Chapter 42: Mimi VI--Cry Little One

Chapter 42: Mimi VI—Cry Little One

"So what happened?" Michele asked after a few minutes of driving in silence.

Jonathen was sitting in the passenger seat, his chin jutted and his skinny arms crossed over his chest. Michele could see his chest heaving up and down, and his cheeks were blotched red.

"Didn’t they tell you?" Jonathen snapped. "I was in a fight."

"No," Michele said. "They told me you almost beat a boy senseless. I want to hear your side now."

"He was bigger than me," Jonathen cried. "How was I supposed to know that he couldn’t fight?"

"Well, why were you fighting to begin with?" Michele snapped. She was starting to lose her patience. "You know how they’re paying more attention to these things in school! You’re lucky you only received a suspension or that you didn’t seriously injure that boy!"

Jonathen sighed and rubbed the outside corners of his lips with his thumb and forefinger. At the stoplight, Michele noticed a Band-Aid on Jonathen’s knuckle that was weeping fat droplets of blood.

"What happened there to make you bleed?" Michele asked as calmly as she could.

Jonathen looked at his knuckle. "Oh," he said dully. "His teeth caught me when I punched him."

"Oooh!" Michele moaned and she pulled the car over in the parking lot of a grocery store. "Jonathen, why?"

Tears began sliding down the boy’s face, and he sucked his lips in, gnawing on them. It was a face Michele often saw on Patrick when he was distressed.

Michele gazed out the windshield, giving him some time to compose himself.

"Can we just forget about it?" Jonathen sobbed. "I’m really sorry."

Blinking back her own tears, Michele pulled a tissue from her purse. Unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning forward, she mopped up the tears off his face. The gesture only made him cry harder and Michele draped her arm over his skinny shoulders.

"Cry, cry," Michele murmured as she kissed the top of his head. "Cry, little one. You needn’t tell me why, but if you do I won’t stop loving you."

"Oh, mom!" Jonathen cried. He hugged her so tightly that Michele lost her breath.

"Shhh," Michele clucked. "It’s OK."

"It isn’t!" Jonathen moaned through hiccups. "It isn’t! I had to do it! I had to make him stop! Mom I wanted to hurt him! I was mad that he was still alive!"

"Mon Dieu!" Michele gasped. "What did he do that was so bad? What could he have said?"

Jonathen pushed away from Michele, wiping at his face with his own trembling hand. "He called you a liar," he muttered.

"What?" Michele exclaimed more than she asked.

"He called you a liar!" Jonathen yelled. "And not just him! Everyone else is saying it, I heard the teachers whispering and on the TV too!"

Blood began to pound furiously in Michele’s temples, and momentarily she couldn’t speak. "What?" she whispered.

Jonathen took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. With his fluttery blue eyes, he looked back at Michele. His father’s eyes. They even brimmed with pain the same way Patrick’s used to when he was younger. It was pain Michele had never wanted her son to experience and it was shattering her inside.

"Mom," Jonathen said more calmly. "No one believes that anyone broke into the house. They’re all saying that dad beat you up and that Alex and Mike and you are blaming an intruder just to protect dad. And then they’re saying it on the news and then that shot of you and Jana at that game with Jana and her black eye didn’t help. Mom everyone keeps acting like they feel sorry for me and and and all the teachers keep telling me I should stop lying and if I really loved you that I would tell the truth and say what really happened. Mom I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have called the cops! Because now it’s happening all over where you’re gonna be sad and they’re just gonna be mean!"

Michele dropped her face onto the back of her hands as they gripped the steering wheel. It was absolutely imperative that she not cry, it wouldn’t be like that, he couldn’t see her like that. All she could do was hold her breath.

There was a click and a zip as Jonathen shrugged out of his seatbelt, and she finally exhaled when she felt him hug her. "I’m sorry mom," he whispered. "I shoulda made something up. You didn’t need to hear that."

"Non my love," Michele said quietly. "We know the truth and if those idiots choose to believe something else. Let them."

When they got home, Michele sent Jonathen upstairs with the bag of fast food she had let him have, telling him to take a shower after he had eaten it.

She poured a glass of water for herself and then poured it down the drain. Her pulse couldn’t stop racing. She was scared.

The police had made it obvious that they didn’t believe her. No real help would be coming from them. What was real worrying that she did not know whom this person was. Would he come back? Did he just target the house randomly looking for an unprotected housewife? But he asked her where the children were. Was he looking to hurt them too?

She couldn’t ask Patrick to stay home on roadtrips and Danny would be going sooner or later as well. Up until that point, she hadn’t realized how comforting it had been to hear Danny roughing with the children. She had been caught up titillating the lad that it had completely escaped her how important he was becoming.

She sat down at the kitchen table, resting her chin on her hands. There had been no evidence of a break in either. Either the door had been left unlocked or someone had a key. Michele couldn’t remember ever losing a key. It hurt too much to think about it.

Maybe Patrick could think of something. She went upstairs muttering to herself that if he was still asleep, blood infection or no, she would smother him herself. Luckily for Patrick, he wasn’t in bed. He was stepping out of the bathroom, freshly showered.

Patrick smiled when he saw her.

"Patrick," Michele sighed. "Don’t tell me that you just got out of bed."

"OK," Patrick said. "I won’t."

Michele smiled tightly. "Did you take your antibiotics?"

Patrick nodded. "Are you OK? You look......"

Michele shook her head. "I brought Jonathen home. He got into a fight Over rumors and such."

"You mean that shit from the news?" Patrick snarled.

Michele sat on the bed, wrapping her arms around herself and she nodded. "He’s been suspended," she said quietly. "He almost injured that boy."

Patrick looked the doorway, and then he sat down next to her. "Shit heads," he muttered.

"And what about you?" Patrick asked. "How do you feel?"

"Angry and scared," Michele answered. "We’ll be alone soon, no?"

There was a heavy silence from Patrick. It was amazing to Michele how she could always feel his thoughts hanging in the air.

"Does Danny make you feel that safe?" he asked finally.

Michele leaned against Patrick. "Any male would, preferably you." she said. "Don’t be jealous."

She kissed the side of his jaw, patting him on his thigh. Patrick just grunted.

"Does anyone want some fries?"

Michele and Patrick looked up at Jonathen who was standing in the doorway with his carton of French fries.

"Sure," Patrick said eagerly, "Come on."

Jonathen lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, swallowing and scanning their faces, before he trotted to the bed. He wiggled in between Michele and Patrick and the three of them sat wordlessly, munching on fries.

Michele trailed her knuckles back and forth along Patrick’s arm, as it lay draped over her breast. He was asleep on his face, so at least she was spared his snores. She couldn’t fall asleep. The day had been too bothering.

It was annoying her that Danny had been so gallant the other day. It had been working so well up until that point. Of course she hadn’t been expecting him to come pattering at her door so soon after the police had been there. But she was in such a bad mood after they left that she had decided to test the resolve of the pup, maybe have her way with him there just to cheer herself up.

It seemed to be going fine. He was certainly buying her as a victim, eating it up. His eyes filled with such pity, and sadness. When he had the gall to start unbuttoning her blouse, Michele had actually been breathtaken. Could the lad be so brazen? But instead, he just was looking for those damned bruises, so he could feel more pity. Why did Patrick have to grip so roughly when he woke her up?

Even her tears didn’t work that time! Instead he just held her, cooing to her like she was a baby, a charge he needed to protect.

Had her chance slipped away? Had she waited too long? Should she have not stopped him the night he kissed her?

No. Michele thought as she nuzzled her chin into Patrick’s arm. She was being impatient. She could wait. Danny would be hers soon enough.

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