Can I come over tonight, hang and catch some of my shows?
I texted back, Of course. Do you want me to make dinner?
To that I received, That’d be cool.
To which I sent, Is your sister coming with you?
And while Alyssa announced to Josie, “You’re done. Don’t move. I’ll sort you after I get started on Amelia,” I got a return text.
Don’t know. I’ll ask her. Gotta go to class.
Thus I replied, Okay, kiddo. Talk to you later, and got back, Yeah. Bye.
I set my phone aside as Alyssa grabbed my hand armed with a cotton ball and polish remover.
She started going at my polish and I shared, “That was Auden. He’s coming over for dinner and to watch TV.”
I got two beaming smiles from two beautiful blondes as well as Josie’s, “That’s fabulous, Amelia,” and Alyssa’s, “Right on, sister!”
They were correct.
It was fabulous.
It was just sad that my life with my family was shifting to fabulous while Mickey’s seemed to be careening down an unknown path that was dark and forbidding.
Josie stayed while we did girl talk and I got my mani-pedi. Then Josie and I left and she took me to The Shack on the wharf, which was just that. A dilapidated shack that I’d noticed when Mickey walked me down the wharf weeks ago. With Josie, I found during the day it served coffee, breakfast and lunch, and it was run by a friend of Josie and Jake’s, a man named Tom who was all Magdalene: warm and friendly.
He also brewed excellent coffee.
Josie went her way, I went mine, mine being to Dove House.
But before I went in, I took out my phone and rang Mickey.
“Hey, baby,” he answered.
“Hey, honey, do you have a quick sec?” I asked.
“Sure,” he told me.
“I mean, a quick sec for not great news,” I shared carefully.
“Fuck,” he muttered then louder, “Sure.”
I launched in because he was working and also because not great news was always best delivered quickly.
“I had a mani-pedi at Alyssa’s with Josie this morning and Alyssa had heard about Rhiannon,” I informed him.
“Babe, not a surprise,” he replied surprisingly calmly. “Told you a long time ago, small town. People talk. Word gets around and fast. Especially that kind of word. Everyone knows about Rhiannon. The only one who doesn’t is Rhiannon.”
“Oh, right,” I mumbled.
“Thanks for heads up, though.”
“I was just worried that maybe the kids would hear.”
“They will,” he confirmed. “Since that’s the case, sat down with both of them last night. Shared it. It didn’t go down too great, but at least some kid says somethin’ they heard their parents say, they won’t be blindsided.”
God, I could not imagine having to do that with my kids. It had been hard enough sitting, traumatized and brokenhearted, with Conrad, sharing with our children that their father was moving out and we were getting a divorce.
The looks on their faces was the catalyst to my crazy behavior.
They’d looked shattered. Confused. Devastated.
And the seed was planted.
“Talked to Coert,” Mickey went on. “First offense on record, blood alcohol level wasn’t that high, bail was low. She bonded out last night. Don’t know what’s gonna happen from here. She ’fesses up, may get a slap on the wrist but at most, Coert says it’ll be community service. I called her. She was pissed I called but I told her we had to talk. Took some doin’ since the last talk we had before I gave her the kids back after she pulled that shit on Cill’s birthday wasn’t taken all that great. But she agreed to meet tonight. Goin’ to her before I go home to my kids.”
That was surprising.
“You talked to her after Cillian’s birthday?” I asked.
“Not gonna send my kids back to her if she’s still on a bender,” he replied.
“You didn’t…” I hesitated, wondering if I should go on but since I’d started I decided I’d better, “tell me.”
“Amy, you had your own shit goin’ down with your family. We’d just got on track. Not the time to drag you down in my shit. Never is really the time to drag you down in my shit, but Rhiannon isn’t in my life and still, seconds away from fuckin’ you, doin’ it hard because you’re bein’ a smartass and both of us lookin’ forward to it, get a call from the sheriff with her draggin’ both of us down in her shit.”
