by Graysen Blue
I love the man that he is—oh, not just the way that he looks and feels, though it is totally awesome, but also the way that he looks at me, and no matter how much he tries his damnedst not to give into the attraction, I have to love the way that he is drawn to me, and he wants it to be acceptable.
But again, I love that he puts Scout first, not wanting her to get upset by us being together which tells me for sure just how great of a dad he is, and that makes me love him even more! It makes me want to have babies with him and to be the woman I know that I am with him and only him always.
I love all the things that he teaches me—not just in bed, but about taking care of my car, and about football, and the praise he’s never stingy with about what I do for him and for Scout. No matter what, he’s always made me feel as if I belong, and not as a stepdaughter, but as an equal of sorts.
I shake my head with all of the conflicting thoughts, yet I realize that I have managed to put some things in perspective, so that’s a start.
My toenails are drying when I hear a soft knock on my door.
“September? You up?”
“Yeah. Come on in.”
He comes through the door and immediately I can tell he’s concerned.
“You okay?” he asks, “You been in here for a while.”
“Just thinkin’,” I reply honestly.
“Anything you want to share?”
“Maybe something I want to ask you.”
“Go on.”
He sits down next to me on the bed, but doesn’t touch me. He’s waiting for my question.
Here goes.
“When did you decide you were going to get, uh . . . a divorce?” I blurt out knowing that I am totally in his business, which he hates.
“Early this morning,” he replies, coming closer. “After I left your room and realized that you were actually the adult in that situation and I was the fucking adolescent.”
I swallow nervously, continuing to watch him because Jesse has never, ever talked to me like this.
“September,” he breathes, “I’ve been kind of fucked-up since all that went down with your ma, and the thing is, it’s because I never really dealt with it. I just put it out of my mind and focused solely on Scout and myself. I didn’t handle it, initially anyway, as an adult, and there you were at what? Thirteen? Trying to hold us together? I mean, even though you were old enough to understand what happened—unlike Scout, you were way too young to take charge the way you did as the ‘other’ adult in the house. That should’ve been me taking charge of the situation instead of burying my anger in my work—and the suds.
“When your grandparents saw what a fucking mess I was, they took you and Scout for the summer, helping me to have some time to get my shit together. And I did get it together—somewhat anyway. Then when I picked Scout up at the end of that summer, I didn’t even consider how you might’ve felt staying on with them.”
“It was fine,” I reply.
“No—it wasn’t fine because I didn’t bother to consider the fact that maybe you needed some answers, too. But you weren’t my responsibility, baby. And I always thought maybe you hated me for just leaving you and not staying in touch. I just felt like I was in over my head with Scout—having to be mother and father to a four-year-old.”
“Jesse—I’m not—”
“Hear me out, baby, please?”
And the fact that he keeps calling me baby is making my belly tingle again.
“So, let’s fast forward to four years later, and you’re here. And you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. Yeah, I noticed,” he says with a laugh. “I couldn’t help but notice. So, I’m starting this thing with Casey shortly after you arrive and damn if you didn’t show me that you can hold your own when you go up against a conniving bitch like that—even though, you weren’t exactly innocent of some manipulation yourself there, darlin’.”
He’s smiling; I’m flushing with embarrassment because I now realize that never for one second had I fooled him.
“But I got it,” he says—”At least I thought I did, as it turns out I don’t know shit about females. Here I was thinking it was something kinda alpha—you know, like dudes get? One female encroaching on another female’s territory—a show of dominance of sorts, except I’m thinking it’s Casey’s constant hovering over us that’s making you feel threatened. I mean, damn baby, it never freakin’ occurred to me that it was anything else at the beginning. Then something changed. And it changed in me. I saw you as a woman—not a teenager; someone who takes care of us and cares about us, and then my feelings became conflicted.”
“In what way?” I dare to ask, my heart beating faster now. He’s never opened up to me like this and it rocks.
“I guess I started having feelings and urges that in my mind weren’t appropriate for you. I thought for sure you could tell.”
“What?”
And Jesse gets tongue-tied and almost embarrassed as he continues. “Yeah, that night you went out with the fucking douche bag, Austin. I mean I felt like a caged animal pacing around the house and checking the clock every ten minutes. Scout even told me I was getting on her nerves,” he laughs, not looking at me because he feels weird about it.
“You just seemed pissed is all.”
“Hell yeah, I was pissed! You lookin’ all disheveled and shit.”
I flush now, because he doesn’t know all that happened that night, and maybe someday, I will fill him in but now is not the time because I know he’s not done baring his soul yet and I so need him to do that.
“And then the night I brought your car home . . . in the driveway when you were so happy and hugging me—I mean shit, couldn’t you tell I had a fucking hard-on?”
My head snaps up to look at him; I feel my eyes widen in surprise. I shake my head ‘no’ slowly, but a smile is surfacing now. “I was clueless.”
