Page 43 of To Save Him

Yes, it was most definitely wine-thirty.

 

* * *

 

NOT EVEN A buzz, but I did feel lighter after one glass of red.  I’d tried to do some writing, to focus on things beyond all the events of the evening, but there was no concentration to be had.

Strangely enough, the wine made it worse.

So I watched a few videos, ending with AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.”  Yeah, I knew I was playing a subliminal, slightly hopeful message to myself, but it was fun rocking out just the same.  I noticed my cheeks were flush from drinking and remembered how cool it had been in the backyard earlier in the evening.  Connecting with nature and fresh air sounded like a great idea.

I didn’t even look at the clock at that point but, once outside, I glanced around the side of the house.  JR’s light was off, so that was good.  It meant he’d gone to bed—or was at least faking it.  Annabel’s light was still on, but she regulated herself for the most part anymore, and she was usually in bed around eleven, so I suspected her lights would turn off soon as well.  The girl liked her sleep, so I didn’t worry too much about her.

I also noticed Gabriel’s bedroom light wasn’t on…which meant Brandon had likely retired as well.  Oh, God.  That would make for an awkward tomorrow, not even having been able to talk about what had happened.  I breathed air in through my nose.  It wouldn’t be the first uncomfortable situation I’d had to tiptoe through in my life and it likely wouldn’t be the last.  I’d check the calendar when I went inside later and see what his work schedule was like.  If we were lucky, we’d be able to talk a little before he had to go.

I didn’t want to just ignore it and pretend it hadn’t happened.  That wasn’t healthy or mature, even though a tiny part of me—the part influenced by the alcohol—thought that might be the best path.

I turned and let my eyes readjust to the dark, taking my time as I made my way to the swing set that was no longer buried behind a wall of crisp, dry weeds.  I sat on one of the swings, feeling silly almost immediately at the way I had to bend my legs—either that, or I could have stretched them out in front of me—but then I looked up at the sky and took in the view.  Thanks to the town lights, I couldn’t see the Milky Way, a lovely sight I remembered staring at in awe as a kid, but the stars tonight were bright.  There was no moon hogging the sky, so I was able to enjoy the little pinpricks in the sky, with or without the lovely display of our galaxy as background.

In the quiet, surrounded by as much nature as my home outside of town afforded, I was able to process the events of the evening.  Okay, no, not all the events.  The one huge one.  I felt like I couldn’t quite see the forest for the trees, and I began to wonder if maybe I’d seduced poor Brandon.  Maybe he felt like hehadto throw this poor old lady a bone in return for my giving him a place to stay, a place to call home.  As that thought descended upon me, a sense of horror filled my chest.  That made me barely better than a rapist.

I let the air out of my lungs and closed my eyes.  I’d have to find a way to apologize and promise him it would never happen again and do my best to reassure him that he was welcome in my home for as long as he needed.

Oh, God.  What had I done?

I heard the back door open and wondered if one of the kids was looking for me.  “Are you out here, Kimberly?”

Shivers.  It was Brandon.

“Yeah.  I’m over here—on the swings.”  Good.  My voice sounded normal.  Now to prepare myself for a difficult conversation.

I could barely see his outline, and that was only thanks to the light spilling out from the utility room at the back of the house, and that was when I knew that was how he’d figured out where I was.  Then my soul flooded with doubt.  What a shitty mother I was.  My kids might not have figured it out if they’d needed me.

Oh, I had to stop with the self-deprecation.  What was done was done, and I had to move on.

Brandon sat in the swing next to me, and I realized that if I looked over at him, I could actually see the outline of his face.  “I’m glad you came out here,” I said.  I had to broach the subject and jump in without testing the water.  I’d never done well with tension (and I found that funny as a writer, because it was a device I had to utilize frequently) and had to clear the air when I couldn’t stand how things felt.

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

He was already misunderstanding.  I had to nip that in the bud right this second.  “Look, Brandon, I’m really sorry about what happened earlier.  I realize in retrospect that I kind of put you in a very awkward position…and I’m sorry.  It won’t happen again.”

I forced myself to look over at him but the darkness made it difficult for me to read his expression.  “You think I didn’t want you.”  It wasn’t a question, and I was riveted.  “What gave you that idea?”

“I just…”

“What happened—was okay with me.”

Was?  Time to keep treading.  “It doesn’t quite feel right.  I mean…I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“Are you?”

“How old are you?”

“Almost twenty-nine.”  He’d been looking up at the stars but he shifted his head to look over at me.  “How old areyou?”

Normally, that would be an offensive question, just because I’d always been one of those women who’d hated aging.  It meant my body was changing and it meant my children were getting older and becoming independent.  There was very little about the process that I liked.  But his question was legitimate—and I’d started the topic.  “Forty-seven.”  I’d already done the math.  “So Icouldbe your mother.”

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