43. Chapter 43
Chapter 43
“I really do like your beard, but I’m not going to lie. I also miss being able to see your cleft chin,” Paige said.
After their ‘angry sex’ encounter (which David insisted was the best he’d ever had), they’d slept for a little while, then got up, threw on some clothes, and had a quick lunch. After eating, they’d ended up in the bathroom, where David had performed some beard maintenance while Paige watched from her perch on the edge of the tub. She’d been surprised to find out that maintaining a beard actually took a lot of effort, and was way more than just letting facial hair grow. Aside from the regular trimming of said facial hair with electric clippers, David also shaved on the underside of his jaw to keep it from looking scruffy. He also combed or brushed his beard daily, using beard-specific grooming products—one that looked like a miniature horse brush—and used special shampoo, conditioner, and a twice weekly application of beard oil.
David glanced at her over his shoulder. “You do?”
She nodded.
“Well maybe I’ll have to cut my beard way back,” he told her, before checking his newly trimmed beard for any uneven spots. Once he was satisfied, he turned around and motioned for her to come over to him, which she did, stepping into the circle of his arms. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, just as the sound of someone knocking at the loft’s door echoed like gunshots down to the bathroom, startling them both.
“Oh, my God,” Paige blurted out. “Is that … could that be Ashley and Jacob already?”
“It can’t be,” David said, leading the way into the bedroom to grab his phone and check messages. “It’s way too—oh, shit it is them. She texted fifteen minutes ago to say they were on their way. Fuck.”
Paige’s eyes widened in horror as she looked them both over. Dressed only in panties and David’s Barenaked Ladies concert T-shirt, with sleep-tousled hair, and no make-up, she was a complete train wreck, while David, wearing only his gray sweats with the hole in the knee and matching sleep-tousled hair, looked only marginally better.
Neither of them had showered yet, and they both probably smelled like sex.
“Why don’t you hang back until she’s gone,” David suggested.
Before she could respond, a second round of knocking—this time louder—had David abruptly pulling the Barenaked Ladies concert T-shirt off of Paige (destroying her hair even more) and putting it on himself, before dashing out of the room and down the hall to answer the door.
Left alone and basically naked, Paige thought about staying back because of the optics, but then decided against it. For one, she couldn’t really hide from Jacob, and two, she wasn’t going to hide from Ashley.
Galvanized into action, Paige quickly found her bra on the bedroom floor and put it on, followed by a clean shirt from her overnight duffel bag and a pair of leggings, hopping a little in the process. She then took a few moments to finger-comb her hair into some semblance of order, and when she was satisfied that she looked somewhat presentable, she left the bedroom and headed down the hallway toward the sound of voices.
As she approached the trio in the entryway, the first thing Paige noticed was the absolute lack of any warmth between Ashley and David, who seemed to be in the beginning stages of a contentious conversation.
Paige stopped midway down the hall, unsure if she was going to be interrupting something she shouldn’t, just in time to hear David ask Ashley, “Has he had a nap at all today?”
“No,” Ashley answered, dropping Jacob’s backpack on the floor with a loud thump.
David gave her a look of disgust as he held Jacob against one hip and rubbed his back in soothing circles. “Why not? It’s the middle of the afternoon, and he looks exhausted.”
“We were at the park, David,” she snapped back. “There was no place to nap.”
“You should’ve taken him to the park earlier. Like in the morning. Jesus, we’ve talked about this—”
“Well, I had things to do in the morning, so I couldn’t, all right? We went when I had time. And anyway, he said he wasn’t tired before we left.”
Paige shifted her attention away from Ashley to Jacob, who was now resting his head on David’s shoulder, looking directly at Paige. She raised a hand in a small wave and gave him a soft smile to hide the utter shock she felt at the marked difference between this boy and the one she’d met a few days ago. That boy had been a little shy, but this one was wilted and withdrawn. His eyes were dull, with dark circles underneath, and his face was a little splotchy, like he’d been crying.
He raised the fingers on one hand in the tiniest of return waves, but didn’t return her smile.
“I’m going to put him down for a nap,” he told Ashley. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”
His expression troubled, David turned and started down the hall. After the two of them passed Paige and disappeared into Jacob’s room, Ashley caught sight of Paige for the first time and exhaled a long sigh of disgust. “Ah, there you are,” she muttered, taking in Paige’s controlled disarray. “Now my shit weekend is complete.”
Hearing the woman describe a weekend with her child as ‘shit’ had Paige’s spine stiffening in anger. “Ashley, I want you to know, if I ever hear you refer to a weekend with your child as ‘shit’ again, I’m going to knock you on your ass,” Paige said, keeping her tone conversational, as if she was shooting the breeze with a friend, and not someone she wanted to throw down an elevator shaft.
