Chapter 3. Not So Easy
"And what happens next time, Jess?" She'd reacted to this turn of events about as well as he'd predicted. He was a dead man. She was pacing around the room in crazy patterns, incredulous and boiling mad.
"What do you mean, next time?" He wore something like a grimace and his hands were raised, upturned, and claw-like.
"Next time, Jess! Next time he does something he shouldn't and can't handle the guilt…do you pull out the paddle again? How long does that go on? Till he's eighteen? Till he's out of the house? Where does it end, Jess? What's the cut-off date?" Oh boy! There was the vein in her forehead. This was even worse than he'd thought.
"I agree with you! He is too old for this! But, when my son is standing in front of me telling me that he is not ready to handle this on his own, am I supposed to just stand there and tell him to MAN UP? Deal with it yourself! Is that what I'm supposed to do, Rory?"
"Do NOT turn this around!" she snapped in warning.
"I'm n-" Jess reined himself in, biting down on his lower lip, clenching his fists at his sides. He closed his eyes momentarily before looking at her and calming his tone down…way down. "I'm not turning this around. That is what-this was about-to begin with. This is what we are dealing with now. If there is a next time, then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I will not let this become a pattern. And if you think, for one second, that this is something I want to do, then you're nuts!" His look became keener, and his words continued to be very crisp, very distinct. "I did not ask for this. I did not want this. This is simply-what-happened." She became quiet.
"No. This is what you decided. Completely on your own. This isn't what we agreed to, and you know it."
The accusation stung deeply, because he couldn't deny it. Jess bowed his head. "I said I was sorry."
"That's not enough, Jess… Not for this." She looked at him coldly. His eyes closed. Rory continued in a tone that could have been wiped clean with antiseptic. "Whatever happens tonight, happens. You made a promise to Oliver. I understand that. You have to keep that promise."
"Rory," he objected in a pleading tone, reaching a hand toward her shoulder to bridge the gap. But she stopped it before it could reach its destination.
"No, Jess," she said, looking down at his hand. Her ice blue eyes flicked upward, scolding his. "Not till afterward… at the very least." And, with that, she left.
Never, in over fifteen years of marriage, had they left an argument like that. It was piercing. Jess began to walk the floor of Truncheon, one hand reaching upward, rubbing the knuckle of his thumb on his left eyebrow. Maybe that's because, until today, you've never broken your word. He found himself wishing he could trade places with his son. Because, once again, he'd hurt her much more deeply. And the guilt was not so easy to wash away.