When September Ends by Andrea Smith

compassionate about something that is so damn complicated that even I can’t comprehend the dynamics?
    And then I remember that Scout is an old soul, and that is simply what they do. “You’ve got it, sweet girl,” I reply with a smile. “Let’s do this.”
    Once inside, Scout grabs me by the hand and pulls me into the kitchen where she is, standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pan, humming a tune I don’t recognize.
    “Sarah,” Scout says, and she turns quickly, staring over at me, “This is September.”
    As I watch my mother’s face, it’s difficult to know whether she truly doesn’t recognize me or if she chooses not to for her own sake. It’s almost as if a flicker of recognition passed over her before she turns back, lowers the heat under the burner, and then wipes her hands on the apron tied around her waist and faces me again.
    “Hello, September,” she says softly, giving me a meek smile. “I’ve heard tons of things about you from this one,” she continues, smiling down at Scout who is once again beaming. “I know that I’m your mother, just please bear with me as my memory banks have been compromised, for now anyway. In time, things might come back, but there’s no guarantee.
    “No, it’s fine,” I interject, taking the hand she’s offering, “You’re Sarah to me.”
    A flash of coldness appears on her face but, just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced with quiet innocence. She pulls her hand away, and runs it through her hair that is tied back. “I’m making chocolate pudding to fill a pie crust I baked earlier. Scout says chocolate cream pie is one of her favorites.”
    “Yes, yes it is,” I confirm, “Jesse’s too.”
    “Oh really? Well, she didn’t tell me that . Hope you like it as well.”
    “Can I help?” I ask, looking around to the assortment of bowls and utensils lining the countertop.
    “Scout and I pretty much have it under control. The chicken is roasting in the oven, and Scout made the salad earlier, so thanks, but we’re good.”
    I look around. “Where’s Jesse?”
    “Oh, he’s out in the garage fixing something on his truck,” Scout pipes up.
    “Okay—well, I think I’ll go out and say hi to him if I’m not needed here I guess.”
    “No, you’re not needed so go right ahead,” Sarah says as she continues stirring the pudding. “Tell him dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes, will you?”
    “Sure,” I reply, bristling inside at how she seems to have taken over my kitchen, and the fact that she’s confirmed I’m not needed here.
    Scout is already busying herself with setting the dining room table, so I turn and leave the kitchen, going through the laundry room and down the steps towards the landing that leads to the side door to the driveway.
    Just as I step out into the October chill, I spot Casey taking a bag of trash out to her garbage cans.
    Fucking. Lovely.
    She hasn’t spotted me yet so, hopefully, I can make my way to the garage door unnoticed.
    “Well, well,” her voice comes floating over to me. She doesn’t bother to hide the snarkiness in it. “Looks like this is gonna get real interesting.”
    I start to respond, but she’s already turned her back to me and I decide not to waste my energy on the bitch. At this moment I realize just how much I’ve been fooling myself—how much both Jesse and me have been fooling ourselves.
    This can never work.
    What the hell had we been thinking?
    The truth is we hadn’t been thinking with anything other than our raging hormones. It’s time for a reality check, and if Jesse can’t be the one to initiate it, then for fuck’s sake, I will.
    I enter the garage just as he’s shutting the hood of his truck. He sees me and immediately his face lights up.
    Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.
    “Hey, baby,” he says, coming towards me, “I’m so glad you’re here, believe me.”
    “Stop,” I say, my voice finding the harshness it needs to