Poly

by Lesli Richardson

  I stop by his room to check on his progress before I go get dressed and I see he’s still got several bags to empty.

  “You doing okay, bud?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He points at the bags. “Those aren’t just clothes,” he says. “There’s some of my figures and collectibles wrapped in clothes. I’m waiting to unwrap them up until we get my shelves. I wasn’t sure if Dad would destroy them or not, so I hid them in my clothes.”

  The lightbulb goes on. “Ah.” He’s got a couple of anime series he follows pretty avidly, and he collects figures from them. I spy his laptop sitting on his bed. “Glad you found that.”

  “Me, too. Can Caine come help us move me? He asked me last night after you guys went to bed.”

  I realize he means through chat on his computer. “That’s up to his parents, I suppose. I don’t have a problem with it. What do they know about yesterday?”

  “Just that me and Dad got into a fight, and I’m moving out.”

  “Fight about what? So we’re on the same page.”

  “They know Dad’s an asshole,” he quietly says. “Sorry. That he’s a jerk, I mean.”

  I smile. “I know it’s hard not to swear sometimes.” Like hell will I ding the kid for it. Especially not under these circumstances. “Just watch it around Katie.”

  “I will.” I was going to continue on my way, but he looks like he wants to say something else. “I’ll do extra chores, if you want me to, to help pay you back for the extra attorney fees. Or I’ll get a part-time job or something.”

  Shit. I step into his room. “Your job, besides chores around here, is to study and get good grades. And be honest with us.” Then a thought hits me. “Wait. What made you think that?”

  I mean, I get making the kid work for his allowance and not spoiling him, but I’m putting food in his stomach, clothes on his back, and getting him whatever he needs for school.

  “Dad said I couldn’t get my driver’s license until I could pay for all of the car insurance, and a car, and everything myself. That I wouldn’t be allowed to use their cars at all. And he wouldn’t let me get a part-time job or anything. When I tried to save up my allowance, he’d make me randomly pay for stuff. Demand it out of nowhere. Like my phone bill, or shoes, or clothes, or whatever, so I couldn’t ever save up money for it. Like he was mentally keeping tabs on how much I had saved up so he could ding me for it and wipe me out again.”

  Sonofabitch.

  Nolan and I had offered to start teaching him how to drive last year, when he turned fifteen, but apparently Bill pitched a fit when Lucas returned after a visit to us when we’d helped him get his learner’s permit. Which I didn’t understand, at the time, because we were going to put Lucas on our insurance and not bother asking Bill to pay half of Lucas’ premium.

  So we backed off that and let it go.

  “So why did he get pissed off when we were going to help you learn how to drive? We were going to pay for the insurance.”

  He shrugs. “He kept putting me off every time I asked. A couple of months ago, last time I asked him if he’d at least teach me how to drive, he told me since I was friends with Caine that he could drive me around. And that I’d better not ask him again, or he’d never teach me.”

  This isn’t making sense. “But he’d get pissed off if you wanted to come here for the weekend and he had to drive you? Could he not afford to pay for your insurance?”

  “Control,” Zoey says from behind me in the doorway.

  I turn to look and see her standing there. She’s holding her mug of coffee and wearing a guarded expression on her face, one which I know is an attempt to mask her growing rage.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Control,” she repeats. Nolan appears in the doorway behind her. “He wanted to control Lucas. Keep him dependent on him. If Lucas can’t drive, and he doesn’t have a car, and he has to ask Bill or Mary to take him somewhere, Bill’s got control. Make Lucas twist himself into knots to earn Bill’s approval to let him do stuff, and then he’s got perpetual leverage over Lucas. Feeds into Bill’s need for narcissistic supply.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I say. Because it really doesn’t make sense to me. “He’s bitching about taking Lucas places, but won’t help him gain his independence?”

