“Just that me and Dad got into a fight, and I’m moving out.”
“Fight about what? So we’re on the same page.”
“They know Dad’s an asshole,” he quietly says. “Sorry. That he’s a jerk, I mean.”
I smile. “I know it’s hard not to swear sometimes.” Like hell will I ding the kid for it. Especially not under these circumstances. “Just watch it around Katie.”
“I will.” I was going to continue on my way, but he looks like he wants to say something else. “I’ll do extra chores, if you want me to, to help pay you back for the extra attorney fees. Or I’ll get a part-time job or something.”
Shit. I step into his room. “Yourjob, besides chores around here, is to study and get good grades. And be honest with us.” Then a thought hits me. “Wait. What made you think that?”
I mean, I get making the kid work for his allowance and not spoiling him, butI’mputting food in his stomach, clothes on his back, and getting him whatever he needs for school.
“Dad said I couldn’t get my driver’s license until I could pay for all of the car insurance, and a car, and everything myself. That I wouldn’t be allowed to use their cars at all. And he wouldn’t let me get a part-time job or anything. When I tried to save up my allowance, he’d make me randomly pay for stuff. Demand it out of nowhere. Like my phone bill, or shoes, or clothes, or whatever, so I couldn’t ever save up money for it. Like he was mentally keeping tabs on how much I had saved up so he could ding me for it and wipe me out again.”
Sonofabitch.
Nolan and I had offered to start teaching him how to drive last year, when he turned fifteen, but apparently Bill pitched a fit when Lucas returned after a visit to us when we’d helped him get his learner’s permit. Which I didn’t understand, at the time, because we were going to put Lucas on our insurance and not bother asking Bill to pay half of Lucas’ premium.
So we backed off that and let it go.
“So why did he get pissed off when we were going to help you learn how to drive? We were going to pay for the insurance.”
He shrugs. “He kept putting me off every time I asked. A couple of months ago, last time I asked him if he’d at least teach me how to drive, he told me since I was friends with Caine thathecould drive me around. And that I’d better not ask him again, or he’d never teach me.”
This isn’t making sense. “But he’d get pissed off if you wanted to come here for the weekend and he had to drive you? Could he not afford to pay for your insurance?”
“Control,” Zoey says from behind me in the doorway.
I turn to look and see her standing there. She’s holding her mug of coffee and wearing a guarded expression on her face, one which I know is an attempt to mask her growing rage.
“What?” I ask.
“Control,” she repeats. Nolan appears in the doorway behind her. “He wanted to control Lucas. Keep him dependent on him. If Lucas can’t drive, and he doesn’t have a car, and he has to ask Bill or Mary to take him somewhere, Bill’s got control. Make Lucas twist himself into knots to earn Bill’s approval to let him do stuff, and then he’s got perpetual leverage over Lucas. Feeds into Bill’s need for narcissistic supply.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say. Because itreallydoesn’t make sense to me. “He’s bitching about taking Lucas places, but won’t help him gain his independence?”
“You’ve never been married to a narcissist,” Nolan says, smirking at me. “Zoey’s right. Think about the times you got pissed off at Jerilyn when she jerked my chain and made me change or cancel plans at the last minute. Or started a fight with me over the phone if I was doing something with you guys, even though she had said she didn’t want to come with. Same thing. If my attention wasn’t focused onher, she wasn’t happy. She didn’t care if I was stuck home, or working, and if she was doing somethingshewanted to do. But thesecondshe thought I was having funwithouther?Boom. Drama.”
Fuck.
He’s absolutely right. Literally, countless times, that exact thing happened. It was so predictable we used to tease him about how long before Jerilyn called his phone and started bitching him out if he stopped by to visit with us, or was out doing something with us.
“Well, I guess we’re adding you to our insurance this weekend, too,” I say to Lucas. “And getting you a car soon. I’ll talk to the guys in the trade-in department to keep their eyes out for a good used one.”
The way Lucas brightens, as if it’s Christmas Day and he’s six again, nearly makes me heartsick. “Really?” he asks.
What has this poor kid endured over the past couple of years, while I secretly seethed over him causing Zoey’s pain?
I feel like a dick.
“Yeah. It won’t be fancy, or—”
“I don’t care! I’ll take anything and I’ll do as many chores as you want me to! Thank you!” He launches himself off the bed and nearly knocks me over with the velocity of his hug. I somehow manage to not spill my coffee. “Oh, my god, thank you!”
“I mean,” I add, “we’ll have reasonable rules about it. And you’ll have to keep your grades up, of course.”
“I promise! Oh, my god, thank you!” He flings himself at Zoey next, then Nolan.
