Robyn Carr - Never Too Late

Dotty was a widow just a couple of years older than George. When they first found her, she had a total of four families she worked for, but now she was down to George, who she said would have to bury her to get rid of her. “I don’t like him that much,” she said, lying through her false teeth, “but it’s obvious he is useless on his own. And if I can do one kind thing for his departed wife, it will be to make sure he doesn’t join her too soon.”

The one person in Clare’s life who hadn’t put in an appearance was Roger. But in the way things that seem too good to be true aren’t, he showed up. He got past the sentries at the door. He waited until evening, just before visiting hours were over, and brought with him that pathetic face that said, Oh I’m such a bad boy, you must take pity on me for I suffer so. What poor Roger didn’t know was that the second she saw him that vision came into her mind—of a slim blonde on top of him. And it infuriated her anew.

“Clare,” he said. “I’ve been trying to see you, but your sisters said you didn’t want to see me.”

She put on her call light. “That’s right, Roger. Go away. I’m an injured woman and you’re making the pain worse.”

“I want to talk to you about Jason,” he said.

She turned off the call light.

“I think he should be staying with me,” Roger said.

“What on earth for?” she asked, genuinely perplexed. “You’re busy all day and most evenings. What’s he supposed to do?”

“We’ll get in the car pool for school. I’ll lighten my schedule. He can have his old room.”

She thought about this for less than ten seconds. “No,” she said. “He’s fine at Maggie’s and, in case you haven’t noticed, he’s still very angry. You’re going to have to give him more time and make up with him before you coax him home.”

“How can I make up with him when he doesn’t want to see me?”

“I’m sorry, Roger, I know it makes you feel bad, but he’s adamant, he doesn’t want to spend time with you.”

“You can talk to him about that.”

A few days ago, pre-cracked pelvis and major surgery, she probably would have. But the cause of this current separation had created such terrible anger in Jason. This had been a long time coming; she had always dreaded the day her son would find out that his dad, the object of such admiration, was screwing around on his mother. Jason felt completely abandoned by his father, though Roger kept trying to reconcile with him.

The night it happened was awful beyond belief. Clare had chosen the time specifically because Jason wasn’t going to be home. He was spending the night at a friend’s house. Clare confronted Roger about his latest affair, which she had researched thoroughly. He denied it and she laid out her proof—copies of bills, cell phone calls, et cetera. She knew exactly who the woman was—one of his many clients to whom he sold insurance. A lot of regrettable things were said, but the worst were:

“Okay, maybe I did have a stupid, meaningless little fling—a guy can make a mistake!”

“A meaningless little fling? There have been over a dozen. Maybe many dozens!”

“Well, you’re not exactly welcoming in the sack, you know, Miss Ice Queen.”

“What do you expect? I’ve had to worry about disease!”

“When have I ever given you—”

Roger’s eyes had grown large as he looked past Clare and his expression became stricken. She whirled to find Jason standing there, the in-line skates he’d come home to fetch dangling from his hand.

“My God, Jason,” she had said, chasing him as he fled from the house.

Roger rattled the bed rail to regain her attention. “Clare? You’ll talk to him about that? Tell him, regardless of our family problems, his place is with his father.”

In her mind she saw that blonde again; she remembered the night Jason overheard their fight.

“No,” she said. “No, Roger. We don’t have ‘family problems.’ You have a problem. I’m not sure what it is—sex addiction? Being a pathological liar? Doesn’t matter. The fact is, I don’t have a problem and Jason seems to be doing fine. He’s had a big scare with my accident and I’m not going to make it even worse by forcing him to go to your house. We’ll deal with your relationship later.”

“My house? It’s still our house, Clare. And there are legal—”

Her hand came crashing down on his and he yanked it off the bed rail with a yelp. “What the…?”

“Listen to me, Roger. Don’t you dare fuck with me now. You leave Jason alone or, so help me God, I will make you pay! Now go home and leave me alone. No one will bother you—you can screw your brains out with any hoyden you can find!”

He looked at her as though cut to the quick. “That’s nice, Clare. Very nice. As though your accident hasn’t been a big shock to me, too?”

“Oh bite me, Roger.”

He shook his head sadly. “I don’t know what’s happened to you.”

“It’s very simple—I got smacked up the side of the head and all your bullshit fell out and some sense seeped in. Now go!” She flipped on the nurse’s call light for emphasis.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine.” He turned and left.

It was amazing how good that felt. She didn’t seem to even want a pain shot. It was as if drawing that line in the sand with him, firmly for once, was all the narcotic she needed.

She saw someone peeking in the door. George had a real evil grin on his leathery face. “Oh, Clare,” he said. “That’s the best entertainment your old dad has had in ages.”

So how did they get past that trauma of Jason overhearing? He skipped the night at his friend’s house and Clare took him with her to the Hilton in Lake Tahoe where they got a plush two-bedroom suite. She bought them bathing suits in one of the shops there, and ordered room service and a movie. They went swimming at midnight. She told him as much of the truth as she thought he could bear—but she could see it really didn’t get through his anger.

The real credit went to George, both for being there for Jason and somehow managing not to kill Roger. George explained to Jason that Roger was a screw-up when it came to flirting with women and had really disappointed and let down Clare. It was probably a good idea for them to separate, but what George wanted Jason to understand was that while Roger seemed to have this weakness, he had many strengths—he’d been a pretty good father and was proud of Jason. He cared about him and was suffering, terribly, because he’d disappointed his son. “So what? He should have thought of that before,” Jason had said.

“You’re right, he should have. But none of us is perfect, so let’s not throw stones. I know you’re all bent out of shape, and maybe I don’t blame you, but don’t nurse this too long, Jason. Your dad loves you, and you’re only as mad as you are because you love him.”

“You’re saying I should forgive him?”

“I’m saying I hope we get to that pretty soon, yes. Because whether you believe me or not, the two of you need each other.”

Clare topped that off by getting Jason in a counselor’s office, too. She intended to do all she could for him, feeling so damn awful about not bolting the door that traumatic night against his possible surprise return. What they finally came to learn was that once Jason knew his father had been unfaithful, he immediately felt that Roger had cheated on Jason, too. No wonder he was pissed.

Lying around in a hospital bed, Clare had plenty of time to think about her family, especially her sisters, her two best friends. Maybe they hadn’t been best friends growing up, but they were in adulthood. As Clare spent so many long hours of the day in pain, her sisters putting their own lives on hold to sit at her bedside, she was reminded constantly of how lucky she was to have them. She couldn’t get through this without them.