  “You’ve never been married to a narcissist,” Nolan says, smirking at me. “Zoey’s right. Think about the times you got pissed off at Jerilyn when she jerked my chain and made me change or cancel plans at the last minute. Or started a fight with me over the phone if I was doing something with you guys, even though she had said she didn’t want to come with. Same thing. If my attention wasn’t focused on her, she wasn’t happy. She didn’t care if I was stuck home, or working, and if she was doing something she wanted to do. But the second she thought I was having fun without her? Boom. Drama.”

  Fuck.

  He’s absolutely right. Literally, countless times, that exact thing happened. It was so predictable we used to tease him about how long before Jerilyn called his phone and started bitching him out if he stopped by to visit with us, or was out doing something with us.

  “Well, I guess we’re adding you to our insurance this weekend, too,” I say to Lucas. “And getting you a car soon. I’ll talk to the guys in the trade-in department to keep their eyes out for a good used one.”

  The way Lucas brightens, as if it’s Christmas Day and he’s six again, nearly makes me heartsick. “Really?” he asks.

  What has this poor kid endured over the past couple of years, while I secretly seethed over him causing Zoey’s pain?

  I feel like a dick.

  “Yeah. It won’t be fancy, or—”

  “I don’t care! I’ll take anything and I’ll do as many chores as you want me to! Thank you!” He launches himself off the bed and nearly knocks me over with the velocity of his hug. I somehow manage to not spill my coffee. “Oh, my god, thank you!”

  “I mean,” I add, “we’ll have reasonable rules about it. And you’ll have to keep your grades up, of course.”

  “I promise! Oh, my god, thank you!” He flings himself at Zoey next, then Nolan.

  “Breakfast is ready,” she says, wearing a sad smirk as she meets my gaze. “Let’s go eat.”

  * * * *

  Nolan carries the weight of the conversation while we’re eating. I think he realizes how shook me and Zoey both feel right now. I can already see she’s beating herself up again, and it doesn’t take a psychic to figure out why.

  She’s likely angry at herself for not going for full custody when she divorced Bill and had the easy leverage against him.

  It’s the same thing she nearly always beats herself up over when Bill acts like the asshole he is.

  After breakfast, the three of us retreat to our bedroom to get dressed. Nolan moved his stuff into our room last night before we came to bed, since we didn’t have to pretend anymore.

  Once the door’s locked behind us, he keeps his voice low. “Can I just say if that fucking asshole spontaneously combusted in front of us I wouldn’t so much as spit on him to help put him out?”

  Zoey looks distraught as she sinks onto the bed. “I should’ve gone for full custody when I divorced him,” she tearfully whispers. “I thought he’d at least treat Lucas well. He seemed to dote on him. It was me he was a shit to.”

  Nolan sets his coffee mug on the dresser, takes hers, and sets it next to his. Then he sits beside her and pulls her into his lap. “Honey, he’s a narcissist. Like you said. Back then, you didn’t know what he was. Remember how hard of a time I had processing that when you told me that’s what Jeri is?”

  She nods.

  “We have a hard time thinking they’re going to do stuff like that because we aren’t capable of thinking the way they do,” Nolan says. “We have fricking souls. Lucas is past the cute and cuddly phase. He’s real work now, and that’s counter to what the narcissist wants and needs in his life.”

  “I know. It’s just hard to…believe i
t.”

  I lean in and kiss her. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. We need to get dressed and get moving. I want to be there waiting when they open. The sooner we do this, the sooner Bill Motherfucking Webb is out of our lives forever.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’re all in my car and heading to the rental place. Zoey and Lucas ride in the backseat, and Nolan’s riding shotgun.

  I’m feeling tense, because if Bill’s decided to stay home from work today, we’re going to have an ugly confrontation. Mary, on the other hand, strikes me as someone who tries to get along. I’ve never had any problem with her personally.

  Just with her husband.

  Fortunately, we’re the first ones at the rental place, beating three other renters by only a few minutes. It takes us about twenty minutes to get checked out and to be on our way, with boxes, tape, and other materials loaded in the back of the truck. I’m driving it, Nolan’s riding with me, and Zoey and Lucas are in my car following us. It’s a larger truck than we need, but again, I’m kind of hoping we can talk Nolan into starting his move this weekend.

