Page 50 of The Me I Left Behind

“Those are great brushes,” he said. “A new company for us, but I’ve been very pleased with the quality.”

“They are very nice.” She ran her fingers over the tips of a few standing upright in a container.

“Do you paint?”

With a sigh, Maggie dropped her hand and faced him. “I used to.”

He caught her gaze and held it for a few heartbeats. “That’s a shame,” he finally said.

She nodded. “Yes. It is.”Not getting into that discussion.

Brushing past him, she took a few steps down the aisle, then rotated to face him again. He had turned toward her, too. “I’ll be back later with my daughter. Thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure.”

Nine

Pulling up to the curb at the middle school, Maggie waved at Jason, motioning for him to get in the car. She watched as he stood with a group of boys—a couple of them she didn’t recognize—as they jostled about, pushing and shoving each other playfully.

At least she thought it was playful.

As Jason glanced her way, one kid pointed, then punched him hard in the shoulder. Jason stumbled, going down half-way on one knee. The gang of boys laughed.

The anger that immediately boiled up inside her was nearly all-consuming, and she wanted to shove the car into park, jump out, run over to that mob of stupid adolescent testosterone-fueled nonsense, and give them each a piece of her mama bear mind.

But she didn’t.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter, gritted her teeth, and counted to twenty while Jason ambled across the school lawn toward the car. She rolled down the passenger side window and could hear the shouts and jeers from the group of boys.

Jason jerked at the latch and plopped into the front seat, not looking at her.

“Are you okay?”

“Drive.”

She didn’t say a word, didn’t look at him either, and pulled out of the school parking lot.

Forget the art supplies. Another day.

No, she couldn’t forget the art supplies. Chloe needed them. But did she need themtonight? What did that paper say? When was the project due?

Stopping at a traffic light, she reached into her bag on the console and pushed items aside.Where is the fucking paper?Not there. “Dammit.” Had she left it at the store?

“Don’t cuss, Mom,” Chloe called out from the back seat.

“Yeah, Mom,” Jason echoed. “Language.”

She looked at him, trying to assess his demeanor. He was easily embarrassed, but this looked more like humiliation. The boy who punched him had pointed at the car—or was it at her? What had he said to Jason?Am I making a mountain out of a mole hill?Lately, she wasn’t sure which Jason she was going to get—the amenable, loving, big brother to Chloe, or the lethargic, musing, and maybe depressed adolescent teenager.

A horn honked behind her. She glanced in the rearview mirror, then at the light. Green. She pressed the accelerator.

“I need to go downtown for a few minutes,” she said to Jason. “Chloe needs art supplies. Okay with you?”

Pulling his headphones out of his pocket, he plugged them into his phone, then put them in his ears, dismissing her. “Fine.”

Turning at the next light, she headed downtown and found a parking place not too far from the art store. She turned to Chloe. “Let’s go, pumpkin.” Tapping Jason’s knee, she added, “You coming or staying?”

He made eye contact then. “Staying.”

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