Eleven
Clint
“Dad, I’m kinda big for an eight-year-old. I almost come up to your chest.”
“Yeah, buddy, I know. You’re just like me when I was your age.”
Sammy and I were at the local market picking up some things for Gladys. Now that my dad has taken to coming over to the house every damned day, she finally took pity on him and set out to make some of his favorite dishes. I didn’t always come out grocery shopping for Gladys, but I wanted to spend some time with my son, and I wasn’t too good to go to the store. Plus, I’m sure Tamara took note. I smiled, knowing she’d reward me later when everyone was asleep.
“So, why can’t I ride Bastian yet?”
I smiled at his new tactics. He must be getting coaching from someone. Ah… Tamara. “Well, let’s put it this way. When I was your age, my dad made sure I rode horses that were age and size appropriate. Do you know what that means?”
He dropped his head and nodded. “Yeah, it means you still think I’m too small to ride a regular stallion. But Dad…”
“Hey, Clint,” a voice called out.
Turning, I immediately regretted that decision when I came face to face with Patty. She was a woman I’d spent the occasional night with in the past. It had been more than a year since she and I hooked up. Then, she’d started saying how she wanted to meet my son and why couldn’t she come out to the house and spend time with me. As soon as she fixed her mouth to say that bullshit, I cut things off. There was no way in hell I wanted to be in a relationship with her, and I made that clear.
“Patty,” I responded flatly. There was no way I was going to encourage any kind of conversation with her.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she continued as she walked over to Sammy and me. “And who’s this handsome little fella?”
I looked down at Sammy, but his lips were pursed tight. His gaze was turned away from the woman standing in front of us. Unhappiness showed all over his eight-year-old face.
“We were just about to wrap up and head home.” I stepped back, touched Sammy on his shoulder, and moved to walk around her. “All good, Sammy?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m ready to go home. Tamara’s waiting for me,” he said, sliding his eyes to the woman still standing there.
“Who’s Tamara?” Patty asked, stepping in front of me, which instantly pissed me off. She had no right to question me. I had no desire to be mean, but she was going to get her feelings hurt if she kept this shit up. “Move, Patty,” I grit out. “Don’t make me embarrass you in front of everyone in this store.”
Her eyes squinted with anger. “I wanna know who Tamara is? You don’t call me no more and I want to know why.”
“Don’t you ever question me,” I growled in response. Patty’s eyes got watery and full with tears, but all I could do was shake my head. Maybe there was something to what Tamara said the other night. Maybe Patty wasn’t getting the message because she wanted more. It’s too bad she would never get another chance at me again.
“How can you not want me?” She stomped her foot and flipped her long red hair over her shoulder. What the fuck did I ever see in her? Then again, she was never meant to be anything long-term, only a temporary distraction.
“My daddy doesn’t want you. He has Tamara. She’s prettier than you. I don’t like you.”
I wanted to chastise him for speaking out of turn like that to an adult, but I couldn’t muster up the energy to care. “Stop embarrassing yourself, Patty. Come on, Sammy.”
Checking out of the store and carrying our groceries to the car, I couldn’t help but feel nervous about the last interaction. Here in town, I was simply the son of Butch Sullivan, the local high school football hero. The town golden boy who did good and joined the military to serve his country. They didn’t realize I was so much more than that. Women like Patty were always trying to latch on to me. They’d been waiting for me to give them an opening ever since Janet died. The casseroles they brought to my home and my parent’s home to make sure I was eating. Yeah, it was all part of their game to get to me. To be the woman who’d make me forget about Janet. Forget the pain of losing her.
They thought I was fool enough to believe they weren’t waiting around like vultures to take my late wife’s place in my life.
Not until Tamara.
Once we were sitting in the truck, I looked at Sammy, who was sitting in the back seat. “Hey, buddy, why’d you say what you did to Patty?” Not that I cared that he spoke up, but I was curious about why he said it. He was silent for a few minutes, looking out the window and avoiding my gaze. “Sammy? What’s up with that?”
“Dad, I didn’t like her. She was smiling all big with her big stupid teeth and blinking her eyes at you.” He paused and looked away again. “Tamara doesn’t have to do any of that stuff, and I know you like her, too. I don’t want another woman talking to you because I think it would make Tamara sad.”
“Why do you think I like Tamara?”
“Dad,” he said in a way that told me he thought I was being dumb on purpose. “I see the way you look at her, and when I walk in the room, you two move apart real fast. Plus, Gladys likes her and hugs her a lot and….”
“What is it, Sammy?”
“She hugs me a lot, too. When I’m around her, she asks me questions about what I like to do, and she gives me treats and listens when I talk. I like her, Dad. I want her to stay with us.”