Ashley narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t any of your business, so stay the fuck out of it.”
“Well, since David and I are together again, I’m making it my business.”
“Unbelievable,” Ashley muttered. “Just. Fucking. Unbelievable.”
“And don’t, for one second, make the mistake of thinking I’m bluffing, because this—” Paige pointed to her own face, “—is my I’m not fucking around face. I’ll knock you on your ass and not even blink. I do owe you one, after all.”
Just then, David came down the hallway and saw the two women glaring at each other. “What’s going on?”
“Ashley was just saying what a shit weekend she had,” Paige replied. “And I was just saying how much I didn’t like hearing that.”
David knew a condensed version when he heard one, but decided finding out the rest could wait until later. “I think Jacob’s the one who had a shit weekend,” he said to Ashley. “He looks like he has PTSD, for Christ’s sake. What happened?”
Ashley crossed her arms underneath her breasts, giving them a little boost. “Well, for starters, he wet the bed both nights—”
“Both nights?” David stared at her. “Are you serious?”
“Obviously, I’m serious. And he only had one pair of underwear, the pair he was wearing when you brought him over.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry. Jacob said he packed some.”
“Well, he didn’t. So, you might want to make sure they do get packed next time, and not take the word of a child,” she said, not holding back on the sarcasm.
“Fine. It won’t happen again.”
“Good. Because I had to wash his bedding, underwear, and pajamas each morning, which was a pain in the ass. Unlike you, I have to haul my laundry down to a creepy basement to do it.”
“Why aren’t you having him wear Goodnites to bed?”
“Because I don’t have any.”
“Why not? I told you to get some after he wet the bed a month ago, just in case.”
“They’re expensive,” she answered. “And anyway, he didn’t wet the bed during his last visit, so I thought he was done doing that.”
“They’re not that expensive. But even if they were, if they keep you from having to do laundry in a ‘creepy’ basement, they’d be well worth the money, wouldn’t you say?”
“God, you’re being such an asshole right now.”
“Because I’m suggesting you buy Goodnites to have on hand when your son stays with you?”
“No. You’re being an asshole because you could easily afford to send Goodnites with him, since you make way more money than I do, and you’re not paying any child support.”
Paige’s eyes were darting back and forth, the ugly conversation making her feel really uncomfortable. But what was she going to do, stroll into the kitchen and get a glass of water, or go and watch TV, instead?
David’s expression hardened into granite and he took a step forward. “Shut the fuck up,” he said, his voice deadly cold. “We agreed I wasn’t going to pay you child support for the five percent of the time that you have him, since I’m paying for everything else, so don’t act like I’m a deadbeat dad, screwing you out of money.” He grabbed his wallet off the entryway table and opened it, then pulled a few bills out of it and held them up. “Here’s a hundred dollars. That should be more than enough to buy some Goodnites for him.”
When she continued to glare at him instead of taking the money, he shoved the bills into the purse hanging at her side.
Another silence fell, this one even more awful than the last one, and Paige couldn’t help but be shocked at how volatile the relationship between David and Ashley was. Paige had been assuming they were at least cordial to one another because of Jacob, but clearly that wasn’t the case.
“Is there anything else I need to know about this weekend?” David finally asked, his voice still cold.
Ashley’s mouth turned down. “While we were at the park this afternoon, he had another accident. And this was the number two kind—”
“What?”
“You heard me. I ended up having to clean his ass the best I could—”
“The best you could? Is he clean or not?”
“He’s clean enough.”
“‘Clean enough’? Anything less than totally clean can lead to a rash. Don’t you know anything?” He scrubbed at his face. “I mean, Jesus. When you wipe your own ass, do you settle for ‘clean enough’?”
Except for a glare, Ashley otherwise ignored David’s last comment. “Well, when he gets up from his nap, you can inspect his ass and clean it more, if you need to.”
“Yeah, I will.”
“Anyway, I wasn’t going to deal with his dirty underwear, so I threw them in the garbage—”
“He’s commando?”
“Obviously, since that was the only pair of underwear he had.”
David was pretty sure his blood pressure was off the charts. “Why didn’t you stop somewhere and buy him a new pair? Let me guess … because they’re too expensive?”
Ignoring the dig, Ashley clipped out, “Because it was just easier to bring him back here early.”
“Being a parent isn’t about what’s ‘easier’.” He sucked in a deep breath and released it in a rush. “Jesus Christ.”
“I think he’s wetting the bed and having accidents because of all the stress and upheaval in his life. He was fine before you decided to split us all up,” Ashley said cuttingly. “This is your fault, David.”
