by ANDREA SMITH
Naturally, Gram and Grandpa would’ve thought that being the people that they are.
“He doesn’t love her,” I reply, not realizing I said it aloud.
“Well, aren’t you just Miss Suzy Sunshine,” she chides, shaking her head. “You know your grandpa and me didn’t hold to what you and he did, carryin’ on that way, and I hope you’ve made peace with the Lord over it,” she continues, shaking her head in disapproval.
“I love him, Gram,” I reply, “And frankly? I don’t give a damn if God strikes me down right this minute for saying so because it’s the truth!”
Her mouth drops open and a gasp escapes. “September Lynn Dawson! I will not have your blaspheming the Lord in this house, do you hear me?”
“Is speaking the truth blasphemy, Gram? Because there was a time when my dishonesty seemed like the sin.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about me…and Jesse…there wasn’t any sin committed in my loving him and vice-versa.”
She scoots to the edge of her chair, pointing her index finger at me and shaking it. “We’ll speak no more about it, she says, “Not in this house. You haven’t stopped to realize that your mama has mended her evil ways, and she is now within our Lord’s realm of the forgiven. I know you, and I love you, and my prayers are always that you will join her there, September.”
I realize there is nothing that I can say that will ever make Gram see that my love for Jesse and his for me was acceptable in God’s eyes—or hers. So I drop it as requested.
There’s no need in letting her know about my plan to stay here beyond the holidays, because that’s all changed now. I will not be staying on here with Mama coming back. I need to craft this elusive Plan B.
“I’m sorry, Gram,” I say, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I love you and Grandpa, you know that, right?”
“Well of course we do, honey.”
“Good. Well, I’m going on up to bed. I’ll take Grandpa to his physical therapist tomorrow if you want. I have some errands to run anyway.
“Some last minute Christmas shopping?” she asks with a sly smile.
“Something like that. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Chapter 23
December 23rd
I’ve been waiting patiently for Sarah’s reply. I half expected her to spill the beans with Scout just to cloud the issue, but she hasn’t so far. I’ve taken her out driving twice since she got her learner’s permit. Each time, I was tempted to broach the subject, but thought better of it since she was behind the wheel.
It’s been three days since I broached the subject with her. Technically, I only agreed in giving her two days.
“Sarah,” I say as I tap on her bedroom door, which has been closed for most of the evening. “Are you up?”
“Come in,” I hear from the other side.
She’s sitting on her bed, legs crossed as if she’s been expecting me.
“Scout’s asleep,” I say, hoping that will keep her from getting loud when I ask the question. “I need to know if you intend on signing the Petition for Dissolution. What’s it going to be?”
She looks up at me and her expression is blank. I hope she hasn’t forgotten our discussion for fuck’s sake. I’m about to ask her just that when she blurts something out that sends my head spinning.
“Mama called a little while ago. September’s there with her and Daddy. She’s…pregnant.”
It takes a nanosecond for my brain to wrap itself around this little nugget of a bombshell. “Wait, what?”
She nods. “That’s what Mama said. I guess September told her about it yesterday. She’s not planning on returning to school, so she’s staying on with Mama and Daddy, but only if I can stay on here with you and Scout that is…” Her voice drifts almost to a whisper.
Aww. Fuck no.
“She doesn’t want to be around me, I guess,” she finishes quietly.
My first reaction is to get into my truck, and make tracks over to her apartment house near campus. To pound on Brandon’s door until the fuckface answers and find out what the hell he is planning to do about the situation. I know it’s not my place anymore, but the thought that he’s knocked her up and isn’t planning on taking responsibility is not fucking acceptable.
“I need a couple minutes here, Sarah,” I say, my voice is deadly calm. Way too calm. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Yeah, I’m going with my first reaction.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m pounding the fuck out of his door and I know he’s not in there. The reality is that he’s likely gone home for the holidays like most everyone else on campus. It’s pretty quiet around the neighborhood; I couldn’t help but notice on my way here. I also noticed the “For Rent” sign posted on the front porch. September’s apartment no doubt.
I finally give up and head down the stairwell just as the door opens and the college Romeo himself, allows his latest conquest to enter first, being the perfect fucking gentleman he is I scoff in my head.
He recognizes me. “Oh, hey. September isn’t here,” he says.
“I know that.” My voice sounds like steel even to me as it reverberates against the walls in the stairway. “I came here for you.”
“Excuse me?”
“To talk to you,” I clarify. “In private.”
I feel that tick in my cheek again, which is me trying to remain calm until there are no witnesses to see what I plan on doing to Brandon’s face.
“Oh, okay. Ashley, go on up babe. I’ll be there in a few,” he tells the chick, handing her his keys. I notice he’s got Chinese takeout, as he hands her the paper bag with the words ‘China Palace’ written on it.
She nods, taking the bag and heading the rest of the way upstairs.
“How about we go outside?” I suggest, waving my hand to the door behind him.
“Sure.”
Once on the porch, he looks at me questioningly. “So, what’s up?”
