Hold On

Merry’s expression changed again, but I was too far gone to take note.

“But my son never knows his mother’s a stupid bitch like that. And he sure as fuck doesn’t find out that shit from some asshole who gets his rocks off jackin’ her around.”

His entire long, lean body jolted like he’d been struck, but I turned on my bare foot and stomped out of the room, happy to see that I had to open the door in order to do it, which meant Ethan wouldn’t have heard any of that.

I took a deep breath and another shallower one on my way so I at least had some of my shit together by the time I cleared the hall and came into my living room.

Ethan had his jacket on, his backpack on his shoulder, and when he saw me, he grinned.

“He told you, right?” he asked the minute he could get the words out. “Merry told you that Marty got ’im? Tackled him behind the freakin’ Dairy Queen.”

“Yeah, kid, he told me,” I confirmed.

“Marty’s so cool!” Ethan declared, saying words about Officer Marty Fink that only kids in that town eleven years old or younger would utter. “And get this, you know that waffle iron you bought at that garage sale that we used once and it conked out?” Before I could confirm that I knew the waffle iron he was referring to, he kept talking. “Merry opened it up, messed with some wires, and now it works.”

God.

Ethan said that like Merry came up with the cure for cancer in his sleep, called the FDA, and got them on it, and already, statues around the world were being planned to be erected in his honor.

It was worse than I thought.

“He made you some too, Mom. They’re in the oven, keepin’ warm,” Ethan told me.

“That’s cool, Ethan. Now, do you have your homework done?” I asked.

He looked confused at my non-excitement to his excitement-filled morning and answered, “Yeah, Mom. You asked me that last night.”

“Your gramma check it?”

“Yeah.” He was getting impatient. “You asked me that too.”

“Okay, warning,” I declared, moving closer to him. “Last night a bad guy was on the loose, so I’m taking my quota of gooey for the week right now. I’m gonna hug you before you go and you’re gonna have to put up with me tellin’ you I love you.”

My boy rolled his eyes, but I ignored it completely, getting close and taking him in my arms.

I hugged tight and went overboard, landing three quick kisses on his head, smelling the shampoo in his freshly cleaned, still slightly wet hair.

Christ, Merry also got him to shower. This was not big on Ethan’s hit list in the mornings (or ever).

Ethan wound his arms around his mom, gave me a quick squeeze, and let me go.

I took my cue and let him go too, but after I did, I lifted up my hand and playfully shoved the side of his head.

“Love you, kid. Be good.”

At this juncture, Merry came into play, opening the door and lifting his hand with his keys. We heard a faraway beep and I looked his way.

“Go on out, buddy. I gotta talk with your mom real quick, then I’ll be out.” He offered his keys. “You know how to start a car?”

My mouth got tight.

“Yeah! Sure!” Ethan lied, because he did not. Then again, he’d seen me do it often enough in his life and it wasn’t hard.

“Start ’er up, keep her in park, but get the heater runnin’,” Merry ordered.

“Right!” Ethan cried, grabbed the keys and looked to me. “’Bye, Mom.”

“Later, kid.”

He took off.

I watched, then looked again to Merry to see him also watching.

He turned to me only when the door on his Excursion slammed.

I opened my mouth.

Merry beat me.

“Any more shit gets found, Tanner’ll call you direct.”

I stood still and stared at him, the empty tone of his voice slamming into me as sure as if he was shouting.

“You should tell Ethan what’s up with his dad and that woman,” he advised, his voice still empty. “He should be in the know and aware if they try to pull anything.”