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“What then? To give me a lecture? To scare me straight?” He flings around. “Mom!”
I reach out. “Honey, I—"
He jerks away. “How could you bring this guy here? Why?” His chair screeches back.
“I thought maybe he could help—”
“Well that was stupid!”
“Hey.” John’s low voice booms its way into the commotion. “Don’t talk to your mother that way.”
I blink hard. John is defending me?
Jacob’s chin cocks. “She’smymom.”
“And the only one you’ve got, so treat her right, young man.”
Jacob is fighting mad, but he does love me. Respect never used to be an issue between us. Now, he hovers over the table, unsure which way to jump.
John eases his spine into the chair, big arms crossed over his chest. “So. I hear you’re in some trouble. Do you want to tell me about it or have a temper tantrum and run off? You have to know your mother is only trying to help you.”
Want toandought toare separate things so often in life. I see the dilemma wavering in Jacob’s sweet face. Oh, how I love this son of mine, even if nothing about our life has ever been easy.
The yard-sale chair creaks with the slow return of Jacob’s weight—but he leaves it out, prepped for a quick escape. His jaw squares. “We can talk.”
“Smart choice.” John tucks his napkin beside his plate, effectively ending the sham of a dinner. “Now, your mother has filled me in on the charges and the basics of your arrest. Why don’t you give me the story in your own words.”
Reluctantly, Jacob complies, adding only marginally more than what I’ve already told John.
“And that’s it? You’re hanging at your girlfriend’s house, you go to get burgers, then get pulled over for rolling a stop sign and suddenly, magically, somebody else’s drugs and gun are in your car?”
Jacob shifts on the hard surface. “That’s right.”
“That’s bull—” John shoots me a look. “That’s crap.”
Jacob looks ready to explode, and I’m not sure he won’t. John’s a tough nut, but how can I hold his skepticism against him? My son’s story sounds lame.
Jacob simmers, spitting his words out like escaping steam. “Somebody must have put them there.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, kid. You’re going to have to do better than that.”
Shrugging, Jacob darts his eyes toward the back door. My whole body tenses.
“Your mother says she cleaned the car out the day before and didn’t see any drugs. You say your car was only unattended for an hour in your girlfriend’s driveway. Now, you tell me how the drugs got there. And if it was you, now’s the time to man up and say so.”
“It wasn’t me.” The denial barely cuts through his clenched teeth.
“Who else was at the house besides you and your girlfriend?”
Jacob skirts me the briefest glance. “No one.”
My stomach dips.
“Was your girlfriend with you the entire time?”
