by Lily Foster
She’s delighted for some reason. “You’ve been in therapy?”
“Court mandated only.” I’m quick to amend, “During my brother’s incarceration,” because while my initial impulse is to screw with her, I really don’t want this woman to think poorly of me.
“Yes, Charlotte told me about your past. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you think—”
“Enough, Barbara,” Charlotte cuts in. “Will you give the poor guy a break already?”
“You’re right, you’re right.” Looking back to me, she apologizes, “Forgive me, Simon. It’s just that you’ve been this mystery entity for so long, and now...Well, you’re here. I’m sorry about all the questions. Comes with my territory.”
Charlotte reaches over, setting napkins and plates out for lunch. “Yeah, you’re making me rethink my career choice.”
“Not happening! The staff at MCU is counting on you to take over when I retire.” It sounds like she’s only half joking.
“Come inside and help me get everything ready.”
I jump up first. “I’ll help you.”
Charlotte slumps into a chair once we’re inside. “Sorry about that. Maybe I should have held off on having you come up here this weekend.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I would have been disappointed. And I like Barbara. She does ask a shit ton of questions, but her heart is in the right place.”
“Here, take this out,” she says, handing me a bowl of fruit salad. “Her boys are so good to Ethan, aren’t they?”
“Yeah. I feel like I’ve been tossed to the side, though. The old man’s no fun compared to the two tree climbing wonders out there.”
“Never,” she reassures me, placing a few serving spoons into my free hand.
I turn back to her and whisper, “I don’t know about a love connection between her and Lawrence, though. I think you’re way off base on that one.”
“Maybe you were right, it is too soon.”
Setting the food out for lunch, I’m struck by the realization that the weekend is flying by at warp speed. I haven’t had much in terms of one-on-one time with Ethan. I feel cheated, but at the same time I love seeing my son so happy. The boys stayed over last night, and it was adorable watching as Ethan tried his best to imitate everything the older kids did. And Barbara’s boys were great with him, including him in everything. Patient and kind, much like their mother, I suppose.
Midday is approaching fast, though, and I can feel the sand slipping through the hourglass. I think Charlotte senses my agitation when she sends the rest of them out on the boat, holding Ethan back with the promise of some time to go rock hunting with Dad. I’m skeptical he’s going to give up a boat ride for that lame activity when she suggests it, but he shocks the hell out of me when he looks at me wide-eyed, clapping his hands. There's an ulterior motive—he wants the rocks so he can show the older boys how he paints them later on this afternoon—but that’s okay. I'll take what I can get.
Me and Ethan are sorting through our spoils when she comes over to join us. “They’re heading out on Thursday. Next weekend it’s just us, I promise.” Her face reddens as soon as the words are out of her mouth. “I mean, I shouldn’t assume.” She goes on to lip-synch, “Are you coming next weekend?” so that Ethan is none the wiser.
“I’ll be here.” I nudge Ethan. “Come and look at the calendar with me. Let’s draw a picture on the day I’m coming back, okay?”
“You weavin’?” It cracks my heart wide open when he asks the question, even though he doesn’t look too broken up. “You goin’ to school?”
“No, buddy, I’ve got to work this week, but I’ll be back in just a few days.”
We take the calendar down then, count off Monday through Friday. He draws a picture of me, complete with the baseball cap I never wear, in the box for Saturday.
“I’ll be here around eleven or so on Friday night, same as this week,” I say to Charlotte. “I’ll head to Lawrence’s unless you text me otherwise.”
She nods, biting her lip. “I’m sorry this weekend was so crazy.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m glad I got to meet Barbara.”
She goes to say something else when a different kind of ringtone sounds. Ethan hops out of his chair and goes to grab the tablet sitting on the coffee table.
“Leave that for now,” she says to him, but it’s too late.
Ethan swipes the screen and then chirps, “Hi, Wes!”
I’d nearly forgotten about that asshole. I look to Charlotte and speak without bothering to censor myself. “What the fuck?”
Her eyes are saucers. “Keep your voice down!”
Telling my family that I have a child, letting Charlotte know I’m in the process of transferring to Michigan Law, finding out the status on her relationship with Wes—all important things I planned on doing this weekend but didn’t get the chance to.
I can barely contain my rage when I hear Wes making a play for my son’s affection. “Hey bud, I’ve missed you.”
I make a mental note never to call Ethan “bud” or “buddy” ever again. Coming from that dipshit’s mouth it sounds stupid. And Wes has missed Ethan?
Charlotte grabs my forearm when I go to stand. “What are you doing?”
“What are you doing? You let that piece of shit around my son?”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t.” I shake her off and walk into the living room, taking a seat next to Ethan. My molars are nearly grinding themselves to dust, but I paste a smile on my face, taking care not to scare my child.
“Officer Wes Kellar, as I live and breathe.”
“Simon?”
“That’s my dad,” Ethan says with pride, and I want to high-five him for the awesome timing.
I look back to see Charlotte standing in the kitchen with her eyes closed and her lips fixed in a firm line. I wonder if this is a ritual. Does he call to check on them every Sunday?