“This Ashley,” I say, nodding behind me, “Is she important to you? Or is she just your latest fuck?”
He frowns, sizing me up with his eyes. “Look, dude, I don’t talk in riddles, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t either. Get to the point, I’ve got dinner waiting.”
I smile, and relax, right before I catch him off guard, sending a swift fist to his nose, sending him sprawling back against the rail on the front porch. “I’m gonna fuck you up!”
It doesn’t take Brandon long to get with the program. He lunges back at me, but I’m ready for him, grabbing him and putting him in a headlock, which he proceeds to break with his strong arms reaching behind and grabbing my ball sack in a vicious grip. I howl in pain.
“What the fuck!”
“I’ll let go when you do,” he grits in pain. “On three?”
“Yeah,” I rasp, wincing in pain. “Three!”
We both release one another, and I immediately bend over, trying to catch my breath and praying for the pain to ebb. “That was a pussy move,” I snarl, looking up and seeing him rubbing the back of his neck, shaking out the pain.
“Hey, dude, I’m a street fighter. All’s fair.”
I’m still breathing hard, but thank fuck the searing pain in my balls has calmed to a dull ache.
“So, you wanna tell me why you came over to fuck me up?” Brandon deadpans. “I mean, shit, I told her not to run off. I did my fucking best to persuade her to stay and just deal with it.”
My hands are still braced on my thighs and I’m still bent over a bit when I look up at him, and I know he sees that I’m clueless. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
His expression freezes. “Aw shit! You don’t know, do you?”
I straighten up and step closer to him. “I know that you knocked her up and apparently it means so little to you that you’ve already moved on!”
“What? Oh, you’ve got that wrong, Chief,” he says, a sardonic grin crossing his face, “I’ve never touched September like that. I mean, I gues
s I can understand why you might think that, but no, she and I? Friends of the strictly platonic type, I swear.”
I feel my brows knit in confusion. “Wait—what about that time I came here to talk to her and you answered the door…in your underwear, huh?”
“Yeah, well she wasn’t even in the apartment then. I was there sleeping one off because my apartment was overly crowded and I banged on her door as she was getting ready to leave and asked if I could.”
“But she…she told me that you and—”
“Not true. Hey, I think she just wanted to say anything so that you stayed away. For whatever reason, she was in a lot of pain, Jesse. I saw that much for myself.”
And now my mind is racing, trying to figure out why September had said those things, and why she evidently hates me so much that she would fabricate some relationship between Brandon and herself to push me away.
Fuck.
“Okay, so if you’re not the father, who is?” I ask, staring him down. Because if they are truly friends, he knows.
“Seriously, dude? You really need to ask?”
And now he’s staring me down.
“For fuck’s sake! Why didn’t she tell me?” I rub my stubbled face with my hands. “Do me a favor, Brandon?”
“I’m listening.”
“If you talk to her, please do not let her know that I know any of this. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah. Not a problem, if you plan on making this right.”
“Oh, I will make this right. I’m leaving tomorrow for Meridian and, trust me, I’m not coming back without her.”
As soon as I get back to the house, I see that Sarah is in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea.
“Where did you go, Jesse?” she asks.
“I went and talked to September’s neighbor and friend, Brandon. I got some answers, but not all of them.”
She doesn’t press me further. Maybe she’s happy not knowing, which is fine with me because I’m not ready to put my private life out there for her to judge.
“Would you like a cup of tea? I find it soothing. It looks like you could use some soothing,” she comments, getting up to pour me a cup.
“Thanks,” I reply, taking the cup and sipping from it. “We need to talk about those papers, Sarah. We need to end this marriage.”
She takes another sip of her tea. “Especially now, right?”
I look over at her, studying her expression. “What do you mean, especially now?”
“I mean now that you’re going to be a father again,” she says with no emotion.
My pulse races. Did September tell her grandparents? As if reading my mind, Sarah continues. “After you left, I was still upset. I don’t have friends, other than Casey, I guess. And lately, well she’s been avoiding me so I went next door to find out why. She filled me in on everything.”
“Define everything.”
“I know about you and Casey, and I also know about you and my daughter,” she snaps harshly.
“I see. Casey is quite the piece of work,” I deadpan. “But I’m not going to apologize for any of it, Libby.”
“It’s Sarah,” she replies testily, her eyes welling up.
“No, it’s Libby, and it’s time for you to take ownership of your past, regardless as to whether you remember it or not. Period.”
The firmness and finality in my voice quiets her for the moment, so I continue. “You left the marriage of your own will. You left me with our daughter, and with your daughter. You didn’t even leave a fucking note. You didn’t contact me, or your parents, and though none of us are privy to what was going on with you at the time, there was at least a year between the time you deserted us and when you got injured. It seems to me that, in that time, no matter what your circumstances, you could’ve found a way to contact us.”
She stands up, turning from me. “You don’t know shit about what I went through, Jesse!”
I cock a brow, and remain silent.
