Toward the Sound of Chaos (9 page)

He
nods and tells Nuke to stay, and then he removes his boots before he walks the
outside all through my carpets. I appreciate a man that thoughtful.

When
he gets done washing up, I tell him to bring Nuke around back where it’s at
least five degrees cooler. While Nuke laps at his water, Jake and I sit in the
shade of the back porch with a pitcher of ice-cold sweet tea. He downs his entire
glass before I’ve even had a sip of mine. I feel terrible forgetting that he
was out here in the heat, slaving over a job he wasn’t even getting paid for
and I didn’t even offer him a cool drink. I refill his glass and watch as he
tips his head back to take his fill. I’m fascinated by the scar peeking out of
his shirt collar. It’s thick, probably an inch wide, raised and a darker flesh-toned
pink. It bisects his clavicle, and though I can’t see it, probably his pectoral
muscle too. I stare, not because I find it ugly, but because I want to know
where it ends. I want to know what it feels like beneath my fingertips, and
whether it still hurts. I want to know how he made it through all those months
without giving up.

I
didn’t need last night to show me he struggles with the man he is now. I could
tell that just by looking at him, but I can see the light in him too. I know
next to nothing about the person he was before he joined the Marines, but I know
the man sipping tea on my back porch is a man worth knowing. There’s good in
him, light, and strength—he just don’t know it right now.

He
catches me staring. His eyes grow a little wider and he adjusts his shirt
collar. “What?”

I
smile. I hadn’t meant to make him uncomfortable. “Nothing.”

Jake
clears his throat, his jaw tight as he looks out on my backyard. It’s in a
state, but right now it’s the least of my worries. He scans the garden and
frowns at the rundown fence and the pile of old rotten fence pales resting in the
back corner that I’ve been trying to get Mr. Williams to remove for more than a
year now. I don’t let Spencer play here unless I’m with him because I’m
terrified he’s going to get stuck on a rusted old nail.

“You
should have those taken away,” he says, “It’s not safe for Spencer.”

“I
know. I’ve been trying to get Mr. Williams to send someone in, but you know how
he is. ‘Just tell him not to play on it,’ he says, as if telling Spencer not to
do anything has any bearing on what he actually does.”

“He’s
a pretty terrible landlord, huh?”

“Actually,
he’s been good to us. I could never afford a place like this on my own, and
when Spence and me first came to town we had nothing but the clothes on our
backs. Mr. Williams let us live here rent-free until I could get on my feet
again. Spence adores him, and despite how surly he may be, he’s a pretty good
role model for my son. I just can’t get him to spend a damn penny on fixing
this house.”

“Where’s
Spencer’s father?”

“He
left when Spence was just a baby.” I take another sip of my sweet tea and
shrug. “We haven’t seen him since.”

I
don’t know why I said that. I’ve never lied to Jake in the past, but somehow
the truth, spoken here in the sweetness of a gorgeous Alabama afternoon, just doesn’t
seem right. The truth is so much uglier. And I’ve had my share of ugly for a
while. In fact, I’ve had so much ugly in my past, I’m still running like hell
to escape it.

Ellie

I
’m
woken at some ungodly hour by a loud bang, and then another, and another. I
glance at the clock. Six thirty A.M.
What in the world . . .?
Launching
myself out of bed, I head over to the window, but I can’t see anything from
where I am so I throw on my robe and stalk through the house, yanking opened
the back door, ready to annihilate whoever is in my backyard making such a
racket.

It’s
Jake. He’s dressed in the same grease-stained worn jeans from yesterday and a
black Henley. His hair is damp, like he just got out of the shower, and he
swings an axe at my back fence, splintering the rotten wood.

I
pull my robe tighter around me and step out onto the back porch. “What are you
doing here?” He ignores me and swings the axe again, this time bringing down
one whole section of the fence with a loud crash. “Jake.”

Still
nothing. Nuke looks my way though, and he barks. Jake glances down at him and
pulls a pair of earbuds from his ears. I’m already halfway across the lawn when
he turns and takes me in, and when I see the breath almost rush out of him I
feel self-conscious. I should care more about my appearance when he’s around.

“Mornin’,”
I say as he clears his throat.

