

“And living with their miserable parents screaming at each other is better? I grew up in a house without love. Children can feel that, too. You think Michael is better off this way?”

“I don’t—” Jason straightened. “No. But I promised Sam—”

Elizabeth sighed, smoothed her hands over Cameron’s soft dark hair, and he knew he’d disappointed her again, but what did she want from him? “Okay, you promised Sam you’d lie to the whole world for her. Just like you promised Carly.”

At that, Jason looked at her sharply. “What?”

“You promised Carly you’d claim Michael. Even though it meant that you’d slept with Carly while you were with Robin. And you got to be a father for a little while, but that didn’t last, did it?” Elizabeth tugged the stroller closer with her toe, leaned down to strap Cameron into it.

“It’s—it’s not the same—”

“No, because at least Carly makes sense. You were friends, weren’t you? But this Sam woman—” Elizabeth shrugged. “But you’re your own person, Jason. You make your choices. I just can’t believe after everything you went through with Michael, you’d put yourself in the same position.” She stood up, went to the handles of the stroller, her smile was sad. “But then again, maybe it shouldn’t surprise me. You’re doing it for Sonny.”

“I’m doing it for Michael—” Jason stood, his voice tight. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Don’t I?” Elizabeth sighed, looked away for a long moment. “I guess I don’t. After all, it’s not like we’re friends, right? It’s not like I haven’t watched you go through this before. It’s not like I wasn’t the one you confided in the last time you claimed a child that wasn’t yours for a woman who can’t be trusted to tell the same story twice.” Her eyes were sad. “It’s not like I wasn’t someone you lied to because Sonny told you to. What do I know?”

“I—”

“I won’t say anything. Thank you for not lying to me. But like I said, we’re not friends anymore.”

Jason covered the top of her hand, resting on the handle of the stroller. “It wasn’t about trust. With Sonny—”

Her eyes searched his, then she smiled again. “It doesn’t matter. A long time ago, maybe. I made mistakes. I walked out when I should have stayed. I thought about going to see you, but then you married Brenda. Why did you do that again?” she asked, and he looked away. “To keep her out of Sonny and Carly’s hair, right?”

“Elizabeth—”

“It’s like I said that night. It’s Sonny for you. First, last…always.”

| 02 – cardigan →