Spark

by S. L. Scott

  Two minutes in his presence has me surrendering my heart. If I had to choose, I’d choose him, and that’s not what’s expected of me. I have to keep my secrets safe inside. I have to hide my true feelings for him from him and them.

  Alfie wasn’t given a choice when he lost Cassie. I want his future to be full of hope and full of choices.

  Swinging my robe around my shoulders, I sneak out of my room at the early hour and go to the bathroom to shower. I need to wash away the memories of that one night we had together, a night where two people were free to be whoever they wanted, sharing their bodies and forgetting their worries.

  For one perfect moment in time, Jet Crow was a great distraction from my problems . . . Now he seems to be at the root of them.

  As I glide the bar of soap across my skin, parts of me still tingle with need for the real thing. The relief from loneliness I find by reliving that night, touching myself as he once did until the clenching loosens and my body relaxes, is temporary.

  Is he?

  Doting father, respectful to women, dedicated to his work and his family—is this just an act he’s putting on for us? Surely not. A girl he picked up at a bar is one thing. The woman a judge is forcing him to get along with is another. Either way he sees me, I’m one thing.

  Alfie is another altogether. Only the cruelest of monsters could look in the wide expectant eyes of a six-year-old and break his heart.

  Not even six in the morning and my mind is buzzing with theories and questions. I’ll be facing my aunt soon, and no other argument than “he seems like a good guy” has been handy. I don’t want to be made a fool by defending someone who eventually reveals his true colors as any other than what I’ve seen.

  I wrap a towel around me and go back into my bedroom. It’s cold in here. I guess I didn’t notice earlier since I was heated under my sheet with naughty images of Jet on my mind.

  I’m shameful.

  Thank God, Eileen and my dad don’t know about my past with Jet. Yep, secrets and lies are all that will keep me safe and in Alfie’s life.

  Hurrying to dress, I toss my towel on the bed. It falls and takes my phone with it. The phone is lit when I reach down to pick it up, the text messages we sent an hour or two ago still on the screen, my “maybe” still glaring back at me. “Let it go,” I tell myself. I set the phone down and finish getting ready.

  It calls to me, my attention divided between my last reply and what shirt to wear. I grab The Crow Brothers tee and pull it over my head. As if I’ll be busted any moment, I pull on a sweatshirt that reads “But first, coffee” over it. No one has to know I’m wearing it underneath.

  Taking my phone in hand, I’m about to shove it in my back pocket but don’t. I stop to read the exchange again. Before I can talk myself out of it, I confess my fear and type: I don’t think there’s a cure for my broken parts, but I could use a little glue.

  Am I insane? What the hell am I doing?

  I try to reason myself out of the reprimand. Logically, I know he’s asleep. Maybe that’s why it was easier to type this time. It’s six here so four a.m. there.

  Even though I shouldn’t have sent another message, I still can’t help but feel a little disappointment when I don’t get a response.

  “Shake it off.” I put the phone in my pocket like I should have done in the first place and regret sending that last text. He’s going to wake up and read that . . . God, what have I done? I’ve opened it up for a conversation like he’s going to be able to do anything other than realize I’m not worth the trouble of even working with now. Have I jeopardized the job?

  I’ve got to stop running everything around in my head over and over again. Alfie. I need to focus on him instead. Today is Sunday.

  “What do you want to do today?” I ask him an hour later when he comes out of his room and parks himself on the sofa with Teen Titans Go! on TV.

  “The zoo?”

  “You just went to the zoo with Jet.”

  “Hannah!” I’m cautioned the moment my aunt appears from the hallway. “Do not say his name in my house.”

  Fury takes hold of my body as my mind races with all the things I shouldn’t say, especially not in front of Alfie. This is life here now, now that Cassie is gone—arguing and anger.

  But I refuse to let her demean his father in front of him. I stand to talk to her privately in the kitchen, but Alfie asks, “Why can’t Hannah say Jet’s name in your house, Grandma?”

  From the mouths of babes . . .

