When September Ends (12 page)

Her words come back to me now.
“Don’t make me lie to you, Jesse.”

No fucking problem.

“Never mind,” is all that comes from my mouth as I turn and leave him standing there alive.

It’s over.

So fucking over.

Five weeks later

I’ve survived these past few weeks by keeping myself so busy with studying and pulling extra work shifts that I don’t have time to dwell on anything.

It’s so much easier that way.

Oh, I know that Jesse had come by my apartment. As soon as I returned home that day, Brandon filled me in. I admitted to him the story I had given Jesse and apologized for putting him in the middle. Secretly, I thanked God that Jesse hadn’t killed him that day.

Brandon shrugged it off, telling me that maybe it was the right thing to do in light of the complications, and throwing in the fact that he would never have believed any family could have been more fucked up than his until he met me.

Scout isn’t taking my calls. I mailed her a birthday card with money, and she had promptly mailed it back. That hurt. But there isn’t much I can do about it right now. Maybe ever.

I’ve talked to Gram on the phone once a week since that day at Jesse’s. That’s about the only thing I’ve done right.

Grandpa was released from the VA hospital two weeks ago. He’s now in a step down facility in Memphis, and has started rehab. He goes to physical therapy and speech therapy twice a day. Gram said that he had a series of ‘mini-strokes’ and then a major one. I can tell she’s worried that he will never be the same again.

I’m on the phone with her now. I called because I need her so badly. I need a Mama and she’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to one.

“When will you be back in Mississippi?” I ask after getting the latest update from her on Grandpa.

“Well, honey, they haven’t released him yet. It could be a while longer. He’s a stubborn old mule, and he’s been balking at the physical therapy. But he has to learn to get around on his own again. I keep nagging him about that in hopes he’ll try harder. I’m too old to handle him by myself. He’s a big man, you know?”

I do know. And it tears me up inside thinking of my big, strong grandfather being reduced to someone dependent upon another to do anything.

“If you’re back home by Christmas, maybe I can come there and help you with him,” I offer. “Winter break starts December 12th and I don’t go back until January 12th.”

“We’ll see, September. Right now we’re just taking one day at a time. Have you talked to your mother?”

Here it is again.

“No.”

“Scout?”

“No.”

“Jesse?”

“No Gram, I told you, they’re all upset with me because I don’t visit anymore,” I lie. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I see. Well, your Mama calls once a week. Seems like she’s adjusted well to being there. I’ve talked to Scout, too. I guess things will work out or they won’t, right?”

“That’s right, Gram. Well, listen, Brandon and I are going to grab a pizza so I have to go. Will you call me when you know more about when Grandpa can come home?”

“Sure will, honey, and listen, you tell your fella that I want to meet him sometime soon.”

“I will, Gram. Love you.”

I end the call and roll over on my side. I’ve been napping in the late afternoons on the days I don’t work at Rudy’s. I want to sleep now so that I don’t have to think about things.

Like the lies I’ve been telling Gram. That everything is fine and dandy, when clearly it is not. And all about my boyfriend, Brandon, who clearly is not.

Or the denial that I’m in because it’s easier to not face something than have to deal with it as the adult that I’m supposed to be.

And I can’t forget Brandon, who has been nothing but a friend to me since I moved here, but I’ve made him into this faux boyfriend because of my cowardice.

I pull my legs up, resting my chin on my knees as I slowly allow the tears to spill, and rock myself into a troubled sleep.

Thanksgiving

“Come on Dad,” Scout prods me as I’m sitting in front of the television watching football, “Our Thanksgiving dinner is on the table. I made the dressing,” she says, beaming.

My mind immediately drifts back to the previous Thanksgiving when September had taught Scout how to make the dressing. I shake the memory out of my head, the same way I have for the last five weeks since I last saw her.

And then later, saw
him
.

“I’m coming, darlin’,” I say, forcing a smile. “How about you grab me another beer?”

She frowns, taking the empty Bud bottle from me, but she doesn’t say anything more as she heads to the kitchen. I pull myself to my feet, stretch, and immediately rub my jaw stubble. I’ve been off work since yesterday and haven’t done much but watch television and avoid Sarah.

Yes, avoid.

Something is up and I’m on edge.

It started with this friendship she and Casey seem to have struck up with one another a few weeks back. Actually, it seemed to have developed a couple of weeks after my blow up with September in the garage.

Casey had asked Sarah if she wanted to go to the mall with her and the girls, which, at the time, didn’t seem like a big deal. I had asked Sarah if she needed any money because, to be honest, she’d been doing all of the housework and I was beginning to feel as though I was a tool for not compensating her somehow.

“No, I think I’m fine, Jesse,” she replied hesitantly. “Mama gave me a hundred dollars before I left. I know you and Scout have birthdays coming up so I can buy you both something with that.”

I officially felt like an asshole after that. Christ, she’d been here for damn near a month, cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry and I hadn’t considered she might need money for her incidentals. I handed her a hundred dollars, despite her protesting, and told her to use that for Scout’s present and it wasn’t necessary for her to buy me anything.

