Page 2 of Tex's Angel

After packing up everything into my pull-along briefcase, I head out to my car. I’ve got papers to grade and lessons to plan, so I decide to scoot on home without any side stops. I glance up as I pull out of the parking lot to see Abby in my rear-view mirror. I honk and wave before pulling out onto the street.

***

On the way home I mull over the situation with my sister and soon to be ex-husband in my mind. Finding him in bed with my older sister had been a huge shock, since they’d both been pretending to hate each other for years.

I can still remember every detail of that day three months ago like it was yesterday. Neither of them had shown up to the awards ceremony where I was named teacher of the year. My parents were there, but not my sister or my husband.

It’s weird that it never occurred to me to wonder if they were together. I had just assumed my sister likely couldn’t find a sitter and that my husband was sick. That’s why I rushed home from the ceremony to check on him, when I otherwise would have stayed for dinner. Finding her car there didn’t even set off any warning bells in my head. It wasn’t until I walked in and found a pile of her clothes in front of my sofa that I realized something was up. Before I could even process that, I heard unmistakable sounds coming from our bedroom. I threw her clothes out on the lawn leaving the door open to give her an easy way out for what came next.

Call me old fashioned but I was enraged. Instead of walking in and cursing them out, I pulled my water hose from under the kitchen sink, attached it to the faucet, walked into the bedroom and turned it on them. To say they were shocked would be an understatement. When my sister climbed out of bed and ran for her clothing, I let her escape. Hearing her freaking out was gratifying, but not as gratifying as squirting my husband in the freaking face every time he opened his mouth to speak. It was even worth having to sleep on the sofa for a week until the bed dried out.

My sister saw her clothing on the front lawn and like the crazy whack job she is, she thought she could sneak out in broad daylight, stark naked and grab them without anyone noticing.

My husband eventually got tired of being sprayed so he locked himself in the bathroom, long enough for me to pack a bag and leave for the night. That was the shittiest day of my entire life bar none. Going no contact with them both after throwing him out the next day was the best decision of my life. Filing for divorce was surely the second-best decision though.

***

When I get home this afternoon, I notice my next-door neighbor is giving his teenage son another stern talking too. I can tell because when I pull in, his handsome mouth is moving a mile a minute and he’s waving his arms around. I don’t know much about him, other than he and his son moved in just over a year ago, and they’re renting the place from Mr. Bernardi. He’s good looking to be sure, but the man looks like he’s never smiled a day in his life and last time I tried to give him a friendly hello, he just grunted in my direction. Hearing him berate his son, I sometimes think parents just don’t know how to parent their teens. At that age they want to defy authority and assert their independence, and yelling just goes in one ear and out the other. Heaving my briefcase out of the passenger side, I bump the door closed with my hip before pulling it along behind me, up the sidewalk to my front door.

After turning on some music, I warm myself up some leftovers and get right on grading my latest round of pop quizzes. The other teachers say the older you get, the more you hate grading tests. I can see that happening in my future. I used to enjoy it, as it was gratifying to see that the students wereretaining what I taught, but the novelty is starting to wear off. By the time I’m finished, my hand is cramping and all I want to do is chill out, watch an episode of my favorite crime show, and hit the sack. Maybe I should have been a detective or a crime scene investigator rather than a teacher? I love mysteries, psychological thrillers, detective shows, and listening to real crime podcasts. Putting the pieces of the puzzle together to solve a mystery or crime is way more satisfying than working on a boring puzzle.

I don’t even pick up my phone to see what my sister and ex have to say. It’s been vibrating off and on all night. Gina’s birthday is tomorrow and she’s stupid if she thinks I’m going to wish her a happy birthday, much less come to the party our folks are throwing for her ungrateful ass.

My life might be complicated and a bit chaotic, but at least my job is going okay.

Chapter 2

Tex

Iwake up this morning to find Levi sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal out of a box with a large glass of milk. My son always has to do things his own way, so naturally he can’t pour milk over his cereal like any other kid. I walk over and put a pod in the coffee maker and set my mug in place. We don’t usually talk before I at least get a few sips of caffeine inside me. I’m on my third sip by the time I realize it’s ten ‘til eight and he’s still in his pajamas.

I ask him grimly, “So, it’s gonna be another one of them days, is it?”

“You mean the days when you pick a fight about nothing, we get into a screaming match, and you go to work mad? Maybe. It depends on you, really.”

“Levi, it’s ten ‘til eight. Your ride’s fixin’ to get here any minute. But here y’all are, still in your pajamas and knee deep in cereal and milk. Is there something I’m missing?”

He snorts a laugh but before he can answer I tell it to him straight. “I only ask because I’ve decided that I’m not arguing with y’all no more. If y’all miss your ride to school, I’m just gonna take y’all on to work with me from now on.”

“Oh hell no. I’m not going to that damn police academy with you. Fuck that shit.”

By the look on my fourteen-year-old’s face, you’d think I was dragging him into the very pits of hell, rather than taking him to the local law enforcement training academy.

“Watch your language,” I tell him sharply. “Y’all need to be in school ‘cause we both know the kinda things y’all got yourself into back in Texas when you skipped school.”

He shrugs carelessly. “I ain’t never been charged with nothing, so what’s it matter?”

I muscle my temper under control and take a drink of coffee before I carefully explain to my knucklehead son exactly why he’s managed to worm his way out of criminal charges. “Y’all know the only reason y’all weren’t charged along with your friends was because I intervened.”

“Yeah, thanks for that Wyatt. Here’s the thing, they committed criminal acts like robbing vending machines and stealing gas. I didn’t do a damn thing. I just happened to be there when they were making some bad decisions. Being in the vicinity of crime doesn’t make me a criminal.”

“Look here, son, I’m not gonna argue until I’m blue in the face about this. The fact that y’all were happy to spend their ill-gotten gains makes you accessory after the fact in the eyes of the law.”

My son is shaking his fool head before I even finish the sentence. “I don’t have control of other people, only myself. If I happen to be with a paramedic when he saves someone’s life that doesn’t make me a paramedic, right? If I happened to be on a boat with a fisherman while he caught fish that wouldn’t make me a fisherman.”

With an IQ of one twenty three, this boy of mine is just plain old smarter than me. He’s making a lot of sense, but I can’t let him double talk his way out of the lesson I’m trying my best to teach him. “The law don’t see it that way, son. Now, I need you to listen real close. I’m no longer a damned law enforcement officer. That means if y’all get picked up again, I ain’t gonna be able to call in any favors to get y’all out of trouble. You understand?”

He nods, mimicking my deep voice, “I totally understand, Wyatt.”

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