Chapter 43
[Taxi]
Ididn’t like leaving Stone’s house feeling like things were unsettled between us. We’d had a great start to the evening, but I had to go.
The story he told. Arresting his brother. The situation just hit too close to my heart.
The entire day had been filled with upheaval. Another fight with Jolene. The grand gesture of the wall. Another round of mind-blowing sex with Stone. The truth hitting me in the chest.
He’s still a law officer.
I knew I needed to separate the man from the badge, but I’d already been on the struggle bus, and I needed to get off the ride.
I was emotionally exhausted and just wanted to crawl into bed. Preferably with Stone, but tonight, I just needed to be alone with my thoughts. Or maybe, not think so much for a little while.
Those the only people you’re here for?
How did he not see he was also part of the choice? The choice I’d only decided earlier in the day.
I want to stay.
But I also need a minute. Or a good night’s sleep.
Instead, I walk into Trudy’s, preparing to check on her before retiring to Gloria, and run into Jolene again.
“Where the hell have you been?” The sharpness of my youngest sister’s tone as I enter the house startles me. She’s sitting in the small blue and white kitchen on one of Trudy’s hard-backed chairs with a cup of tea in front of her and a glare that might melt a weaker person, but not me.
“Excuse me? I didn’t realize I had a curfew or that you were my mother.” Bringing up a term like Mama isn’t fair, and I’m about to apologize when Jolene continues.
Jolene purses her lips, her tone still cutting. “Trudy needed dinner and Simon had a school project.”
I blink a few times. “So you cook, and then you tackle homework.”
Jolene snorts. “I’m not his mother.”
The jab hits. I’d like to think Jolene is only tossing out the line because of what I said, still, it isn’t fair to Simon.
I glance over my shoulder, toward the hallway. “Would you keep your voice down? Where is Simon?”
Jolene brushes her hand through the air. “In his room.”
When Stone is present, Simon stays in the kitchen or living room, because Stone is engaging. He knows how to talk to a child and encourage conversation. He easily shows interest in whatever Simon shares, and on occasion, the two of them have gone into the yard to play catch.
When Stone leaves, often Simon goes to his room.
The thought gives me pause, the images of Stone with Simon conflicting with the story he’d told me earlier.
Letting his brother slip through his fingers. Guilt and shame riddled his voice as he shared the story.
But I couldn’t think of Stone and his brother right now. I had my sister to contend with.
I cross my arms, keeping my voice low. “No one said you have to be his mother to show compassion, Jolene.”
How many times did we sit at Trudy’s dining room table amid the other kids and do our homework? Trudy wasn’t our mother and yet she did the best she could to understand complicated math and tackle last-minute science projects.
“We need to discuss the kid.” The words are blunt and not to my liking. Not one bit
Maybe Stone was right about my sister, maybe she’s damaged in a way I can’t possibly understand. Because no one ever spoke about her the way she’s speaking about Simon.
“Simon,” I correct, glancing over my shoulder again, hoping he is in his room, preferably with headphones on and not able to hear this very un-adult-like interaction.
“He can’t stay here.” Her gaze drops to the teacup in front her. She pinches the handle and twists the cup on the saucer.
My mouth drops open, letting her words settle faster than sugar in her tea.
“Why the fuck not?” I flail my arms outward, anticipating some unscientific reason. Not to mention, who made her a judge. Trudy has every right to have Simon with her. A court of law gave her custody of him.
A floor board creaks and I turn my head again, stepping toward the entryway.
“She’s an old woman with a heart condition. She shouldn’t be raising another child.”
I turn back toward my sister, disheartened by the lack of empathy from the save-the-children philanthropist she claims to be.
“Who says I’m old?” Trudy snaps, causing both of us to look in her direction, where she stands in the entryway wearing the bathrobe I wore when I first stayed here. She fills it out much better than I did. She also looks tired.
“And would you two keep your voices down. A woman can’t get some rest in her own home.”
“You’re nearly seventy,” Jolene reminds Trudy.
“I’m sixty-eight, I’ll have you know. And my ticker is ticking just fine again. The cutie at physical therapy says so.” She smiles at her own joke, but her eyes are wide and blazing at Jolene. “And what’s this about Simon?”
“I don’t think he should live with you,” Jolene argues, holding her head higher, poised like she’s the smartest person in this room and her word is law.
“And just where do you think he should live? With you? Jet-setting all over the world?” Trudy counters, slipping her hands into the deep pockets of her robe.