“Yes, I remember!” she screams, whirling back around to face me, her eyes are wild and filled with genuine fear. “I remember bits and pieces only, not everything. I left you because I was promised wealth and a life that would be exciting. I was sick of being trailer trash tied down with snotty-nosed kids!”
Her rant stops, but only momentarily as she finds the words to admit what she now remembers. “But what I hadn’t considered was the promised wealth went to him—my Mexican pimp, and none of it to me. He hired me out to his wealthy and powerful friends who did unspeakable things to me, and my only comfort was when he showed me the mercy of shooting me up with heroin so I could endure the torture, day after day, week after week, and month after month. When I finally found the opportunity to escape, I took it. Damn right, I took it. A drug mule offered me escape and, trust me, anything I had to do as a result was much better than what I’d been going through. I don’t remember much after that, only that I helped him smuggle opiates over the border a few times. I guess that’s when I got injured and nearly died.”
“Is that it?”
“Is that what?”
“All you remember? What about your daughters? When did all of that come back to you, and when did you plan on cluing us in?”
She shrugs and takes a seat at the table, gazing over at me. “I guess it just came back a little bit at a time. Mama has been relentless in showing me photos and videos of them, and of you and me—our life together. She’s told me everything I’ve ever needed to know about all of you, and what our life had been like as a family. I don’t know, maybe I haven’t really remembered, maybe Mama has simply planted the details in my mind so many times that it seems as if I do remember. All I know for sure is that I want you as a wife wants her husband.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want you to fuck me, Jesse. I want to see if it triggers more memories for me, and if it feels like it should between a man and a woman. I want to share your bed. I can make you forget September…you only took up with her because she reminded you of me, that’s what Mama says anyway.”
“You’re delusional if you think that’s going to happen, Libby.”
“It will if you want me to sign these papers,” she replies. “Come on, I’m betting we enjoyed some amazing sex back in the day. I’m your wife, it’s not sinful like what you did with September.”
I have to laugh at what she’s just said, and I do so harshly. “So you’ve got this all planned out, right? You think I’m going to fall in the sack with you and suddenly, everything will be just fine? That you can blackmail me into staying married as if I could ever love you again?”
“You did once,” she replies, watching me.
“Maybe. But I don’t really think it was a healthy kind of love. It was nothing like what I have with September, that much I know.”
“Stop!” she shrieks, covering her ears. “You’re talking of something depraved and sick.”
“I’m speaking the truth, Libby, and there’s nothing depraved or sick about it. How convenient is it that you come here with all of your ‘born-again’ ways and choose to judge me. Have you asked the good Lord to forgive you for what you’ve done?”
I haven’t realized that our voices have gotten loud. That Scout’s awake now and standing outside in the living room where she can clearly hear our argument in the kitchen.
“I have prayed to the Lord, and I continue to pray to Him every day, Jesse. I pray that he’ll bring us together, you and me, and no one else.”
“No one else?”
“Don’t you see, Jesse?” she asks softly, sinking down on her knees in front of me, clasping my hands in hers. “You and me are meant to be together, I can feel the Lord’s blessing wrapped around us like a soft, thick blanket. But kids—well, I think that’s the part I couldn’t handle to be honest. I think that is likely the reason I left you back then.”
I’m totally blown away and I’m not sure I’m really hearing the words that she’s saying. “What the hell?”
&
nbsp; “Now September is grown, and there’s no reason why she can’t stay on with Mama and Daddy to help out there. Once the baby comes, Scout will be out of school for the summer. She can go on and stay there with them and help with the baby. Then we can have our fresh start. I never wanted more kids, Jesse. It was wrong of me not to tell you that back then. We had Scout by accident and then I knew for sure I didn’t want anymore. But you wanted a son and, well, I let you think that was going to happen, but I knew it wouldn’t because I kept on taking my birth control pills.”
I feel my jaw clench tightly as I pull my hands away from her and move to stand up. “You’re once sick bitch, Libby. If you think for one moment that I would send my daughter away, you’re crazier than fuck!”
“Now you wait one minute—”
“No! You shut your mouth. I don’t love you. I don’t want you, and the fact that you’ve pretty much just said you want nothing to do with your kids even now, makes me not able to even tolerate you being here one more minute.”
“What? What are you saying?”
Just then Scout comes into the kitchen, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Dad, please don’t yell,” she sobs coming over to me. I immediately wrap my arms around her, and pull her against me. “I’m sorry, baby,” I say softly. “I’m sorry you heard us arguing like that.”
She nods, and remains silent. I choose my words carefully, and my voice is firm, but quiet. “Get your things packed up, Libby. Tomorrow we’re driving to Meridian for Christmas. I’m sure your mother and father will be glad to see you and grateful for the help you can provide.”
She starts to object, but I shoot her a look and she thinks better of it.
“Would you like to spend Christmas with your grandparents, Scout?”
She pulls back and looks up at me. “Is September there?”
“Yeah, baby, she is. How about we see about bringing her home?”
She nods and a hint of a smile appears as she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “I hope she’ll come,” she says, “I want her back.”
“I do too, baby. I do too.”
Chapter 24