When September Ends (13 page)

“What the hell is your hurry? I thought that was my job.”

“I just saw someone I’m trying to avoid,” I reply, grabbing the first lacy black top that is a size small from the rack. “Here you go, the cashier station is over there,” I say nodding. You check out and then come meet me at Abercrombie.”

I turn to head out just as I hear Casey call out. I ignore the bitch and act as if I haven’t heard my name being called…twice.

I’ve left Brandon in a daze, but I don’t care. I’ve decided I’m getting Scout a sweatshirt at Abercrombie and then we can shop for his mother at Penney’s, where I’ll pick up something for Gram as well and then we’re done at the mall as far as I’m concerned.

Forty-five minutes later we’re heading back to the duplex.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Not really,” I reply.

“Those two ladies at Dillard’s—who are they?”

“I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, what if I want to know?”

I turn to him and see his goofy grin that he saves for me and I can’t help but smile. “It was my mother—and a neighbor of Jesse’s,” I say, “Neither of whom I particularly wanted to see.”

“Why? You look fine.”

“Just because. Let’s not talk about it. Hungry?”

“You really need to ask?”

I laugh because, of course, Brandon will never turn down the offer of food. “Great, let’s take a detour to Rudy’s. I’m picking up my last check and we can grab lunch, my treat.”

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” he murmurs.

“Well I am, so get used to it.”

“Fuck, September. It’s not 1965, you know?”

“I know exactly what year it is, Brandon. It’s not about that. I’ve officially withdrawn at the end of this semester. I’m needed in Meridian to help Gram. So that’s where I’m going.”

“I don’t believe that’s the reason.”

“Well believe it cuz it is.”

“What about your scholarship money?”

“As long as I re-enroll within one year I don’t lose it.”

He mutters something unintelligible. I know he’s not happy with my decision, but it is
my
decision as I’ve pointed out to him multiple times.

“So, you really think you’re going to be back next fall?” he asks softly.

“If things go as planned, I will,” I reply with a grin. “But hey, you won’t be living there anyway. You’re moving to the frat house after Christmas, right?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, pulling his car into a parking space at Rudy’s. “Won’t be the same though.”

“Why won’t it? It’s not like you were going move me into the frat house with you,” I tease.

“You know what I mean, Dawson. You’ve kinda grown on me.”

“Yeah, like a pimple on your ass I believe is the way you’ve put it to me before.”

“Shut up,” he says, stifling a grin, “I only say that when you piss me off.”

“Yeah, like almost every day?”

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he continues, shutting off the engine. “Why can’t you just stay here and, fuck, I don’t know, see what happens?”

“Brandon, I’ve already seen what happens. As a matter of fact, I’m living it.”

“No,” he snaps, his voice a bit louder, “You’re living it this way because this is the path you’ve chosen, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

I grab the index finger he’s pointing at me and squeeze it hard. “You think you know me so well, don’t you?”

“I do know
you
,” he replies tersely. “And you’re running and that’s just not cool.”

“Let’s not argue on empty stomachs,” I reply, opening the passenger door, “Come on, we can argue over lunch.”

He rolls his eyes and opens his door. I know once inside Brandon will pick up where we left off because it’s an argument we’ve had more than once, but it won’t do any good because he’s right: I am stubborn and I’m not going to change the plans that I’ve made no matter what.

Running into Mama earlier has only made me more resolute. She should be the one going back to Grams and helping with Grandpa, but clearly, she’s got a different agenda. Gram tells me each time we talk on the phone how well-adjusted Mama is with Jesse and Scout.

It hurts, but sometimes that is simply what the truth does.

The plans have been made. I’m starting to get things in order, because, in two more weeks, I’m heading back to Meridian. Grandpa comes home on the fifteenth, but I will be there on the thirteenth to get the house cleaned and ready for them.

I’m just finishing up the work schedule for the following week when I hear the door from the driveway open and Scout and Sarah’s voices as they come in from their Black Friday shopping trip with Casey and Catherine.

Shit’s getting old.

I’m in my room where I’ve moved my home office and Scout knocks on my door. “Dad, we’re home.”

“Come on in, sweetie.” I’ve got to make up to her for my insensitive behavior these past few weeks. How can I tell her that it’s not her? Because clearly it is not. But the longer Sarah is here, the more content Scout has become in this arrangement, and I’m not comfortable with that.

At all.

“Look,” she says opening the door and holding up a big shopping bag. “Your Christmas presents are in here, but you can’t see them until then. Sarah and I are going to be wrapping presents after supper in my room, so don’t come in.”

I smile, getting up and going over to where she’s standing, with one hand on her hip. I take a hand and muss through her hair. “Is that right? Looks like you ladies broke the bank at the mall.”

“Don’t worry, Sarah used her charge for most of it.”

Fuck that shit. Time for a talk.

“She did, huh? Why don’t you put that stuff in your room, and then ask Sarah if she has a minute? I want to talk to her about something.”

Scout’s expression clouds up a bit, but she does as asked. In less than a minute, Sarah is popping her head inside my room, decked out in another pair of new jeans and the red sweater from her previous shopping trip that gives ample view of her cleavage.

“Did you need to see me, Jesse?” she asks softly.

“Yeah, come in and close the door.”

She does and then looks at me, her expression morphs to one of uncertainty and maybe a little fear. “Did I do something wrong?”

