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“Obviously, since that was the only pair of underwear he had.”
David was pretty sure his blood pressure was off the charts. “Why didn’t you stop somewhere and buy him a new pair? Let me guess … because they’re too expensive?”
Ignoring the dig, Ashley clipped out, “Because it was just easier to bring him back here early.”
“Being a parent isn’t about what’s ‘easier’.” He sucked in a deep breath and released it in a rush. “Jesus Christ.”
“I think he’s wetting the bed and having accidents because of all the stress and upheaval in his life. He was fine before you decided to split us all up,” Ashley said cuttingly. “This is your fault, David.”
Then, with a flat, hate-filled look, Ashley turned to leave without saying goodbye, opening the door and stepping outside. Paige wasn’t surprised when David followed Ashley onto the porch, partially closing the door behind him, nor was it surprising when they began talking angrily again, but not loud enough for Paige to discern what they were saying.
When David came back inside a few minutes later, he looked both aggravated and worried, and without a word headed into the kitchen. With quick efficiency, he grabbed a half-empty bottle of Knob Creek out of one cupboard and a glass out of another, then proceeded to pour several fingers of bourbon into it.
She watched him take a long drink. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “Did you see him? He’s never come home looking this bad before. God, he looked like shit.”
“Yes, he did,” she agreed softly. “But—”
“What if this really is my fault?”
David’s distress was so acute, it made her heart hurt. He was the father she knew he would be, loving his child with a fierceness she applauded. Putting a hand on his arm, she said, “Look, I know you’re really upset about what’s going on with Jacob, but having an accident can’t be that uncommon for young children. The same goes for wetting the bed, which is something that can happen until kids are seven years old. And it can be caused by a lot of things, like a small bladder or too much to drink before bedtime,” she countered, attempting to settle him down a little bit—and maybe herself, too, because she didn’t want to be thinking what she was thinking ... until she had to. “It’s not always stress.”
“I appreciate what you’re saying, but none of this is normal for Jacob.”
“How long has he been wetting the bed?”
“A month or so.”
“Is it random, or consistent?”
“Random. Although, it’s only happened at Ashley’s, so, it’s consistent in that regard, I guess,” David said, then shook his head. “But he’s been potty trained for a year, though, with only a few daytime accidents in the very beginning, and he’s never wet the bed, so when Ashley texted me that he had, it shocked the hell out of me. I was hoping it would be a one-time thing, but it’s still happening. And the fact that he … shit himself …” David drained his glass and refilled it, then stared down at the granite countertop. “He’s so fastidious, and well, you saw what he looked like when he got here, so he must’ve been really upset about what happened. This was probably the worst weekend of his life.”
“I’m sure it was,” Paige agreed softly.
He gave a little snort of disgust. “You know, in the beginning, I was really hoping Ashley would develop some maternal instinct, or whatever, and be a good mother, you know? I hoped she’d start enjoying her time with him, maybe even start wanting to spend more time with him. Oh, my God, did I want that for him. And for her, too, because she’s missing out on so much with her son. But none of that has come to pass. In fact, she’s actually cut back on her visitations with him.”
“Really?”
“She gave up her Wednesdays, because she said having him in the middle of the week was really ‘disruptive’ and now only sees him every other weekend.”
“So, he’s spending even less time with her than he used to?”
“Yes. He only sees her four days a month.”
Paige frowned, literally not understanding how someone could willingly give away time with their child.
“I know what you’re thinking,” David said. “But every time she’s cut back on her visitations, I’ve seen it as a good thing, especially given her continuing lack of connection with Jacob. The less time he’d have to spend with her, the better—or so I thought.” David picked up his glass, then seemed to change his mind about taking a drink and set it down again. “But I was wrong, because instead of decreasing, his reluctance to stay with her has increased.”
“Is it possible that Jacob’s reluctance is specifically tied to the apartment?” Paige asked, pretty sure it wasn’t, but asked anyway, to rule it out.
“I wondered that myself, early on, but I just can’t imagine it would be, especially to the extent he wouldn’t want to stay there, or be the reason behind him wetting the bed. I mean, her place is good. It’s small, but he has his own room, with his original furniture, bedding, and some toys and books. Plus, her place is in a nice neighborhood, with his favorite park nearby, so I doubt it would be much of an issue.”
Paige nodded. Rarely, if ever (outside of the house located in Amityville on Long Island) was it more about the house than the person inhabiting it, so she wasn’t surprised. However, she was disappointed, because that meant the negative situation couldn’t be rectified by Ashley finding another place to live (if she were so inclined), because that wasn’t the problem.
Ashley was.
She was the key to what was going on with Jacob, and even though Paige didn’t want it to be true, she knew it had to be. It made perfect sense, actually, because the Ashley Paige knew was selfish and untrustworthy, and more than capable of losing her shit. The extent to which she could lose her shit was unknown, however, and Paige had no way of knowing how far Ashley could go with her own child. Emotional abuse? Physical abuse?
