When September Ends

by ANDREA SMITH

  “You mean…well, we’re not sleeping in the same room?”

  What the fuck, woman?

  I look at her quickly to see if she’s somehow joking with me, but her face is totally serious. “Uh…well, no.”

  “I just wasn’t sure,” she murmurs, casting her brown eyes downward. “I mean, I know we’re married and all, but Mama didn’t know what to expect when I asked her.”

  Nice, Ruth.

  “Sarah, remember what I told you just before Scout and I left Meridian a couple of months back?”

  She nods.

  “Well see, you coming here to stay for a bit doesn’t change any of that. We are technically married, but eventually we won’t even be that anymore.”

  “I get it,” she replies, and I hear a soft sniffle when she does. “Mama said something about once I’m done with my sessions with the doctor, I’ll be going on some type of disability. The doctor has to put it into writing I guess. I don’t fully understand.”

  “Yeah, well, it sounds as if Ruth has a plan, so just go with that for now. I’ll let you get unpacked while I start dinner.”

  “I can cook,” she offers. “Will you let me?”

  “Well, starting tomorrow, you and Scout can do the cooking, how’s that? In fact,” I continue, glancing at the clock on the dresser, “Scout should be coming in from school shortly. The neighbor lady gives her a ride home, but now that you’re here, well maybe she can start taking the bus again.”

  She brightens. “I’d like that. I’ll be here for her when she comes home and then we can cook dinner and do whatever else around here that needs to be done before you get home from work.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I say, exiting the room. “I’ll send Scout in to help you as soon as she gets in.”

  “Thanks, Jesse,” she calls after me as I leave her room. And although I’m not one for prayer, I find myself saying a silent one in my mind as I head towards the kitchen. I ask God for a speedy and full recovery for Henry.

  Chapter 14

  I take one last look in the mirror on the closet door of my bedroom and release the sigh I’ve been holding in all day. There’s no putting this off.

  It’s time I face her.

  Her.

  My mother.

  Libby, Sarah, and now Scout’s new best friend it seems.

  Jesse’s legal wife.

  Scout’s called me several times in the week since my mother has made her home with them. She wants me to come over. She wants me to forgive Mama.

  Her exact words.

  Maybe it is time that I face her, not to forgive her because I’m not sure that I ever could, but face her as a woman. Let her know that she isn’t up against a thirteen-year-old anymore, but a woman who has every intention of doing whatever is necessary to continue loving Jesse.

  My hair is brushed down, and my make-up is perfect. I’m wearing a new sweater and my favorite jeans. I’m pulling my boots on when there’s a knock at my door.

  “Sepptemmber,” Brandon calls from the hallway, and then I hear him snickering. “Don’t hide from me,” he says in a sing-song voice.

  Is he drunk?

  I unlock the door, and open it, and clearly he’s partied out. Still wearing the nylon team soccer jacket he has had on since yesterday afternoon when the team had pounded Missouri Southern State in the District playoffs, he plants his forearms on either side of the doorway, and I notice a nearly empty bottle of beer dangling from one hand.

  “Jesus Christ, Brandon, are you just now getting in?”

  His eyes are bloodshot, and he gets a shit-eating grin on his face, before he nods. “Yep, you should have come with us,” he says, stepping over the threshold and walking past me.

  “I had to work, remember?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he replies, sinking down on the loveseat and placing the beer bottle on the table. “Mind if I crash here?”

  “What? Why?”

  He brushes his unruly hair back from his forehead and sighs. “Because Danny has Katie with him crashed in my bed and I don’t feel like dragging their asses out of it.”

  “Oh geez,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Go ahead. I’m leaving for a couple of hours, but why don’t you get a shower before getting into my bed.”

  “I stink, don’t I?’ he asks, lifting an arm to sniff a pit.

  “It’s not that,” I lie, “You’ve just been hitting it hard, and my sheets are clean.”

  “Not a problem,” he says, staggering to his feet. “Let me grab clean clothes and my toothbrush and I’ll be right back. Don’t go away,” he says, pointing a finger at me.

  I shake my head as he walks back out into the hallway, returning several minutes later with his clean clothes and a shaving kit.

  “You’re not moving in, are you?” I tease.

  He gives me a crooked grin, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you baby,” he replies, giving me a wink and moving closer.

  “Eww, Brandon, you do stink. Go hit the shower and then sleep it off. I’ll see you later.” I hurry out before he delays me any further.

  The whole way over to Jesse’s, I contemplate what to expect. Scout has been a different person in the last week since Mama came to stay. She’s been filling me in on what they’ve been doing, and how she takes the bus home now and Mama is there, baking something or starting dinner.

  I scoff inwardly. Nothing like I remember, that’s for sure. She mentions that, after dinner, they usually play a game of cards or maybe checkers. Each time Scout shares those things with me, pangs of jealousy erupt within. I’m not sure if it’s because I feel proprietary over Scout, or maybe it’s because I want to ask where Jesse fits into this picture perfect family portrait.

  I don’t dare ask because, no matter what Scout has revealed to Jesse about us, the fact that Mama has now come back into the picture clearly has trumped any of that.

