Little Deaths(5)

“Well, about the custody case. Look, why is all this necessary? What has this got to do with anything?”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m just upset, I guess. I understand. I’m sorry.”

“Do you have another cigarette?”

“He told me that my former sitter is going to testify against me.”

“No—not about the kids! She’s claiming that I owe her money. Six hundred dollars. It’s bullshit. She says that if I pay her, she won’t testify for Frank. He wants the kids to live with him and she’s threatening to help him get custody.”

“I told you, it’s not true. She’s trying to blackmail me into giving her money I don’t owe her.”

“Like hell I will.”

A pause. The click of a lighter.

“It’s just another problem I have to deal with. That Frank left me to deal with.”


“Christ, Arnold, she’s lying! . . . I told you before, she’s a mean bitch and she’s just bitter because I fired her.”

“Okay, Ruth, okay. Calm down.”

“I am calm! Jesus. What does this mean? What does it mean for the case?”

“It depends. I need to hear what she has to say first. I’m going to talk to her again before the hearing.”

“He can’t win, Arnold. He can’t.”

“Don’t worry, okay? She doesn’t make a good impression. The judge won’t like her. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“He can’t get the kids. I won’t let him take them. I won’t.”

“He won’t win, Ruth. No judge is going to take two young kids away from their mother unless . . . well, he won’t get custody. It’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure? You don’t sound as sure as you did last week.”

“Ruth, don’t worry. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“You better be right. He can’t have the kids. He can’t have them. I’d rather see them dead than with Frank.”


“Yeah, then I started dinner. No, wait—first I made another call.”

“A friend. He told me he’d call back.”

“Just a friend.”

“Okay, Christ—okay! His name is Lou Gallagher.”

“Yeah. That Lou Gallagher. The construction guy.”

Another pause. The murmur of voices, just low enough that the tape couldn’t catch them.

“Lou said he’d call me back. So I started dinner. The kids were out front with Sally. Sally Burke.”

“I gave them half an orange each and she was helping peel them. I could hear her talking to them and they were giggling. They were . . . oh hell, I just . . .”

The noise of water being poured, a glass being set down.

“Thank you . . . I . . . then I called them inside.”


Setting the table, standing over the stove, she thought about her conversation with Arnold Green. About Frank, pushing his way into the apartment last month, telling her he was going for custody of the kids. And why. His sneering face, as he’d listed all the nights she’d been out late, all the men she’d spoken to. Danced with. Flirted with.

“You’re not fit to be a mom.”

“They need someone reliable taking care of them.”

“Your own mother agrees with me.”

She watched the kids eat, all the while brooding and prodding that tender spot his words had left. Then she said: “Wanna go for a ride?”

Frankie and Cindy, both holding their plastic cups up to their mouths, finishing their milk.

“Come on, let’s go, before it gets dark.”

The kids in the backseat, covered by the blue blanket, giggling at the adventure, Ruth alone in the front. Jaw clenched, hands tight on the steering wheel. That son-of-a-bitch thinks he can take my kids away? He can think again. I know Frank. I know he can’t manage alone. He must have a woman. And I’m going to find her.

“Let’s play a game, okay? Look out for Daddy’s car!”

If I can find your car, I can find your place, and who knows what I’ll find there, Frank? All about your new life and your new girlfriend. How dare you talk to me about the men in my life! There ain’t no way you’re living like a monk, you goddamn hypocrite.

You call me a bad mother? You got a big shock coming, and you’re too dumb to realize it.

Driving for an hour, the kids in the back growing quieter until she heard Cindy snoring gently and Frankie mutter something in his sleep. Still no sign of Frank’s car.

She yawned. Shook herself. Realized she was too tired to keep driving. Turned and headed for home, stopping for gas on the way.


“I undressed the kids, washed them—they had grass stains on their knees from playing in the park and they made a mess when they were eating dinner. I put fresh T-shirts and underwear on them, and I put them to bed.”

“Nine-thirty.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You think I let my kids stay up all night? It was nine-thirty.”

“Then I started cleaning the apartment. Mr. Green told me that the court would inspect it and it would have to be reported as a good home for the kids. So I was in the middle of a big cleaning project—you know, painting the hallway, clearing out closets, replacing the broken screen in the kids’ window.”