Page 52 of Molly's Mr. Wrong
“How so?”
“I have a learning disability.”
The class went still. Molly went still. Denny went red.
“Then you’re going to have a hell of a time in this class,” he finally said in an obvious effort to save face.
“That’ssorude.” Everyone turned toward the quiet woman who’d just spoken. Since Martha Simmons never, ever said a word in class unless directly addressed, her statement was all the more powerful.
“It’s also true,” Finn said quietly. “I am having a hell of a time. But I made a deal with myself to get through and I’m going to use whatever tools it takes...whether you approve or not.”
Debra glared in Denny’s direction before Molly stepped in. “Learning is different for everyone. The important thing is that we all get tools we can use to help us tackle life.” She shifted her attention to Denny, gave him the teacher look, which felt odd with an adult, but seemed to work. “The note card method is tried and true. There are even computer programs for it. You might want to check those out.”
She gave him an unsmiling nod and then walked on, feeling a dozen sets of eyes on her back before she stopped to help Mr. Reed, who thankfully had a question about the opening of his essay and not about note cards. By the time she finished, the rest of the class was focused on their work—or at least pretending to focus—despite the aura of tension that still hung between the two men.
Finn continued to work on arranging cards on his too-small desk while Denny kept his head down. He was blessedly quiet for the remainder of the class and for the first time ever he left without sharing some bit of obscure knowledge meant to make him look smarter than everyone else in attendance.
After the chime ending the hour sounded, Finn quickly gathered his stuff. He was heading for the door when Martha caught up with him.
“Mr.... Finn... My son has a learning disability,” she said in a rush. “And...well, thank you for being so open about it. I wish my boy could have seen what you did today.” She patted Finn’s arm and then disappeared out the door and down the hall.
Finn glanced over at Molly, his expression cold, bordering on icy, as if he blamed her for the Denny attack. Not knowing what else to do, she turned to Mr. Reed, who had a question. When she glanced back, Finn was gone.
* * *
ASS. HOLE.
And what was wrong with him that he couldn’t just shrug off the petty attack of a bullying jerk? Easy answer there. Denny the Douche had hit a nerve—the same one Molly had hit a few days ago.
Mike had custody of Buddy for the night, so instead of heading home, Finn gave in to temptation for the first time in weeks and pulled into McElroy’s on his way by. Maybe Denny was there. Yeah. That would be fun. He didn’t know the guy, but he had seen him at the bar now and again. Unfortunately, Denny was not there, but the crowd was larger than it had been the last time he stopped on a weeknight, and wonder of wonders, Wyatt was not among the patrons.
“The usual,” he said to Jim, who frowned deeply.
“What would that be? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“I’m a student now.”Kind of. Jim cocked an eyebrow and turned around to pour a draft. “Takes a lot of time,” Finn continued. And when he wasn’t at the feed store or being a student, he was forging ahead on his ’72 Ford, hammering a little metal. He’d built a sweet gas tank for the big truck.
“That doesn’t help my bottom line,” Jim said, setting the beer in front of Finn.
“I’ll send a monthly check to make up for it.” Finn jerked his head toward the group of young guys gathered around the pool table. “How old are these guys?”
“They’re legal andtheyhelp the bottom line. Come here most nights. Unlike you old guys, who stop by every couple of weeks and have to be home by nine.” He smirked a little.
The door swung open and Finn heard his name. He turned to see a familiar group, led by Terry Tyrone. The door no sooner closed than it opened again and a group of college-age girls came in behind them. The place was going to be packed soon, and it was a little strange to feel like one of the older people there on a week night.
“Looks like some old guys,” he said to Jim.
Jim snorted and wiped the bar. “You’ll all be gone by nine.”
Finn hated to tell Jim that he was right, but the last time he’d been with his old wild friends, they honestly had gone home early. To wives. Kids. They’d probably do the same tonight and then they would get up in the morning and go to jobs they liked. Terry was a lineman for the local electrical utility. Lowell worked as an assessor for the county. The other guys they hung with led similar lives.
It seemed as if everyone had settled into regular adult existences while he was overseas, and now he was the only one who was still at loose ends. It made him feel oddly inadequate...like he lacked substance.
His mouth tightened and he picked up his beer.
“Finn!” Lowell raised a hand and motioned to the tables they’d pushed together in the back of the room.
“Guess I’d better get my partying in fast, before we all fall asleep.”
