I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)

by S. R. Grey

  A gallon of white paint later, the classroom I started on yesterday starts to come together. And I feel better, calmer, more relaxed. But then my cell rings and I see it’s my mother. Fuck, what now?

  When I answer I get an earful, which is amusing since I haven’t heard anything from Abby in over a month.

  “Chase, you have to talk to Will,” my mother tells me in a hurried jumble of words.

  This is her greeting.

  “Hello, to you too,” I throw back, my comment dripping sarcasm.

  Yeah, I am aggravated. However, Mom ignores my smartass tone and moves right along.

  “It’s getting ridiculous with that kid. No one here can get through to him. Do you know what time he got in last night?”

  She’s venting so I just grunt out a, “Nope.”

  “Well, he didn’t, Chase, your brother stayed out all night.” Mom pauses so I can let that sink in. “Will finally stumbled in about two hours ago.”

  This is all a little concerning, so I ask, “He was okay, right?”

  Mom sighs, and sounds resigned when she says, “I think he was drunk, he just went to his room.” Another pause, and then in a pleading voice she adds, “Chase, honey, can you talk some sense into your brother? I really think if anyone can get through to him, it might be you—”

  “Yeah, I doubt that,” I interrupt.

  “What? Why would you say that? Will looks up to you, he always has. He’ll listen.”

  I lean my ass against a piece of furniture I covered earlier and scrub my free hand down my face. “Mom, Will doesn’t look up to me anymore. Maybe he did a long time ago, but he sure as hell doesn’t now. Hell, the kid won’t even talk to me.”

  I leave out that dear little brother sent me a lovely “fuck off” text this morning, Mom’s dealing with enough.

  I hear the sound of a match striking and Mom sounds like she’s lighting a cigarette. She supposedly quit, but I had a feeling she still smoked. I smelled it on her that day at the courthouse. Well, at least she’s not out gambling to relieve her stress.

  “I don’t know, sweetie,” she says on an exhale. “I know I shouldn’t dump this on you, but I didn’t know who else to talk to. Greg’s getting sick of Will’s behavior.” I roll my eyes. Greg…of course. “Your brother just doesn’t listen anymore. And ever since school let out he’s been running wild. This isn’t the first night he’s stayed out until morning.”

  Mom takes a draw from her cigarette. “We told him there’ll be repercussions if he continues this way, but it doesn’t seem to matter to him. He does what he wants, Chase.” She pauses and adds quietly, “I know he’s been drinking for a while now too. Bottles have been missing from Greg’s liquor cabinet, and the other day I found a few in the back of Will’s closet. They were all empty.”

  I still don’t know what exactly my mother expects me to do. But I do offer this: “I’d talk to him, Mom, I would, but he seriously wants nothing to do with me. You saw how he acted at the courthouse the day you guys were out here. The kid hates my guts.”

  “Your brother doesn’t hate you,” my mother insists. “He just hates all the stuff that’s happened to you in the past. He’s angry, yes, but I know for a fact Will loves you, honey. Very, very much.”

  I hope she’s right even as I mutter, “I don’t know about that.”

  “Listen…Chase…” Mom’s voice fades in and out, like some faraway radio station. She must be reaching for an ashtray or something. “If I can get Will to call you, would you talk to him, then?”

  “Of course,” I say.

  Mom sighs in apparent relief. “That would really mean a lot, sweetie. Oh…and…” She trails off and I know she’s holding something back.

  “What?” I ask to prompt her.

  I hear the sound of another cigarette being lit, and then, “If Will starts talking to you again…and you can get through to him…what would you think about me sending him out to Ohio to stay with you for the rest of the summer?”

  Fuck. My limits are straining. She’s not going to send Will away like she did me.

  “Mom…” I close my eyes for a second to keep calm. “The answer to every fucking problem that arises with your kids isn’t to send them away.”

  It’s kind of a shitty thing to say, but it’s true, and Abby needs to finally hear it.

  Mom must feel guilty for sending me away six years ago, because she starts talking real fast, like she does when she knows she did wrong. “That’s not fair, Chase. You were out of control when you left Vegas.”

