Young Zoe Pt. 02

The drinks helped.

We talked about Scotty for a long time and had another drink. We talked about her cases and mine—Jess was also an attorney. When we ran out of things to say, silence descended.

"Still seeing that fella—what's his name? Horton?" I asked, just to make some noise.

"Charles Horton, yes. Off and on," she responded. "You and Naomi ever try to make the long-distance thing work?"

She was referring to the woman I had been seeing up until several months ago—Naomi. She moved to Houston and we ended things. "No."

"Anyone new?"

"No."

She nodded.

More silence ensued, and we both decided to try to get some sleep.

When we had spoken of Scotty in the kitchen, we both tried to put on a brave front—or at least I had—but I was deeply terrified. There is nothing quite so haunting for a parent as not knowing how bad things may be for your child. The imagination tends to run rampant with terrifying scenarios, especially in bed, alone, at night.

I could not sleep, and I wasn't surprised to see the light on in the kitchen when I went downstairs.

Jess was nursing another whiskey. I poured myself another, too.

We sat on opposite chairs in the family room.

"Remember," I said, "driving him home from the hospital after he was born?"

Jess smiled. "You were sweet. You spent fifteen minutes getting him buckled into the car seat, and then the whole ride home you were talking about how you were going to sue the manufacturer."

"And you got mad," I said.

"Well, it took an hour to get home! You took every back road. You went 10 miles per hour in 25 zones," she laughed. "All I wanted was to sleep in my own bed." She shook her head, smiling.

I laughed. "My gosh, those early days when he was a baby," I began.

She finished my thought. "We were so tired."

We reminisced, and soon, we started reliving tales of our courtship. At a lull, Jess rose and walked over to me. She put out her hand and said, "Come upstairs with me?"

My first thought was of Zoe. I couldn't cheat on her.

Then, I reminded myself how I was going to break up with her anyway, and I thought about how long it had been since I'd fucked a woman, really fucked. My cock ached for pussy.

I cursed Zoe in my heart and took Jess's hand.

There was no significant foreplay. Jess wrapped her long legs around me, and we fucked. She was soft and yielding to me. Sad and elegant. Beautiful.

It seemed we both needed this because we came together after just a few minutes, and then we fell asleep, spooning.

We fucked again in the morning. When it ended, we checked on Scotty.

Jess grew distant when the little guy woke up. She got him ready while I showered. I made him breakfast while Jess showered and dressed. Together, we went to the doctor's office.

"Dad, what's wrong with me?" Scotty asked during the ride.

Jess, too quickly, said, "Nothing, Scotty. You're fine."

When for several seconds Scotty said nothing, I finally spoke. "Scotty, your Mom's probably right, but we're going to see. The thing on your throat could be a bad thing, could be an okay thing. Either way, we're going to be with you and take care of it, okay, buddy?"

"Okay, Dad."

Jess and I exchanged a glance. It said a lot. It said that we both knew Scotty figured out that his parents were scared.

Waiting there to be called in was a kind of emotional torture. I couldn't hope for the best. The only thing my mind would allow is imagining how I would deal with the worst—how I would tell Scotty and how I would see my son through cancer.

The walk into the patient room was a march to the guillotine.

It wasn't but a minute before the doctor came in.

He came in with a smile.

Benign.

The outburst of joy in that office is something I will never forget.

We had to schedule an appointment for the next day when he could remove it, a perfectly safe, outpatient surgery. Apparently, the tumor was pinching against a gland that helped induce sleep. There was no direct danger, at present, but the doctor wanted it out so that Scotty could enjoy his summer and not sleep through it. He cleared his schedule for us.

The three of us went out for breakfast, ate like hogs, and went back home. We watched a movie together until Scotty fell asleep. Then, I grabbed Jess and carried her upstairs.

We fucked with a kind of joy that I hadn't felt with her since we were first married.

Afterward, Jess sashayed into the bathroom, semen running down her thigh and smiling back at me as I lay in bed.

She emerged a minute later with a bathrobe in one hand and a bikini in the other.

Oh, shit.

"I thought you weren't seeing anyone," she said.

I tried to be cool. "Nothing serious."

"Serious enough for her to have her own bathrobe and swimsuit in your house, though. Serious enough for you to want to keep it a secret," she countered. "I wonder what else I can find."

"Jess, come on. It's nothing."

"No, I'd like to know about this secret woman." She peered into the empty walk-in closet. She opened her old drawers and cabinets.