“So was I,” he chuckles softly, “Totally clueless about the feelings that you stirred up in me—and ashamed in a way, I guess. I mean, it felt—wrong. Until that night we spent together and then . . . you know, it felt kind of right.”
“It did for me, too,” I admit.
“Then don’t leave.”
“How can I stay? I mean, how will we deal with this?”
He reaches over and takes my hands into his large ones, raising one of them to his lips and he brushes a soft kiss against my knuckles.
“It’s not impossible,” he finally says. “If we behave with some discretion and self-control, we can do it.”
And now I’m kind of pissed. “I don’t want to live that way,” I hiss. “I’m not like . . . Shayla.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me, clearly puzzled by the last part of my statement, which I hadn’t meant to verbalize.
Too late.
“What?” he asks.
“Never mind. It’s not important.”
“No—you don’t understand,” he continues, “Not forever—just until you and me figure things out for the future and are sure that this is the right thing to do . . . for everyone.”
“You mean, Scout, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’d never do anything to hurt her,” I blurt, looking over at him.
“I know that. This is just fucking complicated.”
It is complicated,” I agree, scooting closer to him now. He pulls me closer, and wraps an arm around me possessively. “How will this work?” I ask.
“Well, you need to finish out your senior year here,” he says, “And you need to think about college now. Make inquiries because you’re smart and I want you to get as much education as we can afford.”
And when he says ‘we’ my heart flutters again.
“I’m not sure you remember this, but when I met your ma, she was walking downtown. I’d seen her before, walking from the parking lot across the street down the block to that same building every day. She was going to cosmetology school. She was dead set on becoming a hairdresser. She wanted a career she said. More than anyt
hing she wanted to be independent, to not have to depend on your grandparents for support. I liked that about her.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“I happened,” he replies, a look of regret washing over his features. “I fell in love with her and the very thing that I’d first liked about her, I managed to take away. Her need to feel independent.”
“I don’t understand. How did you take that from her?”
“By dominating her, trying to make up for my own insecurities about being younger than she was I guess. She didn’t finish her training; instead she made me the center of her universe because that’s what I wanted. And she grew to resent me for that over the years. Guess I can’t blame her much.”
I’d never known any of this. “I never knew,” I say softly.
“I mean, what were your plans after high school?” he asks me, “Before you came here, I mean.”
I’m ashamed to admit that I hadn’t thought about anything but leaving Meridian.
“Getting the hell out of a small, southern town,” I reply honestly. “I know that’s not much in the way of plans, but it’s what I hoped for.”
He looks at me and I can see he’s deflated. “Well, I guess Fort Smith fits into that same category then doesn’t it?”
“What is it you want from me, Jesse?” I ask. “Tell me so that we can discuss it. I’m a bit freaked out at the moment.”
He smiles. “I want you here—with me. I want us to see how this all shakes out because it’s not insignificant, this thing that we have. I don’t want to ignore it either. But I want it to be right between us.”
“What about Scout?” I ask.
“Well, I figure we need a little bit more time before we clue her in to our relationship. She needs to feel secure in the fact that you’re here to stay, I mean if that’s what you want.”
I smile at Jesse. He’s given this so much thought.
He gives me a rare, dazzling smile. And my belly does flip-flops again.
“Now as far as the rest of . . . our relationship goes, I still think we need to practice total discretion for a while anyway. And that’s not so much for Scout, but for nosey neighbors with wagging tongues. I don’t want anyone making our love seem ugly or like some . . . uh . . . Jerry Springer shit. I don’t want anyone hassling you at school either.”
He’s very adamant about that and I totally agree and tell him so.
“How long is a while?” I ask pensively. I need to see how far ahead Jesse has made plans.
“We’ll know when the time is right,” he says with a sigh. “I’m counting on it. Is that okay if we just play it by ear?”
I nod, barely able to suppress my happiness. “It’s fine with me,” I reply.
I crawl up into his lap now, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, burying my face into his neck. I love the way he smells; I love the way he feels. I’m choked up at the moment just happy to have him hold me the way that he is.
“Then you’re mine?” he asks, and I can’t think of any better way that he could’ve put that question.
“I am,” I reply, kissing his neck wildly and wetly because of the happy tears that have escaped. “And you’re mine?” I ask, pulling back to look at him.
“You know it,” he replies, his hands now frame my face as his lips close in on mine.
Chapter 24
* * *
The Christmas holidays have come and gone for us, and my grandparents know that I’m staying put... I simply tell them that I’ve decided to stay here to graduate and that Jesse has pledged to help with my college expenses, which is the truth.
I signed-up for a couple of night classes this new semester, to help with the minimum credit entrance requirements, at the local college. I’m thinking about nursing school and I need more science credits.
It leaves little time for socializing, but it’s worth it because I’m getting closer to where I want to be.
