‘Brooke, you’re still so young – and there’s more to being a parent than you know,’ he began, clearly about to launch into couldn’t-be-less-welcome life advice.
‘You think?’ I snapped, and he shut up right quick. ‘Look. I’m not asking your opinion or guidance any more than I wanted Sharla’s. This is an FYI call only. And if you want to tell the adoption caseworker what a horrible mother I’ll be, then just go ahead.’
He had the nerve to sound taken aback. ‘Brooke, I would never do that. I know I wasn’t the best father –’
‘Oh, my God – really? Because you keep having more children, which makes it seem like you think you’re great at it.’ I wanted to rip the gear shift out and beat myself with it after saying that. I’d just tacked a bull’s-eye right over my most emotionally susceptible spot. Idiot.
‘The opposite, actually. I kept thinking I could start over again and get it right.’
Holy shit, I thought. How deluded could he be? ‘Well, that’s just stupid. You’re screwing around with people’s lives and breaking people’s hearts. I can’t imagine why you left Kathryn for Sharla.’ I couldn’t stop sneering my mother’s given name like I was spitting out something poisonous. ‘Or why Kelley and Kylie weren’t enough for you.’ Or why I wasn’t enough for you.
‘The problem, Brooke, is that with Sharla came you. With Vivian came Rory and Evan. The marriages may look like colossal mistakes from this distance, but I don’t regret any of you kids. So I guess I can understand your motivation to get your boy back … and maybe you’re doing it right. Getting the child without the dysfunctional relationship.’
‘You say you don’t regret me, but you left me. You didn’t just leave a bad marriage. You didn’t just leave my mother, Daddy – you left me.’ I bit back tears.
‘I’m … sorry.’
‘Yeah, well.’ I steeled my jaw. ‘Try calling Rory before he turns into a teenager who hates you. Try taking Evan to the zoo or something. Go to their soccer games, or school plays, or birthday parties, instead of just sending them money.’
I realized by the time I was fifteen that my father never slacked on his financial support of me. He paid his child support payments on time. He sent birthday cards and an escalating amount of cash every year. But I was jealous of the kids whose dads showed up for their lives.
‘Do you hate me, Brooke?’
I sighed, too tired to hate more than one parent at a time with any real conviction. ‘I don’t know.’
He sighed in return. ‘You always were brutally honest.’
I huffed an indignant laugh. ‘Mom just told me I was always a bitch.’
‘What? That’s absurd. I think the whole state of Texas knows who the bitch is, sugar.’ He hadn’t called me sugar since I was ten. The age I was when he left. My jaw clenched up again.
‘I’m not kidding, Daddy. Call Rory and Evan. I’ll … keep you posted on River.’
‘His name is River? Brooke and River.’ He chuckled. ‘I like it. I’d like to meet him –’
‘Not if you’re going to disappear on him,’ I countered.
‘I … understand. Keep me posted. And don’t worry about Sharla. She’ll come around.’
‘No, she won’t – but I don’t care. You know as well as anyone – some things just don’t work out.’
Me: WHY aren’t you calling me back? Have you signed the form???
Reid: Give me five minutes. I’ll call you.
‘Have you signed it?’ I answer in place of hello, trying to keep the panic out of my voice, but there’s something going on, and I know it. Something he’s not telling me. I can feel it the way you feel certain storms out here in the hill country, right before they roll across the horizon. Like the air is charged. Electric. The invisible hairs on your body all standing up for it. Waiting.
‘I haven’t, and I’m not going to –’
‘What? What? What the fuck, Reid –’
‘Will you give me a minute, please? We need to talk about –’
‘Reid, if you don’t sign that form –’
‘Don’t threaten me, Brooke.’ His voice is solid, authoritative in a way it’s never been, and I’m shot through with fear, because he has the upper hand, and he clearly knows it. ‘Please shut up and listen.’
I say nothing.
‘I can’t sign the form because … I don’t want to relinquish my rights to him.’
My whole body begins to shake uncontrollably, like it did the time I popped an amphetamine at a party – which scared me so badly I never tried it again. I yank on my boots, which look ridiculous at the end of my flannel pyjama bottoms, but I don’t care. Phone pressed to my ear, I tromp down the hallway and into the kitchen, where Kathryn and Glenn are making brunch together – a Sunday morning ritual. Jazz flows lightly from the sound system and the smell of waffles and bacon permeates the room.
‘I’m walking down to the creek,’ I tell them, yanking a sweater from the coat rack and sliding the back door open.
Kathryn turns, spatula in hand, her smile fading as she takes in the phone and my freaked-out expression. ‘Everything okay, honey?’ Her head angles and she takes a step towards me.
‘Fine. Everything’s fine.’ My smile feels like elastic play putty. There’s nothing of me in it. ‘I’ll be back up in a few minutes.’