“A what?” she asked.
“A worry mood. You know, when you worry.” Jackson thought he was making perfect sense. She smiled at her astute son then, so he decided to ask her again now.
“Mom?”
“Yes, honey.”
“Are you in a worry mood?”
She wiped her hands on a paper towel. “To be honest, I am a little worried.”
“What about?”
“Oh, that you’ll have a good day with your father. And Grammy.”
“We’re going to the movies!” Jackson said it as if there was no doubt they would have a good day.
“Yes, you are. And you’re going to have some lunch, too.”
“Will Dad bring me home?”
“Not this time. Grammy will drop your father off somewhere, then she’ll bring you here.”
“How come Daddy won’t bring me home?” Jackson still didn’t know why his father wasn’t around.
“Remember the big argument when the police came?”
“Yes.” Jackson was getting uneasy. He had tried to keep the memories of that evening at bay.
“Well, there are a few things that need to get fixed and figured out. I don’t want you to be in a ‘worry mood,’ OK?” She gave him a hug, and he giggled because she had used his word.
“OK!”
Chapter Fifteen
Mitchel decided to clean himself up for his big day with his son. Besides, he didn’t want any flak from his mother and wanted to make a good impression on his son. For a fleeting moment, he was feeling a little guilty about the morning when he had yelled at Jackson from the porch. If Colleen hadn’t dragged him away, maybe things would have turned out differently. He tried to move his thoughts to a better place, but he was stuck. He was stuck in a state of loathing. He couldn’t think of anything that was OK in his life, except for his son, and even he had been taken away from him. Mitchel gripped the sides of the sink and looked in the mirror. He needed a shave, for sure, but there wasn’t anything he could do about the bags under his eyes. He knew he had Visine eye drops in the glove compartment of his car. They were almost a daily routine. It would help with the bloodshot eyes but not the bags under them. He splashed cold water on his face, combed his hair, and took out the shaving cream and razor.
Ten minutes later, he took another good, long look. It was an improvement. He pulled the freshly ironed shirt from the hanger.
Elaine had been kind enough to wash and press a shirt for him. Little did he know she had ulterior motives—to get him the hell out, and if helping him clean up his act would facilitate his moving out, she would iron all of his shirts, pants, and underwear. Well, maybe not the underwear, but surely his socks. Maybe not those either, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If she could write him a check to get out, she would. It had been only two weeks, but she was at her wits’ end. The drinking was out of control. He had practically wiped out Greg’s entire bar stock. He hadn’t once cleaned the bathroom in the basement and always left a pile of dirty clothes on the futon. Since he wasn’t using it as a bed, he was using it as a laundry hamper. And it was going to stay that way. Ironing a shirt for when he was going to see his son was one thing. Being his personal maid was something entirely different. Elaine wondered how Colleen had been able to put up with him for as long as she had.
Mitchel climbed the steps, looking like a different person. He was showered and clean-shaven, and his hair was combed. He had on a clean pair of jeans and the shirt Elaine had ironed. His shoes needed a little work, but Elaine wasn’t going to mention it. “You look very nice, Mitchel,” she offered.
“Thanks to you.” Mitchel could turn on the charm when necessary. But it seemed as if he didn’t think it had been necessary for a while. “And thanks for putting up with me.” Now he was pouring it on thick. He knew he had been teetering on the edge of getting thrown out on his ass, and he surely didn’t want to go live with his mother. Spending the entire day with her was bad enough. At least he would have Jackson with him.
“What are your plans for today?” Elaine asked, as if she cared.
“We’re going to grab some lunch, then go to a movie. Maybe stop at the bowling alley if we have time.”
“Sounds good.” Elaine poured herself another cup of coffee.
“What time is your mother coming over?” She hoped it was soon and that she would only stay long enough to pick him up.
“In about fifteen minutes. She’s picking up Jackson at eleven.”
“Will she stay for coffee? I can put on a fresh pot.” Elaine held her breath, waiting for an answer.
“Nah. We’ll want to get moving.”
Elaine sighed in relief. Her mother-in-law could be one nasty old hag.
