When September Ends

by ANDREA SMITH

  Dear Jesse,

  I’m sorry that I left the way that I did, but I didn’t know how else to leave. Knowing that Mama is still alive should be good news, but I didn’t feel that way and I know how wrong that is! I should be happy for that but all I felt was angry and confused. I know how selfish that sounds. I need some time to figure things out. What we had seemed so right, but now I wonder if maybe we were both fooling ourselves. I hope Mama is doing well. I will miss you and Scout, but this is the right thing to do for everyone. I will stop by as soon as I stop hurting. I can’t leave Scout like this forever. But please, Jesse, give this to me. Let me stop hurting and get past all of this. You and I need to do what is right by Scout—and Mama. It’s what I want.

  My Love, September

  After I’ve read it once, twice and then three times, I fold up my ‘Dear Jesse’ letter and place it gently in the drawer of my nightstand. I switch the lamp off and crawl beneath the covers, feeling an emptiness seep in like nothing I’ve ever known.

  I search my soul for some kind of relief, some confirmation that September is right about us, that we were, in fact, fooling ourselves, living some kind of an erotic, taboo fantasy.

  But I don’t find it. Because I know it isn’t the truth. Oh, I can be patient. I can and will give her the time she wants to stop hurting, but I know in my gut it won’t matter. I will still feel what I feel for her, and I know that she will feel the same.

  Being apart from one another isn’t right for anyone. I can see that and, I know eventually, she will see it as well.

  Chapter 4

  I’m getting ready to head out for my first day of classes when my cell phone rings. I grab it from my pocket and see that it’s only eight-thirty. It’s Shayla. We haven’t talked for a few days.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “September, Jesse got my number somehow and left a voicemail. He wants to know how to reach you. What should I do?”

  Shit.

  But I smile anyway. “Oh God, Shayla…I don’t know. If you ignore his message, he’ll just leave another. I hate asking you to lie—”

  “Oh hell, don’t worry about it. I’ll call him back and tell him that I live out of state now and that I haven’t a clue where you live, which is the truth.”

  “He’s going to ask more questions, you know?”

  “Yeah, well I’ll lie if need be, unless you want me to tell him.”

  “Nothing’s changed,” I reply. “Gotta get to class. Thanks, Shayla.”

  “Talk to you soon,” she replies, “Hang in there, babe.”

  Easier said that done I thought to myself as I headed out to my car.

  I get through my first day of college classes, which mostly involves teacher and student introductions that I hate more than you can imagine. I don’t like summarizing who I am to a bunch of other people, whether students or faculty, I just don’t like it. And because of that, my voice generally falters and then I get really flustered, so I speak softer, which ultimately leads to the teacher asking me to repeat it.

  Fuck that.

  Luckily, I don’t have a shift tonight so I can go back to my apartment and chill for a bit, and then start reading the assigned shit on my syllabus for each class.

  Lovely.

  Just as I’m getting into my car, I hear a shrill whistle and a male voice shouting, “Whoa, September, hold up!”

  I turn and it’s my neighbor, Brandon, jogging over towards where my car is parked. “Classes over?” he asks.

  “Yeah, thank God,” I reply, nodding.

  “Ah c’mon, was it that brutal? Let me see your schedule.”

  And I pull it from my backpack and hand it over to him.

  “Okay,” he says, after he’s scanned it, “You’re not in too bad of shape. I’ve had three of the five professors you have this semester. Let me clue you in. With Bartlett, you need to make sure you participate in class. He’s a big proponent of that. Whitacre will be drunk during most of his lectures, so don’t sweat it if it doesn’t make sense. And Byers? She’s a royal bitch and won’t cut you any slack, doll, because of the way you look.”

  Rewind—what?

  “What?” he asks, seeing my befuddled expression.

  “Seriously, Byers won’t like me?”

