The Family Man

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It had to be some kind of trick. A lie to get over on the court.

My eyes flooded as I dared to dream. If the check was good, a tremendous stress would be lifted off my shoulders. If Jake made good on his support payments, life would change dramatically for Maria and I. Revisiting my name on the check sitting so closely to the amount made my eyes tear up. I'd really need the gun if the check was bad.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Maria had snuck up on me. I quickly wiped my eyes and forced a smile on my face.

"Nothing," I lied, "we need to get to the bank before it closes." I tucked the check into my purse. "Maybe we can grab some dinner at Mark's Pizza."

"Sure," Maria's face lit up. If the check was bad, Mark's Pizza was an equally bad idea. I decided to let fate decide and live like I had disposable income. It was only pizza, and the smile on Maria's face was worth the risk. Don't screw with me Jake, I'm armed and dangerous.

***

It was two days before the bank verified the check was good. My opinion on life changed drastically when I hung up the phone with Southmore Credit Union. If the check was good, maybe the letter was accurate as well. I re-read the letter for the fourth time, going over every word looking for some loophole. There was nothing but Jake's commitments in the letter, nothing I had to do or sign or attend. No court or expensive lawyer necessary. Something had changed in Jake which meant life may have changed for Maria and me. I could only hope it lasted a lifetime and not the mere days his promises had lasted in the past.

Joy is defined as paying off a Visa bill in one go. Besides the persistent mortgage, I no longer had any debt. If Jake made good on his monthly payments, Maria and I could splurge and even start a savings program for college. I tested the idea of Maria having friends overnight in my mind. If Jake was serious about not drinking, a regular childhood was a distinct possibility. Verification was necessary. I couldn't risk another child in the house without proof of Jake's turnaround. I devised a simple plan that would allow me to proactively check on Jake, without announcing my lack of trust to him.

Chapter 6

There were only a few cars in the Main Street Church's parking lot. I drove through quickly and decided that Jake would easily recognize my car with so little cover. I pulled in across the street in a strip mall parking lot, in amongst many vehicles. A light buffer of bushes helped obscure my car, giving my the anonymity I needed.

The AA meeting was scheduled for seven, so I turned on the radio and waited the thirty minutes. It was the only AA meeting in town or at least the only one I could locate. If Jake was attending, this is where he would be.

I felt a little weird when customers returned to their cars and found me sitting alone, watching the lot across the street. I would smile if they caught my eye, letting them know I was exactly where I wanted to be and not having any problems. Most ignored me, cars pulling in and out. Next stakeout, I would have to pick a spot where the employees parked to lessen my exposure.

At fifteen to the hour, cars started pulling in across the street. There were women and men, some wearing suits, others casually dressed. It was an eclectic cross-section of humanity. One man looked more like a boy as he headed into the church's back entrance. At least Jake wouldn't be recovering alone if he was indeed honest in his attempt.

Jake's past lies began to surface the closer the time approached seven. Times where he had promised he would change only to relapse a day later, drunk and slapping me around. The memories stoked my anger. I opened the glove compartment and verified that the Glock was still there. The presence of the gun increased my confidence and allowed me the boldness I needed to do what was necessary. It clouded my fear, making a task such as a stakeout easier to fathom.

At five minutes till seven, a beater blue Ford pickup pulled into the lot. When Jake stepped out of the driver seat, my eyes widened. What happened to his new car? Jake had always considered his car to be an extension of himself. Well, more of an extension of the dream of who he wished to be. Jake lowered the tailgate and sat down, obviously waiting for someone.

It took me a moment to associate his missing car and the check I received. That must have been how he came up with the money. I looked at him sitting on the tailgate. There was something missing in his posture. The pride was missing. He used to have a way of sitting that announced he was the most valuable person in the world. It wasn't just a straight back or the way he'd cross his ankle confidently on his knee. It was the way he would scan the area as if nothing escaped his notice, yet found everything beneath him.

Jake's legs hung loosely over the tailgate, swinging slightly to some tune in his head. He was absently examining his fingernail and pursing his lips. It was a relaxed look, almost as if the actions of the rest of the world were unimportant. He looked comfortable. I hadn't seen him comfortable in years. I began to remember why I loved him once. They were pleasant thoughts, though I knew they could never return with the frenzy they once had.

