16. Melanie
melanie
Iwatch the slow descent of ice cream on the waffle cone, wincing when it lands on Oakley’s fingers and continues dripping downward. He doesn’t seem to notice the spreading stickiness, a chocolate mustache covering his upper lip as he savors the frozen treat.
I slide him one of the paper napkins I swiped from the ice cream parlor. He gives me a cursory look as he takes it, leaving it lying on his lap.
“Wait—” Before the words are even out, his tongue is darting out, licking the chocolate off his hand. I shake my head, leaning back against the park bench and focusing on my own salted caramel ice cream. “You do you, kiddo.”
I turn my focus to the pond in front of us, the faint breeze rippling across the calm surface of the water. Movement catches my attention to the left, and I watch as a duck swims along the edge. As it changes direction, four fluffy ducklings come into view, quick on its tail.
“Look at that,” I say softly, pointing at them. “Pretty cute, huh?”
Oakley gives a careless shrug, throwing a quick glance their way before looking back down at his fast-melting ice cream. He lasts about three seconds, and then he’s darting another look at the ducks, his mouth twitching.
“It’s a girl duck,” he announces after a beat. “The big one. It’s a mom.”
I lift my brows. “How do you know?”
“It’s brown,” he says, the duh silent. “The boy ducks have green heads.”
I thoughtfully purse my lips. “I’ll take your word for it.” He doesn’t look at me, staring at the ducks, his brow furrowed. “You okay, bug?”
“Where d’you think the dad is?”
My smile grows forced. “Maybe he’s out finding the babies some food.”
His expression darkens, and he lets out a grunt—the kind of noise I would expect from him as a teenager, but not yet. Unfortunately, it’s been par for the course over the last two weeks.
I wish I could say all the blame lies solely on Cale’s shoulders. And while a massive portion does, it feels like everything else has just been piling onto Oakley, one thing after another.
The first week, we were adjusting to the loss of Cale. He became an integral part of our lives in such a short time, and even when we were both angry and hurt, his absence felt like a void—the kind we couldn’t ignore.
I took Oakley to the baseball field last Saturday, hoping the game would distract him out of his funk…Except as we had walked over to where the team was gathered, he’d been searching the crowd for someone, and I know he wasn’t looking for Davis.
It wasn’t a surprise that Cale hadn’t been lurking, but Jaz and Lanie surprised us, approaching with wide grins. Jaz didn’t seem to have any idea about the falling out that we’d had with her brother, and Oakley was excited to see Lanie.
That enthusiasm had died a quick death as we’d approached the Sterling Sluggers and learned that the team had to forfeit the game because Harrison was injured and couldn’t coach.
Oakley had put on a brave face, but there was no hiding the overly bright eyes and the slightest quiver to his chin.
Jaz jumped into action, distracting him by suggesting a trip to Frothy Cakes for a no-game treat, but even a lemon bar hadn’t been enough to cheer him up.
This week hasn’t seen much change in his mood.
It honestly feels like his bright personality has been smothered and dulled by everything that’s happened, his spark missing, and that hurts more than anything else possibly could.
Guilt is a constant weight in my chest, leaving me unable to shake off the fact that as much as Cale is at fault, so am I.
I never should’ve invited him into our lives, especially with how Oakley was starting to feel about him. I’d been burned before, but I truly believed that Cale would never hurt my son like that. I guess I never learned the lesson after Davis.
I’m paying attention now.
Keeping my eyes on the family of ducks, I say softly, “You don’t talk about him.”
“Talk about who?” Oakley’s tone is sullen. I look at him out of the corner of my eye, finding him scowling at the pond like the water has personally offended him.
“It’s okay to miss him, you know.”
“I don’t miss anyone.”
“You were friends, bug.”
He presses his lips together, unable to hide the watery sheen to his eyes, no matter how many times he blinks.
“Friends don’t talk about their friends that way,” he says solemnly. “That would be like me calling Nell a crybaby.” He squints at me, making sure I’m not going to call him out on that. When I don’t, his shoulders drop, and he leans more heavily against me. “Why’d he do it?”
I slide closer, pressing my hip to his, looping an arm around his shoulders, and ignoring the stickiness coating his hands and face. “Adults are human, bug. Just like you. We’re supposed to be older and wiser, but we make mistakes too.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t.”
