Is Responsible
By noon, Autumn was dressed in jeans and plain white T-shirt. She flat-ironed her hair until it was smooth and shiny and brushed on a little mascara and tinted lip gloss. And yeah, she’d made the effort to look presentable because Sam had cal ed and said he was dropping Conner off himself at noon. No, she didn’t care about impressing him, not that she could, anyway, but neither did she want to open the door looking tired and scary. Which was how she usual y looked on Sundays.
By half past twelve, she stood in the living room, looking out the big window. By one, she paced with her cel phone in hand dialing Sam’s number. He didn’t answer, and al sort of horrible scenarios ran through her brain. Everything from a car accident to kidnapping. Every time she heard an engine in the distance, she pressed her forehead to the glass and looked down the street. Every time it wasn’t Sam, her anxiety shot up a notch. When Sam final y pul ed his big red truck into her driveway at one thirty, she was out the door before he put the vehicle in park.
“Where have you been?” she asked as she tore down the steps, her gaze scanning the inside of the truck and stopping on Conner strapped inside. At the sight of her son, al her worry and anxiety turned to anger.
Sam slid his long legs out of the truck. His running shoes hit the pavement, and he stood there in jeans and a dark blue pul over fleece as if he were in no hurry. As if he weren’t an hour and a half late.
“Hey there, Autumn.” A pair of old-school Ray-Bans sat on the bridge of his slightly crooked nose, and the afternoon sun shone in his hair like he was some golden warrior.
Her cheeks felt al hot, and she had to take a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Do you know what time it is?” There, that sounded calm. Sam pul ed back the sleeve of his North Face fleece and looked at the big platinum watch on his wrist. “Sure, it’s about one thirty,” he answered as if she’d merely inquired. He reached inside the truck and pul ed out Conner’s little SpongeBob backpack.
“Hi, Mom,” Conner said as he fol owed his backpack out the driver side.
“Where have you been?” she asked again.
Conner jumped to the ground beside his father. “Shorty’s.”
Was that some sort of bar? Strip club? God knew Sam loved the strippers. “Whose?”
“It’s an arcade downtown,” Sam elaborated. “Just a few blocks from my condo.”
“We had hot dogs.” Conner’s blue eyes got wide with excitement. “I played pinbal . I got lots of points.”
The two high-and low-fived each other, and Autumn felt the familiar tic behind her right eye whenever she had to deal with Sam. She didn’t know if it was an aneurysm or blood clot. Neither was good. “Great. Wonderful.” She forced a smile for Conner’s sake. “Tel your dad good-bye.”
Sam squatted down, and Conner stepped between his widespread knees. “Bye, Dad.” He wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and held tight.
“Maybe we can go to Shorty’s again.”
“Sure.” He hugged him, then pul ed back to look in his face. “Or we’l go to a movie or you can come to a game like we talked about.”
Autumn didn’t need to see Conner’s face to know he was looking at his dad like he was the best thing since double hot fudge cake. Al the guy had to do was feed him the crumbs of his attention, and Conner total y ate it up.
Conner nodded. “And fish.”
Sam laughed as he rose. “Maybe next summer.”
Conner grabbed his backpack from the ground. “Okay.”
“Run inside and put your stuff away.” She laid her hand on her son’s cool, fine hair. “I’l be in in a minute.”
Conner looked up at her, then back to Sam.
“See ya, buddy.”
“See ya, Dad.” He gave his dad’s leg a quick hug, then headed up the steps to the front door. Autumn folded her arms beneath her breasts and waited until he was inside. Then she turned to face Sam. She didn’t want to yel or scream or sock him in the head. She didn’t want to be that crazy person. Like before. She was in control of herself now. “You said you’d have him here at noon.”
“I said ish.”
“What?”
“I said noon- ish.”
The tick in her eye moved to the center of her forehead. “What is that? Some sort of special Sam time? While the rest of the world lives and operates in time zones, you’re special and operate in ish?”
He smiled like he thought she was funny. “I wanted to spend a little more time with him, Autumn. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to spend a little time with my son.”