“I know,” I replied. “I also know he was married.”
She had the grace to look embarrassed.
“Well, I’ve made mistakes. But you should know we both felt guilty. That’s why we ended it. His wife never knew. She’s been dead for about three years now, car accident. John and I had been avoiding each other for so long it became a habit, but I guess when he read about me in the paper he started thinking about me.”
Only my mother would end up finding love by trying to run over two cops. Clearly, John Benson was an idiot.
“He wants me to marry him.”
I shook my head, unsure what to say. Finally I managed to speak.
“Well, I guess that’s good, Mom. How does he feel about what happened?”
“He knows I have my issues, but I’m sober now, which has helped me sort things out,” she said. That was true—she’d joined AA even before her little incident. We’d confronted her about her drinking after Jeff found her passed out outside the trailer in the snow last winter. It was a miracle she survived. “I’ve realized now that I need to deal with my emotions or I get…upset.”
That was the understatement from hell.
“Aren’t you supposed to stay out of relationships your first year of AA?”
“It’ll be almost a full year by the time I get out,” she replied. “I’d get out a little earlier for good behavior, but they’re not cutting me any slack because of the cop thing.”
We looked at each other, both thinking back to that day. She sighed.
“I never do anything halfway, do I?”
I shook my head, smiling ruefully.
“That’s the truth.”
“I’m moving in with him when I get out. That’s good news for you and Jeff, I guess. You’ll get to keep the trailer all to yourselves.”
I shrugged.
“I guess if that’s what you want,” I replied. “It concerns me a little, but if you’re happy, that’s good enough for me.”
She smiled, the tension on her face easing.
“Thank you, baby,” she whispered. “I’ve been worried about telling you guys. You talk to Jeff for me? He hasn’t been to visit in a month and I’m worried. Is everything okay?”
I thought about how to answer her question. I didn’t know of anything specifically wrong with Jeff, but there was definitely something going on. How to explain that though?
“He’s been kind of edgy,” I said finally. “And lost some weight. But he hasn’t talked to me about anything and when I asked he blew me off. Wish I could tell you more.”
“Thanks for that,” she said. “You tell him I love him?”
“I’ll tell him.”
Sept. 1
Me: Well that was fun
Horse: ?
Me: Went to see mom. She’s good, but crazy news. Getting married
Horse: This a good thing?
Me: Not sure. He’s the guy who owns our trailer. They used to have a thing, but he was married. Wife died couple years ago
Horse: Good guy?
Me: Cheated on his wife
Horse: One-time thing or pattern?
Me: Short term accord to mom. Says they both felt awful, ended it. Explains why we get the trailer so cheap
Horse: No shit
Horse: You like him?
Me: I guess. Always been nice to me. She’s moving in with him when she gets out.
Horse: Then be happy for your mom.
Me: Gonna try
Sept. 3
Horse: Whens your next day off?
Me: Thurs. Why?
Horse: Want to visit
Me: I’d like that :)
Sept. 6
I studied my face in the mirror critically, wishing I didn’t feel so nervous. The bruises had faded, which was good, and you could hardly see where my lip had been split. There were still a few yellowish splotches but I covered those up with strategically placed makeup. I put on a pretty sundress—nothing fancy, but bright and cheerful and it made my boobs look fantastic.
All in all, I looked human again.
Horse would arrive any time. The drive was a little over three hours, and he’d texted me when he left at seven that morning. I couldn’t define our relationship, but he wanted to visit me, not Jeff, and he was coming by himself. That had to mean something. And I couldn’t be just a booty call when he’d never gotten my booty, right?
I heard him pulling up and paused at the door, tugging up the bodice of my dress. Cleavage had seemed like a great idea earlier, but now I felt self-conscious. He knocked on the door.
“You there, sweet butt?” he called. I opened the door and his eyes went straight to my chest.
“Don’t call me sweet butt,” I snapped at him and he grinned, reaching out a finger to poke my nose.
“Bitchy, aren’t we?”
“Rude, aren’t we?”