When September Ends (5 page)

“Why would you want that for her?” I ask, a hint of disbelief sprinkled in my voice. I mean, seriously, it sounds as if Sarah is a better person and in a better place than Libby ever was.

“We don’t want that for us. We want that for you. Oh, I realize that Scout was too young to really remember all of that. No, the person that Scout met as her mother a few weeks back is not the same one that took off on y’all. Scout has no axe to grind with Sarah, because she doesn’t remember Libby. But you do. And, honey, she owes you an explanation. That’s all I meant.”

“How is Scout?” I ask softly. “I really miss her.”

“She was fine while she was here with us. Took to Sarah, they talked, played some board games and cards. Even put a puzzle together. She wanted Sarah to go back with them. I reckon you didn’t know that being that you’d already left.”

Her words are like a knife that’s just been shoved into my heart. “No, Gram. I didn’t know that.”

Pause.

“Uh…did she go back with them?” I ask quietly, bracing myself for what I knew was the main reason I had left.

“No. Jesse tried to explain as best he could that it just wasn’t in her best interest. It broke Sarah’s heart. I mean, sure, he was a stranger to her, but I believe she understood when we had explained he was her husband, and Scout her daughter, that it was the truth. I think maybe she just presumed they’d come to take her home. I don’t know,” she continues, sounding disillusioned, “maybe we mishandled the whole damn thing.”

“How is she now?” I ask tentatively.

“Oh, she’s settled down a bit. Scout calls her every now and then, and that seems to perk her up quite a bit.”

“Well, it’s going to take some time for me, Gram.”

“I understand, honey. But you will keep in touch with us?”

“Sure, Gram. You know I will.”

This is the only day during the week that I’m done with classes and don’t pull a shift at Rudy’s. My curiosity, along with the overflowing guilt I’ve been harboring for leaving Scout have become too much for me to bear. I’m taking a drive.

Destination: Juniper Drive. Jesse and Scout’s home.

My former home.

Yeah, I know that Jesse won’t let Scout stay at home by herself yet, but I recall that before I came here last summer, Casey mentioned that Jesse had hired someone to be at the house to keep Scout until he got home from work. I’m counting on the fact that he’s done the same now. I mean, we never discussed the arrangements once I was scheduled to start college.

Add that to the hundreds of other things we should’ve discussed but hadn’t.

I park around the corner from their house. As I creep around the side of the house situated across the street and over one to the east, I have a perfect view of the driveway.

Good. Jesse’s truck is gone. Just as I start to straighten from my crouched position behind Mrs. Terhune’s oleander bushes, I see Casey’s car round the corner and pull up into the shared driveway between the two houses.

I crouch back down, waiting for her to go into the house so I don’t have to deal with that bitch’s nastiness.

I feel my jaw drop as I see both Catherine and Scout get out of Casey’s car. I watch as Casey opens her trunk and pulls out a couple sacks of groceries. “Come help me girls,” she calls out to them. “If we’re all going to enjoy this chili this evening, then we’re all going to help carry these bags in, hear?”

Catherine and Scout each grab a sack before she shuts the trunk, and they follow her inside. The reality of what’s going down on Juniper Drive hits me like a bolt of electricity.

I spring from my crouching position and head around the house to the side street where I parked my car just a few minutes ago.

Fuck me.

Fuck Casey.

Fuck Jesse.

Work’s been a bitch since my return and I’m pretty sure it’s a direct result of my shitty mood. My crew is tiptoeing around me, reluctant to ask questions when they need to and I haven’t missed some of their whispered comments to one another.

“Hope he fuckin’ gets laid soon. Sick of being on the receiving end of Jesse’s lousy mood,” Clint had said to Riley at the catering truck at break time this morning.

Both of them had clammed up when they saw me come around the corner of the truck, grabbing a bottled water and an apple.

Fuck, can I blame them?

No. I have been a total prick and it’s not about missing the sex. Not at all. It’s about missing September, and knowing that I fucked up in a major way.

I guzzle my water. The early fall weather is still warm and humid, and my mind floats to September.

Fuck. Her birthday is the day after tomorrow. She’s going to be nineteen, and for the next two months that means we’re eleven years apart instead of twelve.

Big fuckin’ deal.

I’m not one to sit in judgment about age differences, provided both parties are legal that is. Hell, Libby was (and is) seven years older than me, and while I know her parents had had some misgivings about the age difference, at the end of the day, I had been the one bearing the responsibility for raising our daughter.

The bottom line is that September is legal, and she was from the first time I ever touched her sexually. She is not blood kin to me, and the fact is I didn’t even raise her because once Libby had vacated our lives, I’d sent her off to live with her grandparents. Those were actually her formative years.

