by Jordan Marie
“It’s Petal. She’s in the tack room. Something’s wrong. She fell and I can’t get her up!”
Jansen takes off running and I follow him, my heart in my throat.
Please God, don’t let anything be wrong with my baby.
Please….
50
Ida Sue
“Where is she?” I cry, and I’m side by side with Jansen by the time we hit the barn.
“She’s in the tack room behind the couch,” Maggie responds.
I run to the tack room and step in, heading to the back of the room where the couch is.
“Maggie go back to the house and call 911,” Jansen says from behind me.
God, I didn’t even think to call for an ambulance. Thank God Jansen is more together than I am.
“Jan…”
“She’ll be okay, Lovey,” he says, his hand at my back as we round the couch and go behind it.
“Maggie, she’s not here. Maybe she…”
“Hi, Mommy.”
My head jerks up when I hear Petal’s voice. I straighten up and stand beside Jansen confused.
“Petal, baby. Are you okay?”
“Yep! I’m fine. Don’t be mad, Mommy.”
“Don’t be mad? Petal let’s get you to the doctor.”
I start walking toward her and she steps back and shuts the door.
“What in the hell?” Jansen growls.
We walk faster toward the door. I don’t know what the kids are up to, but something is definitely going on. I make it to the door and I try to open it, but the door is locked.
“It’s locked.”
“It sticks sometimes,” Jansen says and I move back so he can open it.
“It’s locked,” he says when he can’t open it either.
“Isn’t that what I just said?” I mutter.
“Mom?”
“White? Open the door. Petal accidentally locked it. Tell Maggie to cancel the ambulance and—”
“Mom, don’t be mad,” White repeats Petal’s words.
“Mad? What in the hell is going on here?” I ask, the worry over Petal starting to leave and the realization that my kids are definitely up to something, taking its place.
“You and Jansen needed to talk things out,” Maggie says from the other side of the door.
“We’ve already talked about things,” I argue.
“But you didn’t work things out, because Jansen is leaving,” Gray adds.
“Jesus,” Jansen mutters under his breath.
“We don’t want Jansen to leave, Mom.”
This time it’s Cyan talking.
“We want him to stay,” Black joins in, giving his two-cents.
“You love him, Mom and he loves you.”
I hold my head down as I hear Green.
“I told you kids, sometimes love is not enough,” I remind them.
“We’re not letting Jansen leave,” Petal yells.
“Yeah, we’re keeping him,” Cyan chimes in.
“Boys, that’s not the way this works,” I tell them with a tired sigh.
“You need to talk it out, Mom. Just because life gets hard, it doesn’t mean you give up. You taught us that, remember?”
I hate it when Maggie uses my words against me. She’s been doing it more and more lately.
“Jansen?”
“Yeah, Blue?”
“We all want you to stay.”
“Son…”
“We’re keeping you Jansen,” Petal sing-songs.
“We’ll be back later,” White says and I hear them moving around outside.
“You kids open this door right now, or so help me when I get out of here I’ll make your rear-ends so red that people will think Rudolph is bending over and smelling Santa’s ass!” I yell.
“That doesn’t make sense, Mom.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense, White. Open this damn door!”
“We’ll come let you out in the morning. There’s sandwiches and cola in the fridge,” he says instead.
“White, damn it!” I yell banging on the door.
Silence.
“I’m warning you kids, you better open this door right now!”
“I don’t think they’re out there, Ida Sue.”
“I’m going to kill them,” I mutter.
“No, you won’t,” he says.
“What are we going to do?”
“Wait until your kids come and let us out.”
“We can’t stay in here all night, Jansen.”
“I don’t think we have a choice.”
I look around the room, frowning.
“We can’t stay here,” I mutter again, trying to find something to knock the door down.
“You said that already. What’s wrong, Lovey? Scared?”
My head jerks up to look at him. I try to swallow my panic down, but it doesn’t really work. He’s wrong I’m not merely scared.
I’m petrified….
51
Jansen
“Bust the door down.”
I turn to look at Ida Sue, unable to hide the shock on my face.
“You want me to bust the door down?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Ida Sue, I’m not going to bust the door down.”
“Why not?”
She actually whines the words like a two-year-old would when she doesn’t get her way.
“Ida Sue, that door is solid.”
“So?”
“It’s not like we’re in danger. The kids will be back to let us out.”
“I’m not staying in here overnight. I have things to do. I have to work!”
“Yeah, right,” I answer, suddenly just tired of it all. Then, I walk back to the couch, plopping down on it and wishing there was a television. I don’t watch much of it, but right now it might be a good distraction.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ida Sue huffs.
She follows me, standing in front of the couch as I stretch out on it. I kick off my boots, letting them fall haphazardly to the floor, pull my hat down so it covers my face, and settle in.
“Of the two of us here, Ida Sue, I’m the one that needs to get to work. The last thing you need to do is work.”
