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I drag her back to me again, letting her bottom bump my groin and lowering us to the ground. I slip her legs over my lap, cradling her. My palms caress her soft arms.
She’d given herself permission to be happy when the mill girls threw her that impromptu party. Holly doesn’t like it when people fuss over her. It’s as if she sees outcomes like this as inevitable once her guard is down. My mother gave Isobel the earful she deserved. Yet, I know between the outlay of cash for the wedding and the event planner acting like a bitch to test how much she could get any with, Holly’s reaction will continue to be that she’s beneath the threshold of good fortune.
Holly doesn’t take my mother’s wealth or my community status lightly, and she’s the least entitled woman I know. What she expects from herself is to do her best for everyone else. That’s why doing things for her makes me happy. She’s never bargaining for anything.
I let Holly let it all out, wondering when the last time was that someone had. Was it her mom before the plane crash? Laurel?
I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Not without Holly, anyway.
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The court gives me little choice or time to accept what’s happening. The proof of William being behind on his support payments doesn’t matter at all. I haven’t fought to get the money my son deserves or attempted to terminate William’s parental rights. My stance—that William isn’t worth anyone wasting their breath on—has come back to bite me. As Bhodi’s biological father, he’s allowed to see his son.
After hearing Cary’s trip was to visit his sister, Bhodi has developed a morbid interest in where he came from. I can’t blame him. My son has settled into the fifth grade. The world he lives in now differs from his universe this time last fall. It’s filled with adults he never knew, experiences he hadn’t had, and the anticipation of the changes to come when we move in with Cary.
Bhodi only balks hearing his Saturday court-appointed—and supervised—visitation is the same day as a big brother group outing. There’s been a level of fearfulness since Cary and I started dating when Bhodi’s joked the two of them were going to get kicked out sooner or later.
My son doesn’t want this to be what makes it sooner. The friends he’s made mean a lot to him, and I’ve noticed over the past week he’s clinging to stories of past field trips.
Over the summer, The Cass-Stanton Group became an official big brother program sponsor. In private, Cary told me that whether they can still participate or not, he wants to ensure there’s a viable organization for the community. He’d like it if Bhodi saw to follow in his footsteps and become a mentor to a kid himself.
I’m surprised when Bhodi takes both Cary’s and my hands entering the building where the meeting is taking place. All of the boastful things I’ve spoken about my son seem to float away.
He’s little and quiet. His reaction to seeing his father is one-hundred and eighty degrees different from the bubbly anticipation he had meeting Cary. Does Bhodi think his father is a monster because I keep my feelings about William to myself? Is he afraid to hurt ours? I want to buckle him into the backseat and drive home in reverse to the point in time that everything went awry.
How far would I rewind if I did that?
I’ve agreed to an advocate named Marie Grant chaperoning this visit. Marie takes Bhodi into a room where William is. The single small window is covered over with a poster about adopting kids in foster care. Cary and I sit on a low bench outside. He turns his palm up and we lace our fingers together.
“I’m sorry for this,” I apologize for the hundredth time.
“You don’t need to be.” Cary shifts in the seat. He puts his arm over my shoulder, kisses my temple, and reassures me again, “You didn’t do anything.”
But that’s the problem. If I had the legal sense to cut William off, my boys would be on their field trip and I’d be at Isobel’s flushing out wedding details.
Even Davina’s snarky event planner—who I shut down in no uncertain terms when she alluded I should consider a panel in my gown because our nuptials were awfully rushed and “being decisive beforehand is better than risking the dress not fitting as you begin to show”—is a more positive experience than this.
Tucking myself under his wing, Cary scrolls his phone, answering work messages, and giving me the mental space I’ve needed to deal lately.
The last time William saw Bhodi he was an infant. He said he wanted things to be amicable between us. By that, William meant he wanted my son to still be named William Mayer Jr.—fat fucking chance—and for us to leave him alone so he could go back to his former life.
His wife had forgiven his cheating. She couldn’t abide the reminder that William had another child out there somewhere. William didn’t want me to send pictures. It would upset her.
William never touched a gurgling, happy Bhodi or asked to hold him. My beautiful baby stayed strapped in his carrier in a cold office conference room. The whole while lawyers haggled over how much William’s lack of self-control would cost my son in love and monthly payments. My child’s existence alone had more value than the bargain struck. And over the years, William had the nerve to whittle his contributions down.
As my reality was cracking me square across the jaw, I’d held out hope that even if William didn’t love me, even if he changed his mind, he’d have some attachment to his child. Who am I kidding? I had hoped he’d have loved me enough when we were together that he’d care about my feelings after we were apart.
My parents had the occasional loud, long shouting matches when life became stressful that sent Laurel and me skittering to our room.Too much togetherness, they’d apologize later on. They always found their way back to one another. That was my naive version of love. Between midnight feedings and diaper changes, I’d believed for months that William could have remained married and still respected me enough to love Bhodi.
When he’d initially disappeared I’d said to my family I did not want William back as a lover, a fiancé, or a husband. It took until that day for my heart to stop bargaining for my future and understand what my logical head already knew. From then on, I never looked back. William did not exist in my world unless he inserted himself in it. There was no other way to be enough for Bhodi and to do the job of two parents. There was no other way to regain my confidence and be enough forme.
That moment I was as broken as I’d ever been… until now.
The same strategy that we’ve survived by is the one William is employing against us, dredging up old feelings of how he hurt and used me.
