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Emma
Emma just happened to be looking out Mrs. Patterson’s kitchen window when she saw what looked like Jason DeGrave in her driveway.
“I think I have to go outside,” Emma said mostly to herself.
Mrs. Patterson stepped up beside her. “I rarely find that to be true.”
Emma giggled at her phrasing. “I think that’s Jason DeGrave in front of my house.”
“Who’s Jason DeGrave?”
“He’s a straight-A superstar jock and he’s the son of the woman my dad is sleeping with.”
“Oh, I see. And from the sound of your voice, this Jason DeGrave is also quite handsome?”
“Yes, but that has nothing to do with anything. He’s in high school.”
“Oh, posh. In a few years, you’ll both be paying taxes, just like the rest of us.”
Emma gasped. “He just went into my house. This can’t be good. I have to go.” She looked at Mrs. Patterson worriedly. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave you.”
She tittered. “That’s all right. You do what you have to do.”
“Can I come back?” She thought that maybe, if Mrs. Patterson said no, she might stay put and let Jason DeGrave fend for himself.
But Mrs. Patterson said, “Of course. Just don’t bring friends or family.”
“Deal.” She had an urge to hug the woman and after a few seconds of hemming and hawing, decided to follow the urge.
Mrs. Patterson stiffened under Emma’s embrace, and Emma released her promptly. “Thank you for everything.” She stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her. Did she really want to leave? Mrs. Patterson’s house was so safe. The world outside her walls was the opposite of safe. But why had Jason DeGrave just walked into her house? She heard her mother scream and took off across the lawn at a dead run.
She found Jason in her living room, straddling her father, who was on his back on the floor. Her father had his hands over his face in a pathetic attempt to ward off the much younger man’s blows. Jason’s left hand had a fistful of her father’s shirt, and his right hand was drawn back, ready to deliver a blow to her father’s face. From the looks of things, it wouldn’t be the first blow.
“Jason, no!” she cried and hurried across the room.
Her mother stood against the wall, whimpering helplessly.
Jason either didn’t hear her plea or ignored it and punched her father in the face. Her father made a weird gurgling sound as Jason brought his fist back up again.
Emma leapt onto Jason’s back, her right arm going up over his raised one and pulling it partly down.
He reared back as if trying to buck her off; at the same time, he looked over his shoulder and saw it was her. “Emma?” His whole body relaxed. They toppled backward in a tangle of limbs, and he did his best not to crush her. Breathing heavily, he got himself to his feet and then held out a hand toward her. She took it, and he effortlessly pulled her to her feet. She brushed off the seat of her shorts, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She was still wearing the same clothes she’d rolled around in the ditch in.
“What happened to you?” he asked, managing to sound concerned.
“My father happened to me.” She looked down at the pathetic man who had rolled onto his side.
“Call the police,” he sputtered, and no one moved.
“Yeah, your father happened to me too.”
Her mother pointed at the door. “Get out of here before I call the police!”
“Call them!” her father tried to order, but his directive had no legs.
“Mom,” Emma said, embarrassed, “Jason has every right to be angry.”
“He doesn’t have the right to assault someone! Get out of my house!”
“Mom! Please!”
Her mother turned her fiery eyes on Emma. “It’s not like his mother is innocent! It takes two to tango!”
Emma found this phrase deeply embarrassing.
Jason held both hands up. “I’ll leave. But I’m not angry because he had an affair with my mother. I’m angry that he’s made her out to be a whore that dragged him into the darkness. Do you know what people are saying? That my mother ruined the good pastor! Are you kidding me?” He looked down at the man on the floor, who was trying to sit up. “There is no good pastor here.” He pointed at her father. “Stop talking trash about my mother. She’s a good woman.” He looked at Emma. “I’m sorry, Emma.” He started toward the door.
“I’m calling the police!” her father called after him.
She followed Jason out through the door and watched him climb into his car. “Hey.”
Jason looked at her expectantly.
“I’m sorry too.”
He nodded. “I think everyone is. Everyone except the good pastor.”
