the doctor saying?”
“He’s still in recovery. He’s got a broken
leg, pelvis, collarbone, arm, God knows what else. He’s going to be
in traction for quite a while.”
Sharon turned back to her desk, taking a deep
breath. “Okay. What do you need me to do, Jasmine? Anything I can
do to help, I’ll do it.”
“It’s ... it’s Brayden.”
Now she was sitting up straighter. “Was he in
the car?”
“No, no. He’s fine. But ... I’m going to be
here at the hospital while Steven recuperates. Can ... can Brayden
come to Markham once school is out?”
Sharon felt a completely inappropriate smile
tug at her mouth. “He’s ... he’s sixteen, Jasmine. He can take care
of himself.”
Now Jasmine sounded uncomfortable. “He almost
got kicked out of school. Steven and I had to beg them to let him
finish eleventh grade. He can’t keep a job and ... he’d got some
friends that make me uncomfortable. I can’t watch him, and I worry
about what he might get up to. He ... he listens to you.”
Sharon rubbed her forehead. “We’ve got
elections starting here. My summer is going to be spent working on
my campaign.”
“I wouldn’t ask,” Jasmine cut in, more
forcefully than she usually spoke. “But I can’t spend my time
worrying about him and being here with Steven. I hate to ask
but—”
Sharon sighed. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right,
of course.”
Shit, she was the worst mother the world ever
knew. After the divorce Steven and Jasmine had requested custody of
Brayden, and it made sense. They were both around, Jasmine worked
part-time. Sharon worked shift work in a dangerous job. She’d been
quite comfortable letting them take her son to their fashionable
Bakersfield condo, driving up there every second weekend to be the
part-time parent.
Clearly that had been the right call.
“Okay, he can stay with me,” Sharon said,
scratching her temple. “When does school end?”
“In a week. He’s done as of Thursday, so
whenever you’re available I can put him on the bus or—”
“No, no. I’ll come get him. I ... I can come
Friday after work. I have to stay until around five but I can head
out right after that.”
“Okay, that sounds good.” Jasmine was
sniffling again. “Thank you, Sharon.”
“Don’t thank me, Jasmine. He’s my son, of
course I’ll take him. Until school starts, if you need.”
“Thank God. Thank you.”
Sharon spent a few more minutes discussing
the details, then hung up the phone and stared at the handset for a
moment.
There was likely a time she’d loved Steven
Westhall, but they’d both been very young. She thought she’d known
what she wanted out of life, and they married in Pasadena then
settled in Bakersfield with Steven selling commercial real estate
and Sharon working traffic with the Bakersfield PD. Little
excitement, no real stress. Comfortable life. So, so happy.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault but hers. She
changed what she wanted out of life, but didn’t say a word to
anyone. She was twenty-six when she got pregnant with Brayden, and
the first time she’d felt him kick she knew she wasn’t going to be
a great mother. She wasn’t even sure she wanted kids. And at that
point she somewhat wished she wasn’t pregnant.
Again, she told no one about any of this.
The first time she’d met Brayden, however,
that was all dashed. She’d loved him, she really did. She just had
no idea what she was doing. She didn’t have that inherent ability
to hold a baby so he couldn’t fuss, she couldn’t hear one cough and
know what was wrong. She loved him, and as he grew older she was
starting to get the hang of it but he took all of her attention.
This left nothing for Steven.
The sheriff’s seat in Markham came open, and
that led to a terrible argument. Name-calling, almost to the point
of throwing things, shouting in each other’s faces until Brayden,
still in the crib, started wailing from the other room.
Sharon wanted that seat, wanted to be back
“He’s still in recovery. He’s got a broken
leg, pelvis, collarbone, arm, God knows what else. He’s going to be
in traction for quite a while.”
Sharon turned back to her desk, taking a deep
breath. “Okay. What do you need me to do, Jasmine? Anything I can
do to help, I’ll do it.”
“It’s ... it’s Brayden.”
Now she was sitting up straighter. “Was he in
the car?”
“No, no. He’s fine. But ... I’m going to be
here at the hospital while Steven recuperates. Can ... can Brayden
come to Markham once school is out?”
Sharon felt a completely inappropriate smile
tug at her mouth. “He’s ... he’s sixteen, Jasmine. He can take care
of himself.”
Now Jasmine sounded uncomfortable. “He almost
got kicked out of school. Steven and I had to beg them to let him
finish eleventh grade. He can’t keep a job and ... he’d got some
friends that make me uncomfortable. I can’t watch him, and I worry
about what he might get up to. He ... he listens to you.”
Sharon rubbed her forehead. “We’ve got
elections starting here. My summer is going to be spent working on
my campaign.”
“I wouldn’t ask,” Jasmine cut in, more
forcefully than she usually spoke. “But I can’t spend my time
worrying about him and being here with Steven. I hate to ask
but—”
Sharon sighed. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right,
of course.”
Shit, she was the worst mother the world ever
knew. After the divorce Steven and Jasmine had requested custody of
Brayden, and it made sense. They were both around, Jasmine worked
part-time. Sharon worked shift work in a dangerous job. She’d been
quite comfortable letting them take her son to their fashionable
Bakersfield condo, driving up there every second weekend to be the
part-time parent.
Clearly that had been the right call.
“Okay, he can stay with me,” Sharon said,
scratching her temple. “When does school end?”
“In a week. He’s done as of Thursday, so
whenever you’re available I can put him on the bus or—”
“No, no. I’ll come get him. I ... I can come
Friday after work. I have to stay until around five but I can head
out right after that.”
“Okay, that sounds good.” Jasmine was
sniffling again. “Thank you, Sharon.”
“Don’t thank me, Jasmine. He’s my son, of
course I’ll take him. Until school starts, if you need.”
“Thank God. Thank you.”
Sharon spent a few more minutes discussing
the details, then hung up the phone and stared at the handset for a
moment.
There was likely a time she’d loved Steven
Westhall, but they’d both been very young. She thought she’d known
what she wanted out of life, and they married in Pasadena then
settled in Bakersfield with Steven selling commercial real estate
and Sharon working traffic with the Bakersfield PD. Little
excitement, no real stress. Comfortable life. So, so happy.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault but hers. She
changed what she wanted out of life, but didn’t say a word to
anyone. She was twenty-six when she got pregnant with Brayden, and
the first time she’d felt him kick she knew she wasn’t going to be
a great mother. She wasn’t even sure she wanted kids. And at that
point she somewhat wished she wasn’t pregnant.
Again, she told no one about any of this.
The first time she’d met Brayden, however,
that was all dashed. She’d loved him, she really did. She just had
no idea what she was doing. She didn’t have that inherent ability
to hold a baby so he couldn’t fuss, she couldn’t hear one cough and
know what was wrong. She loved him, and as he grew older she was
starting to get the hang of it but he took all of her attention.
This left nothing for Steven.
The sheriff’s seat in Markham came open, and
that led to a terrible argument. Name-calling, almost to the point
of throwing things, shouting in each other’s faces until Brayden,
still in the crib, started wailing from the other room.
Sharon wanted that seat, wanted to be back
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