Chapter 35 Ivan #2
Jay is quiet for a moment, thinking. "There's not much to tell. My life isn't exactly exciting."
"There's always something. Tell me about Mick. You've mentioned him but I want to know more. What's he really like?"
"Mick is..." He searches for the words, his face thoughtful.
"Gruff. Doesn't talk much, doesn't waste words on things that don't matter.
But he shows up. Every single day, he shows up at that shop.
And when he does give advice, when he actually says something instead of just grunting, it's always worth listening to. "
"What kind of advice does he give you?"
"Stuff like, 'A clean engine runs better than a dirty one, and the same goes for your life.'" Jay almost smiles, a soft curve of his lips. "He's not wrong. Everything he says is simple but it sticks with you."
"What about the diner? Tell me about Betty."
"Betty's been at that diner forever. Since before I moved to town, probably since before I was born.
She knows everyone's order before they sit down.
She calls everyone 'hon' even the truckers who come in looking rough.
She refills your coffee without asking, knows when you need space and when you need to talk.
She's the closest thing I have to a friend here.
Besides Mick. Maybe the only two people who would notice if I disappeared. "
"That's something. That's more than nothing."
"It's not much. It's barely anything."
"It's more than you think." I settle back against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "What else? What about after work? What do you do with your time?"
"Come back here mostly. Watch whatever's on TV.
Try to sleep but usually just lie awake staring at the ceiling.
Count the tiles. Try not to think too much.
There's this stray cat that shows up sometimes.
Behind the motel, near the dumpster where they keep the trash.
Skinny orange thing, missing part of its ear like it got in a fight and lost. I started leaving food out for it a few weeks ago. "
"You feed a stray cat?" I can't help but smile.
"Don't make it into a thing. It's not a big deal."
"I'm not making it into anything. I just think it's sweet, Jay. That's sweet."
"It's not sweet. It's just a cat that needed food and I had extra sometimes."
"A cat you feed regularly. Because you're a good person who sees something suffering and tries to help even when you're suffering yourself."
He doesn't respond to that. But his arm tightens around me, holds me closer.
When I can't put off leaving any longer, I force myself to get up from the bed even though every part of me wants to stay.
"I need to go. I don't want to, but I have to."
Jay sighs and nods. He doesn't argue, doesn't ask me to stay longer even though I can see in his eyes that he wants to. He knows I have people counting on me. He understands responsibility.
We walk out to my truck together. I throw my bag in the back seat and turn to face him. He's standing there with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched forward, looking like he's bracing for a blow. Like he's expecting this to hurt.
"Hey." I step closer, pull his hands out of his pockets, hold them in mine. "This isn't goodbye. Do you understand me? This is see you later."
"I know. Logically, I know that."
"I'll call you tonight. Nine o'clock exactly. You can set your watch by it. And next weekend, I'll be back. Friday night, as soon as I get off work. I'll drive straight here."
"I know all of that. It doesn't make it any easier to watch you leave."
I pull him into a hug, wrapping my arms around him tight, crushing him against my chest. He buries his face in my shoulder, and I feel him shaking. Not crying, just trembling. Fighting to hold it together, fighting not to fall apart.
"You're going to be okay," I tell him fiercely, meaning it. "You're going to call about the arrest, and you're going to figure out what you're dealing with. And you're going to handle it. Because that's what you do. You survive. You handle things. You're the strongest person I know."
"What if I can't this time? What if I fail?"
"You won't. And if you need help, I'm a phone call away. Any time, day or night." I pull back enough to look at his face, to make him meet my eyes. "Don't forget that. No matter what time it is, no matter what's going on, no matter how bad you think it is, you call me. Promise me."
He nods, his eyes red but dry. He's holding on. "I promise."
I kiss him then. Right there in the parking lot, in broad daylight, where anyone walking by could see. I don't care. I kiss him deep and slow and thorough, trying to pour everything I feel into it. Every promise, every hope, every ounce of faith I have in him.
When I pull back, he's almost smiling, and it feels like a victory.
"Go," he says. "Before I drag you back inside and make you miss bedtime stories and math homework."
"That's not the threat you think it is. That sounds amazing right now."
