“So he says.”
“Is there some reason you won’t just pay him back?” she asked, but before he could answer, she stopped herself. “Never mind,” she said. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m done hearing your lame excuses—”
“Can we not do this here?” he asked quietly, looking around the shop.
Markie slumped in her chair. “Fine. Do you have any other friends who might hire him? Ones who’re still talking to you, I mean?”
“Seriously, Markie. Can you not? With the attitude?”
“I need help here, Kyle, and so does your son.”
“Kyle?” the barista called from the counter, and Markie watched as he jumped up and flashed the woman his most enchanting smile. At the counter, he leaned toward her to pick up the lattes and said something in a low voice. The barista threw her head back, laughing, and said, “I can see I’m going to have to keep my eye on you.” Markie turned away.
Kyle set their lattes on the table, and she took a sip of hers while she waited for him to sit. Still standing, he cleared his throat. “You, uh, have any cash? It came to nine forty, and I only had a five.”
“Nine dollars for two coffees?” she asked.
She reached for her wallet and gave him a ten. He paid the barista and sat again. “Look,” she asked, “could you at least come over every other day or something and walk this crazy dog of his? If he’s going to be out looking for a job, then putting in his hours, plus staying up on homework, he’s not going to be able to get up at five every morning and tire it out. And I can’t have it tearing up my house and howling while I’m trying to work.”
“I’m really not a dog person, is the thing,” he said.
“Neither am I!” she said. “But it’s not just about the dog, Kyle. You’re Jesse’s father. He needs you. Not only to take Angel for walks, but to just be with him. Spending time, talking, doing father-son things. He’s spiraling. Can’t you see that?”
“Well, I’m really not set up to have him over at my new place,” he said. “It’s small. I don’t even have a TV. And the fridge is one of those dorm room ones that hardly hold any food; the kid would starve. And I can’t imagine you really want me coming around your place every other day. You divorced me, Markie. You wanted me out of your life.”
It was a typical Kyle move, blaming his bad behavior on her, and she opened her mouth to call him on it. But his body seemed to have sagged, suddenly, and his face, normally bright with optimism, seemed weary. Markie changed course, and instead of berating him, she softened her voice and said, “We’ve known each other forever, you and I. We have a son together. I never imagined we would stop being in each other’s lives. You can come to the house. To walk the dog or just to hang out with Jesse. It’s fine with me.” Fine was a stretch, a very long one, but she was willing to extend herself for her son’s sake.
Something in Kyle seemed to break then, and his body and face both crumpled. Markie had never seen him look so broken. She felt her exasperation melt away as compassion took its place. She tried to think of something encouraging to say to him, but before she could come up with anything, he leaned forward, his voice low and unsteady, and said, “The thing is, I don’t blame you. Look, I know I’m not a guy who spends a lot of time on self-examination, but even I’m not too dense to have given a bit of thought to why my wife didn’t want to be married to me anymore. I screwed up. I know I did. I’m . . . what was the word you used? Flaky?”
She started to apologize, but he waved her off and went on. “And you were right,” he said. “I’m a complete flake. Always have been. The only time I was anywhere close to being a stand-up guy was when I was with you. On my own, I’m . . .” He looked away for a long moment before facing her again and whispering, “I’m a fuckup. I know I am. I mean, for God’s sake, I just had to ask my ex-wife to help cover two measly lattes. Yeah, I owe Danny money, and a few other people, too. I got fired last week, and I’m not sure if there’s a job around here I haven’t already been hired for and canned from. Plus, I’m hardly a shining example of fidelity or honesty or any other moral you’d want to pass on to a kid. So what the hell do I have to offer Jesse?”
Markie moved to speak, but Kyle held up a hand to stop her. “He takes after you, thank God,” he continued. “I know he had this one huge lapse of judgment with the spray paint, but we both know that’s not who he really is. He’s a grounded kid, an honest one, a responsible one. He’s going to be a good man. I agree with you that he needs to get away from these guys he’s been hanging out with. They’re a bad influence. But so am I. He’s better off without me.”
“Kyle,” Markie said, reaching for his hand, “you can’t believe that’s true.”
“We both know it is,” he said. He stood. “I need to get out of here.”
“Wait!” Markie said, rising as he made his way to the front of the shop. “We don’t both know it’s true! I think—”
But he was gone.
Jesse jogged up the walk, tossed his backpack onto one of the patio chairs, and, out of breath, asked if she had checked into her job idea. His sincerity filled her with regret. They were failing him, she and Kyle. She needed to do better.
“I did, and it didn’t pan out. I’m sorry.”
Her words were almost drowned out as Angel, trapped inside in her crate, resumed the deafening protest she had kept up most of the day. Jesse ran inside and reappeared a moment later, the dog leashed. He held her off with one hand as she jumped up, desperate for attention, and used the other to fish his cell phone from his back pocket.
“So I can call Trevor and say yes?”
Markie was tempted to tell him, look, it was a lovely gesture, his promise to pay the Levins back, and she was proud of him for even thinking of it, but the entire thing was getting a little too complicated. Maybe a handwritten letter of apology would be an adequate alternative. How long could he avoid the wrong path if his workmate was one of his co-vandals? Damn her ex and his uncanny ability to burn bridges with every colleague and acquaintance he’d ever known! If not for Kyle’s unpaid debt to Danny, there would have been an alternative that kept Jesse’s conscience strong while also keeping him away from Trevorandthehoodlums.
“Mom?” Jesse said, holding his phone aloft. “Can I? Call him? His dad’s there until five today, and he told Trevor I could come in and—oh, hi, Mrs. Saint!” He waved, and when Markie turned to look and saw no one, he explained, “She was on the porch, but she just went inside.”