“After your visit, what do you think you’ll be doing?” Elaine was praying he would say “looking for an apartment,” but she knew that miracles rarely happened.
“If we go bowling, Ma will drop me off, then take Jackson home.”
“You’re coming here right after?”
“Not sure. Playing it by ear.” Mitchel reached for a cigarette and winked. “Going out back.”
As Elaine watched Mitchel exit the kitchen door, she thought how sad it was. He was, or at least had been, a nice-looking man. Tall, thin, sandy-brown hair, green eyes, and a big smile. He had had an excellent job at an auto-repair shop and was considered their best mechanic. That was until he started arriving late and not showing up a few times. Then, when he got arrested, Otto, the owner, couldn’t deal with him anymore. His life was in shambles at age thirty-six. Such a waste.
Elaine remembered when he had met Colleen. She was a sophomore at the state college and was home for the summer. She was working the arcade at the county fair when Mitchel first approached her. They started dating, and the rest, well, the rest had turned into a calamity. Mitchel’s mother didn’t like Colleen from the get-go. She thought Colleen was a bit uppity, being a college student and all. In turn, Colleen’s mother didn’t much like Mitchel. She thought Colleen “could do better.” Mrs. Griffin was right. Colleen could have and should have done better. Her mother-in-law, on the other hand, should have been kissing Colleen’s feet. Mitchel might have been good-looking and charming, but there was something about him that had never sat right with Elaine. And her instincts had turned out to be spot-on. Mitchel had become a train wreck, and the rest of the family was having to clean up the mess. Mitchel certainly wasn’t going to lift a finger to help himself.
The doorbell rang, and Elaine called out the back to Mitchel. “Vivian is here.” She refused to refer to her mother-in-law as mom, mother, or any other type of endearment.
Mitchel came in and walked to the front door. “Hello, Mother.” He gave her a peck on the cheek.
She nodded hello. “Mitchel. Elaine. You look well, dear.”
Vivian secretly blamed Elaine for not giving her more grandchildren, but Elaine had a fairly good idea about how Vivian felt. She would admonish Elaine for working while she was pregnant. “You should be at home, where you belong.” Did Vivian really think Elaine was being irresponsible? Elaine wanted to wring her neck at the time. She could claim hormonal imbalance.
“Thank you, Vivian. As do you. Enjoy your day with Jackson.” Elaine turned and went back into the kitchen. She looked out the window, and, sure enough, there were two cigarette butts on the patio. The ashtray was only a few feet away. You’d think he’d have the sense or courtesy to use it.
Mitchel sprinted to the car. “Jackson, my boy! Come give your daddy a hug!” He reached for the handle of the car door and swung it open.
Jackson unbuckled his seat belt and jumped out of the car into his father’s arms. He smelled good. His face was smooth, and his breath was clean, too. This was the daddy he remembered. This was the daddy he wanted.
Fortunately, Jackson was tall enough and old enough to ride without a booster seat, but he had to be buckled into the back seat.
“Dad? Can you ride in the back with me
, please? Grammy? Can he? Please?”
Vivian couldn’t say no to the child, but she resented being a chauffeur. “Very well.”
“So, son, tell me what’s been happening with you?”
“Uh, like lots of stuff. I have a new friend. His name is Buddy.”
“Buddy?”
“Yeah. Buddy the dog. He lives down the street. Remember?”
“Sure. I remember Buddy the dog. I thought you were talking about another kid in school.”
“Nah. I have gobs of friends at school. Buddy is my friend for after school.”
“You mean the crazy lady lets you play with Buddy?”
Vivian looked in the rearview mirror. “Crazy lady? What crazy lady? Colleen lets him play with a crazy lady?” Vivian was sounding a bit crazy herself.
“No, Grammy. She’s not a crazy lady. She’s very nice.”
“She never leaves the house,” Mitchel interjected.
“That’s because she has a sickness,” Jackson informed them.
“What kind of sickness?” Vivian was peering into the mirror again.
“I dunno. Mom just said she wasn’t well. So I figured she was sick.”
