Alice left Neilwith Marie when she went to meet Jim at the old house. She’d moved out and into a new apartment a few days before he returned from his latest deployment abroad, and she had no intention of telling him where they were living now. She didn’t trust him not to stalk them or worse.
“What the hell, bitch?” Jim asked, waving his arm around the empty living room. “You took my shit?”
“It wasn’tyourshit,” Alice said softly. “It was our shit. And I’m leaving you with the house and the money in our joint account. I’m not asking you for anything more, Jim. Not another cent. So, please…just let us go.”
“‘Please let us go,’” Jim mocked. “Like I want you or your little bastard around anyway. Freakish little brat.”
Alice didn’t defend Neil. It was pointless, and it would only piss Jim off more. She had to concentrate on one thing, and one thing only: getting out of there unharmed and securing his agreement to sign the divorce papers.
She noticed the empty beer bottles by the clump of blankets on the floor. Most of the blankets still had their price tags from where he’d purchased them at Walmart. When her eyes flicked back up to his face, she swallowed and wished that she hadn’t come alone. She should’ve taken Marie up on having her brother, Shane, come with her.
“He wasn’t even Marshall’s,” Jim said, spitting out the word. “My best frienddiedthinking that kid was his. Lying cunt.”
Alice quivered and started to back up toward the front door of the house. She’d told Jim before, a hundred times, she’d never been with anyone else. There had only been Marshall, and then him. But she knew where this conversation ended up, and she was just glad that Neil wasn’t here to see it because he’d blame himself, like he always did. And it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help who he was, or who he’d been born to be.
The first punch was always the hardest to take, and Alice only had to suffer through three before she managed to wrench the front door open and stumble outside, clutching at her ribs and trying not to cry. The neighbor, Mrs. Chandler, was smoking on her front stoop, and she waved at Alice cheerily, her smile fading as she took in Alice’s face.
“Need help, darlin’?” she called out.
Alice shook her head, fumbled with her car keys, and got the car door open. She glanced over her shoulder to see Jim standing in the doorway, one hand on the jamb, the other on the door itself, shaking his head at her and glaring menacingly, almost daring her to come back.
Mrs. Chandler looked between them and then stubbed out her cigarette and went inside.
Alice took a deep breath and drove away.
She didn’t go straight to Marie’s house, though. She wanted to get herself together before she picked up Neil. She hated to see the guilt on his face when he knew that Jim had hurt her. He wasn’t a very open child, but when he did feel something, he felt it deeply, and she’d seen the way he looked after her fights with Jim in the past. Dark circles would appear around his eyes, and he’d spark inside with a rare warmth, a sad, guilty devotion and affection that made up for everything awkward and trying about him, and he’d stroke her hair while she cried.
There were times when she felt like the world’s worst mother for allowing him to do that, to comfort her that way, but most of the time it just felt like the two of them against the world, and she was growing accustomed to that.
Grateful Jim hadn’t punched her face, she was able to wipe the tears from her face and stop crying after only an hour or so. She cleaned up in the McDonald’s bathroom, splashing water on her red, tear-stained cheeks.
When she finally showed up at Marie’s house, Neil was sitting on the front step. His skinny legs were tucked up almost to his chin, and his piercing, intense gaze followed her car into the drive. When she got out, he stood up and ran to her. His arms felt too small and slight around her body. She held him and rubbed his back, and when he peered up at her, he searched her face.
“So….” she said.
He stared up at her, and she could feel him assessing her, taking in every detail of her face, body, and hair.
“It’s over,” she said. “Hopefully he’ll send in the paperwork. And if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t. I don’t care. We’ll never see him again.”
Neil nodded shortly. “Good. I…I’m sorry.”
She patted his soft, spongy chestnut brown hair. “Shit happens, Neil. Every Southern girl knows that. But you’re not the shit. He is.” Neil seemed unconvinced, so she grabbed his chin and made him look at her. “You’re special. You’re not like everyone else. And maybe some people will hate you for that. But I love you. God help me, I do. And I’ll do anything for you. You’re my son.”
Neil looked like he might say something cutting; sometimes he did when she was too sentimental. But he just said, “I love you, too.”
She cleared her throat and tried not to cry. He almost never said it, but she always knew it was true. Still, it only hurt in the good way to hear.
“I love you, too,” he said again. “And I promise to make it all up to you. I’ll make you proud.”
April 2021—Atlanta, Georgia
Neil sat inthe dark in his room, curled up in the bed, an underlying hint of pain softening his usually sharp expression. Alice sat on the floor by his bed, reached out a hand to him, and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t take it. She sat there for over an hour, and it was only when she stood up to leave that Neil spoke. His voice was rough and tired. “He got married. Joshua. Got married.”
Alice sighed and turned back to the bed, sank down to the floor, and said, “Neil, you have to let this go.”
“I’m glad,” Neil said, straightening his shoulders. “I’m glad for him. I want him to be happy. At least, I did. Ido. I don’t know. He can’t wait around for me to grow up.” He tensed his body as though annoyed with it and said with quiet rage, “Look at me. I’m just a little boy.”
Alice didn’t know what to say to that. She never did when Neil confided these thoughts to her. If she had more money, she’d seek counseling for them both. Though she couldn’t imagine Neil ever actually talking to a counselor. And there was no way she was going to pay exorbitant fees for sessions she had no doubt would devolve into staring contests and possibly insults. From Neil, not the counselor.