I didn’t really have a good feeling about Mickey not thinking he could share things with me.
I also didn’t think it was the time to go over that with him.
Instead, I invited, “Auden is coming over tonight for dinner and to watch TV. But I’d like it if you’d phone me to let me know how your meeting went.” I said that but quickly added, “I mean, if you want to.”
“I get home, get my kids fed and sorted, I’ll do that, baby.”
At least that was good.
“And fuckin’ great news your boy is comin’ to you just to hang.”
That made me grin. “Yeah.”
“Right, aren’t you at Dove House?” he asked.
“Outside, about to go in,” I told him.
“Hope Mrs. McMurphy doesn’t hand you your ticket to Nuremberg.”
That had me giggling through which I said, “I think I’ve bought some immunity with her birthday cookie sandwiches.”
“Only Nazi I know who could do that is you, though, sayin’ that, those cookies were the shit.”
He would think so. He’d had three after we’d had Chinese.
“I should probably get in,” I said.
“I should probably get back,” he replied, though his was a lot less enthusiastic than mine.
I really hoped his roofing business took off.
“Okay, I’ll let you go.”
“Talk to you later, Amy.”
“Yeah, Mickey…” and I made a sudden choking noise because I had to physically stop myself from ending that, Love you.
It was a natural conclusion to a conversation with someone you cared about.
But we weren’t anywhere near there.
Or, at least, I figured Mickey wasn’t.
Me, as crazy as it was, I was near there the instant I clapped eyes on Mickey months ago.
“Babe?”
He heard it.
“Just…something caught in my throat. Later, honey.”
“’Bye, Amy.”
We rang off. I went in, and within half an hour found my immunity with Mrs. McMurphy had expired when she said matter-of-factly to me, “Too bad you’re a Nazi. When you’re hung, who’s going to do the vacuuming?”
* * * * *
It was late-ish that evening, after dinner with my son, and Auden was on the couch on the landing, watching TV with his books around him.
I was not being creepy Mom sitting with him watching programs I had no interest in. I was down on the sectional with my laptop, giving him space and sending an update email to my parents (who were still incommunicado with me, something I was alternately thankful for and found concerning).
Olympia had not come. She was over at Polly’s.
I hit send then went back to the website that had the dining room table that was intriguing me. A small shop in New Hampshire. Everything was handmade from local woods. It was amazing. It was pricey. And shipping would be crazy.
But I was thinking I loved it.
Staring at it, I still had that feeling as my phone lying on the seat beside me rang.
I looked to it and saw it was Mickey calling.
I snatched it up, my eyes going to the landing to see nothing. The TV was on and Auden was lounging.
I took the call and put the phone to my ear, setting the laptop aside, saying, “Hey.”
“Hey back. Your boy still there?”
“Yes,” I told him.
“He spendin’ the night?” Mickey asked.
“No,” I replie
d.
“When he’s gone, text me. When my kids are down, I’ll text you and want you over here.”
Oh no. That didn’t sound good.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
“Not even a little bit.”
He sounded unhappy.
“Okay, I’ll…we have a plan.”
“Right, and just sayin’, things are tightenin’ up with your kids, you think about when you can introduce them to me so I don’t lose you when you have them, and if I call, you don’t gotta talk to me like you barely know me.”
Yes, he was unhappy.
“We’ll discuss that,” I promised.
“Yeah, we will. Text,” he ordered.
“Okay.”
“Later,” he said then hung up.
I took the phone from my ear and looked back to the couch.
Auden hadn’t moved.
I set the phone aside, grabbed my laptop and sent an email to the New Hampshire furniture people. Then I set it aside and went up to do the dishes.
I’d barely started before Auden called, “You want help?”
I looked to him to see he was up and looking over the back of the couch.
My handsome boy, my good kid, no longer my baby.
“Finish your program. There isn’t much to do here. I’m good,” I called back.
He nodded and disappeared again.