  “Sending me away didn’t help, it just made things worse. You thought Gram, of all people, could control me? She was an old lady.” I’m finally letting out what I’ve kept bottled up for years. “You pawned your problem—me—off on someone else and look what happened. I ended up in prison. Yeah, great decision, Mom.”

  Mom chokes back a sob. “I told you I was sorry for all that, Chase. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay? How many times do I have to say it for you to finally believe me?”

  Mom starts crying hard now, and I feel like a real dick. I should’ve kept my stupid mouth shut. She didn’t say she wanted Will here forever, just for the summer. I wouldn’t mind my brother staying here for a couple of months, but only if he wanted. I’d never force him to leave Vegas, like what Mom did to me.

  Her crying lessens, but I have to fix what I’ve messed up. “Mom, mom, shh, everything’s all right.” Her breathing hitches. “Look, I shouldn’t have said those things. You’re right. I was out of control back then. I have no one to blame for what happened but myself and—”

  “I still gave up on you, baby,” she interrupts. “And I regret it every day. That’s why I helped you as soon as I could.” This is true—my mom did hire the sharp lawyer who ultimately got me out of prison. “I am not giving up on Will, okay? Just forget I mentioned sending him out to Ohio.”

  “Mom,” I sigh. “I’ll talk to him, all right? Just get him to call me.”

  “All right, I’ll try,” she sniffles.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll straighten him out.” I sound more confident than I feel, because what I really feel is sad.

  I feel sad for Will, a mixed-up kid. And I feel sad for Mom losing the love of her life, my dad. She got stuck raising two headstrong boys by herself, when, really, she was never emotionally equipped to handle that sort of burden.

  I feel like I should have some magic solution to make everything right. It’s unreasonable, I know, but I can’t shake my emotion.

  The white walls I painted before Mom called suddenly feel like they’re closing in on me. What I really want is to go to Kay, but she doesn’t need to be dragged into my fucked-up family situation. I’ve burdened her with enough already, like all my troubled-past baggage.

  Mom calms and we hang up, but I feel shittier than ever. I can’t stay in this school a minute longer; I have to get out of here for a while.

  I stop by the church office to let Kay know I’m heading home early. She asks me if I’m all right, and I tell her I will be. When she waits for me to elaborate—because sharing our bad, as well as our good, is what we do—I tell her I’ll explain everything later.

  My always-understanding girl doesn’t press, she just accepts. What I should do is ask her if she wants to hang out later. Tonight is the start of the weekend, after all. But I really just need some downtime, time alone to put my shit back together. I figure I should be good by tomorrow, so I ask Kay if she wants to do something in the afternoon. Maybe drive up north to the cinemas and see a matinee movie.

  This puts a smile back on my girl’s face. I need to hold her, be close, so I wrap my arms around her. I hurriedly check to make sure we’re alone, and then I kiss her like I did yesterday, my lips a little everywhere.

  “I want to see you happy, baby,” I tell her as I nuzzle along her jaw. “But I’m just no good today. Tomorrow…” I kiss up to her honey-flavored lips. “Tomorrow, I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

  Kay nods an
d kisses me in return. I love the feel of her soft lips pressed to mine. And I love that she’s as into this as me. Things start to get a little heated, but I try to maintain some control. After all, we are in the rectory office, and Father Maridale could walk in on us at any time.

  Oh, fuck it.

  My tongue wraps up with my girl’s tongue as her hands move down to my ass. Our bodies kind of smash together, and our kisses escalate from simmering to boiling over. When we finally break for air, I take a step back. We give each other these big, goofy grins. We’re so fucking ridiculous, but who cares? This is what love feels like.

  A part of me considers telling Kay right there and then that I love her, but I hold off. Those words are way too precious to give away in the church office. I want the moment I give my heart to my girl to be better than this.

  I take her hand in mine, and we just speak with our eyes for a minute. Kay gives me a look, like maybe she has something she wants to tell me too. But she remains silent.