So, why am I thinking all of these thoughts now, when it’s too fucking late to change what’s already happened? Why in the hell did it take September leaving me to see that, technically, we’d done nothing wrong? Had I really been afraid that Scout wouldn’t have approved?

Gimme a fucking break.

Scout loves September unconditionally—same way that she loves me. She would’ve had no issues had I explained the situation to her instead of burying my head up my ass.

And then I consider the possibility that, in some remote place in my conscious, maybe I’m just not sure that I am what is best for September. I mean, at eighteen, I had been sure that I loved Libby and that we’d be together forever. How had that worked out?

I can sit here and blame it all on Libby, but that’s simply not the reality of it. Everyone knows that it takes two to make, and two to break and, as cliché as it sounds, it
is
the truth. I’ve come to learn that sometimes—many times—it’s simply a matter of people not knowing what they want at eighteen or nineteen or twenty-five. Fuck, eventually they may outgrow one another, but is that what had made me so indecisive with September?

One thing I know is that I love her and I need to see her at least to talk things out. That’s the mature way of dealing with the obstacles, and I should’ve been the one to initiate such a discussion.

After my shift is over, I head home knowing that Scout will ask me the same questions she asks nearly every damn day: “Did you find September, Dad?”

I pull the mail from the box as I go into the house. I usually call and let Casey know that I’m home and to send Scout over. The first couple of times I went to her door to pick her up, I played hell getting away from her.

It’s always something—have some freshly baked cookies; or I made too much lasagna, let me send some home with you; and I’m helping Scout with her homework. Any excuse for me to linger, which fucking makes me feel uncomfortable.

I’m not about to head down that path again.

As I leaf through the stack of envelopes, my own handwriting catches my eye.

There it is.

I had mailed an envelope to September at this address, hoping that she had put a change of address through. I had marked the front “Do Not Forward.” The envelope had come back to me, with the yellow sticker on it with her forwarding address.

Gotcha.

I recognize the address as being over near campus—an older neighborhood with doubles and duplexes, mostly renting to college kids or faculty.

I call Casey.

“Hey, Jesse,” she says, using her sultry voice.

“Hey, Casey—listen, I have an errand to run, can you keep Scout a while longer?”

“Sure thing. No worries. I made some fried chicken so she can stay and eat with us, how’s that?”

“I really appreciate it. I won’t be too long.”

I grab a quick shower and change. As I head over to the address on the forwarding sticker, I feel nervous. I don’t even have a plan in my head. I mean, what the hell do I say to her when I see her?

My fucking palms are sweating and if the rearview mirror in my truck hadn’t shown me different, I would’ve sworn I was a sixteen-year-old pimply-faced kid going on his first date.

Fuck me.

I’m moving slowly down the tree-lined street, checking the house numbers. From behind, some idiot is honking at me, and as I glance in the mirror, I catch the one finger salute he’s giving me.

Bite me, asshole.

As I cruise on into the next block, I spot her red Honda parked at the curb at the second house from the corner.

It looks to be a four-unit apartment, with interior entrances.

Shit.

I turn the corner onto the side street, and then find a parking lot to pull into. Hell if I don’t feel like a creepy stalker at the moment.

It’s a pleasant early fall day. Still warm and sunny, but a hint of a breeze rustles the leaves on the maple trees that line the street. As I approach the corner on foot, the sound of her voice stops me in my tracks.

I back up a couple of steps, and then peer around the concrete half wall that borders the property on the corner.

There she is.

With a guy.

She’s laughing as she follows him to his bike that is parked diagonally at the curb. Right in front of her car.

What the fuck is this?

The guy is tall and well built. Kind of athletic maybe. He’s wearing dark shades and I notice his wavy brown hair is tousled. Maybe from riding his motorcycle over, or maybe from something else altogether.

I’ll kill the motherfucker!

He grabs the helmet that’s perched on the sissy bar in the back, and helps September fasten it under her chin. He wears no helmet.

How fucking macho.

He climbs onto his bike, and she’s right behind him. Fuck this. Her pussy is within six inches of his backside.

Unacceptable.

With a swift kick downward, his bike roars to life. September wraps her arms around his waist, and leans in against him. Her tits have to be brushing his back, and I wonder if her nipples have grown rigid and if he can feel them through the cotton tee he’s wearing.

Son of a fucking bitch.

He pulls out and heads north. I go back to my truck and fire it up quickly, pulling out and making a swift right turn to see where the fuck he’s taking my girl.

I manage to stay a few cars behind them. Dude drives like a maniac on that bike.

I feel the hard exhale as he heads to the edge of the city. He takes Route 64 headed west. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out they’re going in to Oklahoma. Probably to one of the casinos on the res.

Fuck that shit.

I follow behind because I’m not cool with September getting into that scene. Maybe she is of legal age to be there, but she doesn’t understand the criminal element tied to those places.