I sigh, sitting at my computer desk, I push back in my chair and rub a hand through my hair. “Look, Sarah, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, or pry into your business or anything like that, but I need to ask how you intend to pay these credit card bills that are going to be rolling in at the end of the month.”

Her face flushes and for a second I feel her shoot a dagger look at me. “I’m not stupid, Jesse. I understand the concept of credit card bills. I’ll just send them to Mama and she’ll pay them with the money she gets for me each month.”

“Not following,” and I feel the frown creasing my brow.

“Oh, maybe I
did
forget to tell you this,” she says with some hesitance. “Well, you see, when I talked to Mama last week, she told me that my Social Security Disability got approved. So now money goes into her bank account at the first of each month. Several hundred dollars I think.”

“Sarah, is your mother back in Mississippi?” I ask.

“No. Of course not. She’s still in Memphis. But she does have someone getting her mail, I guess.”

“I see.”

Several moments of silence pass before she speaks again.

“No, I don’t think you
do
see,” she replies, her eyes now welling up. “You’ve been hateful to me ever since I got here. I don’t know what I’ve done to you in the past to make you hate me so much, Jesse, but what can I do to gain your forgiveness? Tell me what can I do.”

She’s full-fledged bawling now and, within seconds, Scout’s back in the room. “Why is Sarah crying, Dad? What did you say to her?”

“I-I, hell, I just asked her about her damn credit card is all,” I reply, standing up to make my case, as if I should even have to do that with my eleven-year-old daughter.

Scout puts her arms around Sarah, and shoots me a nasty look. I’m getting a shitload of those these days. “Hey, Lib—I mean
Sarah
, I apologize for that. It’s none of my business and I really wasn’t trying to come off as an ass,” I say, hoping that will slow down the waterworks, but fuck if it does.

“Come on, Sarah,” Scout says, pulling her hand. “Let’s go make something to eat.” She shuts the door behind her rather abruptly and I realize I’ve hit another shit list. How many does that make now?

Fuck this.

I grab my jacket from the back of the chair and, without going through the kitchen, leave through the front door, walking around the side of the house toward the driveway and fuck if Casey isn’t taking her trash out as I get there.

“Well hey, Jesse” she greets with a smile. “Haven’t seen much of you around lately.”

“I’ve been here, Casey, when I’m not working.”

“I guess it’s because I’m not watching Scout after school since your wife is back.”

I halt right then and there. “Let’s be clear about something, Casey,” I say, my voice dead serious, “Sarah may technically be my wife, though not much longer it seems based on some news she gave me today, but regardless, she is only here until her father recovers. It’s temporary, so if you’re hoping to stir shit up with all your neighborly kindness and the mind games you seem to be playing, have at it, but just know that I’ve got your fucking number.”

I start towards the garage when her voice brings me to a halt once again. “You’re not fooling anyone, Jesse, especially Sarah.”

I turn back to look at her and notice the smug look she’s wearing. “Why are you in my business again?”

“Oh, don’t you dare say that! I’ve been nothing but nice to you since you moved here. Let me tell you one last time that I was
not
in your business. It was that
conniving
Lolita stepdaughter of yours that set me up. The same one, by the way, who we saw today at the mall with her new college boyfriend. They seem quite smitten with one another.”

My stomach knots up, and my blood pressure escalates. My hands fist at my side, and I realize that Casey wants nothing more than to yank my chain for some twisted satisfaction because of the fact that I dumped her ass.

“Do tell,” I reply trying my damndest to appear unaffected. “Would that be the same guy you saw here helping her move?”

“Why…yes, I’m pretty sure it
is
the same guy.”

I smile at her. “Well see? Now I know that you’re
lying
because she only met Brandon
after
she moved on campus.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Is that what
she
told you?”

She’s clearly on a mission, and one that I have no desire to be a part of so I remain silent, watching her smug expression.

“Come on, Jesse. Isn’t it time that you wake up and ‘smell the coffee,’ as they say?”

“Casey, whatever game is being played right now, with all the attention you’ve been showering on Sarah, and the BFF girl talk you two have going on, let me leave you with this: it will
never
be you, do you understand? I’d sooner cut my dick off than to ever revisit that worn out pussy of yours.”

And now I’m the one wearing the smug smile as I watch her jaw drop and, very quickly, a look of pure hatred takes residence there before I finally turn and head to my garage. Once I’ve pulled out of the driveway, headed to the nearest bar, I finally exhale the breath I’ve been holding and allow myself to feel the pain that Casey’s words caused when she mentioned September.

Fuck it. She’s moved on. It’s time I do the same. It’s not fair to Scout—or even to Sarah—for me to continue acting like the asshole I’ve been. I need to sink my dick into a warm pussy and forget everything else. If I don’t, I’m sure I’ll be growing a vagina before too long and I’m
not
going to let that happen.

I pull over to the Walgreen’s on the corner and buy a box of condoms, shoving them into my glove compartment.

Now I’m set.

I cruise down to the area where the sports bars are located.

Nothing redneck or nasty for me because that’s never been my style.

Some of my crew talk about Frickers, so I pull into the lot. Maybe I’ll run into one or two of them and we can watch some games before the evening crowd comes in.

I want to get laid, and this is the first time I’ve actually acted on that impulse. Hey, I’m responsible and I’m prepared, and I’m not playing monk any longer, thank fuck.