I did the dishes. Auden finished his program, deleted it and gathered his books. He told me he had to go and I walked him to the door to the garage.
When we were there, I looked up into his light brown eyes. “Tell your sister I said ‘hey.’”
“Will do, Mom. Be back to catch more, yeah?” he asked.
“Anytime, sweets. This is your home too.”
He grinned at me then bent to give my cheek a kiss and he left.
I watched him drive out, saw the garage door going down then I moved into the house, right to my phone.
Auden’s gone, I texted Mickey.
I got no text back for some time before I got, Cill’s down but Ash’s still up. Hang tight.
I hung tight, more time elapsed and finally it came.
Come over now.
I didn’t waste a lot of time getting over there now.
I’d not made it to the curb on my side of the road before I saw Mickey’s front door open with Mickey shadowed in the frame.
I was about to step up on his front stoop when he noted, “You didn’t wear a jacket.”
“It’s right across the street.”
He didn’t reply. Just looked annoyed, reached to me and grabbed my hand. He pulled me in and closed the door then tugged me to the side where there was a coat closet. He let me go to yank the door open.
“Mickey,” I whispered.
“Deck,” he whispered back.
The reason I needed a coat.
He grabbed a huge canvas coat and handed it to me. I shrugged it on, and drowning in it, with Mickey wearing only one of those attractive sweatshirts with the high collar and zip at the throat, he found my hand under the long sleeve, tugged me through the house and out to the back deck.
He stopped us at the railing close to the grill. The night dark, the air chill, we were as far away from his sleeping kids as we could get, and I was very uneasy.
“What’s going on?” I asked, still whispering.
“Told you I talked with Rhiannon after Cill’s birthday went south,” he said.
He did.
Belatedly.
I didn’t mention the last. I just nodded.
“Told her then that was uncool, and I was not good with it or what it might mean. Told her she had to give me a really fuckin’ good reason why that shit happened, reason enough not to keep our kids home and safe with me.”
“And she said?” I prompted when he stopped speaking.
“If you can believe this shit, shit that was unbelievable then but it’s more unbelievable the day after she got a DUI, she said that she had some work thing she had to go to. Someone at her job was leaving. She’d had too much to drink so she didn’t want to get in her car. Said she texted Aisling that when Ash didn’t say any of that shit to me, and she would, and my girl checked her phone about seven hundred times when we were at The Eaves.”
The only thing I could come up with to say was, “Oh, Mickey.”
He took that lameness and kept giving me the ugly, “When I asked her to explain why she didn’t contact our son after, she said she had a big late birthday thing planned for when he got back to her and she didn’t wanna ruin it. And she did do a big thing. Though if she had it planned before I got in her face or not is anyone’s guess.”
“Excuses,” I murmured.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Now tonight, I called her on the DUI, askin’ what the fuck is up that this shit is goin’ on and leakin’ into our kids’ lives. And she fuckin’ told me that I needed to call my buddy off. She wasn’t likin’ that I was handin’ her this crap, makin’ her out to be the bad guy in an attempt to steal our kids from her.”
I stared up at him, dumbfounded, and asked, “What?”
He nodded shortly. “That’s what the bitch said.”
“Your buddy?”
“Coert,” he bit off. “He’s the sheriff and he’s a friend of mine. Good friend. We’ve known each other awhile and we’re pretty tight. But he wasn’t the one who pulled her over. He was the one who didn’t slap a DUI on her the last time she pulled that shit, because that was her first time, but also because he’s my fuckin’ buddy, but I’m guessin’ she forgot that part.”
“So…so…” I stammered. “So she’s making this out to be you targeting her in an attempt to get custody of your children when you had nothing to do with her being picked up for drunk driving?”
His mouth got hard but he still forced through it, “That’s what she’s makin’ it out to be. Called it my ‘grand scheme.’ Said her blood alcohol level was negligible, just over the edge, proves I’m out for her and roped Coert into that shit, and if they try to put that on her permanent record, she’s fightin’ it. Also said I started this scheme even before we split. Said if I didn’t back down, stop maneuvering, she was gonna fight me tooth and nail. And she said if I tried to keep the kids from her, she’d have me arrested for kidnapping.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“Yeah,” he grunted.