  When Scout phoned last night and mentioned that she and Mama were going to church services today, and asked me to come by for Sunday dinner, I couldn’t think of any excuse not to go.

  Maybe my curiosity won out over my better judgment. Who knows?

  Jesse has called me a couple of times during the week, but it’s been phone tag, always missing one another and simply exchanging messages. This will be the first time we’ve been face to face since our fuck-a-thon a week prior.

  I pull up in front of the house and, even though it’s a sunny fall day, I feel the hint of winter in the air. It’s almost Halloween and I notice that someone has placed a fall ensemble of pumpkins, gourds spilling from a woven cornucopia, and a scarecrow made from cornstalks on the front porch. I can’t help but notice it’s one of Jesse’s old plaid flannel shirts the scarecrow is wearing.

  How fucking quaint.

  Scout must have spotted me from the front window, because I hear the sound of the front door opening and out she comes, bounding down the porch steps and running towards me, all smiles.

  “Did you see what Sarah and I made for the front porch?” she asks excitedly, pointing behind her. “It was her idea, but I came up with the clothes for the scarecrow.”

  “I saw that when I pulled up. It’s really awesome, Scout,” I say, feeling my heart starting to fracture.

  Why am I doing this?

  I quickly remind myself that I’m doing this for Scout and nobody else. “So, it sounds like you’re enjoying having Mama here.”

  She stops and regards me silently for a moment. Somehow I know that she’s trying to come up with something to make me feel okay about going inside.

  “I know you have memories of Sarah that I don’t have,” she starts, fiddling with her ponytail, and something inside of me is grateful for the fact she doesn’t refer to her as Mama. I need to make sure that I don’t either. “But September,” she continues, “please just try and be nice to her, okay? I really think she misses Grandma and Grandpa. Dad hardly speaks to her, so I’m all she’s got. I know she must feel lonely about it.”

  I sink to my knees and lo
ok into my little sister’s blue eyes. They are pleading with me to understand, and to put aside my feelings, if only temporarily, for the sake of someone who hadn’t given a damn about us six years ago. So, how can a not-quite-eleven-year-old be so compassionate about something that is so damn complicated that even I can’t comprehend the dynamics?

  And then I remember that Scout is an old soul, and that is simply what they do. “You’ve got it, sweet girl,” I reply with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

  Once inside, Scout grabs me by the hand and pulls me into the kitchen where she is, standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pan, humming a tune I don’t recognize.

  “Sarah,” Scout says, and she turns quickly, staring over at me, “This is September.”

  As I watch my mother’s face, it’s difficult to know whether she truly doesn’t recognize me or if she chooses not to for her own sake. It’s almost as if a flicker of recognition passed over her before she turns back, lowers the heat under the burner, and then wipes her hands on the apron tied around her waist and faces me again.

  “Hello, September,” she says softly, giving me a meek smile. “I’ve heard tons of things about you from this one,” she continues, smiling down at Scout who is once again beaming. “I know that I’m your mother, just please bear with me as my memory banks have been compromised, for now anyway. In time, things might come back, but there’s no guarantee.

  “No, it’s fine,” I interject, taking the hand she’s offering, “You’re Sarah to me.”

  A flash of coldness appears on her face but, just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced with quiet innocence. She pulls her hand away, and runs it through her hair that is tied back. “I’m making chocolate pudding to fill a pie crust I baked earlier. Scout says chocolate cream pie is one of her favorites.”

  “Yes, yes it is,” I confirm, “Jesse’s too.”

  “Oh really? Well, she didn’t tell me that. Hope you like it as well.”

  “Can I help?” I ask, looking around to the assortment of bowls and utensils lining the countertop.

  “Scout and I pretty much have it under control. The chicken is roasting in the oven, and Scout made the salad earlier, so thanks, but we’re good.”

  I look around. “Where’s Jesse?”

  “Oh, he’s out in the garage fixing something on his truck,” Scout pipes up.

  “Okay—well, I think I’ll go out and say hi to him if I’m not needed here I guess.”

  “No, you’re not needed so go right ahead,” Sarah says as she continues stirring the pudding. “Tell him dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes, will you?”

  “Sure,” I reply, bristling inside at how she seems to have taken over my kitchen, and the fact that she’s confirmed I’m not needed here.

  Scout is already busying herself with setting the dining room table, so I turn and leave the kitchen, going through the laundry room and down the steps towards the landing that leads to the side door to the driveway.

  Just as I step out into the October chill, I spot Casey taking a bag of trash out to her garbage cans.

  Fucking. Lovely.

  She hasn’t spotted me yet so, hopefully, I can make my way to the garage door unnoticed.

  “Well, well,” her voice comes floating over to me. She doesn’t bother to hide the snarkiness in it. “Looks like this is gonna get real interesting.”

  I start to respond, but she’s already turned her back to me and I decide not to waste my energy on the bitch. At this moment I realize just how much I’ve been fooling myself—how much both Jesse and me have been fooling ourselves.

  This can never work.

  What the hell had we been thinking?

