Chapter 15
Frantic, repeated knocks on the front door penetrate the quiet provided by my noise-cancelling headphones. I rip them off my head and the world becomes instantly loud and chaotic.
“Mom! Mom! Come out! Where are you? Shane got beat up on the bus!”
Stepping out of my studio, I look down the hall to the front of the house as Valley, Van and Mitch carrying Shane in his arms tumble into the foyer. My heart stops for a microbeat. They’re followed by Valley’s kids, one of them crying and the other loudly describing what happened.
“It was Rafe Walters.”
Valley turns to Aiden. “Emily. I mean, Mrs. Walters’s kid?”
Aiden nods.
“Figures,” Valley comments, bitterly.
I rush to Shane perched on the kitchen counter where Mitch placed him. He’s bawling, snot and blood both pouring from his nose, and his left eye starting to swell and color.
“Oh my God, sweetheart, Shaney, what happened? Is that who hurt you?”
Shane gulps and sniffles over and over. He can’t catch his breath, but he nods yes. Van, Valley and her kids are all trying to explain at the same time. Mitch stands next to Shane, one arm around him supporting him and the other patting his knee. He quietly repeats “Shh, shh, shh” to Shane in rhythm to calm him down.
Shane’s voice is small when he finally speaks. So soft, I can’t hear him.
“Everyone! Shut up!” I roar from deep in my lungs. It does the trick. The room silences.
I take command. “Take another breath, baby. Take your time. Van, go get the first aid kit. Valley, find Emily Walters’s phone number.”
Shane takes three more deep breaths and finally speaks loud enough to be heard. “Rafe wa-wa-wa-was saying mean things.”
“What mean things?”
“Mean things about you… He called you a cougar and a cradle robber. I said my mom is not a wild animal… or a baby stealer. I don’t know what he meant, but his voice was mean.”
“Oh, Shane.”
I look up at Mitch.
His face is serious and his eyes glisten with tears. Then his face turn reds and he looks away. A muscle at his temple flexes. He stops patting Shane’s knee and pulls his arm to his side, tensing and balling up his fist. “God dammit,” he whispers.
Shane continues, “Then I told him to shut up and if my mom was a cougar, his mom was a baboon!”
Valley laughs, a little too loudly.
I shoot her a look.
“Then he called me a dummy and said my mom was dating the substitute music teacher, Mr. Morgan, who’s only like nineteen. He said you were an old cougar and Mitch was fresh meat! That’s when I went to hit him, but only barely got him on the arm and he, he…” Shane’s voice breaks and he swallows down a sob. “He punched me across the nose and eye. So hard.”
“I didn’t see any of that,” Van pipes in. “I was just getting home when I saw Shane all bloodied get off the bus. Valley was there and caught him. Mitch was just pulling into the driveway and saw us and ran over and got Shane.”
I look up at Mitch. “You were subbing at Sunview Elementary?”
Mitch, who’s been very quiet but still attentive to Shane replies, “Yes, they called early this morning with the job for a few days.”
Shane smiles, even with his battered nose and puffy eye. “At the end of the day, when I was headed to the bus, I saw him in the hall. Mitch gave me a high five and said, ‘See you tonight.’ I told my friends, ‘That’s Mitch. My mom’s boyfriend.’”
Valley whistles. “Whoa!”
Now, I freeze and look away. My little guy is so perceptive. He knew, even before we said anything.
“Rafe isn’t very nice anyway. He’s one of the big kids on the bus. He just started teasing me for no reason,” Shane says, finishing the story.
I question aloud, “Where would a kid that age hear that stuff?”
“Emily,” Valley answers flatly. “She’s a piece of work. I bet she saw you guys somewhere.”
My heart pounds. The blood pulses in my ears. I am seething. But I don’t want to show my anger in front of the kids.
Valley picks up on how completely enraged I am. “Posey, I’m gonna take the kids home. I’ll text you that bitch’s… Sorry, kids… I mean, Emily’s number.”
She hustles them out of the house but steps back in for a second. “Call me if you need anything. I mean it.”
