Sins of September (13 page)

“Casey, Scout just came home in tears because for some reason you don’t want her around Catherine anymore, and you won’t tell her why.”

“I believe that I told her to ask you.”

“Okay and she did and I’m clueless.”

“You’re pure trash,” she snaps, “and I’m sure that comes from the maternal side of the family which Scout shares. I don’t want my daughter associating with
trash
!”

Hell no she didn’t just say that!

I take a deep breath, knowing that for right this minute, I need to be the adult here. But it’s hard. It’s really fucking hard. “I don’t know where all this is coming from, Casey, but whatever your reasons are for lashing out—”

She interrupts me with a twisted, bitter laugh. “You conniving piece of trash. You set me up and I finally figured out why. Maybe you need to keep your goddam blinds closed in the kitchen when you and step-daddy get to playing hide the wienie on your kitchen table!”

I can feel my eyes widen and jaw drop with her accusatory words. Before I fully process what she’s said, she slams back inside of her house.

She fucking saw us. She was watching through the window. Touché bitch.

I know inside that Casey isn’t done with us. Her bitterness is apparent, and the rage that she feels against me and probably Jesse too, has not begun to cool and temper yet.

I hurry back home; the cool end-of-October air is sobering even though I’m not drunk. I’m being forced into a reality check that I don’t want.

I don’t want to think about the harm she might cause for Scout.

Once inside, I look into Scout’s blue eyes and I know that she’s waiting for me to explain it to her. She’s hopeful that her older sister has gone over to Catherine’s and somehow made everything all right again for her.

That’s what big sisters are supposed to do.

Not carry on the way that I’ve been carrying on with Jesse.

Her daddy.

The only stable person that she’s had in her life since our mother took off four years ago.

“Scout,” I say, “I guess Casey doesn’t feel that we’re good enough people to associate with, but it’s mostly me, not you.”

She knits a brow, clearly confused. How do I explain it to her without telling her the truth?

“You see, Casey feels like maybe my being here, and living here like I have been, has kept her from being your daddy’s real good friend.”

“But that’s stupid,” she replies. “You’re my sister. You’re not Dad’s girlfriend.”

“I’m your half-sister, Scout. You realize that your daddy—Jesse, well that he’s not my dad, don’t you?”

“Well yes,” she says giving me an eye roll. “I know
that
.”

I have no clue where the hell I was going with this, but for now I feel that’s all she needs to know. “So anyway,” I continue, “If she wants to be stupid like that then you know what? It’s their loss because you are one great kid.”

“But I miss Catherine,” she whines, clearly not getting the outcome she hoped to get.

“You still have Amber as a friend, right?”

She nods.

“And who knows? Maybe all this stupid stuff of Casey’s will blow over and things will be back to the way they were before. How about you just give it some time, okay?”

“Okay,” she acquiesces, “Thanks for trying.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help,” I call after her.

And my heart just breaks a little bit. This is my fault. I’ve no one else to blame except for me. My selfishness and my utter greed to have Jesse have started to alienate Scout from kids her own age. It won’t be long before she hears the trash talk. Kids will overhear their parents because I have no doubts Casey will spread her poison. Then what do I say?

I dig my cell phone out of my purse and pull up the directory, find the name and hit “call.”

She answers on the third ring.

“Hey Gram,” I greet, trying my damnedest to put a cheerful tone in my voice, “How have you and Grandpa been doing?”

November is both Scout and Jesse’s birthday month. Scout’s is November 7th and Jesse’s is November 10th so I’m planning a dual celebration for November 8th. It’s a Saturday and I want this year’s birthdays to be extra special for the both of them.

It’s my first November with them since living here.

It’s my last November here.

I’ve been keeping in touch with Gram quite a bit; laying the groundwork for my return to Meridian without making it look like something’s changed or some sort of drama has unfolded.

I tell her how much I still miss her and Grandpa, and that I still get pangs of homesickness for Meridian.

“Well honey, I’m sure Jesse will understand if you wanna come back home.”

“He’s got a lot to deal with right now, Gram. He needs my help with Scout. Maybe before Christmas it will be better. That way, I can leave between semesters, come back during winter break.”

“Whatever you think is best, honey. We sure do miss you. That private investigator hasn’t found out a damn thing about your Mama. I’m starting to think Jesse and us are just throwing good money after bad.”

I was taken aback by this information. “What investigator?” I ask.

“Oh, didn’t he tell you? We all pooled our money together a couple of months back and hired some investigator out of Nogales, Arizona. Hoping he could dig up information on Libby with that passport the Mexican authorities had, along with the personal effects of whoever it was in the jail down there. He’s trying to locate that Martinez fellow she supposedly married. So far—we got zip.”

“No—I didn’t know,” I reply, feeling duped. Not that Jesse owes me any explanation for what he does with his money, but still, she is my mother.

And his
wife.

“Well, he probably didn’t want you getting your hopes up in case this guy came up dry, which kinda looks like what’s happening. But we’ll see. He’s got a few more weeks on our payroll and if nothing turns up—well, we’ll cross that bridge then I reckon.”

“Okay Gram, well I’ll call you next week. Love you and please tell Grandpa I love him.”

“Will do, honey.”