Vivian couldn’t stop herself. “Mitchel, you need to put an end to this right away. I don’t want my grandson hanging around someone who is sick or crazy.”
“Easy, Mother. She seems harmless. I doubt Colleen would let Jackson go over there if it wasn’t safe, right, pal?” Mitchel patted Jackson on the knee.
“Right, Grammy! She’s really nice. For real. She leaves candy inside pumpkins for us at Halloween and bakes cookies for things.”
“Well, if she doesn’t leave the house, who does all her shopping for her?” Vivian was being a pill and throwing a wet blanket on the day.
“Hector. He’s kinda her assistant, I guess,” Jackson replied.
“Mother, can we please change the subject?”
“Fine. So what do you want to talk about then?”
“Baseball!” Jackson yelled.
Vivian shrugged her shoulders. “Fine. You boys talk about whatever you like. I’m just the chaperone here.”
Mitchel gave Jackson a nudge with his elbow. “So you think the Cardinals can pull off another World Series?”
“Maybe. They’ve won eleven so far, but nothing since 2011.” Jackson was proud of his knowledge of baseball.
“Maybe the Kansas City Royals will be the big winners this year,” Mitchel suggested.
“Nah. They had a good season in 2015, but nothing good since.” Jackson was a whiz at stats.
“Very impressive, son. You sure know your baseball.” Mitchel had started tossing a ball with Jackson as soon as he could stand up. After Jackson grew out of T-ball, Mitchel had tried coaching one year, but he got into too many arguments with other parents and was asked to resign. That was when things started to sour in Mitchel’s life. Had Mitchel’s forced retirement from coaching influenced his drinking? Or was it the other way around?
No matter. He was with his kid that day, and would be permanently if he had anything to say about it.
“I thought we’d grab a couple of burgers before the movie. Whaddya say, sport?”
“Sure thing, Dad!” Benny’s Barbecue and Burger Grill was a bit of a drive from Hibbing, but it was near the movie theater. They continued to talk baseball while Vivian drove them to the restaurant.
After about thirty minutes, they pulled into the roadhouse restaurant, and Mitchel unhooked Jackson’s seat belt. Both jumped from the car and headed toward the door.
“Excuse me! Do you mind if I join you?” Vivian screeched at them.
Jackson stopped in his tracks, turned around, and ran toward his grandmother. “Sure, Grammy! Come on!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.
They looked over the menu, and Mitchel was about to motion for the waitress when he realized he had made a big mistake in choosing that restaurant.
“Hey, Mitchel. Long time no see. How ya been?” The name tag said LUCINDA. She was wearing a bright yellow uniform with pockets in the front.
Vivian shot him a look.
“Hey, Lucinda. Yeah. Been busy. How ya doing?” Mitchel was trying to be cordial. He had forgotten that Lucinda worked the day shift on Saturdays. It had been months since he had seen her last. And done much more than see her. He thought their fling had ended OK, both of them being married and all. She seemed to have taken it well, but there was an edge to her voice. Or was that the way she normally spoke? He wondered. He really couldn’t remember much except for some extramarital shenanigans in the parking lot after several rounds of anything over eighty proof.
“This here your boy?” She pointed her pencil in Jackson’s direction, cracking her gum.
“Yes. This is Jackson. Jackson, this is Lucinda.” Mitchel was starting to squirm as the rise in Vivian’s blood pressure was starting to show on her temples. “And this is my mother, Vivian.”
“Well, nice to meet cha all. Jackson. Vivian.” She smiled at both of them, revealing a few gaps between her front and back teeth.
“What can I get you folks?” Another crack of gum. Mitchel wondered if it ever got stuck in the spaces.
Jackson ordered a burger from the kids’ menu. His father ordered one from the adult side and a draft beer. Vivian gave him a dirty look.
“Don’t start,” Mitchel growled. “I’m only having one.”
“It’s barely past noon,” Vivian growled back.
“Please, Mother. Can we just enjoy our lunch?”