  The truth is we hadn’t been thinking with anything other than our raging hormones. It’s time for a reality check, and if Jesse can’t be the one to initiate it, then for fuck’s sake, I will.

  I enter the garage just as he’s shutting the hood of his truck. He sees me and immediately his face lights up.

  Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.

  “Hey, baby,” he says, coming towards me, “I’m so glad you’re here, believe me.”

  “Stop,” I say, my voice finding the harshness it needs to convince him what I’m about to say is the truth. I’ve outstretched my arm as if to further halt him in his tracks.

  It works. He cocks his head to the side, trying to figure out what my deal is. “Baby…what’s going on?”

  “You need to listen to me, Jesse. I’m not staying, I can’t.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I only came by because we’ve been missing one another on the phone all week. Plus, well—what I have to say to you should be said in person and not over the phone. That would be just, tacky.”

  “I don’t understand,” he says, starting to come towards me again.

  Think fast, September.

  “Remember when I said I needed time?”

  He nods.

  “Well, I took that time, and I need to let you know that I don’t want this thing between us any longer.”

  “Thing?” he says, eyes flashing. “I thought this thing was love?”

  I’ve hit a hot button and that’s good. That’s what I need to do. Again and again until he believes this lie. Because it’s the right thing to do for everyone.

  “I know that’s what we both thought,” I continue, “But for me, well, I think it might’ve been more of a sexual awakening than anything else.”

  “What the fuck are you saying?”

  He’s good and pissed. You can do this.

  “I mean that there’s someone else.”

  And now he’s got a sardonic grin on his face. “Yeah, right. In the course of a week you’ve fucking found someone else and are kicking me to the curb? I don’t believe you, babe.”

  “I don’t care whether you believe me or not, Jesse. And I’ve known him longer than a week. Just because you don’t know about him doesn’t mean it’s a lie.”

  Jesse studies me and his eyes are saying it all. “I’m listening,” he says, a cold steel edge to his voice. “What the hell is going on, September?”

  “Uh…it’s Brandon,” I say, “Remember him from the casino?”

  “Yeah, you’re neighbor; the one you claim is just a friend, right?”

  “Yes, that’s him. The thing is, Jesse, that friendship has kind of turned into something else, you know? And the fact is that, well…he’s closer to my age, and we seem to have so much in common. “I can’t stay because I left him asleep in my bed at the apartment and I need to get back before he wakes up.”

  I watch as his face grows cold; his eyes are nearly black when what I’ve said to him sinks in. “He’s in your…bed?”

  I don’t miss a beat. “Yes, yes he is.”

  He’s deadly quiet. And then the question I know he will ask comes out. “Have you fucked him?” It comes out like an accusation more than a question. I don’t want to lie to him, but this needs to happen. It’s the right thing to do.

  “Jesse,” I plead, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, so please…please don’t make me lie to you.”

  I can tell by his expression that he takes that as a “yes.”

  “Go,” he barks, “Get the hell out of here then.”

  I run from the garage, the chilly October wind whips around me as if to punish me even more. I pull my keys from the pocket of my jacket and as the tears start to spill, I manage to get into my car and navigate the ignition.

  I don’t remember driving back to my apartment. I pull my car in front of the duplex, and I know that I need to pull myself together before I go inside or I’ll be playing twenty questions with a hung over Brandon.

  I lock the car and walk across the street, heading over to the park that is just a couple of blocks down. It’s quiet there on a Sunday afternoon. I wipe the tears from my cheeks as I grab one of the swings and sink down onto the black rubber, feeling it come up around my hips and tighten up to keep me from falling out.r />
  I spend the next hour in silence, swinging on that swing, looking at the falling leaves that continue to swirl around my feet and somehow convince myself that I have done the right thing.

  Chapter 15

  I’m not sure how long I stood in the garage after I ordered September out, smacking the wrench I had in one hand against the open palm of the other until the pain of what I was doing finally registered.

  Fuck me.

  No. Fuck her!

  I toss the wrench in my open toolbox and slam it shut with my foot, cursing under my breath.

  “Where’s September?”

  I turn abruptly, unaware that anyone had entered the garage.

  Libby.

  “She left,” I reply with a shrug.

  “I know, but why?”

  “Uh…she said she had company back at her apartment.”

  “But she didn’t even say goodbye to Scout or me.”

  She’s not gonna let this go, I can tell.

  “Look—Sarah,” I say, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “I can’t speak for September’s manners. She left, okay?”

  Her eyes mist up at the harshness I failed to hide.

  “Listen,” I say, my voice calmer. “Maybe it was my fault. How about I go and see if she’s okay?”

  She nods. “Okay, Jesse. Maybe my being here has upset her…”

  I quirk a brow at her, as I pick up my toolbox and place it back on the workbench where it belongs. “Why would you think that?”

  She shrugs, wrapping her arms around her waist as if she’s chilled. “Scout said that September used to live here and pretty much ran the house—the way that I’ve been trying to this past week, and I just figured maybe she feels like I’ve encroached on her space.”

  I frown. “No, she left to go to college. I’m sure your being here isn’t an issue. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll keep dinner warm.”