“I
couldn’t sleep.” He lifts the axe in his hand and shrugs. “Thought I’d make
myself useful.”

“By
waking up the whole neighborhood?” I tease. “You scared the hell outta me. I
thought someone was demolishing my house while I was still in it.”

“I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s
okay.” I glance over at the partially demolished fence and sigh. “You don’t
have to do that, you know?”

“I
know,” he says, his knuckles tightening on the axe handle. Apparently that’s
all the explanation I’m going to get.

I
cross my arms over my chest, wishing I’d thought a bit more about my wardrobe
choice because it may be summer in Alabama, but Fairhope mornings can start off
just as chilly as fall ones, and my nipples are not immune to the cold. Neither
are my bare feet. “You want breakfast?”

“I
already ate.”

I
frown. “Well, at least come and have a coffee before you wake my neighbors.”

He
nods. “Yes ma—”

“Jake,
do not call me ma’am.”

He
laughs, shaking his head as he sets the axe down by the fence and follows me to
the back door.

“Come
on inside and make yourself at home. I’m going to go get dressed, and I’ll be
right with you.”

“Okay,”
he says, and pulls out a chair at the kitchen table. He sits down, dwarfing it
completely. I wander off down the hall to get dressed, only when I make it to
my room I can’t find a thing I want to wear. I have house clothes and work
clothes and even one or two fancy dresses for special occasions, but all of it
seems so . . . soccer mom. After staring for way too long at the items hanging
in my closet, I realize I may have lost myself in motherhood. I don’t dress my
age, I don’t act my age, and I certainly don’t feel it. At the end of the day,
I’m so exhausted from being an ASD mom, from the meltdowns, clients, Spencer’s
appointments, and making sure every single aspect of our lives follows the
schedule, that I forget about me. I know my hair is clean, and each day I make
myself presentable like all southern women, but I can’t remember the last time
I made a decision that didn’t revolve around what Spencer wanted, or how
Spencer would cope, or whether Spencer liked me wearing the color pink or not.

In
an effort to just make it through the day with as little meltdowns as possible,
I forget that I’m thirty years old, not sixty. I forget what it feels like to
be desired. I forget what it feels like to want more. And that man in my
kitchen makes me want it all.

Fixin’
my hair in a quick braid, I finally settle on a sweet navy sundress with enough
flair at the waist to cover any imperfections around my mid-region and a cute
cap sleeve. This dress was a present from Olivia, and though I loved it when I
first saw it, I’ve never even taken the tags off because where would I wear a
dress like this?

Practical
or not, I’m wearing it today. I splash some water on my face and brush my
teeth. Then I head out to the kitchen to find Jake sitting with Spence at the
table. “Mornin’, Spence.”

He
nods as he swallows a mouthful of cereal from the yellow bowl. “Mamma, did Jake
sleep over again?”

“No!”
I screech too loudly.

“I
just came to clean up the yard a little and your mamma asked me in for a coffee,”
Jake says.

“You
pulled the fence down,” Spencer accuses him.

Jake
nods. “Yes I did.”

“It’s
not the same. What are we going to do without a fence?”

Uh-oh.
Not now, please not now. I take a deep breath and whisper, “Spencer Mason, you
remember your manners.”

Jake
leans closer and says, “Don’t tell your mamma, but I’m going to build a new
one.”

“When?”
Spencer asks suspiciously.

“Hopefully
by the end of the day.”

Spencer
nods and chews another mouthful of cereal. I watch their exchange, the easy way
Jake is with my son, who isn’t easy at all; the way Spencer seems to be testing
him as much as he is enjoying having him around, and what’s more, it looks as
if Jake is passing all those tests with flying colors.

For
a brief moment, I let myself believe that this is just another day, that the
three of us are a family, and that this is what breakfast looks like, but when
Spencer pours a second bowl of cereal and Cheerios fly all over the table and
Jake reaches over to help him with the box, all hell breaks loose.

 “Not
the same, not the same,” Spencer screams, upending the bowl. Milk and Cheerios
fly everywhere, splattering my dress and pouring off the edge of the table, but
they’re the least of my concerns right now because my son is beating his fists
against his head.