I knew there was nothing else to find.

Frustrated, she came back to our bed with the two items she had found. "Let's see," she said, inspecting the bikini bra. "Busty! Very busty. Wow," she commented. She checked the size of the bottoms with no comment, and then Jess held up the bathrobe against herself. "Oh, my gosh, she's...she's short! This is different."

"Okay, Jess, that's enough."

She donned the bathrobe in front of me. It was ridiculously small on her. Her arms extended five inches past the end of the sleeves. The bottom hem barely covered her ass.

I threw on my shorts and walked over to her. "Come on, take it off."

"No, I want to...."

She didn't say anything more because the doorbell rang. The only time it happened anymore was when a package had been delivered to the front porch.

She looked at my shirtless body and sighed, "I'll get it, but we're not done here until I know everything." She left the room and went downstairs.

I thought about Jess in the bathrobe. I thought about fucking her, and then I thought about Zoe.

A sudden thunderclap of alarm petrified me, ripping through my heart like a bullet.

No.

No!

I sprinted out of the bedroom. From the loft area, I saw Jess opening the front door. Stopping on the stairs, I heard Jess say, "Why, hello, Zoe! Cora, Gabe, what brings you over?"

Cora and Gabe said something as I descended the stairs, closing my eyes and cursing.

Jess saw me and made space at the door.

I arrived.

Zoe's face could not hide her utter shock. Her eyes met mine. Her mouth was open. Her face turned pink. There was no anger. Hell, anger would have been pleasant by comparison.

Zoe looked shattered. She seemed like a person whose entire understanding of life and the world had been instantly annihilated. She was aghast.

Cora and Gabe handed something to Jess. It was a get well card for Scotty. She thanked them and told them he would be okay in a few days.

Zoe just stared at me. I was shirtless, my hair disheveled, and Jess was standing there in Zoe's bathrobe.

Jess noticed the expression on Zoe's face. "Zoe? Are you..." Jess began, never finishing because she glanced at me.

The poker face eluded me.

Jess looked over Zoe's body and turned back to me.

She knew. Her eyes became flaying knives, and she faced Zoe. "It was so nice of you three kids to come over for poor Scotty."

You "three kids"—that had been deliberate.

"You're Scotty's Mom, aren't you?" Gabe asked.

"Yes," Jess replied, throwing her arms around my neck and drawing me close. "Scotty's told me a lot about you and your sisters." Jess kissed my cheek. "He's sleeping, so you can't see him now, but I'll be sure to give him your card and tell him you stopped by."

"Jess," I uttered under my breath. "Stop it."

"Thanks for coming over and...." Jess paused, smiled, and said her last words with the striking finality of a jury's sentence: "...and good-bye, Zoe." Afterward, Jess's fingers squeezed and rubbed the bathrobe like a huntress luxuriating in the fur of freshly killed game.

Tears streamed down Zoe's face as Jess tossed the door shut. I heard a burst of sobbing come from the porch.

Jess released me with a shove.

"Jess!" I began.

"You," she cut me off, "are a disgusting pig! Our son's nanny? You're fucking the nanny? That kid? That fucking child?" She pointed at the door.

"You call me a fucking pig?" I responded. "You're a vindictive cunt! Look what you just did to that poor girl! Why the fuck did you have to do that?"

"Yeah: 'girl!' Poor 'girl!' She's a child, you slut, and she's our child's babysitter!"

"You didn't have to slice her to pieces to stroke your fucking pride, Jess!"

"Don't talk to me about stroking pride. Your fucking that little girl is nothing but pride and vanity. What? Can't find a woman your own age anymore? Need a little confidence booster with the high school babysitter?"

"She's eighteen."

"Well, how conveniently thought-out was your plan! I guess you won't go to prison."

"She didn't deserve what you did, Jess."

She stared at me for a moment. "You like her?! Are you telling me that you actually like that girl?"

I didn't respond.

"You think you're going to have a relationship with her?"

I didn't respond.

"Oh, my gosh!" she guffawed. "This is over the limit. I'm glad I broke her precious little slut heart. I just saved her from you and you from her. Both of you should be thanking me."

I turned and left for the front door. Maybe Zoe hadn't left, yet.

"Stay away from me," she called out. "And I'll be talking to my attorney about this! It's going to be restraining orders, new custody hearings, and the works for you!"

Her car was gone.

