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When Rumple parked in front of the garage, Baelfire was already waiting for him, sitting on the front steps. Had it been any other day, that alone would have made him feel better. Not tonight, though. He didn’t want to talk to Bae before having another shower. He needed to sooth his nerves and get that prickly feeling off his skin.
Rumple considered driving away, maybe going back to the shop for an hour or so, and only coming back when he was sure his son was asleep, as well as his wife. He didn’t feel like talking to anybody – especially her. But if Baelfire saw him drive away now he might think there was something wrong, and lord knows the boy already got mixed up in too many of their fights.
Rumple got out of the car and forced a smile on his face to greet his son.
“Hey, Bae. Is everything al-”
What was left of his sentence died in his throat when his son looked up.
The boy’s face when he saw his father was pure relief.
“What the hell happened to your eye?” he asked, hoping Bae’s answer would have something to do with bullies or boyish misadventures.
His answer was, “Mom hit me.” Just as Rumple was expecting.
“Let me see it,” he said, sitting down on the front steps with his son and turning his face to better catch the light. His hands had been shaking all day, but they turned steady when he gently tilted Baelfire’s head back. The skin was a deep shade of purple. He could still lift his eyelid, but not all the way up. “Oh, my, this looks bad.”
Rumple gave the door a look. Milah was probably inside, waiting for him. How was she going to justify this?
“Do you want to tell me what happened before I talk to your mother?”
“She didn’t like the things I told her.”
“I don’t know what they were, but they don’t excuse this.”
Bae didn’t volunteer the information.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“I know,” he murmured.
Rumple waited.
Bae said, “I don’t want to upset you.”
“I won’t be upset. And I won’t love you any less, whatever it was that you said.”
Bae remained quiet. Rumple was about to ask him again when he said, “She wanted to know why I looked so sad. And why I wouldn’t talk to her.”
“And what did you say?”
“I told her I saw what she did to you last night.”
Rumple’s throat went dry.
“And then I called her a rapist bitch and she punched me.”
Very slowly, Baelfire raised his eyes from the floor and stared into his father’s.
Rumple knew he had to come up with an explanation, but he couldn’t think of a single word, let alone a full sentence. Shock had rendered his mind blank.
“Bae…” he started, but nothing followed his son’s bame.
Baelfire didn’t interrupt, just waited for his father to say something, eyes full of expectations.
After staring into his eyes for a few more moments, Rumpel said, “Bae, sometimes grown ups…” Then he trailed off again.
Not one year ago, he had explained sex to his son using exactly those words. “Bae, sometimes grown ups love each other very, very much.” Not that there was much left to be explained. At the age of thirteen Baelfire was much better educated than Rumple had been at the same age, under his school’s less than effective abstinence only education, and his father’s neglect.
But Bae wasn’t looking at him wanting to know about sex.
He wanted to know about the night before, and how it fit into his father’s idea of “two grown ups who love each other very, very much”. He wanted more than just an explanation, he wanted his father to tell him he was right, and that whatever he witnessed the night before would never happen again.
Rumple pushed himself up. “I’ll go talk to your mother, you stay here.”
*
Milah was waiting in the kitchen, hiding herself in plain sight, as she usually would after a fight. Today, her face looked even more haunted then usual, but Rumple couldn’t find the pity that he usually felt towards her in those moments.
She heard the tapping of his cane and turned her glare on him. She didn’t wait for him to sit before demanding, “What did you tell him?”
Rumple stopped in his step. “What?”
“What did you tell him?”
Her voice was cold and it made his blood start boiling. “I told him I’d speak to you. What did you think I’d tell him?”
“About last night.”
He stared at her. “I didn’t want to tell him anything before I talked to you.”
“Right.”
She looked skeptical, though he couldn’t know why. “Why does it feel like you’re accusing me of something?”
Her eyes turned to face him. “I don’t know what you think I did to you last night.”
He frowned, “What?”
“But if you couldn’t be a man then, at least be a man now and talk to me! Don’t go around my back to tell those horrible things to my son!”
“Are you insane? I didn’t tell him anything!”
“My son came up to me and accused me of raping you. Where the hell did he get that from?”
“He saw us last night! Which I told you he would!”
“So you agree with him.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“And you think it’s all my fault.”
“I didn’t say that either.”
“Why don’t you call the Sheriff and get me locked up for being the only one in this relationship with warm blood?”
“Will you please STOP YELLING?” he shouted back.
That made her stop. He never raised his voice at her, not even when she was losing control.