Now I understood why he was so unhappy.
“Mickey,” I grabbed his hand and held tight, “I don’t know what to say.”
“What’s there to say?” he asked, lifting our hands and pressing mine against his heart as he shifted closer to me. “I’m stuck. Called Arnie again. The attorney?”
I nodded.
Mickey continued, “He said this is a case of declaring her unfit to raise our children. I’d have to call CPS. They’d have to inspect. I’d have to have evidence. I’d have to have witness testimony. The DUI on record is something but it isn’t enough. And at the kids’ ages, they’re old enough to be deposed. They could get dragged in. Have to talk smack about their mother.”
“It isn’t smack if it’s true,” I shared carefully.
“You’re right. But would you want your kids to sit with some fuck they don’t know and share their dad is a cheating asshole?”
No, I would not want that.
I shook my head.
“No,” he bit off. “So I got two choices, keep my kids from her and brace for whatever shit she throws at me. And she was pissed, Amy. She’s got her back up and she’s so deep in denial, it’s a wonder she’s breathing. Or let my kids go to her and wait for the other shoe to drop, maybe this bein’ something that scars my kids in some new way I won’t be able to heal.”
I moved closer to him and pointed out the obvious, “You’re between the rock and the hard place.”
“I am. ’Cept I got one more option, this comin’ from Arnie. Sit down with my kids and see if they wanna live with me, makin’ ’em say they don’t wanna live wi
th their mom. And they might not wanna live with her, but I don’t wanna make ’em share that shit.”
No. That wasn’t easy. I knew it. I wasn’t with my children when they had to make that choice and say it out loud, but I’d seen the way they couldn’t look at me afterward. The sorrow on their faces. It was agonizing.
And it was the beginning of my recovery.
Even though that would be promising in the case of Rhiannon, who clearly needed to be shaken out of her delusion, it was not something to take lightly.
“I would cautiously advise that’s a last resort, honey,” I told him.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“So, what are you thinking of doing?” I asked.
“Only one real choice,” he answered. “Wait until she fucks up again. Keep track of shit. Keep an eye on my kids. I don’t, I keep ’em away from her, she’s gonna go at me and then they’ll be dragged in and there’ll be nothin’ I can do to stop it.”
Suddenly, I hated yet another person I’d never met.
I’d hated Martine before I even knew her name. I just knew my husband had fallen in love with someone else.
And now I hated Rhiannon.
“What do you need from me?” I asked.
“You, keepin’ an eye on my kids. Droppin’ by. Comin’ around more often. Givin’ Aisling a good woman to be with. Givin’ my kids healthy.”
I nodded. “I can do that.”
“And I want you in my bed tonight.”
My head jerked back and I blinked.
“But—”
He cut me off, “I’ll get you home before they get up. Not a fan of sneakin’ and won’t ask you to do it often. But I had a shit day. I’m gearin’ up to face a shit time I don’t know how long it’ll last or how bad it’ll get. Right now, I wanna go in there and sit on my couch with you, relax, drink a beer then go to sleep smellin’ your hair.”
“I can do that too,” I said immediately.
Then I held my breath as I watched Mickey close his eyes and turn to face the dark of his backyard.
I pushed closer, pressing my hand in his at his chest, and called, “Mickey.”
He opened his eyes but kept them to the yard.
It took time and I gave him that time before he looked at me. “What if she gets behind the wheel with my kids in the car and she’s shitfaced?”
“You talk to them,” I answered firmly. “Do it trying not to bring Rhiannon into it. But Ash is a freshman. High school kids, they do stuff. They party. You could couch it in a warning they have to be smart about that, tell Cillian you’re talking to him at the same time to save time or something, and you do this inflexibly so they get your meaning.”