"Go." He pushes me gently toward the truck, his hands on my chest. "Diana needs help with her math test. Caleb needs his dinosaur encyclopedia. Go be the person they need you to be."
I climb into the truck, start the engine. The sound feels too loud, too final. Jay steps back, giving me room to pull out. I roll down the window, needing one more moment.
"Nine o'clock," I say.
"Nine o'clock. I'll be waiting."
I pull out of the parking lot slowly, not wanting to go, not ready to leave. In my rearview mirror, I watch him standing there, watching me go, his hands back in his pockets. He doesn't move, doesn't turn away, just stands there watching until I turn the corner and he disappears from sight.
The drive home feels endless.
I spend most of it thinking. About Jay, about the arrest, about everything he said this morning.
He's right that Rosalyn would see him as a risk if he has an assault conviction.
He's right that I can't just bring him into her house with foster kids there, not without clearing that record first. He's right about all of it, and I hate that reality is so much more complicated than I wanted it to be.
But I can't just leave him to deal with this alone.
At a rest stop about an hour from home, I pull out my phone and start searching while I eat a terrible sandwich from the vending machine. Assault charges in Georgia. First offense penalties. How to get charges dropped or reduced. Expungement eligibility. Public defenders versus private attorneys.
The results aren't encouraging. Assault charges can stick for years, decades even.
They show up on background checks forever if they result in a conviction.
Even if Jay avoids jail time, even if he just pays fines and does community service, that record could follow him.
Could keep him from getting jobs, apartments, opportunities.
Could make it impossible for him to ever be around Rosalyn's house.
He needs a lawyer. A real one. Someone who knows how to navigate the system, who knows the prosecutors and judges, who can get charges reduced or dismissed, who can maybe work out a deal that keeps this off his permanent record entirely.
Lawyers cost money. Money Jay doesn't have.
I think about my savings account. About the money I've built up, dollar by dollar, overtime shift by overtime shift. I always told myself it was for our future if and when I finally found him.
Maybe this is what that looks like. Not an apartment deposit or furniture. Maybe it's a lawyer. Maybe it's freedom from a mistake that could haunt him for the rest of his life. Maybe it's buying him a clean slate so we actually have a future to build together.
I put the phone away and keep driving, my mind already making plans.
It's evening when I pull into the driveway. The house is lit up, warm light spilling from every window. I can see movement inside through the curtains, shadows passing back and forth. The kids are probably finishing dinner, getting ready for the evening routine that I'm usually part of.
I grab my bag and head inside, steeling myself for the noise and chaos.
"Ivan!" Caleb barrels into me before I'm even fully through the door, wrapping his arms around my legs with enough force to nearly knock me over. "You're back! You're back! I missed you!"
"Hey, buddy." I ruffle his hair. "Miss me that much?"
"Rosalyn said you were visiting a friend. Was it fun? What did you do? Did you have adventures?"
"Yeah, it was really fun. We went for a ride on a motorcycle and had a picnic."
"Cool! I want to ride a motorcycle!"
Diana appears in the hallway, her math textbook tucked under her arm, looking stressed. "You promised you'd help me study. The test is tomorrow morning first thing and I'm not ready."
"I remember. Give me ten minutes to put my stuff away and wash up, and I'm all yours. We'll go through everything."
She nods and disappears back toward her room. Caleb is still attached to my leg, chattering about something that happened at school on Friday involving a substitute teacher and a frog. I let him talk, half-listening, my mind still hours away in a motel room.
Rosalyn is in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner, her hands in soapy water. She looks up when I come in, her eyes scanning my face the way they always do. Reading me like a book, seeing things I'm not saying.
"There's a plate in the fridge for you," she says, drying her hands on a towel. "Chicken and rice. You hungry?"
"Starving. Thank you."
I heat up the food in the microwave and sit at the kitchen table while Rosalyn finishes wiping down the counters.
Caleb has finally released my leg and run off to find his dinosaur encyclopedia for tonight's reading.
For a moment, it's just the two of us in the kitchen, the comfortable silence of people who know each other well.
"So," Rosalyn says, sitting down across from me, folding her hands on the table. "How was your weekend?"