I let my head fall back, a long exhale leaving me. “I do, Oak,” I confess quietly. “I’m learning from my mistakes, and I try to do better. That’s all we can do, right?”
He hesitates, brow furrowing as he processes my words. “Yeah. I guess.”
We settle back into silence as we finish off our ice creams. As we clean our hands with the napkins, I ask, “What do you think we should have for dinner tonight? Kid’s choice.”
Oakley looks up, his eyes gleaming. “Ice cream.”
I huff out a laugh. “You’re kidding, right? You have any more ice cream, and you’ll pop.”
“You said it was my choice,” Oakley protests, but he’s smiling, and it’s enough to have me dragging him even closer, ruffling his hair.
“Okay, I’ll rephrase, tricky little monster. Kid’s choice…But it can’t be something we’ve already had today.”
He drops the heaviest sigh I’ve ever heard. “Fiiiine. What about…Ohh! Breakfast for dinner! Not cereal, because we already had that today, but—”
“Hot breakfast?” I ask, and he does a fist pump.
“Yeah! Eggs, sausages, bacon…No tomato and no mushroom. But hash browns.”
“Oh, so you want everything except the vegetables.”
“Potatoes are a vegetable,” he argues.
“Pretty sure turning them into a hash brown takes them straight out of the vegetable category,” I counter. “But you know what? It’s Friday night. Let’s do it.” He lets out a cheer, looking more like Oakley than he has in weeks, and my heart pinches at the sight.
He didn’t deserve this. Not any of it.
“Do we even have hash browns?”
I do a mental lap of my kitchen. “I don’t think so, which means we need to hit the grocery store before we go home.”
He rubs a hand over his mouth, pretending to clean the ice cream away when really, he’s just trying to hide his smile. “Maybe I can grab a chocolate bar too.”
He shoots me a guileless look, and I laugh. “Gotta love a trier, kid.”
The sun is only just starting to drop, so we decide to walk to the grocery store a block away.
When we arrive, the place isn’t super busy, but that means it’s almost impossible to miss Marcy and Clarissa lingering in the produce section.
There’s a sullen-looking teenager lurking beside them, his arms crossed over his chest.
Oakley doesn’t see them, so I grab a cart, urging him to the other end of the store. “Come on, bug. We’re doing it backward today.” I don’t expect Marcy to do anything, not in such a public place, but I refuse to leave Oakley open to her poison. Or her daughter’s.
He told me all about Clarissa’s ambush at the school on the day he’d run away, and while we’d talked about other options he could’ve made, I also don’t blame him for wanting to find his safe person or a safe place.
Especially when school should have been safe. And that day, it wasn’t.
Principal Blackwater has been irritated by my insistence that their policies undergo formal review.
She tried to insist that, since Oakley had been found safe, the matter should be put to rest…
but it never should’ve taken them so long to call me.
I wasn’t going to let them sweep that shit under the rug, especially when a group of children had been harassing my child, and not one teacher had seen a thing.
She suggested that the situation with Clarissa could easily be resolved by Marcy and me having a sit-down.
I’d stared back at her and asked if she’d lost her ever-loving mind.
Her sharp cheekbones flushed, and she couldn’t hold my stare as she informed me, “It is not the school’s place to get involved with marital and custodial conflicts. ”
“Is that what you think is happening here?” I’d scoffed.
“Are you kidding? No. What’s happening is that this school is actively ignoring the fact that a child is bullying other students.
Is it because she’s the daughter of the PTA president?
” I raised my eyebrows challengingly, not surprised when no answer had been forthcoming.
“What’s happening is you aren’t protecting the students when they’re being harmed, including not protecting my child when he felt unsafe on the school property. ”
She’d blustered, but as soon as I’d talked about going to the superintendent—and the media—to escalate the situation, she’d folded like a wet noodle.
“Alright, bug.” I look down at Oakley. “Your choice for dinner, so you need to find all the ingredients.” His eyes twinkle, and I rush to add, “Not ice cream.”
We slowly make our way around the store—me more cautiously than Oak—but just as we reach the produce section, hoping it’ll be safe now, someone clears their throat.