  I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow, letting her take the heat for her rudeness. Her voice goes up a few octaves higher, and she feigns innocence. “Oh, sweet boy, the man who calls himself your father was not nice to your moth—”

  “Eileen!” I shout, hoping she doesn’t finish that sentence. “Alfie, go get dressed. We’re going to have a busy day. Wear something warm.”

  His gaze flicks back and forth between us twice before he scoots off the couch and goes down the hall. “Close your door, Alfie,” I add when he disappears into his bedroom.

  When I hear it close, I walk into the kitchen, trying to contain my rage, but everything about her pisses me off right now. Dropping my head down, I close my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose. Raising back up, I take a deep breath and narrow my eyes. “Do not ever speak of his father that way again, or I’ll make sure you lose him.”

  The slap comes fast, the sting across my face registering before the realization that I was hit. A look of horror crosses her face, one that surely matches mine. My gasp is all wrong, not vocal enough with my words caught in my throat.

  Grabbing my hands that hold my cheeks in shock, she pleads, “I’m sorry, Hannah. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. I just—”

  I back away out of her reach. “Get away from me.”

  “I said I’m sorry.”

  Tears form from anger, and I state, “You hit me.”

  “I didn’t mean to, but—”

  “There are no buts.” I move back even more, but she keeps closing the gap.

  “Please. You can’t defend him. My daughter died—”

  “Not because of him.”

  I turn to go, but she grabs my arm to spin me around. “You are turning your back on your family, a family that has given you everything.”

  Shrugging out of her hold, I ask, “Where were you two years ago when I needed someone to help me?”

  “You made your bed . . . with that loser,” she snaps. “You had to lie in it to learn a lesson.”

  “I was broken and you shut the door in my face. You didn’t care about me until you needed me.”

  “Cassie needed you. Alfie needed you. He still does. Hannah, you’re upset. You need to calm down.”

  “It’s so clear now.” I scoff, staring into her eyes. “I laid in that bed you said I needed and suffered. I paid the price for making a bad choice back then.” I add, “It must be nice to be so perfect that you can stand in judgment of my personal sins, mistakes that affected no one but me in the end, or to be so stuck in your grief, or whatever this is, that you willingly hate a man who has only shown love to his son.”

  “I’m protecting Alfred from what I know is coming. That man will walk away from him and never look back just like he did to my daughter.”

  “The only problem is that you’re pushing us away as well.” I walk to the hall but stop, still giving her the courtesy she has never shown me. “I’m taking Alfie to the zoo because it makes him happy, and his happiness is mine.”

  Other than a flicker of regret after she hit me, I see worry creasing her face. “What time will you be back?”

  “You had me take responsibility for his well-being. The judge gave me shared custody. With that in mind, I will keep him safe, healthy, and happy. Nothing else is your business.”

  She knows she’s holding the losing hand, so she backs up and pretends none of this has happened. “I’ll have dinner ready by five thirty.”

  Walking to Alfie’s room,
I say, “We’re eating out. Don’t wait on us.”

  She’s wise not to say any more. My mind is made up by the time I reach his door. When I open it, I say, “Grab your backpack.”

  “Am I going to school? I don’t wanna.”

  “No. I’m taking you to the zoo, but we’re going to be out late, so I want to be prepared for the morning.”

  He nods, but then pauses to look at me. Reaching up, his small hand touches my cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  His gaze lowers with his hand and guilt is written across his face. “You fight because of me.” Looking back up at me, he says, “Does your cheek hurt?”

  My heart hurts. “No. I’m fine.” I lie because he should never have to bear the burdens of adults who can’t get along. “Go ahead and get ready. We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

  I move to my bedroom. Grabbing a large tote bag, I stuff an outfit and some personal items inside and move into the bathroom to pack my toothbrush and other toiletries.

  Just outside his door, I hold my hand out. Alfie, with his backpack on, takes my hand, and we walk back through the living room to the front door.

  Eileen says, “I’m sorry, Hannah.”