  After a beat, we sneak in a few more stolen kisses, and then I leave.

  As I walk to my truck, I feel better than I did prior to seeing Kay. I flip the keys in my hand and ponder some things. Like, I wonder what Kay wanted to tell me. It seemed like it might be something good, based on the smile in her eyes. Shit, maybe Kay loves me, like I love her. Could it be possible for sweet girl to feel more for me than some kind of a friendship-lust thing? I sure hope so.

  I think about this—and more—as I pull away from the church. But my inner reflection grinds to a screeching halt when my cell phone rings.

  I glance down, and, shock-upon-shock, it’s my brother.

  When I answer his first words are, “Mom made me call.”

  I have a few choice words of my own in mind for a retort, but I hold my tongue. I know this kid has been hurt, by me, by fucking life. So I need to move slowly and rebuild his shattered trust.

  I opt to stick with a nice, benign, “Hey, Will. How’ve you been?”

  “Okay, I guess.” Awkward silence, and then, “Oh, thanks for the happy birthday text.”

  I laugh. “Does that mean I should delete your earlier reply?”

  “Yeah, delete it.” Will chuckles a little, and I know he’s softening, the ice is finally breaking. “Sorry about that. Mom was on my ass when I typed fuck off. I think I was probably saying it more to her than to you.”

  “That’s okay, kid,” I reply. “But you should show Mom more respect. She’s trying, you know.”

  Will doesn’t respond to my commentary on Mom. Instead, he snorts, “Kid? Shit, I’m not that much younger than you, bro. Besides, I’ll be eighteen soon, and then I’ll be a grown-ass adult. I’ll finally be able to do whatever the fuck I want.”

  I laugh. “Shit, you have three more years before you have the right to call yourself a grown-ass adult, kid.” We both crack up, but then I quietly add, “And, Will, you know you have six more years till you’re legal to drink.”

  My brother sighs. “Guess Mom filled you in, huh?”

  “Guess she did.”

  “I only took Greg’s booze once, okay?” My brother pleads his case. “My friends wanted to start celebrating my birthday early, that’s all. We drank a little last week in my room. Mom needs to fucking relax.”

  “She’s just worried about you, bro. She’s doing her best, you know.”

  That last gets a very sarcastic, “Yeah, right.”

  He’s not completely off-base, but I have to be the adult here. “Will, you are only fifteen. I heard about you staying out all night. You need to slow down. Underage drinking…what else do you do? You better not be getting fucking hi—”

  “Like you never partied,” he interrupts.

  He’s got me there, but that doesn’t mean I want him to make the same fucked-up choices I made. I tell my brother as much, and he listens. I mean, I think he does. He remains quiet and doesn’t fight me at least.

  I don’t mention anything about Mom’s proposed plan to send him to Ohio for the rest of the summer, but I do tell Will he’s welcome to visit anytime he wants. My brother thanks me, and when he does I hear just how young he really is. But I also hear how tired he sounds, and not in an up-all-night kind of way. No, Will’s tired tone is the sad, this-life-is-wearing-me-out variety.

  My heart pulls and stutters. This kid should get to enjoy being what he is, a kid. But I guess that’s a luxury that was taken away from both of us a long time ago. I can’t lie to myself—Will’s just as damaged as I am from the shitty past we share.

  So, I make it my mission to cheer him up. I spend the remainder of the call just trying to get my baby brother to laugh. I try so hard to make him feel like the kid he actually is, especially since it’s his birthday. I tell him crude jokes—filthy ones, really—until he’s laughing so hard he’s practically crying. And slowly, slowly, he starts to open up. Just a little at first. And then more and more, like a dam breaking.

  He tells me about last night, the eve of his birthday. He and his friends got really drunk. No surprise there. Will doesn’t say if they did anything else, and I don’t ask. I just listen without comment.

  My brother talks as I drive the rest of the way to my house, and when I pull in the driveway, he’s telling me about his art. He’s still drawing, comic book stuff. His dream is to someday have his own series of comic books.