***

Zoe would not take my calls, and I was hesitant to leave a message explaining myself or to send a text. Those things can be saved. Perhaps it was the attorney in me, but I thought if she was really, really angry, then those kinds of things might be used against me in some way.

The message I did finally leave was this: "Hello, Zoe. There's been a misunderstanding. I hope I can talk to you to clear matters up. Thanks."

I second-guessed myself the moment I ended the call. It was too lawyer-like and clinical. There was no heart it in.

Too late now, I concluded.

For the rest of that day and the next, Jess and I avoided one another except when we needed to be together for Scotty.

The surgery went well, and by Wednesday afternoon, we brought him home where Jess informed me that she would return with him to Sioux City until at the earliest next Monday night. She wasn't sure. She needed to talk to her lawyer, she told me.

I did not protest. I showered Scotty with affection and told him I would see him again soon.

He was back to his old, playful self in no time. Thank goodness.

***

Jess's threats about her lawyers had no real teeth, and she knew it. A consensual relationship between of-age adults was not grounds for a restraining order or a new custody battle. Fucking the nanny might have been, but I was not paying Zoe; she had never been employed by me. Plus, I knew that for work, Jess needed me to watch Scotty.

She was blowing off steam.

Zoe's anger, on the other hand, seemed more real. She hadn't returned my calls, but I kept reaching out to her.

Wednesday slipped into the following Monday, and I poured myself into work the entire time. After I picked up Scotty, I texted Zoe, inviting her, Cora, and Gabe over for Tuesday.

No response. Not on Wednesday or Thursday, either.

Scotty asked me why Cora and Gabe weren't coming over. It was the perfect moment to lie: Gosh, I don't know, Scotty.

But, I didn't feel like lying. I told him that I had hurt Miss Zoe's feelings, and she wasn't ready to hear my apology, yet.

"Try harder, Dad."

"I know, buddy. I will."

I had Scotty for the weekend. When he was fast asleep, I went to Zoe's apartment at midnight on Friday. Her car was parked in a slot, but all of the apartment lights were off. I gave it a few minutes before leaving.

I went over with Scotty on Saturday at dinner time. Nothing. Darkness. Not a hint of life inside the apartment. After a movie together, we drove past the apartment again. Nothing.

Were they gone?

Another week went by. I called, but she never answered.

"Dad!" Scotty snapped. "Try harder!"

Why was I trying at all? Wasn't this exactly what I wanted—an end to this insane relationship?

I suppose it was because Zoe deserved a better end. The way her confidence had blossomed while we were together had been a thing of beauty. I hated the idea that it all may have been destroyed by me. I needed to talk to her.

That night—a Friday—I decided that I would leave an actual message, not a lawyer one.

"Zoe, it's me. First, I'm sorry about my message from a few weeks back. You deserved more than that, and I was stupid. More importantly, I want to apologize for what happened at our house when Scotty was sick. My ex-wife was cruel to you. I made an enormous mistake. Everything bad that could happen really did happen during those days. I owe you an explanation. There is a hell of a lot more to the story than what you have, but I understand if you never want to see or hear from me again. Send me a text if that's the case, and I'll never bother you again. It's my loss, not yours."

That was better. If she decided to use it against me, I thought, then I deserved it.

I didn't call on Saturday or Sunday.

She didn't call, didn't text.

On Monday, I took Scotty to my parent's house in Minneapolis, and the four of us went up to their lake cabin for a week on the water. I let things be with Zoe.

The following Monday, we returned, and I dropped Scotty off for a full week with Jess.

That night at nine, I drove past Zoe's apartment again, and the lights in her room were on. I went home, and I wrote a long letter. It explained everything—Scotty's illness, fucking Jess, everything. I drove back and typed a text for Zoe: "Left a note on your windowsill. Please read it."

I sneaked up, left the envelope, and sent the text.

I waited where I could watch.

When I saw the blinds slide open, I left.

Good-bye, Zoe.

***

An hour later, I heard a car pull into my driveway. I knew the sound of that engine; it was Zoe's old Toyota. Quickly checking myself in the bathroom, I heard her car door open and close. Then, I heard another door open and close.

She brought the kids? At ten in the evening?

When I opened the door, I was met by Carol. Zoe stood behind her, clearly upset.

"Carol," I said. "Hello, Zoe. It's nice to see you both."

"May we come in and speak with you?"

"Mom!" Zoe spat with exasperation. Her voice broke a little as if she'd been crying.

I stood aside, holding the door open.