She had seemed a bit hurt, but by the time they all returned from the mall, her face was alive with excitement. She was almost childlike again showing me all of the great deals she had gotten.

“Look, Jesse,” she said, pulling a pair of blue jeans out of a bag. “Scout and I got the same jeans! What are they called again, Scout?”

“Skinny jeans,” Scout said with a grin. “She really does need jeans, Dad,” she finished, as if I were the one that had selected the Bible Belt clothes Sarah had been wearing.

“And look at this top,” she said, pulling a trendy V-neck sweater from one of the Dillard’s bags. “Casey says that red is my color.”

I eyed all of the shopping bags she’d carried in, and noticed Scout had a couple as well. “You sure did get a lot for only having a couple hundred bucks,” I commented.

“I got 25% off of everything because I opened a charge account!”

“What?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Scout piped up, repeating the same thing as if that made it more palatable to me. “Everything was on sale plus she got 25% off. Casey helped her to get a charge card. It only took a couple of minutes. They wouldn’t let me open one though,” she finished, clearly irritated. “I’m not eighteen yet.”

“Whoa—hold up, ladies,” I interrupted causing the room to get suddenly silent. “In the first place, Sarah, you don’t have a job. Did they know that?”

She squirmed nervously before answering, “Yeah, well since we’re married, they just pulled up your account for the information and then they said I could have one of my own.”

I had been livid, and it was all I could do not to haul my ass next door and call Casey out on this bullshit.

“Did I do something wrong, Jesse?”

“Hey, as long as you can pay the bill when it comes, it’s all good.”

I had left the room for the solace of my bedroom, not wanting to be on the receiving end of Scout’s dirty looks since it appeared that I had sucked the fun out of their shopping excursion.

But that had only been the beginning I would learn. Sarah and Casey soon became thick as thieves, and while I didn’t begrudge the fact that Sarah had every right to choose her own friends, I knew that Casey had an agenda and I wasn’t sure how long it would be before it surfaced.

Sarah spent time over there, allowing Casey to show her how to apply make-up, do her hair differently—even putting highlights in it and cutting it in more of a blunt style.

I’m shaken from my thoughts when Sarah comes into the room.

“Jesse, we’re waiting on you for dinner.”

“Oh, sorry. Daydreaming I guess.”

The table is set with the good china again, and a veritable feast awaits me, but I grab the cold beer that Scout has placed in front of me and guzzle half of it.

Fuck Thanksgiving.

Once dinner is over, I offer to help clean up, mainly because I know I’ve been an ass lately, but Sarah quickly says that she and Scout will handle it.

I go to my room and pull clean clothes from my dresser, and hit the shower. I make a mental note to make sure that Sarah and Scout call Ruth to check on Henry’s condition. The sooner Sarah is back where she belongs, the better.

Black Friday

It’s the day after Thanksgiving, the biggest shopping day of the year, and I’m out among the crazies, getting what is purported to be the best deals of the holiday season.

Thankfully, Brandon was up for the trip when I promised him I would select gifts for his mother and sister since he obviously didn’t know shit about what females wanted.

“Let’s make this quick,” he says as we head into Dillard’s with his list. “Do you have the coupons from the paper?”

“Yes, Brandon,” I say with an eye roll. “Just don’t get separated from me since you drove.”

“Got it. What’s first?”

“Let’s hit Juniors. Your sister wants a lace shirt and skinny jeans. I hope your mother has these sizes right—how old is your sister?”

“Seventeen,” he says, going on twenty-five.”

I’m browsing through stacks of dark jeans that are on sale when I spot
them
.

My stomach lurches, and I feel the nausea I’ve come to accept as part of my life now. Casey and Mama are over at another display, holding up some Tommy Hilfiger sweaters and pressing them against their chests to see how they look.

My mother looks so different than when I last saw her. Her hair has been cut into a shoulder-length cut, and has been highlighted to a shiny glow. She’s wearing make-up, and even her wardrobe has changed from frumpy to trendy chic. No doubt Casey has been grooming her, but for what?

Just as I start to look away, I see Scout and Catherine in my peripheral vision. They are playing hide-and-seek in the clothes racks, giggling and tagging one another. I can’t take my eyes from Scout. She looks so happy. Maybe the happiest I’ve ever seen her.

“Hey, September—hello? Did you hear me?”

I pull my gaze from them realizing that Brandon has asked me something a couple of times, but I’ve ignored him. “Sorry, what?”

“I said, what about these?” he asks, holding up some wine-colored skinny jeans.

“No, black,” I say, grabbing a pair and checking to see if it’s the correct size. “Come on, the lacy tops are over here. Then we’re done.”

He tags behind me as I head across the aisle to where the tops and blouses are, not far from where Mama, Casey and the kids are still lingering. Hopefully, as crowded as it is, they won’t see me.