  I am just relieved this kid still has a dream. I ask him to send me some samples of his work. He promises to e-mail me some stuff he just recently finished. Shit, I can’t wait to see my brother’s art. It was good before, but now that he’s older I have a feeling Will’s art is going to amaze me.

  Our call comes to a close as we run out of words, but I sense Will wants to ask something more. He’s stalling, just like Mom does when she’s trying to get up the nerve to ask something she knows I won’t like.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  Will starts to speak, but then hesitates. I wait him out, and finally, he gets to the point—my brother wants me to transfer some money into his banking account.

  “Mom’s being a bitch after last night,” he says. “And there are a bunch of art supplies I was hoping to buy later today. Can you do it? I’ll pay you back.”

  He won’t, but that’s not really the issue. The problem is that I know—I fucking know I should refuse him. If Will is asking now, and not waiting for our mother to come around, then it’s probably because the money is for something he’s not supposed to have.

  Art supplies, my ass.

  Fuck, I just hope the money’s not for something illegal. I should tell Will no, but with the connection I’ve just made with him, I can’t bring myself to deny him.

  So, I get all his bank information. And then we hang up.

  I sit in the truck for a while. Shit, I should feel good. My brother is talking to me again. And things are beyond fantastic with Kay. But damn if I can’t shake this sense of dread washing over me, this feeling of foreboding.

  I give myself a few more minutes, trying to get a grip. I’m so knotted up and bound, I can’t relax. And the longer I sit, the more it feels as if those imaginary ropes are being pulled tighter. But the worst part is that I feel like some force I have no control over is about to pitch me out to sea, bound and helpless. And in that condition, there will be no chance.

  I will surely sink quickly.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KAY

  Something is up with Chase, but I can’t imagine what it could possibly be. Yesterday was wonderful, perfect really, and I was hoping to spend more time with him today. Guess that won’t be happening.

  Alas…

  If my complicated boy needs time to himself, then who am I to deny him? He did say he’d tell me what’s bothering him later. And that’s good enough. Besides, the kisses he so enthusiastically bestowed made me forget everything, at least for a while.

  But after all that delicious affection, now that Chase is gone, I feel a little empty. Worse yet, I have a feeling the off-kilter vibe to t
his day is only just beginning.

  Ominously, the next person to step into the rectory office is Missy Metzger. And she looks like she’s on a mission.

  I sigh and slump into my chair at the desk.

  I mean, I’ve already told Missy I can’t make cookies—or anything else, for that matter—for the upcoming bake sale that’s part of the big Fourth of July carnival next week. It’s not as if my oven has miraculously started working. I try to circumvent a labored discussion by telling Missy exactly these facts as she approaches. However, I soon discover the bake sale isn’t even on my sort-of friend’s radar today.

  She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about making anything, we have it all covered. Maybe by the August rummage sale your oven will be working.” She gives me a questioning look and I shrug. “Well, if so, you can get in on that one.”

  I don’t tell her it’s not likely I’ll have a working oven by August, but Missy doesn’t seem too worried about it anyway. She hops up onto the edge of my desk and crosses her legs, making her miniskirt rise even higher. I’ve noticed the head of the bake committee has been dressing in skimpier clothes lately. Wonder what’s up with that?

  “So-o-o,” Missy drawls as she picks up a freshly sharpened pencil, “Chase Gartner, huh?” She blows shavings from around the lead tip and shoots me a sidelong glance.

  I reply nonchalantly, “Oh, you saw him leaving?”

  “I saw more than that, sweetie.” Missy winks and points the pencil at me. “So, you and Chase making out in the rectory, you’re lucky Father Maridale didn’t walk in.”

  She’s right, so I say, “No kidding.”

  Well,” she continues as she toys with the pencil, “this is all very interesting, Kay. What’s going on with you and the town’s resident bad boy?”

  There’s no sense pretending, so I just spit it out and admit we’re officially dating.

  Her eyebrows go up and the pencil goes down. “Really? Like, he’s your boyfriend?”

  I nod and Missy purses her lips, seemingly losing herself in thought.