Page 3 of Scooter's Endgame
“Let’s get going then, shall we?” I indicate for Kathleen to precede me and, as she does, I turn to mouththank youto Carol. She shakes her head and mouths back,no, thankyou.
I drop Gator off first since his is the closest stop. Kathleen and Luke sit quietly in the back of my car on the drive to the base, and randomly, I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a taxi driver. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I notice that Luke is dozing against his mother’s shoulder. Loathe to disturb him, I remain silent.
Stopping outside their home on the base, I hop out to give her a hand getting Luke out of the vehicle. Kathleen takes her key out of the pocket of her jeans before reaching for the boy. “Thank you so much for the lift. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do.” Indicating the sleepy Luke, I ask, “Can I give you a hand to get him inside?”
“No, I’m good, thanks. I’ll manage. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
Not wanting to push the issue, I take that as my cue to leave. I give her a smile. “You know how to reach me if you need anything. Anything at all. Take care, Kay.”
I hate to just leave her standing at her front door but, with little option, I drive away, a hollow feeling of foreboding in my gut. The same feeling I get right before a mission turns to shit. With one last glance, I make a left turn and head for the gate, and home.
2
KATHLEEN
Watching Beckett drive away is one of the hardest things I’ve done to date. I want so badly to ask him for help, to take me away from the goat rodeo that is my life, but I can’t. It’s not in my genetic makeup to open myself up like that. Life has taught me I can only rely on myself.
As my favorite motivational speaker always says, no one’s coming. No one’s coming to save me, no one’s coming to do it for me. It’s all on me. But, dear God, some days it’s really hard to simply put one foot in front of the other, to keep going.
With a deep sigh, I shift Luke’s weight so I can slide the key into the lock. I’ve only managed to turn the key when the door flies open.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Jeff stands in the doorway, blocking my entry.
“Please, Jeff. It’s been a long night. I’m exhausted. Can I please just go put Luke down for a nap, and then you can interrogate me?”
For a moment, it looks like he’s going to deny my request, then steps out of the way, allowing me to pass. “Thank you,” is all I say as I pass him.
I get my sweet boy settled, checking to make sure his temperature is still fine, before going back to the living room to see what has Jeff so hopping mad today.
“I’ve been waiting for you, for hours. So, I ask again, where the fuck have you been, Kathleen?” I’ve barely cleared the doorway when he starts in on me again.
I stare at Jeff for long, silent minutes, thoughts rioting through my mind. This man – the man I had, at one point, believed to be the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with – leaves me cold.
Any love and affection I felt for him is dead, never to be resurrected again. I’m so done with him and all his crap. I just wish I had the courage to leave. But I don’t. So I’ve stayed. For Luke. That sweet child that has been through so much in his short lifetime. Born at twenty-eight weeks, he’s struggled with asthma since his birth. As my gaze roams over Jeff’s face, I realize how much of a mistake it was to stay.
I should have made a plan to leave. Found a way to support myself and my son.
“What are you looking at?” Belligerence thick in every word, Jeff sneers at me.
“To answer your first question, I spent the night in the ER with Luke. To answer the second question, I’m looking at the man who left me to deal with that medical emergency on my own.” Bracing for the fallout, I ask a question of my own. “My question to you is, where the fuck wereyou?”
“I don’t owe you any explanations, bitch. I pay the bills around here, and I expect you to be home when you should be.”
A spark of discontent, of anger, I’ve been ignoring for way too long flares to life. Fury like I’ve never known consumes me, silencing my usual need to avoid conflict at all costs. But it’s an icy rage that has me speaking calmly and quietly. “Do you now?” I ask. “Funny how the bill failed to get paid at the hospital this morning.”
Something passes over his face, too quickly for me to decipher it. His ruddy complexion turns red as his own temper builds. “What are you talking about?” The way he says the words makes me think that, despite his playing ignorant, he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“When I got to the cashier to settle up the bill for Luke’s treatment this morning, the insurance was declined.”
If I hadn’t been paying attention, watching him like a bug under a microscope, I would have missed the flash of guilt in his eyes. My anger burns brighter. “Don’t talk shit. Why would the insurance have been declined? Unless you’ve depleted it. You’re always babying that boy. Rushing to the ER for the smallest thing. No wonder he’s turning out soft.”
“Firstly, the fact thatyouare to blame for all our son’s health issues means you don’t get to pass comment on the topic. Secondly, I’d like to know why was not only our health insurance declined, but the debit card for our joint account and the credit card declined, Jeff? Can you explain that to me?”
In the pit of my stomach, I already know why. I want to hear him say the words out loud – to admit what I suspect he’s done. Again, I see guilt flash in his eyes. Oh, not guilt over the fact that there wasn’t money in the account. Rather guilt as in he’s culpable. But, true to form, Jeff attempts to bluster his way out of it rather than take responsibility for his actions.
“How the hell would I know? I’m not the bank. I have no idea why they would have been declined. Unless you’ve overspent again, like you always do.”