“Are you taking a nap right now?” she cries.
“I am if you’d stop your caterwauling.”
“Caterwauling? Did you just say that to me? Do you not realize that we’re locked in this damn room alone until my kids decide to come let us out?”
“Gee, I guess that might have slipped my mind.”
“Now is not the time to be sarcastic, Jansen. We need to get out of here.”
“Then, quit giving me the opportunity.”
“Fine, if you aren’t going to help me out of here, I’ll find a way myself,” she announces.
“Sounds good.
I close my eyes, knowing there’s not a chance I’m going to go to sleep, but at least with the hat over my face and my eyes shut I might be able to ignore the fact that I’m in here with Ida Sue. If I’m honest, I have too much shit swirling in my head. I didn’t expect the kids to pull this. I didn’t expect them to… claim me. What does a man do when nine kids lay claim to him and do everything they can to stop him from leaving?
If only their mother showed that kind of emotion…
I’m so lost in my thoughts, that I jerk when a large noise echoes through the room. I frown, wondering if I dreamed it and then it happens again. I yank the hat off my face and turn to look around the room and there’s Ida Sue.
She has an old metal horse comb and is beating against the door with it.
“What in the tarnation are you doing?” I ask, still not quite believing my eyes.
“I’m trying to get out of here,” she says, beating on the door.
“What are you going to do, brush the door down?” I laugh.
“I’m trying to loosen the knob wise guy. If you’d help me, it might actually work!”
“In no universe is a meta
l curry comb going to get us out of here, Ida Sue.”
“Fine then,” she growls.
She’s not finished, however. She throws the comb at me, it swings wide and misses me by a mile, but I get up off the couch, stomping towards her—pissed.
“What in the hell is that for?”
“You need to help me get out of here!”
“What’s the big damn deal? The kids will get tired and let us out eventually.”
“I have to get to work!”
She screams the words, but that’s not what bothers me. There are tears in her eyes and that’s what has me by the damn balls.
“Are you crying because you’re not going to work? Jesus Christ, woman! You’re rich. You don’t need to work, you don’t need anything or anyone!”
“If that’s what you think, then you never really knew me at all, Jansen Reed.”
“That’s what I know! Have you noticed the amount of money in your bank account? You don’t need to fucking work and scrub toilets for assholes like Grave Mullins anymore, Ida Sue.”
“I do!”
“You don’t!”
“I do!” she repeats, stubbornly.
“Why?”
“Because it won’t last!”
I blink.
“What are you talking about now?”
“It won’t last, Jansen. Nothing good ever lasts and the more I try to make it last… the more it hurts when it leaves.”
“Darlin’, you could retire and live happily on what’s in your account now. It won’t disappear, it’s already there.”
“I couldn’t,” she says, and I shake my head. “You could especially when you factor in the payments you haven’t received yet that are coming—”
“I can’t live happily, Jan. I’ll never have that.”
“Ida Sue—”
“You’re leaving. Without you, I’ll never be happy,” she finally says, tears falling from her eyes.
Christ.
52
Ida Sue
It’s too much. All of it is just too much. Watching Jansen pack, watching my kids say goodbye to him, thinking Petal was hurt, having the kids pull this stunt and finally being alone in a room with Jansen—knowing he’s leaving and having him treat me like a stranger.
It’s all just too much.
I didn’t plan on breaking down. I didn’t want him to see that, but there’s no way I can keep from it. I’m too overloaded with it all.
“Ida Sue, what am I supposed to say to that?”
“Nothing. It’s not your problem,” I tell him, avoiding looking at him and feeling like a fool a million times over.
“It fucking is my problem. I offered to marry you woman. If that’s not a sign I was planning on staying I don’t know what the hell is!”
I’ve never reacted well to people screaming at me. I admit that freely. Right now, however, I want to hate Jansen. I want to hate him for hurting me, for hurting my kids, for leaving… for making me believe in love again… for so many things I can’t keep them all straight. So, I snap.
“And yet, here you are, Jansen! Still leaving!”
“Woman, don’t hand me that shit!”
“I’m just telling the truth! If that’s too hot for you to handle, get out of the kitchen!”
“We’re not in the kitchen!”
“Stop screaming at me!”
He growls like a bear, turning his back to me. I start moving through the room to see if I can find anything to pry the door open with. If it wasn’t locked with a damn deadbolt I’d be home free.
“Ida Sue, you’re the one that turned me down. If you wanted me to stay, all you had to do was say you’d marry me,” he says and his voice is calmer now, weary.
He can join the crowd, I’m feeling the exact same way. I look up from the corner that I’m in, going through the horse grooming tray to stare at Jansen.
“Just because I won’t marry you, Jan, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to stay with me. A piece of paper doesn’t mean anything. It’s just paper. You wipe your ass with paper when you shit, that’s about as worthless as you can get.”
