Page 29 of To Save Him

“Domineering males can be any age, Kimberly.  I just think you might want to keep an eye on him—them.  Keep her safe.”

“Yeah.  I’ll do that.”

But the question became fromwhomdid I need to keep her safe?

 

* * *

 

ANNABEL’S CHOIR GROUP was having their spring concert—the last one of the year—and I noticed on her Facebook page that her father had responded to the announcement that tickets were on sale.  At least once or twice a year, Mel attempted to act like a father—that was until he realized how exhausting it was trying to play dad while also acting like the macho male to a new wife who loved him more for his money than his sexual prowess.  He didn’t know how to do both, so he stayed with the role that satisfied the selfish part of him.

I was afraid, though, that this might be one of his semi-annual efforts to act like he cared.

Annabel hadn’t said anything about it, but I had to ask.  The morning of the concert, I asked over breakfast, “Did your dad say he was coming to your show tonight?”

She shrugged.  “He didn’t buy any tickets from me.”  I knew her nonchalance was an act.  It hurt my kids that their dad was an apathetic asshole.  I wasn’t going to say anything to them that was negative about him, but I knew he was hurting them—and it made me all the angrier with the man.  Just when I thought I couldn’t hold another grudge against him…  “I could care less.  You and JR are coming, mom.  And Liam.  That’s all that matters to me.”

I’d bought a ticket for Brandon as well, although now I was partially regretting it.  I told her he was coming too.

“He doesn’t have to work?”

“Not tonight.”  I wasn’t going to tell her he’d asked for the night off.

Before the whole notion that Brandon might be developing an attraction for my daughter, I’d still been thinking of him in not-so-maternal ways, and I’d bought a rather daring red dress for the occasion.  Now I wondered if I should just go with one of my tried-and-true business-like dress suits.  Something boring and black.

No.  I’d been feeling more feminine lately—yes, thanks to Brandon—but that was no reason to not go through with it.  I’d paid a lot of money for that damned dress and would likely only wear it once, so for the concert it was.

That evening, Annabel didn’t even stay for dinner.  Liam was picking her up and they headed out early.  When Brandon got home from work, the three of us ate a quick bite.  Brandon wanted to shower quickly and JR wanted to get in a little videogame time before we left.

Me?  I had a little dressing up to do.

Even if I no longer wished to impress Brandon, it was time I felt good about myself again.  The heels I’d bought to go with the dress were the highest I’d worn in ages—and the most comfortable, which said something about the amount of money I could afford to part with nowadays.  I wasn’t rich by any means, but I could spend more for better clothing today, and if it was for a special occasion like this, I was definitely going to blow a little more.

I’d already shaved my legs that morning and was wearing the understated makeup I usually did on a daily basis.  Now I spent some time putting it on a little heavier, though, and I double checked myself in the full-length mirror hanging on my bathroom door.  I was satisfied.  I might be an older woman, but I looked damn good.

I hadn’t expected the third degree from my son, though.  As I walked into the living room with a small purse in hand—the necessities transferred from my practical bag into this more decorative one—JR said, “Geez.  What’s the occasion, mom?”

I wanted to downplay it, especially before Brandon showed up.  “Your sister’s concert, of course.”

He lifted his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, looking incredulous.  “I didn’t think you wore dresses anymore.”

He was right—it had longer than I could recall.  But it had been ages since I’d really felt like myself.  I’d been a shell for so long…  But I had to deflect these questions.  “What?  Am I not allowed?”

“No.  I didn’t say that.”

“Good.”  It was then that I heard the stairs creaking with as they bore Brandon’s weight.  My house wasn’t so old it should have noisy stairs, but they’d been creaky for as long as I could remember.  I felt my cheeks flame as I imagined him catching sight of me, and I realized I had to act as normal as possible—beas normal as possible.  I was grateful that my son was sitting in the living room ready to go, amusing himself by playing with his phone.  “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Homework done?”  I’d been distracted—I should have asked earlier.

“Done enough.”

I frowned.  “What do you have left?”

“Like three math problems.  I can do them in the morning before breakfast.”

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