I turn and find Cale standing here, a basket hanging at his side. His eyes bounce between me and Oakley, his expression tight. His eyes darken when my son ducks his head, pretending not to see him at all.
“Melanie,” he says quietly.
I wait for the shiver to roll down my spine at my name on his lips, for warmth to settle low between my hips, or the nervous fluttering of my heart. But none of it comes.
I just feel oddly numb as I stare back at him.
He steps closer. “I was hoping we could talk.” His attention drifts to Oakley. “Hey, Killer.”
Oakley doesn’t look up, his hand tangling in the bottom of my shirt, gripping it tightly. Cale tracks the movement with a wince.
I’m all too aware that people are moving around us, their eyes watchful and curious.
It’s not a secret that we’re neighbors, and plenty of people saw Cale take us to Oakley’s game that fateful day.
They heard about him cheering loudly for Oak on the sidelines.
That’s enough to have tongues wagging, and I refuse to give them any more ammunition.
I paste a polite smile on my face—the kind that doesn’t show teeth. “Oak and I actually have plans,” I tell him coolly. “We’re on a deadline.”
“There’s been another break-in.”
“We know.”
“Harrison got hurt,” Oakley adds on a mutter, his head still down.
“I heard. I’m sorry, kid.” Cale looks back at me when Oakley doesn’t answer. “Law enforcement has asked Onyx to look into it. Levi wanted to know if anything else stuck out. Maybe a road rage incident or a confrontation with someone…”
“Other than you?” I keep my voice even, aware that my son is listening. Cale doesn’t hide his wince. “No. I don’t have any enemies or anyone out to get me. Is that all?”
“Mel—”
“Have you cashed that check yet?” Oakley flinches at my side, even though this is something I’ve tried to keep from him. I untangle his hold on my shirt and grip his hand in mine, squeezing lightly. “I noticed the window got fixed, but the money is still sitting in my account.”
Cale’s thick brows draw together, his mouth a thin line. “I’m not cashing the check. Melanie, please. I just want to talk about what happened.”
I don’t let the contrived smile slip an inch, even though my stare is as brittle as cracking ice.
“I think we’ve said enough, don’t you?” I turn Oakley, ready to get him away, but something occurs to me.
“Hey, bug. I changed my mind about that ice cream. Get us some, yeah? I’ll be there in a sec.
” I point toward the freezers, where I’ll still be able to see him.
“Mom…”
“Go, bug.” I give him a smile—a real one—and he bobs his head, throwing a glare at Cale before stomping in the direction of the freezers. I face Cale again. “There is something I want to know.”
“Anything.” There’s something desperate in his voice. He steps closer, and I immediately step back.
“You saw Oakley throw the rock at the window,” I state. “You looked at your cameras and saw him throw the rock and run. Right?”
He palms the back of his neck. “Right.” He draws the word out uncertainly.
I nod. “That’s what I thought. So, it made me wonder, you know?
You saw my kid in the middle of the school day, not where he was supposed to be, and acting completely out of character.
” He does a slow blink as I lose any pretense of politeness.
“You didn’t think for even a second that something might be wrong?
You didn’t consider that maybe you should go and see if he was okay?
” Cale draws in a sharp breath, his eyes widening, not saying a word.
“You didn’t think to call me and tell me what happened? ”
I shake my head, a harsh bark of laughter escaping.
It doesn’t sound like me, too angry, too bitter.
But this has been digging at me for weeks.
I step closer to him, lowering my voice to a hissed whisper.
“No. You waited for hours, and then you marched over to my place, angry and hateful, telling me that my kid was bad, that I was a shitty parent, and I deserved to have my husband fuck around on me.”
His eyes never drop from mine, even as he shakes his head with a pained noise. “That’s not what I said, Melanie. Shit…I was…”
“Do you really think there’s an excuse, Cale?” I ask quietly, the intensity draining away as fast as it comes. “My kid was in trouble, and you were so worried about you and your window that you didn’t even care. Do you even know why he was there that day?”
His lashes drop, shuttering his eyes, as he shakes his head again. “No,” Cale whispers.
I step back. “Cash the check,” I tell him evenly. “It’s the last tie between us, and I’d like us to be done.”