“It would mean something to me. It would mean that you and I are committed.”
“You’re in my bed every night. I’ve asked you to move in. I love you, my kids love you. That’s commitment. Besides there’s no reason to buy the cow—”
“I swear on all that’s holy if you tell me one more time about the milk being free, I may strangle you.”
“Well? It’s true! And that doesn’t have anything to do with commitment either.”
“Jesus, maybe I should be committed for loving you,” he mutters.
“Some love,” I huff, turning back around to look at the tack.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How do you love someone and walk away from them? My whole life that’s what happened. Someone professes to love me, and then, when I need them the most, they just walk away. How is that love, Jan?”
“Ida Sue—”
“Even my parents. They’re supposed to love and protect their child. That’s stronger than even a marriage certificate in your eyes, right? My parents didn’t know the meaning of protection and their love was as brittle as the fucking wind. They left me vulnerable. They made it easy for a predator to find me, to take everything away from me in one single act of violence and just when I needed them most? They couldn’t even try to believe me. They kicked me out to live in the streets.”
“Ida Sue, Darlin’…”
“No. You don’t get to feel pity for me, Jan. I am not someone to be pitied. I’m strong and I’ll make sure my kids are strong. I don’t need anyone’s pity!”
“I’ve had that message clear for a long time now, Ida Sue. Trust me, I get it. You don’t need anyone,” he says, turning away from me.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Jan,” I state brokenly, laying it all out. I slide to the floor and let the wall hold my back.
“Ida—”
“I needed you and you’re walking away, just like all the others.”
53
Jansen
“I’m not leaving, Ida Sue. You’re pushing me away. You’ve got in your head that everyone left you, but Orville didn’t, right? He gave you beautiful babies and a ranch that will take care of you the rest of your life.”
“He left, too.”
“He died, Darlin’, there’s not much you can do to stop the sands from moving through that hourglass. When it’s your time, it’s just your time.”
“I guess,” she says, her voice sounding unbelievably sad.
“Ida Sue, can you try to see this from my point of view? I don’t have one thing to offer you that you need. Nothing. I feel like there’s not one reason for me to be here. I was trying, because you needed me to take care of the ranch, but you don’t need that anymore. I can’t stay here, sleeping with the woman I love, but not having any claim to anything or anyone.”
“You want me to put your name on the deed? Because if that’s it, Jansen, I’ll do it—”
“Fuck, no. I don’t want your ranch, Ida Sue. This is land you got from your late husband. It’s hard enough sleeping in the bed you used to share with him.”
“Is that what all this is about? Your pride is hurt because your hotdog is sliding into a used bun?”
I shake my head. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this woman.
“Can you never use hotdogs and buns as an example when we talk about me making love to you again?”
“That should be easy enough, since you’re leaving.”
“How is it so easy for you to put my name on a deed to land that you’re getting an obscene amount of money from and not marry me? I don’t understand.”
“Every time I try to reach for happiness it disappears, Jan. Every single time.”
“Ida Sue—”
“You’re not sharing the bed I had with Orville. Orville and I didn’t share a bed.”
I don’t know what to say to
that, so I let it go and just wait. My feet walk to her corner though, without thought and I find myself sliding down the wall to sit beside her. My hand reaches over to capture one of hers and our fingers twine together and rest on my leg. Then, I just let her talk.
“We had sex. In his bedroom, which is Maggie’s room now.”
“I don’t really need to hear—”
“I loved Orville and he loved me, but it wasn’t… it’s not…” She sighs, seemingly unable to find the words. I just stay quiet and wait, knowing she needs to get it out and also because I need to hear it.
“He was lonely. I needed someone to save me from drowning, and I was drowning, Jan. Some days, since his death, I feel like I still am. I hate admitting that. I hate that I feel weak. I can’t be weak. I have nine kids and none of them asked to be here, I brought them into this world and I’m glad. My children are beautiful, smart, loving and these complicated individuals that deserve all the good in the world. They’re the reason I keep getting out of bed every morning.”
“Ida Sue, you’re about the farthest thing from weak as I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Jan—”
I reach over and cup the side of her face, turning her so she’s looking at me.
“Honey Girl, you’re so strong you’re a freaking force of nature.”
“Don’t leave me, Jan. I’m begging you to stay. How is that for strong?”
“Will you marry me?”
“Jan—”
“Not now, Ida Sue. But in the future, once I’ve proved to whatever demon lives in that head of yours that I’m here to stay, will you finally marry me?”
“Someday, maybe. But you do know that Texas is a common law state. Technically, if you stick around we will be married.”
“You’re stubborn, Ida Sue.”
“I’ve been told that before,” she says with her first hint of a smile. “Actually, I think you said that just a little bit ago,” she adds, her grin deepening.
“I’m not going to stop asking you, common law or not, Darlin’.”