Then, with a flat, hate-filled look, Ashley turned to leave without saying goodbye, opening the door and stepping outside. Paige wasn’t surprised when David followed Ashley onto the porch, partially closing the door behind him, nor was it surprising when they began talking angrily again, but not loud enough for Paige to discern what they were saying.
When David came back inside a few minutes later, he looked both aggravated and worried, and without a word headed into the kitchen. With quick efficiency, he grabbed a half-empty bottle of Knob Creek out of one cupboard and a glass out of another, then proceeded to pour several fingers of bourbon into it.
She watched him take a long drink. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “Did you see him? He’s never come home looking this bad before. God, he looked like shit.”
“Yes, he did,” she agreed softly. “But—”
“What if this really is my fault?”
David’s distress was so acute, it made her heart hurt. He was the father she knew he would be, loving his child with a fierceness she applauded. Putting a hand on his arm, she said, “Look, I know you’re really upset about what’s going on with Jacob, but having an accident can’t be that uncommon for young children. The same goes for wetting the bed, which is something that can happen until kids are seven years old. And it can be caused by a lot of things, like a small bladder or too much to drink before bedtime,” she countered, attempting to settle him down a little bit—and maybe herself, too, because she didn’t want to be thinking what she was thinking ... until she had to. “It’s not always stress.”
“I appreciate what you’re saying, but none of this is normal for Jacob.”
“How long has he been wetting the bed?”
“A month or so.”
“Is it random, or consistent?”
“Random. Although, it’s only happened at Ashley’s, so, it’s consistent in that regard, I guess,” David said, then shook his head. “But he’s been potty trained for a year, though, with only a few daytime accidents in the very beginning, and he’s never wet the bed, so when Ashley texted me that he had, it shocked the hell out of me. I was hoping it would be a one-time thing, but it’s still happening. And the fact that he … shit himself …” David drained his glass and refilled it, then stared down at the granite countertop. “He’s so fastidious, and well, you saw what he looked like when he got here, so he must’ve been really upset about what happened. This was probably the worst weekend of his life.”
“I’m sure it was,” Paige agreed softly.
He gave a little snort of disgust. “You know, in the beginning, I was really hoping Ashley would develop some maternal instinct, or whatever, and be a good mother, you know? I hoped she’d start enjoying her time with him, maybe even start wanting to spend more time with him. Oh, my God, did I want that for him. And for her, too, because she’s missing out on so much with her son. But none of that has come to pass. In fact, she’s actually cut back on her visitations with him.”
“Really?”
“She gave up her Wednesdays, because she said having him in the middle of the week was really ‘disruptive’ and now only sees him every other weekend.”
“So, he’s spending even less time with her than he used to?”
“Yes. He only sees her four days a month.”
Paige frowned, literally not understanding how someone could willingly give away time with their child.
“I know what you’re thinking,” David said. “But every time she’s cut back on her visitations, I’ve seen it as a good thing, especially given her continuing lack of connection with Jacob. The less time he’d have to spend with her, the better—or so I thought.” David picked up his glass, then seemed to change his mind about taking a drink and set it down again. “But I was wrong, because instead of decreasing, his reluctance to stay with her has increased.”
“Is it possible that Jacob’s reluctance is specifically tied to the apartment?” Paige asked, pretty sure it wasn’t, but asked anyway, to rule it out.
“I wondered that myself, early on, but I just can’t imagine it would be, especially to the extent he wouldn’t want to stay there, or be the reason behind him wetting the bed. I mean, her place is good. It’s small, but he has his own room, with his original furniture, bedding, and some toys and books. Plus, her place is in a nice neighborhood, with his favorite park nearby, so I doubt it would be much of an issue.”
Paige nodded. Rarely, if ever (outside of the house located in Amityville on Long Island) was it more about the house than the person inhabiting it, so she wasn’t surprised. However, she was disappointed, because that meant the negative situation couldn’t be rectified by Ashley finding another place to live (if she were so inclined), because that wasn’t the problem.
Ashley was.
She was the key to what was going on with Jacob, and even though Paige didn’t want it to be true, she knew it had to be. It made perfect sense, actually, because the Ashley Paige knew was selfish and untrustworthy, and more than capable of losing her shit. The extent to which she could lose her shit was unknown, however, and Paige had no way of knowing how far Ashley could go with her own child. Emotional abuse? Physical abuse?
Paige hoped neither, but they weren’t off the table yet. She paused to take a breath and consider the best way to say what needed to be said. Not knowing if there was any way to ease him into it, she decided to just rip the band-aid off. “I think Ashley is abusing Jacob.”