It’s Thursday evening and Shayla picks me up to go shopping at the mall. I’ve told her about the birthday party I’ve planned for Jesse and Scout on Saturday, and since she is practically a professional shopper, I need her expertise. Not so much where Scout is concerned, because she’s turning nine and that’s easy.

Jesse is a different story.

He’s turning thirty, and I have no clue what to buy for a man turning thirty. I’ve tried to ask him in a roundabout way what he likes as far as clothes, or sports, or whatever, but his answers are usually grumbled.

I’ve not told him about the situation with Casey and what transpired. I don’t want him mad—or worse yet, worried. So far, nothing more has been said and it’s been a week and a half since the incident. Scout seems to have gotten over it once Halloween came and went. Now Amber is officially her new best friend.

“So what’s on your list for Scout?” Shayla asks as we head into the toy store.

“Barbie Dream House and the Ty set of My Little Pony.”

“Wow—are you independently wealthy?” she asks, giving me a wicked grin.

“Not at all; it’s the money I earned this past summer from Jesse, plus he pays me a weekly allowance now for watching Scout and stuff.”

“Yeah? Well it’s the ‘and stuff’ that I’m interested in hearing more about.”

I turn abruptly, looking her in the face. “What?”

“Hey, it’s all good,” she replies, “He’s a fucking hottie. I’m not getting judgy on you at all.”

I grab her arm and yank her out of the store with me until I find a quiet bench over in the corner of the mall to sit. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Damn that hurts,” she says, rubbing her arm. “I didn’t mean anything by it, just you know, both me and Missy—well we’ve noticed how possessive he is of you, that’s all.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I’m clearly perplexed because since the start of the school year, Shayla and Missy might’ve been around Jesse for all of fifteen minutes total. It’s just a thing with them stopping over to pick me up and me not quite being ready. So they make small talk with him or Scout. They’ve not spent the night or any length of time for that matter at our house to even see us interact.

“Come on, babe. Okay—like the way that whenever you’re invited to a party he always says ‘no’ and you’re all-fine with it? And what about when Missy had that blind date arranged for you and you were gonna double with them and at the last minute he tells you he doesn’t want you going because he needs you to watch your little sister because he’s held up at work?”

“He
was
held up at work,” I argue, “And the reason he’s said no to my going to those parties is because he’s asked me if adults would be there to supervise.”

“And you told him the
truth
?” she asks, her eyes widening in horror.

“I didn’t always,” I admit, “But I try my best to these days.”

“And then there’s the way that he looks at you,” she continues, her face now solemn and serious.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Missy and I
both
have commented to each other about it. When you come out all ready to leave with us it’s like he’s inspecting you—taking inventory, you know? It’s kind of possessive, and truthfully, it’s kind of hot.”

I shake my head, putting my hands up to my face. I know that I’m supposed to keep this thing with Jesse private, and that he specifically told me not to confide to my girlfriends, but my heart is so heavy these days that I want—no I
need
to talk to someone about it. I need to know that I’m not the trash that Casey said I was; I’m not my mother’s daughter.

The tears start flowing from somewhere. And it surprises me.

Shayla sits down right beside me and immediately wraps her arms around me. “Oh hell,” she says gently, “I didn’t mean to upset you, girl. I swear, Missy and I are just plain stupid idiots for thinking that shit about you! Please don’t be mad at us, please?”

I look over at her, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I love him, Shayla. I fucking love him.” And then I dissolve even further, sobs overtaking me as she pulls me against her, my face buried in her long, blonde hair and she tells me to shush, that everything is going to be fine.

We leave the mall and head back to her car so that we can talk in privacy. Between tears and sobs I tell her everything—every last thing starting with my mother and ending with last night when he came into my room again and we made love. And how sweet it is when we do. It feels good to unburden myself with it. And Shayla is a good listener.

Afterwards, she doesn’t lecture me or voice her opinion or offer advice. All she says is that she’s here for me, and that it will go no further and I trust her because at this point in my life, I need to trust someone.

We go back inside the mall and I complete my shopping. She helps me pick out clothes for Jesse, telling me how hot he’ll look in this or how sexy he’ll look in that and then it dawns on me that Shayla doesn’t think that there’s anything wrong or trashy about what Jesse and I are doing. Because if she did, I know her well enough to know that she wouldn’t have taken the time or care to select stuff that is in fact, perfect for my Jesse.

Scout has invited Amber for a sleepover on Saturday night after the intimate birthday party I’ve thrown for her and Jesse. I make homemade lasagna; bake and decorated a vanilla cake, and of course, the pile of presents I have for each of them.

Scout and Amber trot off to her room to play with the new Barbie Dream House and Jesse helps me clean up in the kitchen.

“You know, you went to an awful lot of expense with all these gifts, September. I thought maybe you were saving money for college next year.”

I look over at him as I’m laying a sheet of plastic wrap over the glass pan of leftover lasagna before I put it in the fridge. “Don’t you like your sweaters and jacket?” I ask. “You don’t buy a lot of casual clothes for yourself, Jesse.”

“It’s not that, baby,” he murmurs, “I love everything you bought me, it’s just that I think you need to be saving for college, that’s all.”

And my heart is doing a pitter-pat because he’s called me ‘baby’—and he never does that unless we’re in the bedroom. My stomach feels all fluttery inside.