I send Van to his room, open the first aid kit and slowly and gently clean and dress Shane’s injuries. I can’t make eye contact with Mitch. I don’t know exactly why I’m so agitated, but a voice inside me admonishes me, “Come on, you knew this was wrong, you knew it, but you went there anyway. Selfish. So selfish. And now look, your kid is hurt because of you.”
“Posey!” Mitch reaches over to take the bandage package out of my hand and offer sympathy.
I flinch and step away. I hold a hand up when Mitch steps toward me. And then it happens. Vicious, thoughtless words shoot like poison darts from my mouth. “No, don’t! Don’t help! THIS is what I was talking about the other night. This. Us. It’s wrong.”
I love him, but I can’t get used to having him around. I can’t risk my heart again. I can’t risk my kids’ hearts. I’ve been stupid to think I could do this.
“What are you saying, Posey?”
Irrationally I lash out at Mitch with the only thing about him that bothers me in the least. It’s ridiculous and mean. “And why do you always knock on the door? Why don’t you use the doorbell?”
“What?” Mitch looks puzzled, as if I’m speaking a foreign language.
“Mitch, a knock at a door. Think about it… in movies, stories, real life—”
“What? What does my knocking on the door have to do with—”
“Good things, good news is never preceded by a knock, Mitch. And you always knock. A knock always means bad news is coming.”
“I just knock because sometimes doorbells don’t work. What are you saying, Posey? Because I knock on the door instead of ringing the bell this happened to Shane?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Really? Are you saying I’m not a good thing? We’re… not a good thing?”
I can’t think straight and shake my head, not knowing what I mean.
Mitch cocks his head and pleads, “Posey?”
I’m bawling. I can’t speak.
Shane is bawling, too. “Mooom, stop it!”
Mitch backs away, hands up, and spins on his heel and walks to the front door. He stops and says in a shaky voice, “That’s a pretty big reach, Posey. I love you. I’ve told you. And you love me. I’d never do anything to purposely hurt you or the boys.” He sniffles loudly and swipes at his eyes.
Heaving sobs escape me. I need to speak, but can’t. He’s right. I’m reaching. I’m scared, and when I’m scared I retreat, run away, play myself out. I get away before I get hurt. What the hell am I doing?
“I’ll just leave,” he says and is out the door.
I take a few worthless steps toward the door as it closes behind him.
Van appears next to me. “Mom! Mom, stop him! You can’t let him leave. You can’t let him go.” He heard all of the ruckus from the hallway.
But I do. I watch Mitch walk away and I just stand there.
The three of us, Shane, Van and I, say nothing to each other. Van runs to his room and slams the door. Shane’s crying ramps up.
I wipe my tears, finish cleaning up Shane’s face and call the school and the bus company, while waiting for the Walters’s number from Valley. I’ve set up a meeting first thing tomorrow morning with the principal and the bus company manager. They’re calling Rafe Walters’s parents.
Shane has fallen asleep on the couch in the family room, an ice pack on his face and medicated with a whopping dose of ibuprofen.
I sit in my chair and watch my youngest son breath in and out softly. He’s finally calm and comfortable. My baby was hurt because he was defending me. Defending my relationship with Mitch. A ten-year-old shouldn’t have to do that.
Checking my phone, there’s no text from Valley. Or Mitch. Why would Mitch text me? I was horrible to him. I’ve hurt Mitch by attacking him and pushing him away.
I text them both, begging them to call or text me. I don’t know what I’m doing.
Eventually, I pick up Shane and carry him to bed. Kissing him on the forehead before I leave the room. I peek in on Van. He’s fallen asleep in his clothes on top of his bed. I grab a blanket off a chair in his room and place it over him. I don’t kiss him for fear of waking him up, but I do kiss two of my fingers and then place them on his cheek lightly. He rolls away from me to his side. I back out of the room and shut off his light.
The doorbell rings once, just as I’m closing Van’s door.
Looking down the hall, I see a familiar form through the frosted window of the front door.
Mitch.