My anger simmers, in danger of boiling over while he’s talking.
Notat Lucas.
“Oh, honey.” Zoey stands and rounds the table to hug him from behind.
Meanwhile, Arlo and I exchange a glance and I know we’re thinking the same thing.
That motherfucker.
Bill, not Lucas.
At least now we have our answer as to what the hell happened. It enrages me the jerk would use Lucas as a pawn like that. Then again, he’s a raging narcissist, so it’s not surprising, I suppose.
“I’ll call our attorney on Monday,” Arlo says. “We’ll file for a modification of custody as soon as possible.” I know that last part is more for Zoey’s benefit than for Lucas’.
Arlo and I are on the same page. They shouldn’t have waited the last time, and if she tries to balk this time, I’ll help Arlo gang up on her and press the issue.
“I swear I won’t flake on you this time,” Lucas says. He’s holding onto Zoey’s hands, where she’s draped her arms around him from behind. “I shouldn’t have believed him the last time. I’m really sorry, Mom.”
“It’s what people like himdo,” I say. “They use people. Been there, done that, divorced one of my own.”
Although, in retrospect, one not as bad as Bill, apparently.
“Allwe were doing was kissing,” Lucas says. “We were on the couch and watching TV and kissing. We were going to start doing our homework so that we’d be working on that when Mary came home. I didn’t hear him come in because he didn’t open the garage door like he usually does. He came in the front door. Then he saw us lying there. I thought maybe I could calm him down after Caine left, but he yelled at me and demanded to know if I was gay, and I told him yes. Then he started…screaming.”
He shudders. “I’ve seen him yell and get angry before, but I really thought he was going to come after me and hit me. He went into the kitchen, grabbed the box of trash bags from the pantry, and threw it at me. Told me to pack as much as I could fit in those and get it into his truck. And I had thirty minutes to do it or he’d drag me outside.” He sniffles. “He screamed at me all the way here. I thought he was going to wreck us a couple of times.”
“He didn’t hit you, did he?” Zoey asks.
“No. I ran into my bedroom and started grabbing everything I could.”
“He’s lucky he didn’t hit you,” Arlo says, with dark anger threaded through his tone. “He’d be in jail right now if he had.”
“Or worse,” I mutter, because I’d gladly put that fuck in the hospital.
“He hit one of his other girlfriends once,” Lucas admits. “He was drunk and slapped her.”
That’s news to us.
“When didthathappen?” Zoey asks, sounding stunned.
“One—no, two girlfriends before Mary. I didn’t see it, but I heard it happen during their fight. I’d been hiding in my room after their fight started. She accused him of cheating on her. When I ran out to see what happened, he ordered me back to my room.” He looks up at her. “Did he ever hit you?”
Zoey strokes his hair. “Once. He punched me. That’s when I left him and divorced him. I tried to leave him several times before that and he’d guilt-trip me into coming back. I have proof of it, too. Pictures, witness statements, and I made him sign a statement admitting to it, or I was going to have him arrested for it. That’s how I finally got him to agree to a divorce and pay for my attorney.”
Lucas’ voice drops to a whisper. “I’m sorry I screwed up before. Thank you for letting me come home.”
Damnit. NowI’mnear tears. “You always have a home with us, buddy,” I say. “You’reourkid.”
Lucas has eyes almost the same grey color as Zoey’s. “Now I know why you’ve always kind of felt like another dad to me,” he says. “Like Arlo does.”
I don’t want to get my hopes up.
Seriously, I donot.
But maybe this will be okay after all.
* * * *
