Abandon (16 page)

I lean over and kiss her forehead then pull her closer so she can lie her head on my shoulder. “You can just lie here with me.”

I turn my face into her hair and breathe in her scent. She still smells a little like the champagne that was practically raining down from the heavens after Chris and Claire made their big announcement yesterday. Everyone is so happy for them to have a child after everything they went through. I’m even happy for them. But I’m sure Senia probably felt a pang of longing for some of that excitement to be directed toward us.

I wasn’t that drunk when I told her that her wedding would be better. When everything calms down with Grandma and Molly, and Senia and the baby are settled in with me in the condo Chris just offered me last night in exchange for the house I gave him … then I’ll ask her to marry me and we’ll be able to plan the kind of wedding she deserves. It won’t be a surprise wedding, but I’ll make sure to have plenty of other surprises planned for her along the way.

I glance at the tattoo on my wrist and smile as I realize I got this tattoo because it has three meanings. But now it has four.

“What? That’s ridiculous.” I pull away from Molly as the woman in the purple sweater turns around to look at me. I look straight at her as I speak the next sentence. “Molly has never lived with Elaine and she never will.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. …?”

The woman rises from her chair and holds her hand out to me as if I’m going to shake it. “I’m Molly’s older brother and I can take care of Molly until our grandma is better.”

She looks slightly perplexed by this statement. “You’re … Tristan?” she asks as she continues to shake my hand.

“Yes.”

“I’m Mrs. Rathbone. The social worker assigned to your sister’s case. We just need to make sure your sister is taken care of while your grandmother is in the hospital.” She pushes the chair aside so I can squeeze in next to Grandma’s bed, then she continues to write something on her clipboard. “Molly told me she would rather live with you, but your mother does have the authority in this situation. Is it true that there is no custody agreement that says you or your grandmother have custody of Molly? Because, if so, I need to know if there is any reason why I should believe that your mother is not equipped to care for her?”

I laugh through gritted teeth as I keep my eyes locked on Elaine’s skinny face. “She’s not my mother and the reasons why she shouldn’t be allowed to call herself Molly’s mother are endless.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Do you care to explain that in more detail?”

Molly knows nothing about what happened the three weeks I lived with Elaine when I was twelve. She doesn’t know the things I did and I hope she never does.

“I can’t say more than that. But, come on, she hasn’t taken care of her own children for twelve years. All Molly knows about her is that she’s an addict.”

“Recovering addict,” Elaine interjects. “I’m clean. Right, Joe?”

The guy standing next to her with his shaggy blond mustache and green and white trucker hat nods. “Clean as a … she’s real clean.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me?” I say, addressing the social worker. “These two have about as much parental instincts as a fucking dingo. You can’t make Molly go with them.”

“Please watch the language,” Mrs. Rathbone says, looking annoyed with my choice of words.

“Fine. I’ll watch the language, if you promise me that Molly is coming home with me tonight.”

Elaine clears her throat to get everyone’s attention before she speaks. “Mrs. Rathbone, I hate to tell you this in front of everyone, but Tristan has a history of violence. I don’t think Molly should be allowed to live with him.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I roar, incensed by this ridiculous accusation. “If you want to get into our histories, we can do that, but don’t you dare make up baseless lies to satisfy whatever agenda you’re trying to see played out here. Is it the
house
you want? You can have it. You don’t need Molly to get the fucking house. I’ll give it to you. Just leave us the fuck alone!”

Molly squats down next to me and covers her face as she sobs. Mrs. Rathbone appears conflicted as to whether she should believe Elaine’s accusations or if she should go with her gut, and Molly’s request, to come home with me.

I kneel next to Molly and place my hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got a place in Chapel Hill. I know it’s far from your friends, but I’m sure Jackie will help us so you won’t have to change schools.”

“I don’t want to leave. All my friends live in Raleigh. Why do
I
have to leave? Why can’t you just move back in?”

I glance up at Senia and I know she’d probably tell me to do whatever is best for Molly, but I don’t think becoming embroiled in a custody battle with Elaine over my grandmother’s house is what’s best for her. Molly’s not thinking. Besides, I highly doubt that it’s just Grandma’s house Elaine wants. I’ve been padding her bank accounts for months and Molly is probably listed as the beneficiary on those accounts. I’m sure Elaine knows that Grandma wouldn’t leave me anything I didn’t need – and there’s nothing I need any more. I’ll hire an estate lawyer first thing tomorrow morning.

Even stronger than my desire to keep Elaine’s hands off Grandma’s assets is my desire to not live in the house I grew up in. I can’t imagine waking up there every day, feeling as if I’ve stepped into an even more depressing version of
Groundhog Day
. I sure as hell don’t want to raise my child in that tiny two-bedroom house where Elaine grew up. And there’s no way I’m going to live in a place where Elaine feels she can visit us every other day.

“How about this? We’ll scrap the place in Chapel Hill and we’ll get something near Grandma’s,” I say and Molly looks up at me with interest.

Her eyes are puffy and glistening, but her face lights up instantly as she realizes I’m serious. “You would do that?”

“I’ll do anything to keep you away from her.”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, and I know she’s wishing I wasn’t so angry with Elaine. Her expression makes me think of the times I used to read her to sleep. I’d stroke her eyebrows sometimes. They were wispy and soft, and she had a habit of scrunching them up while she slept. I thought if I smoothed her brow, the nightmares would go away.

