When September Ends (7 page)

It’s been two weeks since I last spoke to September; the day she informed me, in no uncertain terms, that it was over.

What was
it
though?

A fling? No.

An affair? Doubtful—I think at least one of the parties has to be married in order to qualify.

A mistake? Not in my book.

Voyage of the Damned?
Possibly.

Her birthday had come and gone. I had sent flowers and a gift card to her from me and Scout. She had called Scout to thank
her.

I had given Scout September’s old phone and had it activated with a new number, so that she could stay in touch with her sister without having me becoming their intermediary. Clearly, September was intent on avoiding me.

My construction business has been keeping me busy. I’ve got contracts for two commercial buildings and six rehabs that will take me into early next year. Thankfully, between that and still working my daily shift as the crew leader for Wharton Construction, I’m so exhausted at day’s end, the only thing I can manage is getting dinner for Scout and then falling into bed.

The next day, I do it all over again. It’s my own purgatory; but it beats Hell, I guess. At least I don’t have time to dwell on the hurt and the loneliness left in the wake of September, or continue kicking my own ass for reluctance in validating our relationship to the fucking world.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table, figuring payroll when Scout comes into the room, freshly showered and ready for bed.

“September called me just now,” she says, “She’s gonna come by tomorrow and she wanted to make sure we’ll be here,” she says quietly.

“We’ll be here, baby,” I reply, looking at her solemn face.

“I’ll text her back and let her know. Dad—why is September mad at you?”

I stop what I’m doing and take a sip of my coffee. I’m living on caffeine these days instead of beer. It’s more productive. “Honey, she’s not mad at me as much as she’s disappointed in me.”

“Why?” she persists.

Fuck.

What do I tell her?

How about the truth?

“Scout, hun, sit down for a minute. Maybe it’s time you knew the truth.”

She nods and takes a seat at the table. I clasp my hands together, flexing them, trying to articulate how I break this to her so that it doesn’t sound…tacky…or worse, perverse.

I clear my throat. “You see September is a woman, Scout. She’s an adult by all standards and, well, having her here with us…” I pause, searching for an acceptable explanation, “Well, she and I started having a mutual affection for one another—different than the affection and love that I have for you, does that make sense?”

“You two were in love,” she comments, “I knew
that
. What I want to know is why she left. Did you two stop being in love, like with Mama?”

I feel my jaw drop as my eyes widen. “Uh, what do you mean, you
knew?”

She shrugs, and gives an eye roll. “I don’t know, I could just tell. You both looked at each other the same way that Amber’s mom and dad look at each other, all googly eyed.”

Googly-eyed
is not a term I’m familiar with, but I get the drift. I can’t hold back a slight smile, but then I quickly get back to my serious tone. “Wait—why didn’t you ever say anything to us about it?” I ask her.

“Because,” she replies, drawing the word out longer than necessary, “It wasn’t my business. So did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you stop loving September like you did with Mama?”

Okay, now my daughter needs a refresher course in this shit. I take a deep breath because I don’t want it to sound mean.

“Scout, first off, I didn’t stop loving your mama—well I
did
, but that was long after she stopped loving me, you understand?”

She nods.

“So, in answer to your question about me and September, I can only speak on my behalf, and the answer is no, I haven’t stopped loving her.”

“Okay, so I guess that means she stopped loving you…”

I tense up. “Maybe so but, hey, listen it’s your bed time baby girl. Gimme a kiss and then scoot off to bed.”

She kisses me, and I can tell she has more questions to ask, but there’s no way I can answer them without showing just how torn up I am inside, and how responsible I am for September’s departure.

But she’s coming by tomorrow. Maybe this will provide one more chance for me to make my case with her.

I get off the phone with Scout, and look over to where Brandon is sprawled all over the loveseat in my cramped living room, watching something on the tube.

Yeah, I have shared everything about Jesse and me, and our previous relationship with Brandon. I really had no choice. He actually witnessed the mini-meltdown I’d had that evening after Jesse dropped me back at my apartment. Brandon had come in just minutes later, banging on my door to see if I was okay. One look at my reddened eyes and blotchy face had said it all. He wasn’t buying my “I’ll be fine,” excuses, and I finally broke.

I barely knew the guy and there I was, pouring my tears and the fragments of my heart out all over the place. I didn’t care. I needed to have it out there, even if it meant that he found me repulsive and nasty.

But he hadn’t.

He had comforted me as much as a twenty-year-old college jock that barely knew his overly emotional new neighbor could offer.

“I bet you’re wishing the chicks with the purple hair and black lipstick still lived here,” I had sobbed, taking the roll of toilet paper he had offered me, and tearing off a length in order to wipe my eyes.

“Not even close,” he had replied, with a grin, “Hey, I’m not judging you, September. Believe it or not, I understand how these things work.”

“You do?” I asked with a sniffle.

“Yep. I’ve had one or two questionable liaisons, myself.”

“Liaisons,” I repeated, “You mean like hook-ups?”

“No, silly. I mean
like
relationships.”

“You’re only twenty,” I had pointed out.

“Almost twenty-one, and hey, you’re only nineteen.”

“Yeah, but well…I mean,
guys,
generally, well you know—”

“Here it comes,” he had said, rolling his eyes, and grinning, “You’re going to get all judgy on me like all the other girls, right?”