“I’m not jet-setting, I’m doing good deeds.”
Trudy snorts. “You’re following a certain doctor on trips he won’t take his wife on.”
Wait. What? I swivel my head toward Jolene.
“Aunt Trudy,” she quietly groans, shifting her eyes to me and back to that ultra-interesting teacup.
“Are you chasing?” My voice is hardly above a whisper, aghast that my sister sounds just like our mother. A woman she hardly knew. The person who abandoned her at two years old.
The three of us remain silent while I process that my sister’s idea of good deeds is doing a doctor who has a wife.
“He’s going to leave her,” Jolene mutters, still twisting the teacup. I want to pick it up and pour the contents over her head.
“You are not seriously falling for that shit,” I argue, arms flailing again. “You don’t actually believe that statement?”
I cannot believe this is the first I’ve heard of this situation.
Jolene keeps her gaze averted.
“Does he have kids?” The question flies from my mouth.
Jolene runs her finger around the rim of her cup. Her silence says everything.
He’s a cheater and he has children.
“Now.” Trudy’s tone is firm. “I’ll hear none of this nonsense about Simon.”
For thirty seconds, I forget Simon, still focused on the other elephant in the room.
My sister. Her braggard ways. Her good deeds. Helping children.
I shake the thought. The lies. And draw myself back to the issue at hand. Was Jolene wrong? Taking care of Simon is a lot. Maybe it is too much for Trudy. Maybe . . . maybe . . . maybe he should come with me.
But where was I going?
I don’t have a backyard.
Who’s fault is that, Tallulah?
Still the words tumble free. “She might be right.” I pause a beat. “These are supposed to be your golden years,” I remind Trudy. “Visiting grandchildren and raising them are two different things.”
“Simon isn’t hers,” Jolene states.
I turn toward my sister again. The reminder is a cold dose of truth. I am not blood to Trudy either.
“That boy is every bit of mine, as much as your backside is, sitting at that table, young lady,” Trudy snaps. She’s not one to raise her voice as much as strike with a hard tone that makes you rethink your thoughts.
Jolene doesn’t argue.
Trudy turns on me next. “And what do you think I should do with him?” The question is rhetorical. “I have no more mind to turn him out than I did any of you.”
Completely chastised, a heavy pause follows in the kitchen. Her admission is another smack of truth, one that hits as hard as Jolene’s claim that Simon is not Trudy’s grandson.
“You…” Trudy points between my sister and me. “Belong to me.” She jabs at her chest to accentuate her meaning.
“We . . .” she circles her finger to indicate the three of us in the room and then points toward the hallway leading to Simon’s room. “Are a family.”
The moment is a reminder that families can be made. Families are communities and families can be found, built from whoever is present. Broken pieces glued together, forming a whole.
I glance at Jolene, remembering what Stone said earlier.
You can’t be responsible for the people your family have become, you can only love them for who they are.
I still love Jolene, but I’m disappointed in her, and right now, I’m disappointed in me.
Watching Trudy’s chest rise and fall with the tone of her voice, I worry she’s working herself up, causing her ticker to tick too much.
“Take it easy, Aunt Trudy,” I warn, easing compassion into my tone despite the gravity of the words.
She holds up one hand, warning me to shut my mouth, while holding the other hand over her heart, which I can almost see racing beneath her robe.
“I will not send that boy anywhere.” Determination fills her voice. “He needs me. And I need him.”
“He can’t take care of you,” Jolene quietly admits. “He shouldn’t be taking care of you.”
She’s right on that point. A child shouldn’t be responsible for an adult.
“That’s why I’m staying,” I announce, like I promised Simon in the hospital. Like I told Stone I wanted to do.
Trudy looks up at me, slowly shaking her head. “I’m not asking you to do that.”
“You don’t have to ask. I want to stay.”
Those the only people you’re staying for?
No. No. Stone was a big factor as well. Maybe even the biggest factor. I wanted to be with him. I wanted someone for me.
“Baby girl, you’re like those autumn leaves, falling off the trees, preparing to be scattered in the wind.”
“But what if I don’t want to scatter?” I argue. “What if I want to stay put?”
Jolene gasps. “Here? In Sterling Falls?”
“What’s wrong with Sterling Falls?” Trudy narrows her eyes at Jolene, a silent warning to check herself.
But I won’t let Jolene dissuade me from arguing my point with Aunt Trudy.
Autumn always feels like a change of life season.
“What if I’ve changed?” I step closer to Trudy. “What if I want to stay with you?”