  “We taking bets on the fucker being there?” Nolan asks.

  “No,” I say. “Because part of me wants him there so I can deck him, even though I know that will escalate quickly into something really fucking bad.

  “You’re not the only one. Promise to foot my bail if I go off on him?”

  “How am I going to bail you out if I’m sitting in the cell next to you?”

  I’m not even joking.

  Except when we drive up, Bill’s truck isn’t there, fortunately, and Mary’s parked her car on the street in front of their house, leaving the driveway empty.

  As I’m backing the moving truck in, the garage door starts going up. Nolan had got out to guide me back, and I see in the side mirror that he turns to look at her and she offers a tentative wave and a really tight, nervous smile.

  I’m hoping those are good signs for us.

  I’m climbing out of the truck when Caine pulls up in his car and parks behind Zoey and Lucas. The boys immediately hug, while Nolan and I exchange a knowing glance.

  I really want them to have a better future than Nolan and I had at their age. We were both terrified of being outed, but Nolan’s was a legit fear of physical danger from his family. Mine was just in general, and faded the older I grew.

  I walk up the driveway to help Nolan open the back and get the ramp pulled out. Mary approaches us.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday,” she quietly says. “I wasn’t here, but based on what Bill told me, I can only guess it was ugly.”

  “Ugly isn’t the word for it,” I angrily say, turning on her. “He damn near hit Zoey’s car, he tore up our front yard, and he fucking threw out our son and his things like he was nothing more than garbage. I hope you realize what a piece of shit you’re married to.”

  I feel Nolan’s hand clamp down on my shoulder, and that’s when I realize I just said all that aloud.

  Shit.

  I was thinking it, but I hadn’t planned to say it. Not really.

  Zoey hurries up to us wearing a grim expression, so I know she heard at least some of what I said. “Come on,” she says to me. “Help me carry the boxes inside.” She grabs an armful of supplies from the back of the truck and heads toward the door.

  Caine leads Lucas by the hand up the driveway. I don’t know if that means he’s being a supportive boyfriend, or he’s naturally the Top between them, or what. I guess it doesn’t really matter either way. I like the kid and think he’s a good egg. Not many kids would be this brave.

  Lucas looks like he’s going to avoid Mary entirely, but she speaks again. “I’m sorry, Lucas. I really am.”

  Lucas pauses, Caine waiting with him and still holding his hand. “He hit my mom,” Lucas tells her. “That’s why she divorced him, in addition to him cheating on her. And I know he hit at least one of his previous girlfriends. I was home when that happened. Plus, he’s cheating on you with a woman, Carol, who started working at one of the offices in his building last month. She’s not the first one he’s cheated on you with. Check his phone records. You’ll see all the texts and calls, I’m sure. He’s too stupid to use something like Signal to hide his activity.”

  My eyes widen as Lucas continues on into the house. I stare after him and then look at Nolan to confirm I just heard that.

  He looks wide-eyed, too, so I guess so.

  Fuuuuck.

  Mary stands with her arms crossed in front of her, like she’s hugging herself. She looks close to tears.

  Me and Nolan grab boxes and other supplies and follow the kids and Zoey inside, leaving Mary standing there by herself.

  “Damn,” Nolan mutters just loudly enough only I can hear him. “That was stone-fucking-cold.”

  “Can you blame him?”

  “Nope,” Nolan says. “Not one damn bit.”

  Chapter Six

  Nolan

  I’m actually in shock the previously gentle kid said what he did.

  I mean, I don’t blame him one single bit for it.

  Damn.

  Just goes to show that a narcissist can wear down the best of us.

  On the other hand, it gives me hope Lucas truly is done with his father’s shit and won’t go back to him.

  Or give up our secrets.

