Chapter 18

Bud sat quietly, nodding now and then, his stomach churning, as Mr. Weston explained exactly how it was going to be from then on. "There will be no divorce," the man said, "never. We will not allow it."

Bud nodded and mumbled, "I understand. Yes sir."

"And you are to stay away from her and the children unless you are asked to come and visit. She says she will try to give you a weekend once a month."

"Yes, sir," Bud said, feeling his stomach churn.

"We can go to court and get a restraining order and all that," said Mr. Weston. "If you do not stay away."

Bud glanced past him to his angry wife who sat with her baby on her lap.

"If you bother her, she will call us and call the police. Get it?"

Bud nodded.

"And you are to give her half of everything you earn, and we expect that to be at least one hundred dollars each month. Understand, a hundred a month at least?"

"Yes sir, that's about half of my take home."

"If you make more, then you pay her more. Don't make us send somebody to get it," said Mr. Weston, his forehead wrinkled and his cheeks red with anger.

"Suppose I'm out of work, lose my job?"

"Borrow, go to your folks. We don't give a damn. At least a hundred a month, every single month." Mr. Weston jabbed a finger at Bud's nose. "Understand?"

Bud nodded. "Anything else?"

"She keeps the car. You see that it's put in her name," said his wife's father. "We'll take care of the mortgage. Do you have any life insurance?"

"No sir," said Bud, shaking his head and studying the floorboards.

"Get some. You can pay by the month, straight life, ten thousand at least."

"I don't know," Bud said. "I'll do what I can."

"Shit, boy, just do it. You have obligations. Now get out of here." Mr. Weston stood and glared at his son-in-law.