  Leading Alfie outside before me, I look back at her. Coffee in hand and toast with jelly in front her as if we didn’t have a fight at all. Like life hasn’t changed in the least bit, she stands there with a tapping, impatient foot and faux smile on her face.

  I reply, “So am I,” and close the door behind me. But I’m not sorry for the same shallow reason she is because I’ve seen her true colors.

  I’m sorry I didn’t see her more clearly prior to now. I’m sorry for some of the things I said to Jet, but I’m not sorry for fighting for Alfie. I’m not sorry I left the sad life I was leading in Dallas. I’m not sorry I met Jet before I heard the stories. I’m not sorry I slept with him or spent the time to get to know him. No, I’m not sorry for anything she would shame me for, the same things I was shaming myself for not even an hour ago.

  I’m only sorry I didn’t do this sooner.

  16

  Hannah

  Sitting on a picnic bench, I watch Alfie run wild. The kid already has so much energy, but the popsicle sends him over the edge. I just need to outlast the sugar rush.

  My phone buzzes, and I look down. Jet.

  I don’t think there’s a cure for my broken parts, but I could use a little glue. I had happily blocked out that I sent that text until this reminder. My gaze slides south, my heart beating harder in my chest, anticipating his reply: I’ll be home in time to pick Alfie up from school tomorrow.

  I read it several times before I rest my jaw in my hand, struggling not to recoil in humiliation. I was awake this morning when he first started texting, not able to sleep with all the worries crowding my brain. I’ve had many emotions since coming to Austin, but they were never conflicted until I met him.

  Trying so hard to hold my family together under their judgment of me has been like living inside a pressure cooker. I’ve been on edge for months, ready to burst well before the judge made my life even more complicated.

  I’ve taken so much of my uncertainty on what to do out on Jet and then dumped that text on him like he’s a priest taking confessions.

  I obviously crossed a line by sending it. Jet’s giving me an out by not acknowledging my mistake, something my aunt would point out in a heartbeat. I’ll just pretend I never sent it. Replying, I text: I’ll let him know.

  Jet: Thanks. You doing okay?

  Me: All good.

  I used to hate lying. Liars are the worst, and now I’ve become one. I would never want him to worry, and he will if I open up too much. Remembering my thoughts earlier, I take a risk and call him. He answers after the first ring, “Hey, everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I reply, keeping my voice down so Alfie can’t hear if he runs by. “I’m fine, but I was wondering, and you can totally say no, if . . .” Am I doing the right thing, or am I dragging him into my mess?

  “If what, Hannah?”

  I can’t afford a hotel, and if we’re at Jet’s, at least Alfie will have his stuff and room. “Since you won’t be home until tomorrow, would it be okay if Alfie and I stay at your house tonight?”

  “Why do you want to stay there? Are you sure everything’s all right?”

  “Yes. Fine. I just want some peace and one-on-one time with Alfie.”

  “You’re welcome there anytime, Hannah, but I hope you’re being honest with me.”

  Honest? I’m a horrible person. Run as far away as you can, Jet. Hesitantly, I ask, “Why would I lie?”

  “The other day, you mentioned that your aunt told you to go back to Dallas. Are you still fighting?”

  Feeling cornered between a lie I don’t want to tell and the truth, I struggle with what to do. If I don’t lie, it’s like handing him ammo to use against us. Would he do that? I’m at a loss on reading people these days. My instincts tell me to trust him . . . and I do. But everyone else tells me not to. “No, we’re fine. Hey, listen, we don’t have to stay there. Don’t even worry. Never mind—”

  “The place is yours whenever you need. The key is under the right black shutter of my window on the side of the house.”

  “Your bedroom window?”

  “Yes,” he says, and I can almost see the smile I hear in his tone.

  He’s being so kind. I need to learn to accept a gift with grace. “Thank you, Jet.”

  “Anytime. There are pizzas in the freezer, but not much else. I didn’t shop since I was leaving town.”

