“They installed your fence at my house.” Her annoyance is evident in each word. “I tried to tell the man over there that they are at the wrong house, but he wouldn’t listen. They keep going. Dean, they only have the one side left!”
I let out a laugh, “Well, looks like you’re getting a fence, Jo. Lots of shit to be wound up about in life, this isn’t it, babe.”
“I came home from work; they already had so much done. But I stopped the man and explained I didn’t order a fence. He said it was ordered by O’Neal. Dean, they put your fence up at my house!”
Squeezing her shoulders, I try to comfort her in this panic. “Jo, it’s okay. I can still get a fence. The way I see it, some things are meant to be, and this is one of them. You can have Justice outside and not have to look over your shoulder. No need for anyone to be watching you in your backyard. Problem fixed. I can get them to continue at my house after they finish this one.” Not that I actually want a fence. I absolutely did this for her. I also told my foreman to be vague and let it appear to be a mistake.
The kind of woman Josie is, there is no way she will allow me to buy her a fence because I think she needs the extra security and privacy.
She shakes her head at me. “This wasn’t a problem. No one has been approaching Justice in the backyard, yet. I don’t think Brett will do that. He normally watches but doesn’t drag Justice into things physically that is. It’s like he gets close, and he can’t help himself but to be seen, noticed.”
“Well, now Brett or strangers won’t be getting any ideas,” I try to be nonchalant. “And you can let your son play without the fear that your ex will walk right up at any given time despite a no contact order.”
“Dean, I don’t own this house. I rent. I can’t have a fence put in; I didn’t get permission.”
Guiding her with me, I head to her front porch. “It will be fine. You’re adding value, any landlord should be happy. Let me handle that. I know the owner of every house on this circle, I am sure it’s gonna be fine.”
She halts and I stop alongside her. “Dean, I can’t afford this. I’m still paying my mortgage on the house Brett is in, plus rent to be here. I have afterschool care for Justice. There isn’t enough in my budget to pay for a fence.”
“I ask you to pay for the fence?”
Her eyes grow wide. “Dean, you can’t buy me a fence.”
“Thinkin’ I already did, Jo. No need to make these guys tear it up when it looks to me like they did a solid job. I’ll talk to the foreman. You don’t need to stress over this. I think it might even be better when I do my fence now because I can attach to yours and then there won’t be a gap to try to mow or weed-eat.”
She tries to pull away from me, but I give her shoulders a squeeze keeping her close.
“You can’t do this, Dean,” her voice is soft as the panic seems to have subsided.
I continue moving us towards her front door as she falls in stride with me. Looking at my watch, I contemplate dinner as we step inside her living room. Instantly, Justice runs up.
“Dean, I got a new motorcycle. It’s red like yours.” He tells me proudly holding up the little toy bike.
“Did you pick that out?” I ask and he nods with a smile on his face. “Got a good eye, boy. That’s a Harley-Davidson Sportster. I had one years ago. Great bike.”
He presses a button on the side of the motorcycle. “It sounds like yours just not as loud. Listen.”
I can’t help but smile behind my beard, “You picked the best one at the store, Justice.”
“Come see,” he tells me waving me to follow him.
The excitement of a child is a gift to experience. If only adults could hold onto the resiliency of childhood where things go to shit, but there is this innate ability to move on to the next thing without fail. Releasing Josie, I follow Justice into the living room where he has created an amazing road set up.
Dropping to my knees beside him on the floor, he begins explaining his town of cardboard with a road made of the plastic ramps that go with the little car sets. As we play, Josie moves into the kitchen. When I see her out of the corner of my eye grab a pot and put on the stove, I hop up.
“Give me a sec, Justice,” I tell my little friend as I move to the kitchen.
Her back is to me so as I approach, I put one hand on each side of her on the oven handle, essentially caging her in. She doesn’t turn to face me which I find unsettling.
“Let’s order take out. Pizza, Chinese, whatever you want,” I mutter quietly. I don’t want Justice to overhear and scream for Pizza if Jo wants something different.
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t move.
“Jo, turn around, baby,” I whisper wondering what is wrong.
Slowly she shifts, moving to face me, and I lock to her gaze where tears fall from her face. Instantly, I reach up cupping her face in my hands, using my thumbs to wipe her tears.
“Jo, what’s got you upset?”
