Jill approached. “Can I help put her in her car seat?”
I nodded slowly. It was time to go. I wanted to hold Olivia forever; or grab her and make a run for it… I kissed my girl on the cheek.
“I love you. I’ll see you soon.” I put Olivia in Jill’s arms. “Be good, honey.”
“Be goo, Daddy.”
My chest tightened and I busied myself with fishing a piece of paper out of my pocket while I pulled myself together.
“This is the name of the hotel I’ll be staying at in Sacramento,” I told the Abbotts. “This is my cell phone number. This is Darlene’s number—my upstairs neighbor, and this is Elena, my sitter’s number.”
You remember them? My unlicensed, irresponsible babysitter and my drug addict neighbor?
I bit back those words too, hid them behind a stiff, expressionless mask.
“If you need anything and can’t get a hold of me, call one of them,” I said.
“Will do,” Gerald said.
They both seemed to be waiting for me to do or say something more.
“Okay, so…that’s it, I guess,” I muttered.
Apparently that was the wrong answer. Gerald pressed his lips together, and ushered his wife to the car.
Alice gave me a final, small smile. “Good luck.”
I watched them climb in and the engine roared to life.
“God help me walk away,” I whispered.
I couldn’t move. As with last weekend, I stayed rooted to the curb until their SUV, with Livvie safely buckled inside, drove down the street and around the corner. It wasn’t possible to walk away, but if the court gave full custody to the Abbotts, I’d chase their car down until I hadn’t breath left in my body. A dumb notion. It wouldn’t do me any good if the law sided with them.
Fuck the law.
I couldn’t help but feel it had betrayed me when I was trying so hard to be its agent and advocate. And now I had to devote three full days to proving I had what it took to do just that.
I dragged myself up to my place.
Inside, it was quiet; the silence amplified my aloneness. No sound of Olivia or her baby babble that was fast growing into language; no wooden clunk of her blocks coming together as she stacked them. The baby monitor was silent; her crib empty. I refused to believe this was a preview of my future, but it was hard. So damn hard.
I put on a pot of coffee and while it brewed, I slumped at my desk and pulled my study materials around me. But they blended together in a mash of words that were already familiar to me. I knew this stuff, forwards and back. All those endless nights hadn’t been for nothing. I was as ready as I ever could be for this exam.
I shut my books and sat in the quiet of my place. My stomach growled loudly in that quiet, and I shuffled to the kitchen for something microwavable. I found Darlene’s latest tuna casserole in the refrigerator.
I pulled it from the fridge and set it on the counter, staring at the tinfoil-covered pan. My stomach was still complaining, but another hunger grew and spread, upward and out, like a strange fire that had nothing to do with food.
I needed to see Darlene; my hands wanted to touch her, my overworked brain needed to laugh with her, and my stony heart wanted to be with her, and give whatever we had between us an honest chance.
How? How can I be with her when my heart could be shattered with one bang of a judge’s gavel?
“Fuck,” I said, shoving the tray away.
Above was quiet too. No creaks. Darlene might still be sleeping or maybe she was out taking a run, or getting ready for her dance that night.
Jackson, with all the subtlety of an elephant on roller skates, had gotten the theater address from Darlene and now it was in my brain forever. She’d tried hard—too hard—to minimize it, but I knew the truth. She hadn’t danced in four years. This was a big deal to her.
My phone rang, and I looked at the number.