  “It’s okay. I can stop by the store on the way home.” Alfie comes barreling back and plops down across from me. “I should go. Thanks again.”

  “Hey, Hannah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You take care of everyone else, but don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be gone, but Alfie will be excited to see you.”

  “Right.” He sounds disappointed.

  “You know,” I start, but I’m not sure what to say. I just don’t want to hear him sad. “You’ll be traveling and need to eat. Alfie will need to eat. What if we make you dinner? You can come home and relax instead of jumping right back into the chaos.”

  I’ve stunned the poor man. Muffled voices are heard on his end, but Jet’s still silent. “Jet?”

  “I’m here. Sorry. We were taking a break from the studio. I have to get back inside, but dinner sounds good. Really good.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “I’ll call Alfie later, but yeah, it’s a date.”

  It’s a date . . . It’s just an expression, a common phrase, and neither of us corrects him, letting it go. “Bye,” I say and hang up. Setting my phone down in front of me like it’s a hot potato, I ask myself, “What am I doing?”

  I’m answered unexpectedly. “Falling for my dad.”

  I look up and right into his innocent eyes, my mouth falling open. “What do you know about falling?”

  Alfie smiles. “Uncle Tulsa talks about the ladies falling for him. Why do grown-ups fall when they like each other? Do you get scraped knees? I got one last week. Jet told me to be more careful so I don’t fall again.”

  “He’s a wise man.”

  I’m still in shock he told me I’m falling for his dad. No way.

  Getting up, he comes around and rubs my shoulder. “Be more careful, Hannah, so you don’t fall again.”

  “That’s the best advice I’ve received in a long time, buddy.” I stand, and we start for the exit. “I appreciate you looking out for my well-being.”

  “Daddy said since I’m the man of the house at Grandma’s, I need to take care of you.”

  “Me and your grandma?”

  “Yes.”

  That man is something else. After how Eileen’s treated him, how I’ve treated him, he still says such kind things in
front of Alfie.

  He adds, “He talks about you and how nice you are.”

  “He does?”

  Shrugging, he says, “Sure,” like it’s perfectly normal for Jet to discuss me with Alfie. We share custody, but I’m curious if that’s all he says. I’m about to dig a little deeper, but he points and says, “The prairie dogs,” and runs to the see them.

  With a hundred dollars left in my account, I spend twenty-five on gas and another twenty-five purchasing stuff for dinner and essentials for Jet’s fridge. He and Alfie will need them anyway.

  Alfie helps me cook the chicken. He loved teasing me with the bits from the inside. Boys.

  Fortunately, I bought a tin pan, considering how bare these cabinets are. While it roasts, he watches TV, and I watch him.

  Fifty dollars isn’t going to get me far. I need to find work until the job with Jet begins. Fingers crossed it begins at all. I’ll find out more when he comes home.

  Home.

  Do I have a home anymore? If I walk away from Eileen, where will we go? I’m not leaving without Alfie, but fifty dollars is not enough to fight for custody. I’ll do anything for him.

  Watching him giggle from something the rabbit did on TV makes me smile. His innocence needs to be protected. His right to like his dad needs to be defended.

  Looking around Jet’s home, the level of comfort I feel here isn’t lost on me.

  There are touches that are all man and so him—grays and black and rich brown woods mixed in. It’s eclectic with simple pieces that work together as if planned. I don’t really see him designing the space, but it’s not a mishmash of college crash pad either.

  I wonder if I should sleep on the couch or if I dare get sucked into that little piece of heaven in the back room. Guess I’ll decide later.

  Our evening comes and goes. Once Alfie’s sound asleep, I take a shower. The warm water rinses away some of the dirt of the day, but my soul still feels scathed. I scrub a little harder.

  Giving in, I climb under his sheets. I don’t know when he washed them last, but I can smell his scent as it lingers on the cotton. I love it. I revel in it. Here in the peace of his little home, I don’t feel the guilt when I indulge in my memories of him. I get to enjoy them instead.