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My social worker ignores me and continues to evaluate Rachel like she’s a lab rat. “She’s pretty. Does she go to your school?”
“She is and no. ” If I don’t give her something she’ll keep digging. “She goes to Worthington Private. ”
Courtney blinks rapidly. “Wow. No kidding. That’s. . . impressive. ”
I jerk my chin in Melanie’s direction. “I got things to do. ”
She sighs. “Are you sure about this?”
No. “I’m here and she’s there. ”
Courtney waves me on, and I can feel the heat of her stare burning into my back. Not believing I had a change of heart, she questioned my motivations when I asked her to schedule this meeting. Gotta give Courtney credit. . . the girl knows her shit.
Huddled in a jean jacket, Melanie slides from the middle of the bench to create room for me. I perch on the edge farthest from her. Once again, she wears cowboy boots and big hoop earrings. “You listen to country music, don’t you?” I say.
“Yes,” she answers. “Garth Brooks used to be your favorite. ”
I rub my forehead, not wanting to hear anything she has to say in regards to me.
“Do you remember?” she asks.
“No. ” Yes. “Did you bring the money?”
“Yes. I’ll give it to you when we’re done. ”
In the distance, a crow caws. How long do the two of us have to sit here to satisfy Courtney’s curiosity over my visitation request? Five minutes? Fifteen? In my head, thirty seconds has been long enough.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Melanie asks.
I narrow my eyes at the ground, confused as to why I answer, “Yes. ”
I hate myself for wanting to tell her, but what I hate more is the realization that I brought Rachel to show her off to Mom, even at a distance. To prove to her that I didn’t need her for the past eleven years and that I don’t need her now.
“She’s pretty. ”
“There’s more to Rachel than that. ”
“I’m sure there is. ”
Occasional tufts of green sprout from the dried-up yellow-and-white grass. A large box of brown dirt lines the swing sets. It’s early spring and all I smell is cold and earth.
“Why I went to prison. . . I did it for you,” she says. “To protect you. ”
A dangerous pulse beats through my veins. “You don’t get to talk about this. ”
Melanie angles her body toward me and lowers her voice. “You want your money, then listen. This has to be said. ”
“No. ” The imaginary collar around my neck tightens, and I tug at my shirt. “It doesn’t and the deal was that I show. Not listen. ”
She continues as if I never spoke. ?
?Life isn’t made-for-television movies or books with happy-ever-afters. Sometimes the choices we’re presented with are bad or worse. ”
“You don’t think I know that? For one year of my life, I had the shit beat out of me by other kids because I was the smallest. Don’t you dare talk to me about choices. You had one and you blew it. ”
Melanie holds her hands out, pleading. I begged those boys to stop. They never did.
“I had nowhere to go,” she says. “I had no help. It was me and you, Isaiah. We were out of money, and I thought it was the safest way. You were hungry and I lost my job and we were late on rent and they were going to throw us out. The shelter scared you. You were so small for so long. I was the only one around to defend you, so I made the decision. . . . ”
