Lennon's Jinx (33 page)

“You
should get some sleep, son,” Jonathan says. His face strains with fatigue. “Why
don’t you go back to the hotel? We’ll watch her.”

“Son?”
I ask, throwing my hands in the air. “You’ve got to be joking. I’m lucky to be
alive. You never once took care of me. I can remember eating Cocoa Puffs for
days in a row because there was no food in the house. I have scars on my thighs
from where hot coffee burned me and no one bothered to take me to the hospital,
not to mention the ones on my ass.”

Jinx
stirs. She stretches and yawns. I don’t mean to involve her, but I’m losing it.

“Lennon,
I know I screwed up,” Jonathan says. “I can’t make that up to you. We can only
move forward.”

I
take two more paces. “Forward. I was done with you years ago. You stuck Mom
with us, so that I have to babysit two children instead of one. You need to
leave Currie and me alone and take Mom off our hands. She should be your
problem, not mine.”

“I
offered your mother a settlement. She’s just beginning to realize we’re not
going to be together, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be a part of
Currie’s life, even if you can’t forgive me. We’re hoping you’ll go to college
and then Currie will come live with us.”

My
head jerks up. “You can’t have her. That will never happen in a million years.
I hired a lawyer the day you left and made sure that will never happen. You are
out of your mind if you think that’s even a possibility.”

“Currie
wants to live with us. She wants you to go to school in LA, so you’ll be
close.” Jonathan’s voice is calm. It’s not like him. He’s also not hopped up on
cocaine.

My
tone is borderline hysterical. “She’s never once mentioned that to me. You
won’t ever get her. My testimony of how the two of you behaved will blow any
juror away. You can’t take her from me. Currie’s mine.”

Deange
sits upright. “Lennon, you need to think about what’s best for Currie.”

“Shut
up,” I yell. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you have any idea
how many women Jonathan has been through? You won’t last.”

“I
do know,” Denage says, her voice unwavering.

I
hate them both. “I’m what’s best for Currie. From the day she was born, I took
care of her. When I was eight-years-old, Mrs. Nowak showed me how to feed and
change Currie’s diapers. Did Jonathan tell you that neither one of them fed or
changed her ever?”

“That’s
not true.” Tears streak down Jonathan’s cheeks. “You did our jobs. I won’t deny
that, but when you were exhausted, I would go in and care for Currie. What we
did to you was terrible. You may hate me for the rest of my life, but I want
another chance with Currie while she’s still young. I’ve done good these past
few years with visits and phone calls. I already lost one child. I don’t want
to lose two. She’s my baby. She’s my flesh and blood, too.”

That
strikes a blow to my chest. He never wanted me, just Currie, the cute, adorable
smart child. I want to run down the hall and forget about them all, but I can’t
leave Currie, even though there’s no chance she’ll wake now.

“Currie’s
all I’ve got,” I say. “You can’t take her away from me. I’m the one providing
her with dance and violin lessons, paying for her private school.”

“I’m
not trying to take her away.” Jonathan wipes his eyes with the back of his
sleeve. “Currie needs us both. She doesn’t want you out of her life, but she
does want you to have a life of your own. You’ve never had one. It’s my fault.”

I’m
tired of yelling. My voice feels hoarse. Betsy has come by the room, giving us
warning looks to keep quiet. Though Jinx pretends to sleep, we’ve probably
woken up the entire hospital.

“This
is a moot point anyway,” I say, resigning myself to my chair. “Just go home and
get the hell out of our lives. I’ll never forgive you, Jonathan. I can’t.”

“I
wish you could, but I understand.” Jonathan gets out of his chair, walks over,
and pats my back like he should’ve done years ago, but it’s too late now. I
shrug away his hand.

Mom
stands by the door. I’m not sure how long she’s been standing there, but from
her expression, I’m guessing a while.

“We
can work this out, son,” he says.

“You
were never a father to me,” I say, standing to meet Jonathan eye-to-eye. As I’m
about to plow my fist into his drug-worn face, tiny sniffling sounds come from
Currie.

“Would
you stop?” a small voice croaks. “I can’t get any sleep.” She rolls over in the
bed and pulls the pillow over her ears.

I
rush to her side and pick her up, tubes and all. “Oh God, you came back to me.”