Shayla notices my new zeal for my studies and pulls me aside at school one day in late January as I’m getting books from my locker.
“What the hell is the deal with you lately?” she asks.
“It’s kind of a surprise,” I reply, having anticipated this question from her long before now. “Guess who’s going to college after graduation right here?”
“You are?” she asks, excitedly. “Why?”
“Because I’m not leaving Fort Smith and my very best friend,” I reply, which is sort’ve the truth. “I’ve decided this feels like home now.”
“You’re so full of shit,” she remarks, “But I won’t press you.”
“Hey, what about you? What are your plans for college?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m thinking about a business degree.”
She doesn’t answer right away.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Well, uh, my plans are kind of up in the air these days,” she replies, a sick look is plastered on her normally very pretty face. “I’m pregnant.”
“What?” I nearly shriek.
“Shhh,” she hisses, “Nothing like setting off the fire alarm. I can’t talk now. You got ten minutes after school?”
I nod, feeling sick to my stomach for some reason. I mean it’s not like I’m knocked up or anything, but how in the hell did she let that happen?
I get the answer to that question after school. Shayla comes out to my car in the parking lot and gets in the passenger side.
“Thanks for waiting,” she says, “I know you need to get home to Scout, so I’ll make this quick because I need your support.”
“Go ahead, hun,” I tell her. “I’m here for you.”
“Well things with me and Pierce—they kinda felt like they were getting lukewarm right before Thanksgiving. I felt like maybe we were drifting apart—and that he wanted it that way.”
She pauses.
“So did you ask him about it?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. I decided to take a different approach,” she murmurs.
“What did you do?” I ask point-blank. I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, knowing her current condition.
“I’m so ashamed,” she cries, “It was so fucking immature and irresponsible!”
“Oh God.”
“I took a needle and poked holes in all of the condoms I keep for when we’re . . . together,” she blurts out. “I mean I never considered that would even . . . be effective,” she sobs, “But I guess it is.”
“Oh shit,” I whisper loudly. “Oh Shayla.”
“I know,” she sobs, “You don’t have to tell me how fucked-up that was—how totally desperate and despicable!”
I silently thank my mature voice for her intervention that day.
“Okay, okay. Stay calm. How far along are you, and does he know?”
“I’m five weeks and yes.”
“And?”
“And what? He’s furious and he’s ending it if I don’t get an abortion.”
Now my stomach feels even queasier thinking of the predicament she’s in. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
“What do you want?” I ask firmly.
“I want to get the abortion and I want to end it with him,” she says plainly. I can tell she’s made up her mind. There’s no room for debate, not that I would try because at the end of the day, the choice is hers to make.
“I mean what a naïve fool I’ve been! I’m not ready for a child, nor do I need a constant reminder of my lapse in judgment.”
“Shayla—have you considered maybe having the baby and then giving it up for adoption?”
“Yeah,” she says with a sigh, “For about ten minutes.”
“It’s just a big step,” I continue.
“You think I don’t know that?” she snaps.
I keep my mouth shut, waiting for her to say what she needs from me.
“Listen,” she starts, “Here’s the issue. In this state, at my age, I need parental permission to . . . terminate the pregnancy. My parents will not only kill me, b
ut they’re gonna want to know who I’ve been messing with. What am I supposed to do? I mean that’s kind of the same reason I felt I couldn’t do the adoption thing—same problem.”
I now totally understand her dilemma. “But you’re turning eighteen in March,” I remind her.
“Yeah, but not until March 18th, I’ll be at twelve weeks then which is beyond the legal limit in this state.”
“Listen Shayla,” I reply checking the time. “I’ve got to get home for Scout. Can you please try not to worry about this? Give me some time to think about your . . . problem and maybe I can come up with something,” I reply, though I don’t know that is going to happen.
“Okay,” she says, blinking back more tears. She gives me a quick hug. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”
Later at home, after dinner I’m still overwhelmed with Shayla’s problem. I’m laying across my bed, pecking away on the laptop that Jesse bought me for Christmas, ‘googling’ the abortion laws of Arkansas and neighboring states to see if there’s any relief for Shayla. It doesn’t sit well with me, but I did commit to trying to find a solution for her, whether I personally agree with it or not. While I personally know that I could never take that route myself, I truly believe that it’s a woman’s choice, not the government’s to make.
I’m in the middle of checking Oklahoma’s law when Scout hollers out to me from the bathroom, asking for a towel. I’d forgotten to take the load of towels out of the dryer earlier.
“Hang tight,” I yell out to her as I head down the hallway towards the living room and kitchen. The laundry room is off of the kitchen.
As I pull the load of towels out of the dryer and set them on top, Jesse surprises me from behind, his lips grazing the back of my neck.
“Oh Jesus,” I screech, caught totally off-guard. I’m still deep in thought about Shayla’s dilemma, and I’ve been distracted all evening. I guess he’s noticed.