I had blushed, because he had called me out. That was exactly what I was starting to do. “Sorry,” I apologized. “Want to talk about it?”

He had then shared with me that he had been involved for nearly a year with his best friend’s older sister when he was seventeen.

“How much
older
?” I had asked.

“Kind of nosy, aren’t you?”

“I’m betting the age difference wasn’t all
that
significant.”

“No, she was nineteen when we got involved, and twenty when we split.”

“Why did you split?”

“She was in college then and I guess she wanted her freedom, sexually and socially.”

“How about you?”

He had given me a crooked grin. “Oh, well—I didn’t grieve too long, I guess. Her mother was extremely sympathetic when I saw her at the mall where I worked that summer.

It had been my turn to quirk a brow. “Why do I think there’s more to
that
statement?”

He had laughed softly and it had a sexy edge to it. His cheeks had even flushed a bit before he replied. “Yeah, that was the summer of ‘cougar love.’”

“O-M-G, seriously? You fucked your ex’s mom?”

“Yep—and my best buddy’s mom, don’t forget.”

“Eww, Brandon,” I had replied, a shiver going through me, “That’s kind of…”

“What? Getting judgy again? Hey, she was hot…a real MILF.”

“Okay, but what about her husband?”

“No husband. They were divorced. She was forty-two and, let me tell you, that lady had some moves. She could fuck better than her daughter.”

“Okay,” I had said, “You’ve crossed over into the TMI arena now. I’m cheered up. You can go.”

He had laughed as his hand shot out and ruffled my hair playfully. “See? I bet you didn’t think anything could top your dark little secret did you?”

And he had been right about that.

Since that time, we had developed a friendship—more of a brother/sister thing than anything else. Brandon was a certified man whore, and even at my young and unworldly way I could tell that much.

He broke the silence since I’d ended my phone call with Scout.

“So, what’s up?” he asks from the sofa.

“Oh, um, I’m stopping by to see Scout Saturday afternoon.

“Bootie call,” he chides with a laugh.

“I’m going there to see Scout, no one else.”

“Yeah, right,” he replies, jumping up from the sofa. “Let me know how that works out for you. I’ve gotta bounce.”

“Who’s your pocket pussy tonight?” I tease.

“Taking the evening off, got frat business.”

“You’re in a fraternity?”

“Not yet, but I’m pledging. Keep your fingers crossed.”

“Why would you want to be a frat boy?”

He looked at me as if I have sprouted another head.

“Seriously?”

I nod.

“Well, for one thing,
the
best parties on campus.”

“Oh
please
.”

“And secondly, the best available sorority pussy around.”

“See ya later, Brandon,” I reply, giving him a playful smack on the back.

Once he’s gone, I contemplate about the following day. I’m excited to see Scout again. Talk to her; and find out how she likes fifth grade and hear all about her teacher and friends. But I am filled with anxiety about seeing Jesse. It’s been nearly a month since that day in his truck when I told him it was over. Words that had come from me with a finality that he hadn’t questioned, but that I had seriously questioned in my own mind.

Had I really meant it?

I thought so, at the time anyway. But now I felt gutted by those words. They rang hollow in my mind, and maybe that was because Jesse had done exactly what I had asked. He had gone, and had left me alone since that time.

Time that has been filled with classes, homework and hanging out with Brandon between his soccer games and random hook-ups, and my part-time job that has become somewhat draining what with the late shifts and the early morning classes.

I go to the bathroom and start my shower. I have an hour and a half before my shift at Rudy’s, so hopefully I can cram for tomorrow’s Statistics exam before I leave.

Life has certainly become more complex.

Scout is acting like it’s Christmas Eve and it’s only mid-October. She’s been going back and forth from her room to the living room every five minutes for the past hour, checking to see if September’s car is in the driveway.

“What time did she tell you she’d be here?” I ask.

“Sometime after lunch,” she says, “And it’s already one o’clock.”

I start to say something, but her loud shriek interrupts me. “She’s here!”

And Scout’s out the front door like a rocket, running up to September’s car that she’s pulled to the front curb instead of into the driveway. Just one more affirmation that she doesn’t consider this to be her home any longer.

I watch as she gets out of the car, and Scout is right there, wrapping her ten-year-old arms around her. My breath hitches as I take in every inch of her as if I’ve forgotten any of it.

Because I haven’t.

I never could, even if I wanted to, which I don’t.

She’s beautiful in every way. Her long, blonde hair is pulled up into a bouncy ponytail. Her tight jeans cling perfectly to her slender hips and perky ass.

My cock twitches as I recall how she looks without a stitch of clothing covering her body. The smooth, creamy skin that is unblemished and soft and perfect to the touch everywhere.

I turn away and head to my room. She’s here for Scout. I don’t intend to be an interloper on their ‘sister time’ as Scout calls it. Though Scout didn’t come out and say I wasn’t welcome, the implication was there.

An hour later, there is a tap on my door. “Dad? Are you gonna come out and say hi to September?”

Fuck.

I don’t answer immediately, which prompts Scout to open the door and poke her head in, eyeing me as I’m stretched out across my bed, watching The Weather Channel.