“You
can’t get rid of me that easy.” A small smirk crosses her lips. Her eyes are half-open.

“Can
you move your arms?” I ask.

She
wiggles her fingers and toes. “They feel weak, but that was bound to happen since
I haven’t used them in…”

“Six
days.” I rock her back and forth like I did when she was little.

Betsy
comes into the room. “We’re so glad you’re awake. You should put her down.”

Not
going to happen. I practically crush her in my arms.

Currie
wriggles underneath my grip and wags a finger at me. “Better listen. Have you
been drinking coffee? I can smell it on your breath.”

Jinx
bursts out laughing. “Yeah, Lennon. Have you been drinking coffee? Bad boy.”

I
put Currie down. “Yes, I’ve been bad.”

Curries
jabs me with her finger. “I’m out for a few days, and you go back to your evil
habits. Shame on you.”

“Let’s
try to get you up to walk,” Betsy says. “I’ll have to unhook you first.”

“Is
that such a good idea?” Jonathan asks.

Betsy
chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ve been doing this for a few years. Your daughter is
in good hands.”

“Would
you guys leave?” Currie asks. “I don’t want you to see her unplugging my butt
and whatever else is attached.”

Jinx
snorts out a laugh, gets up, and leaves the room. I kiss Currie’s forehead. “Be
right back. I love you.”

“I
love you, too.” She makes a face. “Go brush your teeth. Get rid of that coffee
grinder in your mouth.”

“Yes,
Dear,” I say.

We
walk out and stand in the hall. The weight of the Sears Tower has been lifted
from my shoulders. Currie and I can move forward from this. God, I want a beer,
a whole case.

I
ignore Jonathan. The lawyer said I’d have no problem getting custody, but I
worry. Jonathan’s been straight for three years now and Currie may want to live
with him over me. I can’t lose her.

I
catch up to Jinx, pick her up, and swing her around. “I love it when you call
me bad.”

“Good
because it’s easy to do.” She brushes her lips against mine before I put her
down.

Jinx
leads me to the cafeteria. “I could use some more coffee.”

“Currie’s
awake. I have to drink herbal tea now.”

She
laughs. “I’m still having coffee with sugar and cream.”

I
pick her up again, otherwise, I’d have to stoop a mile to kiss her on the lips.
“Once Currie’s back home, let’s talk.” I can tell Jinx brushed her teeth. She
tastes minty.

“About?”
she asks.

I
tap her nose. “It’s a secret.”

Several days later, when I knock
at the Nowaks, Brea answers the door. “Come in.” She takes the wine from me and
shuts the door with her foot. “Hope you like pot roast.”

I
love pot roast, but Currie doesn’t need to know that.

Brea
nods at Currie. “Zoe’s in the living room.”

Yeager
released Currie to the Naperville hospital within a few days. She doesn’t have
any brain damage, so her therapy is minimal. Thanks to Jinx and Rena, I’m
caught up with my schoolwork, so I can barely wait to tap into the wine I
brought, kick back, and relax.

Being
asleep and drugged up for almost a week has made it hard for Currie to
concentrate on her schoolwork. I hired a tutor so that she’ll be caught up in a
week or two. She hates being behind.

I
walk into the kitchen to help out. The Nowaks have me trained. “What do I need
to do?”

Mrs.
Nowak opens the oven. “Would you?” She hands me potholders.

I
slide the roast out and lay it on the counter. My mouth waters. “Smells good.”
If it wasn’t for the Nowaks, I would have never figured out what normal is. I’d
thought lines of cocaine laid out on a coffee table and empty whiskey bottles
were part of a typical family home.

“Want
to talk about it?” Mrs. Nowak asks, apprising me. She knows me all too well.

“The
good news is Jonathan hasn’t served me yet for custody of Currie.” It would be
easier for everyone if he just got run over by a Mack truck. I doubt that’s
going to happen. I’m going to have to face him sooner than I’d like.

“Would
he?” Mrs. Nowak asks.

I
chew on my lip. “I don’t know. He told me he wants Currie to move to LA.”

“What
does Currie want?”

“I
think she wants to have a family like yours.” I know I do. I’d give my left nut
to have been raised like Brea and Zoe.

“What
about your mom?”

