Reminders of Him(32)
I didn’t know where she was going with that comment.
“I have a life, Kenna. I don’t have time to take your baby on five-hour road trips to see her mother in prison every week.”
“I . . . it wouldn’t have to be weekly. Just whenever you can.”
My mother shifted in her seat. She looked angry with me, or annoyed. I knew she’d be bothered by the drive, but I thought once she saw me, she’d at least think the drive was worth it. I was at least hoping she’d show up wanting to redeem herself. I thought maybe, after finding out she was going to be a grandmother, she’d feel like she got a do-over, and she’d actually try this time.
“I haven’t received one phone call from you in three years, Kenna. Now you’re asking for favors?”
I didn’t get a single phone call from her, either, but I didn’t bring that up. I knew it would only make her angry. Instead, I said, “Please. They’re going to take my baby.”
There was nothing in my mother’s eyes. No sympathy. No empathy. I realized in that moment that she was glad she’d gotten rid of me and had no intention of being a grandmother. I’d expected it. I was just hoping she’d grown a conscience in the years since I’d last seen her.
“Now you’ll know how I felt every time the state took you from me. I went through so much to get you back both times, and you never appreciated it. You never even said thank you.”
She really wanted a thank-you? She wanted me to thank her for being so shitty at being a parent that the state took me from her twice?
I stood up and left the room in that moment. She was saying something to me as I left, but I couldn’t hear her because I was so angry at myself for being desperate enough to call her. She hadn’t changed. She was the same self-centered, narcissistic woman I had grown up with.
I was on my own. Completely.
Even the baby still growing in my stomach didn’t belong to me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LEDGER
Patrick and I started building the swing set in my backyard today. Diem’s birthday isn’t for a few more weeks, but we figured if we could get it put together before her party, she and her friends would have something to play on.
The plan sounded feasible, but neither of us knew building a swing set would be a lot like building an entire damn house. There are pieces everywhere, and without instructions, it’s caused Patrick to mutter fuck at least three times. He rarely ever uses that word.
We’ve avoided talk of Kenna up to this point. He hasn’t brought it up, so I haven’t brought it up, but I know it’s all he and Grace have been thinking about since she showed up on our street yesterday.
But I can tell the silence on that subject is about to end, because he stops working and says, “Welp.”
That’s always the word Patrick uses before he’s about to start a conversation he doesn’t want to have, or if he’s about to say something he knows he shouldn’t say. I picked up on it when I was just a teenager. He’d walk into Scotty’s room to tell me it was time for me to go home, but he’d never actually say what he intended to say. He’d just talk around it. He’d tap the door and say, “Welp. Guess you two have school tomorrow.”
Patrick sits in one of my patio chairs and rests his tools on the table. “It’s been quiet today,” he says.
I’ve learned to decipher the things he doesn’t say. I know he’s referring to the fact that Kenna hasn’t shown back up.
“How’s Grace?”
“On edge,” he says. “We spoke to our lawyer last night. He assured us there’s nothing she can legally do at this point. But I think Grace is more concerned she’ll do something stupid, like swipe Diem from the T-ball field when none of us are looking.”
“Kenna wouldn’t do that.”
Patrick laughs half-heartedly. “None of us know her, Ledger. We don’t know what she’s capable of.”
I know her better than he thinks I do, but I’ll never admit that. But Patrick may also be right. I know what it’s like to kiss her, but I have no idea who she is as a human.
She seems to have good intentions, but I’m sure Scotty thought the same thing about her before she walked away from him when he needed her the most.
I’m getting loyalty whiplash. One minute I feel horrible for Patrick and Grace. The next, I feel horrible for Kenna. There has to be a way everyone can compromise without Diem being the one to suffer.
I take a drink of water to pad the silence, and then I clear my throat. “Are you at all curious about what she wants? What if she’s not trying to take Diem? What if she just wants to meet her?”
“Not my concern,” Patrick says abruptly.
“What is?”
“Our suffering is my concern. There’s no way Kenna Rowan can fit into our lives, or Diem’s life, without it affecting our sanity.” He’s focusing on the ground now, as if he’s working all this out in his head as it’s coming out of his mouth. “It’s not that we think she’d be a bad mother. I certainly don’t think she’d be good. But what would this do to Grace if she were to have to share that little girl with that woman? If she had to look her in the eye every week? Or worse . . . what if Kenna somehow made a judge feel sorry for her and her rights were reinstated? Where would that leave Grace and me? We already lost Scotty. We can’t lose Scotty’s daughter too. It’s not worth the risk.”