The Forgotten Child, Lorhainne Eckhart [bearly read books txt] 📗
- Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
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“Sorry, it slipped. Not a good spot for the plant Emily, you’ve got a two-year-old; I’m surprised you put it so low.”
Now this was her fault? Oh, no, I don’t think so. She crossed her arms and took a step forward. “I didn’t put it there. And Katy would never pull a plant off the table. It’s been a really busy day; I haven’t had time to go through, and childproof, this house for whatever Trevor can grab and pull down.”
Brad’s cheeks tinted a subtle pink. She’d hit a nerve. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he offered. “I’ll get him cleaned up. Do you want to sweep this up?”
“I’ll clean up. Then dinner’s ready.” She turned her back. Proud she’d said what she did. By the time she tidied up, Brad had Trevor cleaned, changed and deposited back in the living room beside his toy box, where Katy was playing with her baby dolls.
“Mmm, smells good.” Brad said as he strode to the backdoor, where a rung of a half dozen coat hooks lined the whitewashed wall; he draped his tan barn coat over one.
Emily put dinner on the table. When she glanced up, Brad was staring at her with such softness; it shot off a fizz of bubbles in her tummy much like a can of soda pop when you first crack it open. He cleared his throat and cocked his head toward the overstuffed black garbage bag. Brad wrinkled his nose as he sidled up to the offensive bag. “I better take it out. Come on, I’ll show you where we keep the garbage out back.”
Brad tied the two ends of the black garbage bag and hefted it, as if it weighed nothing more than a feather. Emily followed to the back porch, but they both stopped in the doorway of the living room. Trevor was stuck in his own world; barefoot and pants-less again, driving his toy cars over a cloth fringe on the coffee table, patting it down then repeating the exact same pattern.
“Oh, look at that, he’s playing cars with your Katy.” Emily didn’t look up at Brad; what she saw was Katy playing with her Dolly, cuddling her blanket and rubbing her eyes. They were sharing space. When she looked up at Brad, he grinned in a way Emily wasn’t so sure was joy.
“We better hurry, we’re entering the witching hour and something else could land on the floor.”
The kitchen clock ticked five. Emily hurried behind Brad to the back porch, where Brad dropped the bag in one of the large black cans, leaning against the side of the house. “Make sure you secure the top down so bears and raccoons can’t get in it. That is a mess I don’t want to be cleaning up in the morning.”
He was abrupt. The change from laughter, to serious, all business, was so fast that Emily felt the foolish, warm, good-all-over glow, he’d put there earlier wiped away. “I will.”
He gestured to the door, “Dinner ready?”
“Let me get the kids and we can eat.”
They walked back in to whining, jumping and the patter of little feet running circles on the hardwood floor.
“The witching hour, huh?” His lips twitched as he glanced down at Emily. “I’ll get washed up.”
The most unpredictable man sauntered upstairs; how different a man he was from Bob. A nuisance really, Bob was on Gina’s color-coded list, to reorganize Emily’s life, of things to handle. Emily sighed. “Katy, Trevor, dinner.”
Emily didn’t bring up the incident with Trevor at the market. Several days later; she was still kicking herself for holding on to it. But every time she looked at Brad; she realized there was some hidden fear, and that he just didn’t want to know. She watched Trevor. She tried to play with him, but he just wasn’t quite right. When he wacked his head on the corner of a wall hard enough to leave a sizeable goose egg, he simply rubbed his head and went back to his cars. The latest trip to the grocery store had him running his hand over the conveyor belt at the checkout; Emily couldn’t get him to stop. Little things would send into an atomic tantrum where he’d throw himself to the ground kicking and screaming. Small things like, pulling him away from the television or his cars if he was lining them up.
If someone new came to visit, he’d climb all over them, and then wrap himself around their legs. Brad had to yank him off of the nice lady who showed up with business papers for him to sign. It was embarrassing and Brad had apologized profusely, after he’d yelled at Trevor.
Emily scoured the internet when the kids napped—when Trevor slept. There were times—days, he just wouldn’t sleep. She researched his symptoms, and what consistently popped up was, either mercury poisoning, or autism.
Emily needed to find the courage to sit Brad down, and talk with him. Trevor needed help, and Emily worried each time she took Trevor out to a store; whether he’d have a public meltdown, or if he’d scream and flail. The only thing that she could do was to pick him up and hurry back to the van with Katy; trying to ignore the hard judgmental glares from strangers. Was she hurting the kid, or just a bad mother? They didn’t say it out loud. They didn’t have to.
He’s an asshole! A thorn in her side that had begun to fester. Why the hell wouldn’t the jerk grow some balls and play nice? Sheep were more likely to grow wings before that idiot, who she was unfortunately still married to, decided to become a responsible man. That would best describe all the separation legalities with Bob. He’d left everything for Emily to look after; no surprise there. That’s what he’d done the entire time they were married. All the phone calls, the landlord, and the bills he’d begun challenging, were her responsibility. As her new lawyer, Peter Murphy had said—he was bitter. Even the petty refusal of allowing Emily any part of the return deposit, which the landlord was refunding, even with the short notice, since the house had been snatched up by another family. Even though Bob was not paying full child support, and no alimony for Emily, he refused to clean the house or handle any of the details for the disconnect services; though he still expected all the money. What a piece of work. You hear stories from other women about how nasty their ex’s turn when the couples split up. Emily couldn’t quite grasp, couldn’t wrap her head around, the fact that she’d awakened and realized someone she’d once loved, and thought she knew, had turned into a monster. So, to expedite everything, she’d endorsed the entire check over to Bob, refusing to fight over yet one more detail; even though Gina told her not to do it. But Emily didn’t want to fight. Wasted energy. She had too much on her plate, including caring for an unpredictable child who wasn’t even hers.
Her lawyer, Peter, a short balding man with round glasses and an overbite, filed the necessary paperwork for legal separation and custody of Katy. Bob hired nobody. He was just being an ass. Visitation, Emily was pleased he’d agreed to, was every other weekend.
One Tuesday, during Emily’s third week, Katy and Trevor were seated at the table, their almond butter sandwiches cut up for them, when the telephone rang. Brad wandered in the back door at the same time. He snatched the receiver from the wall phone.
“Hello… Yeah she’s right here. It’s for you, Em.”
He passed her the old phone with the long cord, “Hello, this is Emily.”
“Emily, this won’t take long but I need to say my piece.” Of all the times for Bob’s mother to call. How’d she get the number? Emily closed her eyes, wondering if the universe would be kind right at this moment and disconnect phone service. Brad draped his tan jacket over the back of the chair. He dished up a small bowl of chicken soup for both kids from the pot in the middle of the table. “Ah, Nina, this isn’t a good time. It’s lunchtime. Can I call you back later?”
“No, Emily. I promise this won’t take long. I’m so disappointed in you. You just didn’t try to hold that marriage together and Katy’s the one who’s going to pay the price for this mid-life crisis of yours. Bob’s worked so hard for you and you appreciate nothing he’s ever done for you.”
Nina had one of those high grating voices that carried through a phone; the kind everyone in the room could hear. Emily felt ashamed when Brad glanced up. Would this make him think less of her? Of course, it didn’t look good.
“Look, Nina, it is inappropriate for you to be calling here. My relationship, with your son, did not include you.”
“How dare you speak to me like that?”
Trevor started banging a spoon
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