  I’ve never been inside Bill’s house before. It’s boring but tidy. Though I can’t help but immediately spot a couple of places in the walls where it looks like the drywall was repaired.

  At about the height someone Bill’s size would put a fist through the wall.

  Then we reach Lucas’ room, which looks like a bomb went off. Clothes piled on the bed and on the floor, the closet door standing open and exposing a disaster inside, stuff all over the place, obviously in disorder. Which is totally out of character for the usually tidy kid.

  “It’s not usually like this,” he says as me and Arlo join them.

  “Did he do this?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No. This is what it looked like when I left yesterday. I grabbed what I knew I’d need immediately, and the stuff I didn’t want to lose if he did burn everything.”

  I start helping Zoey empty the closet and dresser while Arlo and Caine help Lucas pack the rest of his collectibles from his shelves. That’s something else me and him have in common—we both love anime. He picked that up from me, actually.

  Then Mary appears in the bedroom doorway, a phone in her hand. “Here,” she tells Lucas, handing it to him. “In case there’s anything you need off it.”

  He hesitates before taking it from her. “Thanks.” He quickly powers it up and logs in.

  Mary focuses on Zoey. “Is that true? Did Bill hit you?”

  Zoey straightens and nods. “Yep. I have pictures, signed witness statements, and a statement Bill himself signed admitting it. It’s all locked in my safe deposit box. I told him either he gave me a divorce and paid for my attorney, or I’d have him arrested. I tried to leave him several times before that, and he always lied to me and manipulated me to make me change my mind. Plus, he cheated on me multiple times.”

  Mary slowly nods. “Okay.” Her weighty sigh makes me want to feel sorry for her, but surely she’s witnessed the asshole in action enough times by now to know who and what he really is. Her next words are addressed to Lucas. “How do you know he’s cheating on me?”

  “Because they’ve talked on the phone a couple of times while I was with him, and he told me not to say anything to you about it. Then Caine and I came home early one day after school last month, because our math club meeting was cancelled, and there was a strange car in the driveway. We saw him inside with a woman, doing way worse than Caine and I were doing yesterday.”

  He shows her two pictures on his phone, one taken through a front window of Bill obviously getting head from a blonde who isn’t Mary, and one of a car parked in the driveway, next to Bill’s truck. “There’s her tag number, if you want to have a private eye look it up o
r something.”

  The poor woman looks like she’s numb. “Can you please text those pictures to me?”

  He does.

  Arlo, Zoey, and I exchange stunned looks. Damn, the kid’s still waters run Mariana Trench-deep.

  Lucas apparently saves a few more things off his phone, to Dropbox, I’m guessing, then shuts it off and returns it to her. “Mom and Arlo are getting me a new phone today,” he tells her. “I don’t want this one, anyway. He told me what he thinks of me yesterday. The new lock code for it is 6969. I deleted everything off it except those pictures I just showed you.”

  She stares at the phone in her hand. “I want to say something to make you feel better,” she softly says. “But I don’t know what to say except that you’re a good kid, and I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t you fricking apologize for that jackass,” Zoey practically growls. “Don’t you dare. I’ve always liked you for the simple reason that I knew Lucas liked you, and that you cared about him. But I’m going to give you a piece of advice I hope you’ll take to heart: Run. Now. While Bill’s still at work. Pack everything and leave. If you want to go rent a moving truck, we’ll help you pack everything right now and you can get out of here.”

  She slowly shakes her head. “I don’t have anywhere to go right now, and I can’t afford to live on my own.”

  “Has he ever hit you?” Zoey asks.

  Mary sadly scoffs. “I wish. Then I could maybe make myself find the courage to leave.”

  “Well, I suggest you take precautions to protect yourself,” Zoey says. “Get a storage unit and start moving things there a few pieces at a time. Get pictures and important papers moved out, so if you have to walk one day, you can. And be prepared for crocodile tears and empty promises to win you back. Grand gestures, like showering you with flowers, and trying to cook dinner for you.”