“Hey
Spencer, I’m sorry.” Jake reaches out to grab my son’s hands.

“Don’t
touch him!” I yell. Jake reels back as if he’s been slapped, but I don’t have
time to smooth things over because Spence is my number-one priority here. I
grab Spencer’s fists and work on talking him through it. He fights me every
step of the way, elbowing my chest with brutal force as he tries to free his
hands.

“Shh,
shh. Spencer, deep breaths.”

He
screams again, but there are no words. He can’t convey them because there’s too
much going on. This is all too much, Jake here two mornings in a row, the
fence, the Cheerio box—it’s too much for him on a sensory level, and it was
wrong of me not to know that. It was wrong of me to want more.

“I’m
sorry,” Jake says, running his hand through his hair.

“It’s
fine.”

“I
didn’t know. I . . .” He stumbles over his words. “It was stupid of me.”

“Just
go.”

I
hate the accusation in my voice, as if this were his fault. He didn’t know, and
I don’t have time to tell him it’s okay because I have to give all of my energy
to the little boy in my arms who’s battling demons we can’t see.

I
feel Jake’s eyes on the two of us, but he says nothing. He leaves, quietly
closing the door behind him, and my heart breaks.

This
is what I get for wanting more
.

Ellie

O
n
Saturday, I wake to the familiar sound of work going on in my backyard. I get
up and brush my teeth and fix my hair, and then I put on a pair of shorts and
the same Roll Tide tee I wore the night I cut Jake’s hair. I walk into the
kitchen to find Spencer at the table, shoveling Cheerios into his mouth from
the green bowl, and I frown. The green bowl is for Thursdays. There’s also a
lot less mess on the table. It’s important for Spencer to feel a sense of
independence, and even though it drives me mad most days watching him struggle
with menial tasks like pouring milk and cereal into a bowl, I try not to mother
him too much and worry over the mess, but breaking the routine like this? It’s
monumental for a kid like Spence. I know this sudden change isn’t because he’s forgotten
what day of the week it was.

“Mornin’,
Spence.”

He
nods and chews his food, the same as he does every morning when I greet him.

“Do
you know what day it is?”

“Saturday.”

“Right,
but on Saturdays you use the red bowl.”

He
shrugs and keeps chewing.

“I’m
curious why you changed the routine?”

“New
isn’t bad,” he says, feeding my line back to me, and my mind reels as I turn
the coffee pot on.

“No,
it’s not.”

“Mamma,
do you think I scared Jake yesterday?”

“No,
Spence.” I turn and crook my little finger at my son. He rises out of his seat
and takes the few steps toward me, and I grab one of the kitchen chairs and
place it beneath the window, indicating that he should climb up on it in order
to see outside. I watch his face light up as he sees Jake working in our
backyard. “I think Jake will be around as long as we want him.”

“Do
you want him around, Mamma?”

I
smile. “Do you?”

His
brows furrow as he thinks about the question, and he wrings his little hands
together. “It’s not the same.”

“It’s
not the same,” I agree softly. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest.

“New
isn’t bad,” he says.

“No,
it isn’t.”

“Will
Nuke be around too?”

“Yeah.
Where Jake goes, he goes. Though I’m pretty sure Mr. Williams would have
kittens if we let Nuke inside the house.”

Spence
laughs uproariously at that and I find myself laughing too. He carries his bowl
to the sink and runs the water. “Go watch cartoons, okay? Mamma’s going to have
a talk to Jake.”

“Okay.”
Spencer runs off, and I wait for the coffee to finish brewing. I pour two cups
and head out onto the porch with my mugs in tow.

“Good
mornin’,” I say.

“Mornin’,”
he replies curtly. I guess I deserve that. He takes the cup from my
outstretched hand and gives me a grateful nod. “Thought I’d get an early start
so I can be out of your way.”

 Nuke
sits at my feet. I give him a scratch, hitting that one spot behind his ear
that he goes crazy over. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“Nothin’
to apologize for,” he says, sipping his coffee. “I shoulda known not to put my
hands on Spence in the middle of an episode. Hell, if someone had done that to
me they’d be out cold, but I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt him, I swear.”