“How’s life back east treating you, Wes?”
“Uh, it’s good. When did you start coming around?”
Is that a dig? Is he insinuating that I’ve shirked my responsibility where Ethan is concerned? Before I can think of a retort that doesn’t include a string of profanities, Wes asks, “Bud, is your mom around?”
Ethan looks towards the kitchen. “She right over dare.”
“Is she all right?”
Now he’s insinuating I might be capable of hurting Charlotte? That’s it, I’m fucking done. “Don’t worry, officer, I’ve never physically harmed anyone. That’s your department, isn’t it?”
With that, she enters the melee. “All right, Ethan, tell Wes you’ll talk to him later. Wes, now’s not a good time, okay?”
When the screen goes dark, Charlotte turns to Ethan smiling. “Hey, you want your dad to read you a story before nap time? He has to leave soon.”
“I not tired.”
I shake my head in frustration, mad at myself for letting my anger get the better of me. But I can’t help but follow the direction my imagination’s taking. I’m bombarded with images of Wes hunting for rocks along the shoreline with my son, Wes turning off the lights and locking all the doors at night to keep them safe, Wes holding Charlotte in his arms.
I choke it back. “How about a swing in the hammock?”
“Okay,” he agrees, taking my hand, but a frown mars his face. Kids are perceptive.
Ten minutes pass before Charlotte makes her way across the backyard. Ethan’s out cold. “I’ll take over. You can get on the road.”
“Are you with him, Charlotte?”
She takes her time before answering. Drags one bare foot back and forth through the grass. “No, I’m not.”
That’s not the whole story. “Hey, I’m sorry.”
“About what?” she challenges.
“The way I acted before. I was out of line.” She nods, bites her bottom lip. “But you know my history with him. You think I’m going to be on
board with him being a part of Ethan’s life?”
“Let’s not do this now, all right?”
“Can we just talk?” Fuck, I’m so frustrated I could scream. “There’s so much I wanted to talk about this weekend, and damn, we’ve barely had five minutes alone. Now I’m getting right back into my truck and driving for six hours.”
“I knew this was going to be too hard.”
“No!” I whisper scream. “I’d drive twenty-four hours straight, each way, every damn weekend just for the chance to spend a few hours with him. It’s not a hardship. I’m just pissed because everything I say is coming out all wrong, I’m leaving here on a bad note, and I’ll have to stew on this all week without the chance to set things straight with you.”
And before she gets a chance to answer me, the entire brood pulls into the driveway, making such a ruckus when they storm out the door to the back deck that Ethan wakes up. He climbs over me, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, his excitement skyrocketing once he catches sight of the boys.
“Forget it. I’ve gotta head out.”
I’m fully aware that I sound like a baby, but Ethan doesn’t even spare me a glance backward. Between that and Wes the Wonder Boy’s call, I suddenly feel like a loser whose best friend just flat-left him for the more popular kids.
Charlotte
“Are you all right?”
I sink into the couch. “That could have gone better.”
Lawrence takes a seat across from me and then Barbara joins us in the living room. “The boys are painting with Ethan on the deck. They know not to let him near the water.”
“Thanks.”
“It looked like there was some conflict when Simon was leaving.”
I roll my eyes. “For God’s sake…Can we not do therapist-speak right now?”
“Okay.” She smiles, and I’m grateful Barbara’s never put off by my attitude, even when I turn all snarky-teen on her. “What I meant to say is that Simon looked pissed.”
“Wes called right in the middle of their father-son farewell.”
“I’m guessing he thinks you and Wes are an item?”
I look to Lawrence. “I think I cleared that up, but I got angry that he was angry. I mean, what right would he have to be jealous? I’m not even sure he’s officially parted ways with his girlfriend.” I’m so mad I could scream, but then just as quickly, I’m flooded with regret. “It just ended on a really crappy note.”
Barbara asks, “Are you seeing him next weekend?”
“That’s the plan.”
“So next weekend the two of you talk things out. And,” Lawrence adds, “don’t leave things unsaid. Put yourself out there. I have a feeling he’s just waiting on you to tell him what it is that you want.”
Barbara shoots him an appreciative look. “That’s great advice. I think Lawrence should go into the business.”
“Can we start over?”
That’s what Simon asks when I answer his video call on Monday night. I know he feels as bad as I do. And I want to erase some of last weekend too, but I also want to talk, really talk. That’s going to have to wait, though. It’s too hard to read him this way, even though I can see him on the screen. So I agree to a fresh start, and we keep our nightly chats brief and light, letting Ethan take center stage. On Thursday night we’re discussing the trial he’s been observing. As usual, Ethan runs over at the sound of his father’s voice.
“Hi, Dad.” Ethan squeezes in next to me on the couch. “You workin’?”
“I’m done for the day, little man.”
“You gonna weed me a story?”
Simon looks pained but plasters on a smile. “I’ll read to you when I see you on Saturday. Just two more days, okay?”
“Wait, I have an idea.” I nudge Ethan aside and make my way upstairs.