He stopped. Rubbed his face. Sat down.
The silence between them was exhausted. Two people who did not have the strength to fight anymore.
Milah was the first to recover. “Did I do anything to you that you did not enjoy?”
Rumple thought of Milah’s hands. One on his chest, pushing him down. The other throwing his cane away from his grasp.
There had been alcohol in her breath, which made the kiss very unpleasant.
You’re never here.
You’re never here.
You owe me.
Did she have her hand around his wrist to keep him from pushing her away? No, it was just something she did when she was on top. It wasn’t malice, it was just a fetish. He used to like that once.
Her other hand was covering his mouth, but he wasn’t trying to scream.
Bae can walk in.
That had been what he was trying to say. It was the kitchen floor, for crying out loud.
Not now. Not here.
He had kept his eyes on the stairway the whole time, but it seemed he wasn’t really paying attention. He hadn’t been paying attention to Milah either.
He was thinking of the painful friction.
How long did it take? Two minutes?
Well, that’s embarrassing.
Felt like more.
Felt endless.
And then that feeling on his skin that refused to wash off…
Out loud, Rumple answered, “That’s not the point.”
She looked away. Her contempt reached his ears, “Not that you care much for sex.”
“Don’t start.”
“Not with me, anyway.”
“For goodness sake, Milah, I’m not…” then he trailed off. That conversation was pointless. She was not a jealous woman. It was just something she resorted to when she wanted to throw him off and it worked every time. As soon as the accusation left her lips, he’d stumble on his own words trying to prove he was a faithful husband, which usually ended with him saying he was sorry for something. Tonight, there was no time for that. He had to be practical. “I think we can agree we are both dissatisfied with the state of this marriage.”
Milah blinked at him, very slowly, surprised that he hadn’t taken the bait. Her voice was still disdainful when she said, “That’s one way to put it.”
“But we can’t bring Bae into this.”
“I was not the one to bring him into this.”
“You punched him.”
“Did you hear any word I said?” she snapped. “He called me a bitch and he accused me of raping you.”
The word made him flinch.
“Not to mentioned that he was watching us. Does that not trouble you at all?”
“Of course it troubles me.”
“And then you go behind my back and tell him those horrible things-”
“Milah, I didn’t go behind your back!” he pleaded. “I didn’t even talk to him today before I got home!”
Milah waited.
“He’s a child. He misunderstood things. That’s all. He is always running into our fights now.”
“Don’t blame it on me.”
“I’m not!” he snapped. “I’m not, but this is happening way too much.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
Rumple opened his mouth. Closed it again. He knew what had to be done. He had been thinking about it for weeks now. But he never thought they’d get to the point where they’d have to act on it.
Gathering courage, he took a deep breath and exhaled the words in a whisper, “He can’t stay here.”
Milah stared at him. “What?”
“He can’t stay here anymore.”
“You want to take my son away from me?” she said, growing agitated.
“No,” he answered, firmly. “I want to take him away from this. Do you want to fix us? Well, we can’t risk catching Bae in the crossfire again. We either find somewhere safe for him, or this marriage is over. Because I’m not trying to save this if it endangers my son.”
“You want to take him away from me,” she whispered to herself.
“Oh, my god,” he groaned.
“You want him somewhere I can’t have him.”
“If I didn’t want you to have him, Milah, I’d look for a good divorce lawyer. There isn’t a judge in the world who’d give you custody after you gave him a black eye.”
Milah reached over the table and slapped him.
Rumple rubbed his cheek and watched her get up and pace the kitchen. If she grabbed anything from the counter, he’d have to duck really fast.
But ultimately, she calmed down and took her seat again.
“Do we agree, then?” he asked.
“Somewhere neutral. No relatives.”
“Because we have so many.”
“A boarding school. For boys.”
“I think that will work.”
“It was your idea,” she said, her eyes filling with water. “You tell him it wasyour idea, because I won’t have my son hating me over this as well.”
“He’s not going to hate you,” Rumple said, without conviction. “He’s not going to hate us. At this pace, he’ll be glad to get rid of us.”
A sob escaped her lips and she sank her face in her hands.
Despite his anger, he felt sorry for her.
He got up and placed a hand on her shoulder. Milah shrugged him off once, but didn’t repeat the gesture when his hand did not move.
“I’ll go talk to him,” he said, trying to sound reassuring, but unable to keep those words out of his mind.
He’s going to hate us.
Rumple could only pray that wouldn’t be true.