“You’re trying to ruin my mother’s life!”
“No, Derek. Somebody ruined my children’s Halloween.”
“I want my property returned and the damage repaired.”
Linda held up Denise’s letter. Her hands were trembling.
“You want us to pay for all this?”
“I want my property returned and the damage repaired.”
“I thought we were collecting Derek’s belongings!” she cried. “He told me you were keeping things the divorce gave him.”
“His personal belongings, yes. Not a television I bought, not the children’s console, and certainly not permission to break into my house.”
Linda turned toward her son.
“He told me you’d locked him out.”
“You said she’d changed the locks.”
“She did!” Derek snapped.
“They were changed this afternoon,” I said. “You broke in yesterday.”
Linda looked at the newly repaired doorframe.
“He told me you’d locked him out,” she said. “When I saw the broken wood, I knew something was wrong. But he kept insisting he was only taking what belonged to him.”
“Oh, come on. We didn’t take anything she couldn’t replace.”
“And you believed him?”
She swallowed.
“I wanted to. Even when I knew I should have stopped.”
Derek threw up his hands.
“Oh, come on. We didn’t take anything she couldn’t replace.”
Linda turned on him.
I stepped closer to the storm door.
“Where’s the television?”
He said nothing.
“Where, Derek?”
“At a friend’s.”
“Which friend?”
“Mom, stop.”
“And Lucy’s pumpkin? What did you do with it?”
I stepped closer to the storm door.
“And Lucy’s pumpkin? What did you do with it?”
Derek rolled his eyes.
“I threw it away.”
Linda stared at him.
“You threw away your daughter’s pumpkin?”
I thought about Lucy searching the porch, still hoping somebody had simply moved it.
“It was a pumpkin, Rachel. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
I thought about Lucy searching the porch, still hoping somebody had simply moved it.
Linda pressed a hand over her mouth.
For once, she didn’t defend him.
“I didn’t know about that,” she whispered.
“But you knew about the broken door,” I said. “And you helped carry our belongings out.”
“Have your lawyer contact Denise.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I know.”
Derek glared at me.
“This isn’t over.”
“Have your lawyer contact Denise,” I told Linda.
Then I closed the door.
I didn’t go to the shop. I let the police handle it.
A few days later, Detective Cole called about a pawnshop on Westfield Avenue. He asked for serial numbers so he could check a lead involving the missing electronics.
Mason still had the console’s packaging in his closet. I photographed its serial number and emailed it over.
By the following week, the detective confirmed that pawnshop records connected Derek to the television and console.
I didn’t go to the shop. I let the police handle it.
That evening, Linda called me. Her voice sounded different. Quieter.
“Has Derek been paying child support?”
“Can I ask you something without him listening?”
“Yes.”
“Has Derek been paying child support?”
“Only one partial payment.”
There was a long silence.
“He told me you’ve been taking every dollar he earns. He said he needed a card on my account for groceries and things for the children.”
Before I could respond, I heard a door slam at her end of the call.
“He hasn’t bought the children groceries.”
“I checked my statements,” she said. “Restaurants. Bar tabs. Fishing equipment. He’s been using my money for months.”
“Linda—”
“And I’ve been making excuses for him.”
Before I could respond, I heard a door slam at her end of the call.
“Who are you talking to?” Derek demanded.
A brief silence followed, then Derek spoke again.
“Rachel.”
“Hang up.”
“No.”
A brief silence followed, then Derek spoke again.
“Mom, why was my card declined?”
“Because I canceled it.”
“You’re really going to throw your own son out?”
“You canceled it? Over this?”
“Over the charges you lied to me about.”
“So you’re taking her side now?”
“I’m looking at what you did, Derek.”
“You’re really going to throw your own son out?”