“I
don’t know about her. She’s been talking to her agent. If she leaves, Currie
will want Jonathan even more.”

Mrs.
Nowak shakes a few roasted almonds over the blanched green beans. One of my
favorites. When I pick out one, she swats me. “You’re as bad as Brea.”

“If
you weren’t such a good cook.”

Mrs.
Nowak gives me a knowing smile. “Do you think Jonathan has changed?”

“He’ll
always be Jonathan to me, but Currie doesn’t remember.”

“I
remember some,” Currie says, walking into the kitchen and sneaking up on us.
“He fell down once and hit his chin on the coffee table. I guess he was high or
something.” She lowers her head. “Daddy cried over that and said he was sorry.
He left the next day, but he promised he’d get better and would come back for
me.”

I
never knew this. It hurts that she’s worth returning for and I’m not. I don’t
admit this to anyone, especially Currie.

Zoe
reaches for Currie’s hand. Her face is still pale. “Will you move to
California?”

Currie
digs the toe of her high-end sneaker into the hardwood flooring. “It’s up to
Lennon.”

Zoe
folds her arms in front of her chest. “He’s a pushover. You always get your
way.”

“I
am not,” I say, though I know I am.

“Are
too,” Currie says.

“We’d
still see each other,” Currie says. “I promise. Daddy said so. We’ll come here
all the time.”

Currie’s
pretty much made up her mind. I’m not sure where that leaves me. I don’t want
to be alone.

“What
do you want, Lennon?” Mrs. Nowak asks.

Currie
looks at me expectantly.

“I
can’t forgive Jonathan, but Currie wants him. I don’t know what I’m supposed to
do.”

Currie
pushes out her bottom lip. “I want you to come with me. I’d miss you too much.”

I
mess up her hair. “Me, too.”

Currie
grabs my arm. “Stop that.”

Mrs.
Nowak hands Currie the butter and Zoe the salt and pepper. “Would you take
those to the table?”

When
they leave, Mrs. Nowak says, “Lennon, you have to think about what’s best for
you and Currie. She wants her dad and if Heather leaves, you know how she is,
Currie will be devastated. I’m sure you can work out an agreement where you
maintain rights over Currie, especially if your dad relapses.”

She
smiles and continues, “You can choose your friends by you can’t choose your
relatives. I think deep down you know what you need to do. Currie won’t always
be around, and it would be a shame for a prince like you, not to have a family
of your own someday.”

Being
alone is what’s bothering me. I need to work this out so that I protect Currie,
and she can see Jonathan on a more permanent basis. It’s just not what I really
want to do. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Beckham to see what arrangements can be made.”

“I’m
sure your father would want you both to finish the school year here. There’s no
rush. You’ve provided for Currie for almost ten years. Jonathan can wait a few
months.”

Mr.
Nowak waltzes in and kisses his wife’s cheek. “My favorite meal.” He assumes
the position of slicing the meat. I’ve never really seen them fight.

I
avoid discussing Jonathan further by opening the wine and carrying it and the
salad into the dining room. Currie and I have had many meals at this table and
not one of them bad.

We
sit down at the large dining room table and hold hands. Mr. Nowak says grace.
Currie likes having dinner here, though she glowers at me when I take a large
helping of meat. I tell her it’s rude not to try everything. She eats salad,
potatoes, and vegetables.

The
Nowak family has what every kid should have, a nice home without drugs and hard
liquor, church on Sunday, well, Currie would like that, and dinner at the table
most every night of the week.

The
sad thing is I want this for Currie. I thought having the Nowaks next door
would suffice, but apparently, it isn’t enough. She wants her daddy. Something
I have never had.

What
if Jonathan is for real this time? He’s gone back to drugs before, but he was
always with Mom during those relapses. Denage doesn’t seem like the type to put
up with that.

Zoe
picks at her food. When dinner’s through, she excuses herself and goes to her
room. Currie tags along.

I
help clean up. Mrs. Nowak questions me until Currie walks into the kitchen.

Currie
glances up at Mrs. Nowak. “Zoe’s tired. Do you think she’s mad at me?”

“No,
honey. She’s still recovering. Give her time.”

I
carry Currie home after the dishes are loaded. Her head rests against my
shoulder.

“I
don’t think Zoe is better,” Currie says in a tiny voice.