“I
know you weren’t. He knows too. It’s hard with ASD kids, knowing what will set
them off and what won’t. I’m still navigating my way through it, and I probably
always will be. It’s a lot of trial and error, and a lot of sitting back and
relinquishing control when all you really want to do is step in and take over.”

“That
must be difficult.”

I
shrug. “It is what it is. My parents tried to control every little aspect of my
life and look where it got them. I’m just doing the best I can—God only knows
if it’s right, but as long as Spence is happy, that’s all that really matters.”

Jake
glances down into his coffee cup. “And your happiness? Does that matter?”

It’s
too early for these kinds of questions, and I don’t think either one of us are
ready for the answers, so I smile and say, “As long as I get six hours of sleep
a night, I’m a very happy woman.”

“You
deserve more than that, Elle.”

“You’re
right. I should really try for eight,” I tease, but Jake’s eyes are hard.

“I’m
serious.”

“He
is my happiness, Jake. He is what matters. Everything else is just icing on the
cake.” I turn away, about to head back to the kitchen, but he reaches out an
arm and pulls me to him. It’s the first time he’s touched me of his own accord
since the night he knocked on my door and laid bare his demons.

“You
really believe that? That your happiness isn’t important?”

“I
do.” I stare at his hand before rolling my gaze up to meet his. “I know it’s
difficult to understand, but that boy is my whole world. He is and always will
be the most important person in my life.”

“I
understand,” he says, removing his hand from my arm.

I
know Jake Tucker understands how important my son is, but I don’t think he grasps
just what Jake Tucker means to me; how could he? Because even though everything
I’ve told him is true, walking away from him, turning my back on the only thing
that I’ve wanted in a really long time, feels like a knife to the gut.

***

 We
work on my yard for the entire day, tearing down the fence and putting up a new
one. We paint it together, and while Jake takes away the old fence palings in
his truck, Spencer and I decide we need a new garden to accommodate the fence,
so we began planning.

“You
wanna stay for dinner?” I ask Jake the second he walks back through my front
door. He glances at Spence, as if he isn’t sure how to answer.

“Stay,
Jake,” Spencer shouts. “It’s Spaghetti Saturday.”

“I
love me some spaghetti,” Jake says, grinning at my boy.

“Well
alright then,” I turn and head to the kitchen to get started. Jake follows and
Spencer is hot on his heels, as always.

“Anything
I can do to help?”

“Why
don’t you two take Nuke out on the back deck so he doesn’t have to be alone out
front,” I say, pulling the ground beef from the fridge and getting to work. “I
think Spence has some plans for a new garden that he’d like to discuss.”

“That
so, huh?” Jake chuckles.

“That’s
so.” I nod and shoot him an apologetic smile.

“I
have a lot of ideas,” Spencer says seriously.

“Well,
what are we doin’ standin’ around then?” Jake asks. “Let’s do it.”

My
son tears through the house toward his bedroom, coming back with crayons and a
bunch of empty scrapbooks he likes to doodle in.

“Thank
you,” I whisper as Spence tugs on the hem of Jake’s shirt and he has no choice but
to be pulled along. He don’t say nothing, but the sweet grin on his face as
he’s walking out my back door about sends my heart into cardiac arrest.

I
make a garden salad to accompany spaghetti and heat up one of those frozen garlic
breads, and the boys help me take the food and plates out to the table. After
we eat, Spencer shows me their landscaping plans, and then he and Nuke run
about the yard chasing lightnin’ bugs while Jake helps me wash the dishes.

I
offer him coffee and dessert, but I get the feeling he doesn’t want to disrupt
the schedule too much, so when he tells me he has to leave in order to head
home and feed Nuke, Spence and I walk him out to the car.

“Well
goodnight.” I jam my hands in my pockets, feeling like a school girl on a first
date.

Jake
looks at me funny, as if he’s memorizing my face. Finally, he says, “Thank
you.”

“I
should be the one thanking you,” I say, shaking my head ruefully. “I can’t
imagine what you’re getting out of all this.”

“I’m
no longer alone,” he whispers, and pulls me close, pressing a kiss to my
forehead. I’m still reeling when he pulls away and he and Nuke climb in the
truck and head for home while I stand in my driveway, my heart racing, my
stomach fluttering and my head spinning.