The Neighbor

By the time Jason and Ree made it home and he’d run the major news gauntlet half a dozen times to bring in the groceries, Jason was beat. He stuck in a movie for Ree, ignoring the guilty twinge that so much TV couldn’t be good for her, that he should be making more of an effort to engage his daughter during this challenging time, yada, yada, yada.

They had food to eat. The cat was back. He hadn’t been arrested yet.

It was the most he could manage at the moment.

Jason was unloading the eggs when the phone rang. He picked it up absently, without checking caller ID.

“What happened to your face, son?” Maxwell Black’s Southern drawl stretched out the sentence and sent Jason back to a place he didn’t want to go.

“Think you’re the boss, boy? I own you, boy. Lock, stock, and barrel. You belong to me.”

“I fell down the stairs,” Jason replied lightly, forcing the images back into a small box in the corner of his mind. He pictured himself shutting the lid, inserting the key in the lock, turning it just so.

Max laughed. It was a low, warm chuckle, the kind he probably used when making jokes from the bench, or holding court at neighborhood cocktail parties. Maybe he’d even used it the first time a schoolteacher had hesitantly approached him about Sandy. You know, sir, I’ve been worried about how… accident prone… your daughter Sandy seems to be. And Max had laughed that charming little laugh. Oh, no need to worry about my little girl. Don’t even bother your pretty self. My girl is just fine.

Jason disliked Sandra’s father all over again.

“Well, son, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday afternoon,” Max drawled.

Jason didn’t answer. The silence dragged on. After another moment, Max moved to fill the gap, adding lightly, “So I called to make amends.”

“No need,” Jason assured him. “Returning to Georgia is good enough for me.”

“Now, Jason, seems to me if anyone should be bearing a grudge, I would have the right. You swept my only daughter off her feet, spirited her away to the God-awful North, then didn’t even invite me to the wedding, let alone the birth of my grandbaby That’s no way to treat family, son.”

“You’re right. If I were you, I’d never speak to us again.”

That warm molasses chuckle again. “Fortunately for you, son,” Max continued expansively, “I have determined to take the high ground. This is my only daughter and grandchild we’re talking about here. It would be foolish to let the past stand in the way of our future.”

“I’ll tell you what: When Sandra returns, I’ll give her the message.”

“When?” Max’s voice sharpened. “Don’t you mean if?”

“I mean when,” Jason said firmly.

“Your wife run off with another man, son?”

“That seems to be a popular theory.”

“You couldn’t keep her happy? I’m not pointing fingers, mind you. I raised the girl, single-handedly, after her dear mama passed away. I know how demanding she can be.”

“Sandra is a wonderful wife and devoted mother.”

“I have to say, I was surprised to hear that my daughter had become a teacher. But I was talking to that nice principal just this morning. What is his name… Phil, Phil Stewart? He raved about how wonderful Sandy is with her pupils. When all is said and done, it sounds as if you’ve done right by my daughter. I appreciate that, son, I truly do.”

“I am not your son.”

“All right, Jason Jones.”

Jason caught the edge again, the implied threat. He fisted his hand at his side, refusing to say another word.

“You don’t like me much, do you, Jason?”

Again Jason didn’t answer. The judge, however, seemed to be talking mostly to himself. “What I can’t understand is, why? We’ve never really spoken. You wanted my daughter, you got her. You wanted to get out of Georgia, you took my daughter and left. Seems to me, I have plenty of reason to be sore with you. Why, a father’s list of grievances against the boy who runs away with his only daughter… But what have I ever done to you, son? What have I ever done to you?”

“You failed your daughter,” Jason heard himself say. “She needed you, and you failed her.”

“What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your wife! I’m talking about your crazed, boozed-up wife who beat Sandy each and every day while you did nothing to stop it. What kind of father abandons his child like that? What kind of father lets her be tortured on a daily basis and does nothing to stop it?”

There was a pause. “My wife beat Sandy? That’s what Sandy told you?”

Jason didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched out. This time, he broke first: “Yes.”

“Now, see here.” The judge sounded offended. “Sandy’s mom was hardly a perfect parent. It’s true she probably drank more than she should. I worked so many hours back in those days, leaving Missy alone with Sandra much too often. I’m sure that tried Missy’s nerves, made her maybe more short-tempered than a mother should be. But beating… tormenting… I think that’s a trifle melodramatic. I do.”

“Your wife never harmed Sandy?”

“Spare the rod, spoil the child. I saw her whack Sandy’s behind a time or two, but no more than any exasperated parent.”

“Missy never drank to excess?”

“Well, it’s true she had a weakness for gin. Maybe a couple of nights a week… But Missy wasn’t a violent drunk. If she had a few too many, then she carried herself off to bed. She wouldn’t have hurt a fly, let alone our daughter.”

“What about chasing you around the house with knives?”

“Excuse me?” The judge sounded shocked.

“She hurt Sandy. Slammed her fingers into doorframes, forced her to drink bleach, fed her household objects just so she could take Sandy to the hospital. Your wife was a very, very sick woman.”

The silence lasted longer this time. When the judge finally spoke, he sounded genuinely flummoxed. “This is what Sandy told you? This is what Sandra said about her own mother? Well then, no wonder you have been so curt with me. I take it back, I do. I can see your position entirely. Of all the crazy… Well. Well.” The judge didn’t seem to know what else to say.

Jason found himself shifting from foot to foot, no longer feeling so certain about things. The first trickle of unease crept up his spine.

“Am I allowed to speak in my defense?” the judge asked.

“I suppose.”

“One, I swear to you, son, this is the first I have heard of such dreadful acts. It is possible, I suppose, that things transpired between Sandy and my poor wife that I never knew of. To be truthful, however, I don’t believe that to be the case. I love my daughter, Jason. I always have. But I’m also one of the few men out there that can say I truly, completely head-over-heels loved my wife. Saw Missy the first time when I was nineteen years old, and knew at that moment I’d marry her, make her my own. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful-though she was. And not because she was kind and well mannered-though she was. But she was Missy, and I loved her for that alone.

“Maybe you think I’m going on. This has nothing to do with anything. But by the time Sandy was twelve, I fear it had everything to do with everything. See, Sandy grew jealous. Of my deference to Missy, or maybe the flowers I brought home for no good reason, or the pretty baubles I liked to bestow on my lovely bride. Girls get to a certain age, and they start, consciously or unconsciously, competing with their mamas. I think Sandy thought she couldn’t win. It started to make her angry, hostile to her own mother.

“Except then her mama died, before Sandy and her had a chance to work things out. Sandy took it hard. My sweet little girl… She changed overnight. Developed a wild streak, started to run around. She wanted to do what she wanted to do and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She had an abortion, Jason. You know that? Ree wasn’t her first pregnancy, maybe not even her second. Bet she never told you that, did she? I’m not even supposed to know, except the clinic recognized her name and called me. I gave my permission. What else could I do? She was still just