  He immediately laughs and, I’m not going to lie, I love the way it sounds. “So, I tell you that your English Lit teacher is drunk most of the time, but you’re worried about the blonde bitch Byers? That’s interesting.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  “Not at all, babe. You are a breath of fresh air around here. Gotta go. Practice. Don’t forget, we’ve got a date for pizza,” he calls out once he’s already a half block down the street.

  I rack my brain wondering if I ever confirmed with him and I know that I didn’t, but what the hell?

  It’s just pizza.

  Peeps gotta eat.

  Chapter 5

  Fuck, I know that chick is lying to me. I would bet my next ten paychecks on it.

  “Sorry Mr. Ryan, I haven’t heard from September. I’m in Chapel Hill, North Carolina now. I go to school here. You know how it goes. Once you leave high school it’s like your whole world changes. New places, new friends. But hey, if I do hear from her I’ll be sure and let her know you’re concerned.”

  Yeah, right. That is what September’s friend Shayla had tried to pass off as the truth when she finally returned my call after I had left two subsequent messages.

  Do I believe her?

  Fuck no.

  But her lies are the least of my problems at the moment. The most pressing issue is Scout and the way she isn’t dealing with September’s departure, or the fact that after talking to Libby/Sarah, she is totally out of sorts.

  Scout starts school tomorrow and I sent her off to get a shower. I just couldn’t look at her sad face any longer. It’s not as if she verbalizes her feelings.

  Fuck, she doesn’t have to because she wears her heart on her sleeve. I almost wish she would talk about it but¸ then again, there’s nothing I can say to her that I haven’t already said.

  “Did you find September?” she had asked at supper tonight.

  “Not yet, honey,” I replied. “I’m still looking.”

  “Why did she really leave, Dad?”

  “Because of me, Scout. She left because of me.”

  I had braced myself for more questions because at ten, she had to have some, but they didn’t come. We had finished our dinner in silence.

  There’s a soft knocking on the door leading out to the driveway. I peek through the kitchen doorway and see that it’s Casey standing there.

  “It’s open,” I holler down.

  “Hey,” she says, coming in and walking up the three steps that lead from the landing to the kitchen. “Jesse, I just want to offer you any help with Scout that you might need.”

  I quirk a brow where I’m standing at the sink. “And why would you want to do that?”

  She flushes a bit, likely embarrassed because I don’t mince words. There is no way in hell that I’m opening that door again. I’m not about to let her think there’s even a possibility.

  “Look, I’ve got no ulterior motives, so relax. It’s just that Catherine and Scout get on so well, and I’d be happy to have her stay with me until you get home from work.”

  I turn from the sink, crossing my arms and gaze over at her. She does wear a sincere expression, but what the hell? If I’ve learned anything it’s that women can be chameleons. Casey is no exception.

  “I’ll take you up on that as long as you allow me to pay you just like I would if she stayed at Latchkey.”

  “I won’t hear of it,” she replies quickly. “We’re neighbors. Neighbors help neighbors, right?”

  “Casey—look, I don’t like to feel beholden to anyone, you need to understand that.”

  She sighs. “Okay, how about this? I have some gutters that need replacing before winter. If I buy the materials, will you i
nstall them for me?”

  I give it a moment. “That’ll work,” I reply. “We’ve got a deal.”

  “Great,” she says with a smile. “So, you’ll let Scout know that I’ll pick her up on my way home? Just have her watch for me to pull up in front. My school dismisses before hers, so the timing is perfect.”

  Yeah. Perfect.

  “I’ll do that, Casey. And thanks.”

  “You bet,” she replies as she heads back out the door.

  After she leaves I wonder if I’ve somehow played into some intricate plan she has going to start things up again.

  No way in hell.

  Chapter 6

  I’ve survived the first couple weeks of college, and struck a balance between school, work and a fledgling social life even. Slowly, I’m starting to adjust to being on my own. I know it’s time for me to take the next step.

  I need to call my grandparents. I need to check in with them because it’s just not fair to continue shutting them out. After all, they were the ones that raised me when Mama took off; and they were the ones that had always made sure I had the love and security I needed while growing up. None of this was their fault.

