Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“I definitely missed that, but perhaps that accounts for your father’s mood when we were on our way out.”
“When we were on our early way out, you mean?”
“Did we leave early?”
He chuckled. “Yes, sir, we did.”
I hadn’t noticed. “Well, anyway, tell me about Melton Prep. Start with what that is.”
“You don’t remember this at all?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s been big news this week because Melton Preparatory Academy is being sued because a lot of the boys there were…hurt. Things were done to them.”
“Like what? Were they abused? Left outside overnight in the cold or––”
“No, Pa,” he said solemnly. “They were assaulted. Continually. By members of the staff.”
I heard him. I processed the words and then had to quickly pull over because my face heated so quickly, I saw spots, and I thought I was going to throw up.
Getting out, I darted around my van to the sidewalk, where I bent over with my hands on my knees. My son was there fast, his hand on my back, rubbing circles there as I tried to breathe. It was difficult.
“Ask you a question?”
I nodded as I concentrated on moving air in and out of my lungs. Betrayed by people who were supposed to care for you was simply the worst thing I could think of. Kids hurt by people in places of authority, teachers, counselors, at church, at school, all of that simply broke me. The most heinous of all, of course, to be harmed by, or put in any kind of jeopardy by, your own parents. I simply couldn’t fathom such a thing. To look into the face of—
“Pa, turn your head and look at me,” he ordered.
As I did, I found my son crouched down beside me, smiling.
“Do you see me?”
I gave him a quick nod.
“Guess what? I didn’t go to Melton. Would you like to deduce why?”
Straightening up, I sniffled as he passed me a tissue from the box that he’d brought with him when he got out of the van.
“I didn’t go, not because you and Dad couldn’t afford it, because by the time I was ready to attend middle school, which is when it starts, you had the money. I never attended Melton because you said no.”
I blew my nose and looked at him.
“And I know that because I remember being pissed at you for a week.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. I was really upset because Jake and Harper were gonna go.”
“Why don’t I remember any of this?”
“Because to you, it wasn’t a big deal. You made the decision and that was it.”
“That does sound like me,” I said, trying to smile.
“Well, I don’t think Dad liked the sound of it either, the boarding school part, but the program looked amazing, and the people that came to school to talk it up were super impressive.”
I nodded.
“But you said no, and Dad agreed, as he normally does, so in my head, the fault was firmly yours.”
“Which is not at all fair, by the way.”
“I know that now, but still,” he said with a shrug. “But it turned out that because I couldn’t go, Jake’s folks—who weren’t sure they could swing it because he would have needed to qualify for a scholarship—decided they would skip it because of how miserable he was.”
“He didn’t want to go without you,” I said with a smile.
“Nope. And Harper’s mother didn’t want him to go for the same reason you didn’t want me to go, and had already made up her mind to tell him no when I told him I wasn’t. We were both bummed, but since neither of us wanted to leave Jake, we got over it. I remember after that first week I decided to forgive you.”
“I see,” I said, blowing my nose when he passed me more tissues.
“Not that you noticed,” he grumbled at me. “You were blissfully unaware that I was ignoring you, just going on with your days like my life wasn’t over.”
“Would you like to know a secret?”
It was really something. My husband was not there, my son was, but the way he stepped back, crossed his arms and scowled at me was all Sam Kage.
“Every time you were mad at me, I would just kill you with kindness. I tried to lay it on so thick that it would make you crazy.”
The stunned surprise was worth the cost of admission.
I cackled just a bit.
“No.”
More laughing at that point.
“You lie.”
I felt so much better.
“That’s terrible,” he assured me, reeking with judgment, shaking his head before turning and stalking away.
Between crying, and then laughing, I had a small meltdown on the side of the road and laughed until I cried again. At which point he had to get back out of the car, walk over, and hug me. I looked terrible by the time we were back in the van. I only drove a half a mile down the road before we had to switch places. Hard to drive when you could barely see.