"Come on, Zoe," Carol urged, and the two passed by me into the house.

I led them into the kitchen. They both refused the offer of a drink. We sat around the table.

"Is your son here?" Carol asked.

"No, he's with his mother this week."

"I was very sorry to hear about his illness."

"Thank you."

"I'm glad he's healthy."

"Thank you, Carol."

She cleared her throat and said, "Speaking of children, and our love for our own, I am here because of this—this relationship you had with my daughter."

I nodded.

"You nod like you understand things, but you don't. You haven't been in our home these past weeks, listening to her cry. You haven't seen how sad her younger brother and sister have been, seeing her so devastated. You haven't sat through her silence, her refusal to talk to me or answer questions."

"No, I don't know. You're right."

She looked at me gravely. "So, as her parent—and I know she's eighteen, but I am still her mother, she still lives with me—as her parent, I acted. Two weeks ago, I come to find this."

Here, she laid on the table the diamond choker necklace.

"This is a four thousand dollar necklace. I had it appraised."

I nodded.

"What," she asked, "do you suppose I thought when I found that out?"

Shrugging, I said, "That I bought it for...."

"I thought she'd stolen it."

I couldn't speak for a moment. "Carol," I finally said, "Zoe would never...."

"I know she wouldn't. But, what else was I to think? She's paid $200 a week for nannying the children. She has no other job. She couldn't afford this, and I know what kind of money she has saved up."

I didn't say a thing.

Zoe silently stared at the table with puffy, pink eyes.

"I wondered if she was selling drugs. Can you imagine what that's like? Wondering if your child is a thief or selling drugs?"

"No."

"I didn't believe it was possible, so I took my children on a week's vacation, hoping to get Zoe's mind off of her problems and get her to talk to me. That didn't work. So, when we got home I confiscated her phone. I pay for it, anyways."

Zoe looked furious as this part of the story was told.

"What do you think I found on her phone?"

"My message."

"Both of them—the first short one, and then the longer apology, and then, I knew."

"Carol, has Zoe heard those messages?"

"Yes."

Zoe and I glanced at each other. She was unreadable.

"How old are you?" Carol asked.

"Thirty-six."

"Do you know that Zoe just turned eighteen three months ago? Just three months ago, my Zoe was only seventeen. Did you know that?"

"No, I don't know her birthday."

"When is your birthday?"

"April 18th."

Carol stopped. She stammered, "Well...that's...."

Zoe stared at me, uttering, "That's my birthday, too."

"It's beside the point, Zoe!" Carol snapped. "The point is you're half his age!"

"I was half his age in April, Mom. Every day that passes makes me more than half his age."

I drew my lips tight to keep from smiling when she said this.

"It doesn't matter, Zoe!" Carol rounded on me. "You took advantage of a much younger woman, and you broke her heart. That is the point."

"I did," I said. "I won't deny any of that, but can I ask Zoe something, Carol?"

"Ask what?"

"Didn't my letter explain things?"

"What letter?" Zoe asked, turning from me to Carol.

I said, "I left...." I turned to Carol, too.

Carol suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I...."

"Zoe," I explained, "an hour or so ago I sent a text to you, letting you know that I left a letter on your window sill."

"Mom!"

Carol was caught. She searched for something to say.

"That's not right, Carol. It's hers."

"I know what's best for my daughter."

"Mom!" Zoe shouted, rising from the table. She put out her hand and waited.

I'd never seen her look so angry.

Carol fished it from her handbag and placed it in Zoe's hand. "It doesn't change anything, Zoe."

Without responding, Zoe took the letter and walked through the kitchen into the playroom with it.

Carol muttered, "Just going to break her heart all over again."

I raised my hand—wait a sec, lady. "Carol, I realize you don't think much of me, and I'm not going to brandish my resume in front of you, but I'm no idiot. Do you think I would buy a four thousand dollar necklace for a woman I didn't care about? Do you think I would call the way I have been and write that note to a woman I didn't care about?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes as if the very sound of my voice was some torture for her. We sat in silence, waiting for Zoe to finish.

The wait was killing Carol. After a minute, she stamped her foot and hissed, "Have you had sex with my daughter?"

"That really isn't your business," I responded. "But if I haven't, it's not for any lack of desire."

"You're disgusting."

I shrugged.

Five minutes later, Zoe emerged from the kitchen, tears streaming down her face. "Mom, can we go, please?"

"Zoe?" I asked.

Carol turned to me triumphantly. "It's over!"