I hear Simon ask, “What’s your crazy momma doing?” and Ethan’s giggles.
I’m back in a flash, out of breath when I flop back down on the couch. “You can have Daddy read this book. I’ll hold up the pages and he can read to you. How does that sound?”
“Is that my moon book?”
“Yep.”
Ethan claps his hands. “My moon book!”
“Is it your favorite?”
Ethan responds by nodding as he plops his thumb into his mouth.
I settle him on my lap and prop the screen against a stack of books on the table. “This is his favorite when he’s tired. This one doesn’t take too much mental energy. It’s my favorite for sure.”
I open the book facing out towards Simon and he begins to read the simple verse. His voice is gentle and calm, not missing a beat when I struggle to turn the pages in time. He reads it three times through before Ethan’s eyes begin to flicker open and closed.
“Daddy’s going to come upstairs with us,” I whisper as I stand up, Ethan in my arms. I hitch him up higher on my hip and then reach down for the tablet.
Simon whispers, “Thanks. This was a great idea.”
“I think we might be onto something, right?”
“I’d rather be there, but this is a decent substitute for the real thing.”
“Here we go,” I say to Ethan. “Under the covers.”
“Again, Daddy.”
“You got it, my man.”
And by the time Simon gets through the short book one more time, Ethan is out.
I wriggle myself out from beneath the covers and lean down to kiss his forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”
Simon adds, “Sweet dreams.”
I walk to my room with the tablet and sit on my bed. Simon teases, “So, want me to read you a story now?”
“Sure.” I reach over to grab a book off my nightstand. It’s a parenting book, but he doesn’t know that. “I’m in the middle of a good one...Tattooed biker torn between loyalty to his gang and the love of a good woman.”
His eyes pop. “You? You strike me as a poetry girl, or I don’t know, into Dostoyevsky or Steinbeck…Serious stuff.”
“When I’m not in school, I go for romance. And it’s not mindless or anything, it just doesn’t hurt my brain like most of the stuff I’m assigned to read.”
“I hear that.”
“I bet. I took a Constitutional Law class last year and that was the driest, more boring crap I ever had to read.”
“Don’t you remember what I said? Law is sexy.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”
“So what do you do after Ethan hits the hay?”
“Oh, my evenings are very exciting. I usually have some tea out on the back deck, whip out my laptop and do a few hours of homework, mix up some muffin batter, fold laundry...You know, it’s like a regular disco party here every night.”
“Sounds nice, actually. Minus the homework part, of course.”
“What about you?”
“Well, right now I’m sitting on my mattress, which is on the floor. The mattress also serves as my couch, dining room table, ironing board—”
“Are you fishing for pity points right now, Wade?”
“Maybe. But my summer sublets are always like this, so it’s no big deal. It’s a place to sleep. That’s all I need.”
“Is it far from the courthouse?”
“Ten minutes.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, close enough to walk. Hey, so you think we’ll get some time to talk this weekend?”
I nod. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“I’m sorry I freaked out about Wes.” His face hardens but then he shakes his head. “I have no right to expect that you wouldn’t have gone on with your life, especially since I was the one who left. It’s just...”
“What?”
“Him, I guess. He’s a bad guy, Charlotte.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about Wes. But like I said, I’m not with him...I never was.”
“That’s not for lack of trying on his part, though, right?”
“At least he came looking for me.”
; “What are you saying?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, pained. “I don’t want to do this over the phone, okay?” He looks like he’s going to press me on it but changes his mind. “Listen, I’ve got some homework to do. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” He looks hurt, and for some screwed up reason I now feel guilty. “Have a good night, Charlotte.”
The next morning I wake up to a text from Simon: I looked for you too.
Chapter Thirty
Charlotte
Lawrence is heading down to Wisconsin to help his brother build a shed or something this weekend. That’s what he told me anyway. I’m pretty sure the disappearing act is his way of forcing some alone time on me and Simon, a not so subtle attempt at matchmaking on his part.
I should text Simon and tell him to just stay here. It’s ridiculous to have him driving back and forth from the cabin all weekend long when there’s a spare room in the house, but I don’t reach out.
I’ve looked at that text he sent a few days ago countless times. It shook me up, opened some old wounds.
Months passed after my father kicked me out. I wasn’t expecting a search party or anything, but at the same time, I didn’t anticipate a complete lack of interest in my whereabouts or welfare. Not one single person attempted to track me down. There were school records, so it’s not as if I’d disappeared off the face of the earth, but still no one came for me. Not Simon, not Daisy, not my father. It’s not like I was expecting my dad to have a change of heart, but damn, he knew where I was and still never called or visited.
Did Simon look for me? I shake off the hopeful feeling, knowing that even if it is true, he didn’t put too much effort into the pursuit. After all, he moved on. He’s been in a committed relationship with someone else. That’s indisputable.
I’m still awake at midnight when headlights and the familiar rumble of Simon’s truck announce his arrival. He came straight here. My breath hitches when I hear two gentle raps on the door. I told myself I needed some time, but I also know I left the light on in invitation. He looks tired when I open the door.