Jake smiled and hopped off the tailgate when a black Mercedes pulled into the spot next to his truck. The driver exited and immediately shook Jake's hand firmly. They moved around the cars and for a brief moment, were facing toward me. My breath caught. The other man was Eric Papirius.

I watched them walk, Eric's hand finding Jake's far shoulder as they moved to the back door. Eric was shorter than Jake, though it looked like Jake ignored the fact, acting almost subordinate. They disappeared into the meeting, and I sat, contemplating what I had just seen.

Eric was Jake's friend. Maybe they were both boozers cleaning up together. That might explain why Eric gave me the cold shoulder. Friends share stories, and I was probably the evil witch in Jake's tales. I was sure they both found reasons for their drinking, picking out the people who drove them to alcoholism. I didn't like the idea of Eric thinking of me as the cause of Jake's issues.

It was a layoff that first sent Jake to the bars. Add a bunch of drunks reinforcing his opinion of management, and you had a recipe for failure. A man without a job didn't look kindly on a wife who earned while he remained unemployed. At home, my mere existence reinforced his self-doubt, a mirror of his imagined failures. Life was better at the bar. By the time he found another job, the depression had taken hold and me, not the booze, became the reason for his internal pains.

In the long run, Eric's opinion of me didn't matter. The fact that Jack had a friend going through the same thing was heartening. The two were leaning on each other, supporting a healthier outlook and that meant a better existence for Maria. I smiled, ignoring the strange look I got from a shopper returning to her car. They could both hate me, and I was better off as long as they never veered from the road to recovery. I started the car with a lightened heart. My life, at that moment, was better than it had been in a long time. There was room for happiness.

***

The Halloween block party was in full swing. Maria had decided to be a zombie princess, decked out in a yellow Belle dress with ghastly makeup on her face. It was better than the mask she had last year, which never seemed to stay on her face. The blood splatters and fake scabs took me a while to apply. It was hard to work on a constantly laughing face. Next time, no mirror until we were done.

As usual, Todd Brindleson was hosting on his driveway. A big cauldron like fire pit was burning away with ample marshmallows and sticks for toasting them. I had brought the graham crackers and chocolate bars to s'more them up if desired. Others brought tubs of drinks, hotdogs, small grills for hamburgers and all the fixings for a friendly BBQ. After seeing the dessert table, I decided my diet would have to take a vacation for the night.

It wasn't long before Maria ignored me in favor of her neighborhood friends. They were all waiting for it to get dark enough to trick-or-treat properly. I just smiled and moved toward the food table, offering my talents as an impromptu server. It allowed me to talk with everyone and still keep an eye on Maria.

Sidra, an Indian immigrant that hadn't seen India since she was a baby, decided it was a good time to talk about raising preteen daughters. Her daughter, Theresa, was a year younger than Maria and was having trouble with a certain teacher at school. I had to be careful with my language, not wanting to undermine my job, but still support her struggles with Mrs. Haverston, who I knew to be a hard case.

"She's tough on the kids, though they do progress a lot," I said judiciously.

"But two hours of homework at that age. I don't know if the stress is worth it."

"Does it take that long?" I had no trouble letting my face show sympathy. It was rare when Maria's homework took too long, but when it did, tempers flared as we fought through the tortured girl syndrome.

"Almost every night," Sidra replied sadly. The Brewsters walked up to the table, and I quickly set them up with hamburgers from the warming tray and a couple of lite beers. We had a short, cordial neighborhood chat before I was able to return to Sidra.

"That sounds excessive," I admitted, "Did you talk with Mr. Casson?"

"Do you think that would help?" Sidra asked. I didn't hear it, or better yet, wasn't focused on her question. My mind had moved to Todd, who was dragging a reluctant Eric to the party. I could see Eric trying desperately to explain he had things to do in his house, gesturing and shrugging his shoulders. Todd was having none of it, insisting that Eric join the party if only for a few moments. Eric's sigh was visible from across the road as he surrendered and followed Todd across the road. "Natalie, do you think it would help?"