“Fine.” That was Vivian’s most commonly used response to most things, especially those of which she disapproved.
Lucinda stood there while mother and son bickered.
Jackson was starting to get antsy. “Dad? Can I get a milkshake?”
“Sure. Whatever you want. This is our day today. Right, Mother?” He gave her a stare that could kill a snake.
“And you, Miss Vivian? What would you like?”
“I’ll have a BLT, mayonnaise on the side, and a Coke.” She paused. “Please.”
“Comin’ right up!” Lucinda stuck the pencil back behind her ear and wiggled her way to the kitchen.
Mitchel gave his mother another look as if to say, “Don’t ask.”
Jackson was oblivious to the veiled exchange between the adults. He was enjoying being in a new place, having a burger with his dad.
Lucinda returned with their drinks. “Food will be coming out in a jiffy.” Another wiggle back to the kitchen.
Vivian could not hide her horror, imagining her son carousing with such a loose woman. Colleen was looking good in comparison. So what if she thought Colleen was an educated snob? At least she had all of her teeth and a respectable job. The thought of her baby boy playing rumpy-pumpy with that trailer trash made her lose her appetite.
The gum-smacking waitress returned, carrying a big tray above her shoulder and setting it down on the table next to where they were sitting.
“Your BLT, Vivian, burger for Jackson, and a burger for Mitchel, well done, if I remember correctly.”
Vivian was about to vomit. Mitchel wasn’t too far behind. He finished off his beer as if he were in a guzzling contest.
Jackson slathered his fries with ketchup, not having a clue.
After they finished, Lucinda cleared the plates. “Can I get you anything else?” She put her hand on Mitchel’s shoulder.
He was horrified. Vivian thought she might faint. Jackson innocently asked, “Ice cream? Please, Dad?”
“Not right now, son. We have to get to the movie theater. We’ll have ice cream later. Check, please?” Mitchel really meant, “Please! Now! Not a minute longer!”
Lucinda slapped the check on the table. “Y’all come back here real soon!” Then the final wiggle back to the kitchen.
Mitchel pulled out his wallet and threw two $20 bills on the table. The check was only $26, but he didn’t want to wait for change. “Let’s go.” He moved as fast as he could.
Jackson skipped to the car, while Vivian waddled her way to the driver’s side door. She couldn’t get over what she had just experienced. She slammed the door shut and shot Mitchel another stink-eye look in the rearview mirror. So far, the day had been awful.
The ride to the movie theater took ten long minutes. It seemed like an eternity for both Mitchel and Vivian. Fortunately, Jackson was oblivious and was getting excited about seeing the movie.
“I think I’ll skip the movie and go to the outlet shops.” Vivian thought she was going to jump out of her skin. She knew they would be violating the “supervised” part of the visitation, but she didn’t think a movie with just the two of them would do any harm. Besides, she had to get away from Mitchel for a bit.
“Good idea, Mother,” Mitchel said with relief. He opened his wallet and handed her several twenties. “Buy yourself something nice.”
“I don’t need your money to buy myself anything. Besides, you need to hang on to your cash. You don’t have a job, remember?” She was seething.
Mitchel held his breath and didn’t respond. Besides wanting to scream at her, he wanted to strangle her as well.
“Come on, Jackson. Let’s go watch the movie.” He helped Jackson with his seat belt, and they both got out of the car.
“Movie runs for almost two hours. See you at three.”
Vivian didn’t answer.
“See ya later, Grammy!” Jackson waved, but his grandmother pulled away without returning his wave.
Mitchel walked up to the ticket window and handed the cashier one of the twenties his mother had refused. Mitchel leaned down, looked straight into Jackson’s eyes, and said, “We won’t tell anyone that Grammy went shopping. OK, sport?”
“OK, Dad!” He gave him a thumbs-up.
Anticipating Jackson’s next request, Mitchel intervened. “No popcorn. You just had a big lunch, and we’re getting ice cream later. I don’t want you to get sick. Then your mother will be really mad at me, and we don’t want that, do we?” Mitchel sounded reasonable for a change.
No Way Out Page 8