  I pick up my cell and press the number I have already programmed into my phone. Gram answers.

  “Hey Gram,” I say, “It’s me…it’s September.”

  “Oh my God, September,” she says, her voice cracking. “Do you know how worried Grandpa and I have been not knowing where you’ve been or how you’re doing?”

  “I’m sorry, Gram. It’s just that…well, things got really complicated and all—”

  She cuts me off. “I know about it. Your grandpa filled me in after Jesse and Scout left. I don’t know what to say or even think about that, September.”

  And I know my gram. I know she’s disappointed—maybe even ashamed of me, and definitely pissed off about it. But probably more at Jesse than at me.

  “I won’t discuss that with you, Gram. No disrespect, but it’s my private business—it’s between Jesse and me.”

  I can feel her frown over the phone. I’m familiar with it.

  “You—you’re not still carrying on with him, are you?”

  I sigh loudly. “Gram, I called to let you and Grandpa know that I’m fine and to give you my new number and my address. I’m out on my own, and I’m doing well. I’m in school, and I’m working. I would just appreciate it if you keep this information to yourself.”

  “I see,” she says, “Of course, I will. You have no worries about that. Henry and I sure as hell don’t want Jesse getting access to you. I’m guessing that’s why you’ve made this request.”

  I’m silent. She’s right, but the way she just put it makes me feel downright pissy with her.

  “You haven’t asked about your mother,” she finally says breaking the uncomfortable silence.

  “My mother left me five years ago. I’m sorry if I don’t feel the need to ask about her.”

  It’s the truth and I know just how cold and unfeeling it sounds. But what am I supposed to feel? I wish someone would clue me in because, at this moment in time, all I feel is ambivalent.

  “September, I know what she did to you and Scout was wrong, honey. There’s no denying that, but she’s not the same person that left there more than five years back. She’s Sarah now. She’s sweet and gentle and, in a way, she’s very fragile. But she’s back and we pray every day, thanking the Lord for that, but we also pray that eventually some day she does remember.”

  “Why would you want that for her?” I ask, a hint of disbelief sprinkled in my voice. I mean, seriously, it sounds as if Sarah is a better person and in a better place than Libby ever was.

  “We don’t want that for us. We want that for you. Oh, I realize that Scout was too young to really remember all of that. No, the person that Scout met as her mother a few weeks back is not the same one that took off on y’all. Scout has no axe to grind with Sarah, because she doesn’t remember Libby. But you do. And, honey, she owes you an explanation. That’s all I meant.”

  “How is Scout?” I ask softly. “I really miss her.”

  “She was fine while she was here with us. Took to Sarah, they talked, played some board games and cards. Even put a puzzle together. She wanted Sarah to go back with them. I reckon you didn’t know that being that you’d already left.”

  Her words are like a knife that’s just been shoved into my heart. “No, Gram. I didn’t know that.”

  Pause.

  “Uh…did she go back with them?” I ask quietly, bracing myself for what I knew was the main reason I had left.

  “No. Jesse tried to explain as best he could that it just wasn’t in her best interest. It broke Sarah’s heart. I mean, sure, he was a stranger to her, but I believe she understood when we had explained he was her husband, and Scout her daughter, that it was the truth. I think maybe she just presumed they’d come to take her home. I don’t know,” she continues, sounding disillusioned, “maybe we mishandled the whole damn thing.”

  “How is she now?” I ask tentatively.

  “Oh, she’s settled down a bit. Scout calls her every now and then, and that seems to perk her up quite a bit.”

  “Well, it’s going to take some time for me, Gram.”

  “I understand, honey. But you will keep in touch with us?”

  “Sure, Gram. You know I will.”

  This is the only day during the week that I’m done with classes and don’t pull a shift at Rudy’s. My curiosity, along with the overflowing guilt I’ve been harboring for leaving Scout have become too much for me to bear. I’m taking a drive.