"Oh, sorry," I said, returning my eyes to Sidra," It couldn't hurt. Mr. Casson is a reasonable guy. Maybe Mrs. Haverston isn't aware of how much homework she's assigning." I had my doubts about Mrs. Haverston's lack of awareness. A brief talk from the principal usually had a tendency to move her back toward reality. It worked in the past.

"I don't want to cause trouble and make things worse."

"Mr. Casson is pretty discrete. I'd give him a try and see what happens. Can't imagine it would make matters worse." My voice trailed off as Eric approached the table, his hazel eyes looking everywhere but at me.

"I guess I'll have a hotdog," Eric said, skipping right past hello. I smiled, not wanting to add fuel to his dislike of me. Unknowingly, he was currently my best friend. The man who was straightening out Jake encapsulated all my hope for the future. It didn't matter if he liked me. It only mattered that he kept Jake on the straight and narrow. I hopped on it, securing a plate, bun and nestled the most perfectly cooked wiener I could find in the warming tray.

"Catsup, mustard, and relish are at the end," I said as I handed him the plate, "anything to drink?" Ignoring my smile, Eric looked over the offerings in the tubs behind me. He was an infuriating best friend.

"A Budweiser," Eric replied. The request caught me off guard.

"Are you sure?" I said, unable to control my concern. Sidra looked at me like I was from another planet. Eric finally looked up at me, irritation plain on his face. I'm sure it didn't help that he didn't want to be there.

"Quite sure." It was said sternly. All I could think of was him falling off the wagon and dragging Jake into the mud with him. I stepped back hesitantly and reached into the beer tub. My mouth moved again, and I didn't think fast enough to stop it.

"Wouldn't soda be better?"

"It's just a beer, Natalie," Sidra said, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, of course," I said, pulling the beer from the tub. I made an effort to wipe it down with a towel and held it out to him. My damn hand was shaking. Eric's eyes traveled from my hand to my face. The stiffness in his features dissipated and I could almost see the wheels churning in his mind. There was intelligence there, something he hadn't allowed me to see before.

"On second though, a coke would be better," Eric said, his eyes leaving mine as his features tightened again. The beer was back in the tub in record time. I was so happy he had reconsidered. Without looking at me, he snatched the offered coke, again ignoring my smile. At least he wouldn't slip today, and hopefully, that meant Jake wouldn't fall backward either.

"What was that?" Sidra asked me after Eric moved off toward Todd. When he wasn't wound up tight, Eric had a handsome look about him. I turned toward Sidra, shaking the stupidity from my mind. He was only handsome because he was changing Jake.

"What was what?"

"What you just did there. You got a thing going on with Eric?" I laughed. Everyone turned toward me, except Eric. I covered my mouth, not realizing I had burst out so loudly. It took a moment for all to realize there was no further entertainment.

"Actually, I think he hates me," I whispered.

"He just moved in. What could you have possibly done to upset him?"

"He's friends with my ex," I admitted, shrugging my shoulders. "You know. Divorce has a way of making people pick sides. He probably only hears about what a bitch I am."

"He does seem to scowl around you." Sidra chuckled. "Too bad, he isn't hard on the eyes, and I understand he's single."

"Widowed is what I heard."

"Even better," Sidra added, bouncing her eyebrows up and down.

"Now who's the bitch." I smiled. "Besides, Jake needs all the friends he can get. It makes him stable, and Maria and I sorely need that. He's paying child support again." I purposely avoided the AA meetings, thinking the subdivision's rumor mill didn't need any more fuel that could come back and burn me.

"I bet that's a relief," Sidra said. We were interrupted before I could respond beyond a nod. Half the neighborhood decided to show up at that moment. Sidra scooted behind the table and helped me play hostess. By the time the chit-chat ended and the crowd cleared, Eric was nowhere in sight. He was a loner. A fabulous 'ex' fixing loner.

Chapter 7

Maria was smiling as she accelerated along the sidewalk on her new purple scooter. I grinned at her old mismatched knee pads and helmet. I would have to remedy that before summer neared. November had brought another check, as promised. Jake was two months into his promised turnaround, and our life couldn't be better. I made sure that Maria knew that her father was the reason we could afford the scooter. That way he'll get the credit if he stays true to his words, or absorbs the blame if we return to a paycheck-to-paycheck existence. I found I didn't hate sober Jake like I did drunk Jake. Forgiveness was still miles away, but the hatred was diminishing quickly.

