The Jealous Son. Michele Chynoweth

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СКАЧАТЬ that she had postpartum blues for weeks.

      “Mommy, will you play with me?” Cameron would ask over and over.

      “Mommy can’t play, honey, I have a bad headache,” she would say, turning on the Disney Channel for him to watch, sometimes for hours, as she lay back on the couch, a cold compress on her forehead.

      And Daddy was no help at all.

      Alex worked late nearly every night at the ABC Oil Company in Phoenix. He was the fleet manager for the wholesale oil company, a leading distributor of petroleum products on the West Coast. He had just been promoted to the position right before Austin was born.

      Often Alex was the last one to leave the offices on Grand Street, making sure all of his drivers were accounted for and the oil trucks had safely arrived with their deliveries. If there were problems––a client calling to complain about a late delivery, a driver stuck in a bad thunderstorm, an accident blocking traffic—he was always the liaison, on the phone with drivers and clients, making sure both were safe and satisfied. It fell on him to stay and help make it right. It got old, being a single parent. Eliza harbored resentments that just turned into numbness over time.

      But they needed Alex’s paycheck, especially the overtime, since she was only working part-time from home doing data entry for a local accounting firm, and they had two little ones to raise.

      Sometimes it all nearly felt unbearable. Until one day Eliza finally found relief.

      THE NEXT CHRISTMAS, her friend Marsha Lake asked her to go to the local mall to get a new holiday dress.

      Somehow Eliza had mustered up the courage to ask her husband for money to pay a babysitter for several hours. Cameron was five and Austin two, and Eliza desperately needed a break.

      Alex put up a little bit of a fight but finally acquiesced, and always the resourceful friend, Marsha had given her a few names of sitters she had used in the past. She didn’t need them anymore since her children were old enough to stay home alone.

      Eliza felt a little guilty as she kissed her two boys and then waved goodbye to Patty, the sitter, a sixteen-year-old sprite with freckles and loads of energy.

      “We’ll be fine, Mrs. T, just go have fun,” Patty said cheerfully, bouncing a smiling Austin from her hip as little Cameron woefully stared up at her from the floor with his questioning, big brown eyes.

      “Okay, we’ll be back in a few hours.” Eliza heaved a sigh, turning from Cameron, holding back tears as she heard her little boy sniffle as she headed out the door.

      Her confident, redheaded friend had to practically drag her by the hand into the various mall stores, urging her to try on dresses she couldn’t afford, until she finally splurged on an outfit she couldn’t resist. It was a white silk pantsuit with a floral print that somehow made her look thin, voluptuous, and sexy all at the same time. Eliza beamed at her reflection in the dressing room mirror. In this outfit she didn’t look or feel like the frumpy, frazzled, bedraggled twenty-four-old she thought she had become. Sure, her long, black hair needed a trim, her skin could use a bit of bronzing in the sun, and her waist could stand to lose an inch or two. But in this outfit, she could see beyond all of that to the young, beautiful girl she had been before the children came along.

      “You have to buy that outfit, you look amazing!” Marsha squealed with delight. Eliza did, charging the ninety-nine dollars to her credit card, once again ignoring the twinge of guilt that crept unwelcome into her psyche.

      Her mood improved over drinks with Marsha to celebrate the “new” her. Marsha treated her to three large margaritas during happy hour at the Mexican tapas bar.

      She felt so much better that when she got home Patty’s news didn’t phase her much—that Cameron had smacked his baby brother on the cheek, leaving behind a small, red splotch. “I sat him in time out and after that he was much better behaved,” Patty chirped. “Still, I feel terrible, but …”

      “It’s okay, ish not your fault.” Eliza heard herself slur and wanted to laugh but was rational enough to know better. She scolded herself mentally and handed Patty two twenties from her wallet. “Thank you, Patty.”

      “Oh, this is too much, Mrs. Trellis,” Patty objected.

      “No, that’s okay, keep it, I hope we can get you to babysit again soon,” Eliza replied, her fog starting to lift a bit. If I pay her well this time, she’ll come back. And maybe she’ll overlook the fact that I’m drunk.

      “Okay, if you’re sure, thanks, Mrs. T, see you again soon.”

      It must have worked, Eliza congratulated herself.

      It was eight o’clock when she arrived home, so the kids were both fast asleep. Eliza had just enough time to slip into the outfit she had bought, sober up with a strong cup of coffee, and brush her teeth before Alex came through the front door, as always loosening his tie, looking exhausted.

      But his face perked up when he saw his wife decked out, wearing red lipstick and jewelry. Usually she didn’t even greet him, worn out herself from the kids, and was usually reading or fast asleep in the recliner, dressed in her worn, pink robe and slippers.

      Without a word, she kissed him hungrily then pulled him by the tie into their bedroom, leaving him little time or inclination to ask questions or protest.

      THE MORNING after was a different story.

      “What is that red mark on Austin’s cheek?” Alex sat at the breakfast table eating his bowl of cereal as Eliza simultaneously handed Cameron his milk and wiped some strained bananas from the baby’s chin.

      “Oh, that?” Eliza feigned indifference. “Patty said she thought Cameron may have accidentally hit his brother while they were playing.”

      “That doesn’t look like an accident to me. Cameron, what did you do?” Alex addressed their older son, who looked at his father, his eyes welling with tears.

      “Sorry, Daddy,” Cameron said in his little boy voice.

      “Why did you hit your brother?” Alex asked, his voice rising.

      “I was mad he was touching my things,” Cameron responded shyly.

      “You meant to hit him?”

      “Yes, but I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

      “Well, it looks like you did hurt him, so you need to be punished for that.” Alex stood, pulled Cameron by the arm out of his chair, spun him around, and spanked his backside twice, hard.

      Eliza’s heart leaped into her throat as her older son started to cry and then ran to hide in his bedroom.

      “Why did you have to do that?” She turned to face her husband.

      “Because he needs to know that wasn’t okay,” Alex said evenly. “And you should be teaching him that, not relying on some babysitter to do it.”

      Eliza sat silently, turning to finish feeding Austin, her heart pounding.

      “By the way, how much was that new outfit you were wearing last night?”

      “I’m not sure. I threw the price tag away.”

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