  Destination: Juniper Drive. Jesse and Scout’s home.

  My former home.

  Yeah, I know that Jesse won’t let Scout stay at home by herself yet, but I recall that before I came here last summer, Casey mentioned that Jesse had hired someone to be at the house to keep Scout until he got home from work. I’m counting on the fact that he’s done the same now. I mean, we never discussed the arrangements once I was scheduled to start college.

  Add that to the hundreds of other things we should’ve discussed but hadn’t.

  I park around the corner from their house. As I creep around the side of the house situated across the street and over one to the east, I have a perfect view of the driveway.

  Good. Jesse’s truck is gone. Just as I start to straighten from my crouched position behind Mrs. Terhune’s oleander bushes, I see Casey’s car round the corner and pull up into the shared driveway between the two houses.

  I crouch back down, waiting for her to go into the house so I don’t have to deal with that bitch’s nastiness.

  I feel my jaw drop as I see both Catherine and Scout get out of Casey’s car. I watch as Casey opens her trunk and pulls out a couple sacks of groceries. “Come help me girls,” she calls out to them. “If we’re all going to enjoy this chili this evening, then we’re all going to help carry these bags in, hear?”

  Catherine and Scout each grab a sack before she shuts the trunk, and they follow her inside. The reality of what’s going down on Juniper Drive hits me like a bolt of electricity.

  I spring from my crouching position and head around the house to the side street where I parked my car just a few minutes ago.

  Fuck me.

  Fuck Casey.

  Fuck Jesse.

  Chapter 7

  Work’s been a bitch since my return and I’m pretty sure it’s a direct result of my shitty mood. My crew is tiptoeing around me, reluctant to ask questions when they need to and I haven’t missed some of their whispered comments to one another.

  “Hope he fuckin’ gets laid soon. Sick of being on the receiving end of Jesse’s lousy mood,” Clint had said to Riley at the catering truck at break time this morning.

  Both of them had clammed up when they saw me come around the corner of the truck, grabbing a bottled water and an apple.

  Fuck, can I blame them?

  No. I have been a total prick and it’s not about mis
sing the sex. Not at all. It’s about missing September, and knowing that I fucked up in a major way.

  I guzzle my water. The early fall weather is still warm and humid, and my mind floats to September.

  Fuck. Her birthday is the day after tomorrow. She’s going to be nineteen, and for the next two months that means we’re eleven years apart instead of twelve.

  Big fuckin’ deal.

  I’m not one to sit in judgment about age differences, provided both parties are legal that is. Hell, Libby was (and is) seven years older than me, and while I know her parents had had some misgivings about the age difference, at the end of the day, I had been the one bearing the responsibility for raising our daughter.

  The bottom line is that September is legal, and she was from the first time I ever touched her sexually. She is not blood kin to me, and the fact is I didn’t even raise her because once Libby had vacated our lives, I’d sent her off to live with her grandparents. Those were actually her formative years.

  So, why am I thinking all of these thoughts now, when it’s too fucking late to change what’s already happened? Why in the hell did it take September leaving me to see that, technically, we’d done nothing wrong? Had I really been afraid that Scout wouldn’t have approved?

  Gimme a fucking break.

  Scout loves September unconditionally—same way that she loves me. She would’ve had no issues had I explained the situation to her instead of burying my head up my ass.

  And then I consider the possibility that, in some remote place in my conscious, maybe I’m just not sure that I am what is best for September. I mean, at eighteen, I had been sure that I loved Libby and that we’d be together forever. How had that worked out?

  I can sit here and blame it all on Libby, but that’s simply not the reality of it. Everyone knows that it takes two to make, and two to break and, as cliché as it sounds, it is the truth. I’ve come to learn that sometimes—many times—it’s simply a matter of people not knowing what they want at eighteen or nineteen or twenty-five. Fuck, eventually they may outgrow one another, but is that what had made me so indecisive with September?