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“Don’t worry, we have all day,” my voice dripped with sarcasm.
When the man finally breathes a sigh of relief and takes out an envelope from his suitcase, I smirk. Now, I’m just glad I can finally return to being by myself.
“Have a good day, sir.”
I gingerly tear open the envelope as the man leaves. The date reads December 1st, today’s date. The addressers read Mr. and Mrs. Fisher. My eyes scan the typed-up letter, and a frown appears on my face. My fingers grip the edge of the paper, and anger rises within me.
What the fuck?
My car jolts as I put it in reverse and peel out of the construction site. Who the hell do they think they are? They can’t do this to me, not now, not ever. I try to drive calmly, but in no time, I accelerate as I head over to my in-law’s ranch for the first time in over five . I’d never been in their home, but I’d been on their land.
The ranch is the second biggest in North Carolina, and my in-laws have the bank account to show for it. They’ve always hated me, but I didn’t think they’d do this. I didn’t know they’d be this cruel.
I drive past dust-covered roads with open fields on both sides. Cows moo and graze lazily in the fields, but I spare them no looks. The air smells like shit. I am in the Fisher’s territory but not here to admire the livestock. I’m here to know why they want to fucking rip my daughter from me and to tell them there is no way in hell it happens.
I reach the large metal gate in front of the family’s main house. It has the large head of a roaring lion sculpted from bronze. I stop my car and get out, my boots hitting the gravel with a crunch. The air is cold, but I’m so angry I feel hot.
There is a wireless intercom by the gate. A CCTV camera is hidden in the corner of the tall gate. They know I’m here, yet they refuse to open the door.
I smash the buzzer with a quaking fist. “Open the gates now!”
…
“I know you can see me, and I know you can fucking hear me. Open the gates, or else I will come back and tear it down myself.”
…
My anger boils as I grip the intercom, almost pulling it off its perch. “So you guys are such pussies that you won’t talk to me like adults? Fine, have it your way. But I’m going to rain a shitstorm of lawyers on you till you beg me for mercy. Ruby is my daughter—mine! It’ll be a cold day in hell before you steal her from me.”
…
I release the intercom in anger. I slammed my fist against the metal gate, feeling it vibrate under the force, the sound echoing around me. My anger surged as I stood there, "Ignoring me, huh? Very well. Prepare yourself for court." I turn away from the entrance and head to my car. I yank the car door open, and the intercom buzzes right as I am about to get in.
I run to it and click it. “Open the goddamned—”
“If you want the gates opened, come back with our granddaughter. If not, you’re not setting foot in this house.”
I recognize Ellen’s voice through the intercom. Deanna’s mom’s voice is cold, and her tone reeks of controlled anger. I hear Jacob, her husband, and Deanna’s dad coughing in the background. A life of smoking tobacco heavily has ruined his vocal cords and his lungs.
“I want you to remember this date—really commit this day to mind because you’ll rue the day you decided to try and steal Ruby from me.” There's no point in wasting my breath.
***
The intercom clicks off. I throw myself into my car and speed off with a furious engine rev I grip the steering wheel as I leave the Fisher’s ranch, but the smell of shit stays in my nose. The air grows colder, and my palm reddens from gripping the wheel too hard.
I need a drink.
For the longest time, alcohol was my solace during tough times. This is the wrong time, and the itch to drink is screaming at me. It is my Achilles heel, but I’ve resisted for two years.
I spy a rundown bar by the side of the road, and I pull the car to a stop. God! I look at the bar; a hobo with a bottle of what looks like vodka is lying by the door. I can hear soft music coming from within. The decrepit bar seems almost empty, which isn’t surprising since it’s barely 6 P.M.
I catch my reflection in the rear mirror: my eyes look bloodshot, and my hair falls across my furrowed forehead as stress etches itself on my face.
My fingers find my door latch, and I almost pull it open. Then I think of Ruby. I think of her sweet, smiling face. I think of how she looks at me, her daddy, her hero. I can’t let her down. I already let her mom down; I can’t do that to her, too.
“I can’t,” I whisper to the empty car as I release the door latch.
Without looking back, I put the key in the ignition and get on the road. My eyes find the bar in the rear mirror, and my dry mouth waters. I tear my eyes away and focus on the darkening street. I think of Ruby and nothing else as I head home to her.