The tea kettle began to sing forcing me to turn away from the window. It had been getting cooler outside, and I had promised Maria some cocoa. Nothing wards off the chill like a sweet, warm cup of hot chocolate. That and Maria would actually sit still and talk with me while she drank. I really liked our mother-daughter time. The older she got, the shorter it became. Soon, boys would be more important than me. I wasn't looking forward to high school and hormones.

I returned to the window with the piping hot cups in my hands. Maria was in tears. The two Bradley boys from down the block were playing keep away with her scooter. She was struggling to chase it down as the boys laughed and passed it back and forth. Anger flared. My man trouble was on hiatus, and now boys were the issue. It took a second for me to find a place to put the cups down without spilling. The little monsters were going to get a lesson in manners.

The boys were running down the street when I opened the door. I slowed, wondering if I had been too hasty and Maria handled it herself. Instead, I saw her wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Eric was on his knee, holding her scooter out to her. Not knowing what to do, I silently pulled back into the house. I had no idea why I didn't want to confront him. The thought itself was uncomfortable.

From the window, I saw Eric talking. He smiled, which brought out Maria's smile and the end of her tears. He remained on his knee, at her level, as they had a brief discussion. Maria nodded and took her scooter from Eric. I flinched when he reached out and tenderly wiped off her cheek with his finger while he added some more words. Maria nodded again, turned and started coming home with the scooter. She stopped as she started up the driveway and shouted: "Thank you." Eric smiled back and waved. All I could think about was how uncomfortable I was seeing him touch Maria. I only wanted him fixing Jake. Boys I could handle myself.

"Hank and Tim took my scooter," Maria complained as she entered the house. Normally, I would demand that she put the scooter into the garage, but I could see the possessiveness in her eyes.

"How did you get it back?" I asked, pretending I didn't just see it all happen.

"Mr. Papirius told them to stop and sent them home."

"He did?" Maria nodded as she began removing her jacket. She didn't get the hint, so I prodded her some more. "Did you talk with him?"

"He told me I shouldn't let boys do that. Next time I should turn away and come get you. He said boys don't like being ignored and would probably give the scooter back before I get inside," Maria replied with determination in her words. "Boys are stupid." I struggled not to laugh.

"Well, he was one once. Who would know better?" I said. It still bothered me that he touched her cheek, but his advice was spot on. Eric was difficult to put into a category. Most men I could sum up in a few words and organize them neatly in my mind. It would be better if he didn't live down the street and took care of Jake from a distance.

"I cried," Maria admitted.

"You were frustrated," I said, hugging her close, "boys can do that to you. Now that you know what to do, you won't cry the next time." I thought of my Glock. There was a lot of strength in knowing what to do.

"Am I pretty?"

"Of course you are," I answered quickly, creating some space so I could look in her eyes. I had now idea where that came from. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"Mr. Papirius said I was pretty and that's why the Hank and Tim were teasing me. Do boys do that?" Maria looked at me like I was the font of male knowledge. All I could think about was a recovering alcoholic touching my baby and telling her she's pretty.

"Sometimes, sweetie," I replied, pulling her close again. "Have you talked with Mr. Papirius before?"

"To get my ball." Maria nodded. "It went over his fence when Sarah and I were playing in the backyard. He said it was okay for me to get it."

"That's all he said?"

"Yeah, he was nice about it. Not like Mr. Rivers who lives next to Sarah. He gets mad when things go in his backyard." Maria's nose lifted up. "Is that hot chocolate?" I let go of her.

"I was just about to come out and get you," I replied, pointing at the cups on the table. We sat down and went deep into why some boys can be jerks. Next time, I won't hesitate if Eric spoke with Maria again. Uncomfortable or not, Maria was my life and sacrosanct.

***

"I just don't like him, Tony," I said as the target zoomed back to me. My shot group was getting tighter which caused me to smile. The gun was more of a toy now that it's immediate need had gone mellow. It still gave me the courage I was lacking. Just knowing that I could use it effectively allowed me a sense of comfort. Bumps in the night didn't make me jump.

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