Mrs. Rathbone clears her throat to interrupt our discussion. “Unfortunately, Molly will have to go with her mother until we can find some kind of living will or custody agreement that precludes her mother. Since it’s New Year’s Day, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to settle this. It will probably only be a couple of nights. Or, if she prefers, we could put her in a temporary foster care facility.”

I grab Molly’s hand and pull her up so we’re both standing. “No, you don’t understand. She’s not going anywhere with her or any damn stranger. Ever. Not for any amount of days or seconds.”

“Well, I’m afraid that it doesn’t work that way. She needs to go somewhere.”

“Yeah, I’m—”

I point at Elaine and she stops speaking. “Don’t say it. You’re not her mother. You haven’t been her mother since she was a year old and probably even before that. So you can quit this little act.”

“I
am
her mother and she won’t be staying with me a couple of nights. She’s coming to live with me.”

This is too much for me to handle right now when I’m hungover and Grandma is lying in a bed four feet away from me with a machine breathing for her. I run my hand over my face and take a deep breath. I need a drink.

“Maybe she can stay with Jackie until you guys settle this?” Senia offers.

“Who’s Jackie?” Rathbone asks.

I can’t believe I never thought of that. Chris’s mother, Jackie Knight, hasn’t taken in any foster children since Claire came to their house, like, six years ago. I wonder if there’s some kind of license or certification she needs to maintain to be a foster parent. If so, she’s definitely let that lapse since then.

“Jackie is the mother of a friend of mine. She used to take in foster children a few years ago.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that her mother wants her and we have no evidence of wrongdoing on her part,” Rathbone replies, and I want to wipe the sympathetic look off her face. “Unless you have specific accusations to make against her.”

I glance at Senia and Molly then I close my eyes. I wince as the images assault me.
The woman in the corner smiling. The black tears running down Ashley’s cheeks and soaking the pillow. The blood on the sheets.

I shake my head and open my eyes. “Let me at least say goodbye to her in private.”

Molly looks horrified as I pull her into the corridor. “You can’t let me go with her.”

I shush her as I continue to drag her away from the room. Senia walks next to me, but I can’t bring myself to look at her. I don’t want to know what she thinks about what I’m doing.

“You can’t do this. This could be kidnapping,” Senia whispers as we turn the corner and the sliding exit doors appear at the end of the corridor.

“I can’t let her go with Elaine.”

“It’s just a couple of nights. Don’t do something you’ll regret the rest of your life for a couple of nights.”

“You don’t know shit about Elaine, so you should just shut up about things you obviously don’t understand,” I bark at her.

The moment we reach the exit doors and they slide open for us, a deep voice shouts, “Stop right there, sir!”

The sight of the two security guards in their gray uniforms throws me into a panic. I grip Molly’s hand tighter and race outside into the parking lot, which is now covered by a fresh dusting of snow.

“Tristan, stop!” Senia shouts, but I don’t look back.

I’ll never look back.

“Thank God,” I whisper as I pull up in front of the condo high-rise and find they have underground parking. I wonder if Chris will respond if I text him asking for the code to enter the underground lot. I shoot off a text, ignoring the notification of a voicemail from Senia, as I drive across the street to the Quickee Mart and hide my car between a couple of trucks.

Me:
Can I get the code to your underground parking? I’m showing Senia the place and I don’t want to park my car on the street.

“Who are you texting?” Molly asks as she looks around the car.

The parking lot is pretty full. It’s about 8 p.m. on New Year’s Day. People are probably still celebrating the New Year. I have nothing to celebrate tonight.

“No one.”

Chris:
49852. Use space number G45. Door code is 8992.

By the time I pull into space number G45 in the underground lot, the snow has transformed to freezing rain. The lot is heated, but it’s not enough to stave off the chill that penetrates through the slats of the gated entrance and the fabric of the white dress shirt I wore with my tux last night. It will probably be even colder tonight without Senia in my bed.

I should call her and apologize, but I don’t know if she’s with those security guards, or the cops. I don’t want to risk bringing her into this. I just need to find out who drafted Grandma’s will so I can get my hands on a copy of it. If Grandma Flo left everything to Molly, then I can present that as a motive for Elaine’s sudden interest in getting custody of her. And, if necessary, I’ll tell them everything about her twisted ways.

Once we enter the condo, Molly heads straight for the kitchen. “I’m hungry.”

“Get whatever you want.”

She opens up the refrigerator as I look around. The condo is impeccably clean and modern, like it’s hardly been lived in. Of course, Chris and Claire have lived here less than a month. It’s nice. Senia would like it here.

“They don’t have anything except Capri-Sun, bacon, and water,” Molly calls from the kitchen.

“I’ll order you some pizza,” I call back to her over my shoulder, unable to tear my gaze away from the view through the glass doors leading out to the balcony. The way the raindrops glisten in the moonlight is mesmerizing.

I was accustomed to snow when I lived with Elaine in Maine. She used to tell me to get my coat on and go outside and play in the snow. I remember the neighbor delivering me onto our doorstop and ringing the bell after he found me in his backyard with blue fingers and lips. I had strayed onto his property, which was a good thing because Elaine didn’t even remember how long I’d been out there. She thanked the guy, and all my eight-year-old mind could think was that maybe I could win a world record for rolling in the snow for six hours. It doesn’t snow that much in Raleigh. And despite all the animosity I feel toward Elaine now, I can’t help but long for the snow when it’s gone.