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Chapter Forty Five - Neil *

I painfully sipped on my beer, instead of putting it all down at once, for Esther's sake.

We decided a while ago that when we do a trade off with Will, it's best that we do an... immersive approach.

So it wasn't like a drive-by-drop-off, but either party bringing him to the other would stay and have dinner for a while, then leave.

But when we would do this, it was custom for Esther and Loretta to make themselves sparse after dinner.

Leaving Johnson and I to bond.

We tried our best for the kid's best interest, but it had a tendency to end up the way it was now; dry in conversation, but knee deep in alcohol.

They had made a roast and we all sat down at their black, bland, oblong dinning table while Will spat stories and retellings of his day.

Loretta got to hear all about how she saved the day with her sharp scissors when he was making my pillow and how much I loved it, how his 'Auntie' was surprised by her book, how he got to meet my parents.

He said that.

And because one of the Baker's stupid rules, as far as visitation was allowed, they wanted to know just who these people that he called my parents were.

Because they knew I didn't have a mom, and my dad was a few weeks past due at this point.

I picked up my spade and did myself fucking filthy, digging my hole deeper by trying to elaborate on their presence.

There was no delicate way to put their relation to me.

They were my deceased wife's parents.

They dropped in unannounced.

And yes, Will loved being around them, every minute.

No, we didn't call and ask.

I'm sorry.

That was the whole jist of it, short but damning.

I didn't want to see Esther's face during dinner, I could feel the disappointment radiating from her the whole meal.

Honestly, while Johnson and I share these drinks that we don't want, I'm sure Loretta is tearing my Esther a new one.

There is no doubt.

Because while they are friends, they still walk a fine line between enforcer and the enforced. 

Whatever college game Johnson has on is way too loud, maybe it was on purpose.

So that I wouldn't hear the potential reprimanding.

It went completely dark outside ages ago, and we usually leave by then.

The house felt cold and expansive as all the lights were white and the walls matched, black accents everywhere that caused my eyes to hurt.

I felt overwhelmed and wanted to leave.

Johnson's iron gaze never left the television screen, its size impeccable compared to the one I had. 

And here I thought these people didn't believe in having screens.

What do I know?

'Check the car.'

Oh?

I suppose I hadn't been thinking about my accidental murder plot recently, it's had to have been months at this point.

'Go.'

I can't.

Silence.

I shouldn't.