Reminders of Him(23)

They were likely notified when I was released into transitional housing. They had to be expecting this to happen eventually.

My feet are no longer weights. I feel like I’m floating again, high in the air like a balloon, and I’m following Ledger as if he’s pulling me along by a string.

I feel embarrassed to be here. Embarrassed enough to follow behind Ledger like I have no voice or thoughts of my own. I certainly don’t have any confidence in this second. And my shirt is too stupid for a moment of this magnitude. I’m stupid for thinking this was the way to go about it.

Ledger closes his door once we’re inside his living room. He looks disgusted. I don’t know if it’s at the sight of me, or if he’s thinking about last night. He’s pacing the living room, one palm pressed against his forehead.

“Is that why you showed up at my bar? You were trying to trick me into leading you to her?”

“No.” My voice is pathetic.

He slides his hands down his face in frustration. He pauses and then just mutters, “God dammit.”

He is so mad at me. Why do I always make the worst decisions?

“You’ve been in town for one day.” He swipes keys off a table. “You really thought this was a good idea? Showing up this soon?”

This soon? She’s four years old.

I clench an arm over my churning stomach. I don’t know what to do. What do I do? What can I do? There has to be something. Some kind of compromise. They can’t just collectively decide what’s best for Diem without consulting me.

Can they?

They can.

I’m the unreasonable one in this scenario. I’ve just been too scared to admit it. I want to ask him if there’s anything I can do to get them to hear me out, but the way he’s glaring at me makes me feel completely in the wrong. I begin to wonder if I’m even in a position to ask questions.

His focus falls to the rubber starfish in my hand. He walks over to me and holds out his hand. I place the starfish in his palm. I don’t know why I hand it over. Maybe if he sees I showed up with a toy, he’ll know I’m here with good intentions.

“Really? A teething ring?” He tosses it on his couch like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever seen. “She’s four.” He walks toward his kitchen. “I’m taking you home. Wait until I pull my truck into the garage. I don’t want them to see you.”

I no longer feel like I’m floating. I feel heavy and frozen, like my feet are trapped in the concrete slab of his house.

I glance out the living room window toward Patrick and Grace’s house.

I’m so close. All that separates us is a street. An empty street with no traffic.

It’s clear to me what’s going to happen next. Patrick and Grace want nothing to do with me, to the point Ledger knew to intercept my arrival. This means there won’t be any negotiating. The forgiveness I was hoping had found its way to them never made it here.

They still hate me.

Apparently, so does everyone else in their lives.

The only way I’m going to be able to see my daughter is if, by some miracle, I can take it through the court system, and that’s going to take money I don’t yet have and years I can’t bear the thought of passing by. I’ve already missed so much.

If I want to see Diem at all, ever, this is my only chance. If I want the opportunity to beg Scotty’s parents for forgiveness, it’s now or never.

Now or never.

Ledger probably won’t notice I’m not following him to his garage for another ten seconds, at least. I might make it before he catches up to me.

I slip outside and run as fast as I can across the street.

I’m in their yard.

My feet are sprinting across grass Diem has played on.

I’m beating on their front door.

I’m ringing their doorbell.

I’m trying to look through the window to get a glimpse of her.

“Please,” I whisper, knocking harder. My whisper turns into panic as I hear Ledger approaching me from behind. “I’m sorry!” I yell, beating on the door. My voice is a fearful plea now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please let me see her!”

I’m being pulled, and then carried, back to the house across the street. Even through my struggle to get out of his arms, I’m staring at that front door as it gets smaller and smaller, hoping for even a half-second glimpse of my little girl.

I don’t see any movement at all in their house before I’m no longer outside. I’m back inside Ledger’s house, being dropped onto his couch.

He’s holding his phone, pacing his living room as he dials a phone number. It’s only three digits. He’s calling the police.

I panic. “No.” Plead. “No, no, no.” I lunge across his living room in an attempt to grab at his phone, but he just puts a hand on my shoulder and steers me back to the couch.

I sit down and bury my elbows into my knees, bringing my fingers to a shaky point against my mouth. “Please don’t call the police. Please.” I sit still, wanting to appear unthreatening, hoping he just looks me in the eye long enough to feel my pain.

His eyes meet mine just as tears begin to fall down my cheeks. He pauses before completing the call. He stares me down . . . studying me. Searching my face for a promise.

“I won’t come back.” If he calls the police, this will not look good for me. I can’t have anything added to my record, even though I’ve broken no laws that I know of. But just being here unwanted is enough of a mark against me.