by Stasia Black
I swear internally again as I yank open the office door. Then I get into the actual psychologist’s office, I note the wall clock behind the secretary’s desk. 5:04. Shit. That’s four precious minutes that I lost with my son. At least David and the Shrew aren’t in the lobby to see and take satisfaction. They usually drop Charlie off for a half-hour appointment with the psychologist at four-thirty, then I come for the two-hour supervised visit. Me being late will also go in the recorded notes the court gets. Double fuck.
“I’m here for the visit with my son,” I say quickly to the secretary. She’s new, not one I’ve seen before. “Calliope Cruise.” The words that just came out of my mouth feel ridiculous. I have to ask this woman to see my son. He’s behind walls and doors and I have to make an appointment to get access to him. It makes me furious if I think about it for too long. Later. I can be pissed later.
The woman looks up at me with a slightly bored expression. “What did you say your last name is again?”
“Cruise. I’m here for my five o’clock appointment with Dr. Rodriguez and my son, Charlie Cruise.”
She clicks her mouth several times. “Then she frowns. I have a supervised child visitation for a Charles Kinnock. But no Cruise.”
That motherfucking bitch-faced bastard—
I squeeze my eyes shut so hard it almost gives me a headache before I breathe very slowly in and out a couple of times. “That’s my son,” I say, jaw tight. “But his name is Charlie Cruise. My ex’s last name is Kinnock, but that’s not on Charlie’s birth certificate. David made the appointment with the wrong name just to get to me.”
The secretary frowns. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I have an appointment for a Charlie Kinnock. There seems to be an error here and you should call during regular business hours to talk to a nurse to reschedule—”
“Just let me go see my son,” I lose my cool and get right up in her face. “I’ve been waiting all week to come here and see my son. Just push whatever button you have to so I can go and see my son.”
I realize my mistake as she backs away from the desk and grabs the phone, looking for all the world like she’s about to call security on me.
Fuck! I wasn’t shouting but my voice was definitely elevated.
I raise my hands and immediately quiet my voice so that I’m abjectly conciliatory. “I’m sorry. I apologize for raising my voice. Maybe you could just call Dr. Rodriguez and let her know that Miss Cruise is here.” I make my voice absolute sugar and honey. “Would that be possible?” I smile my gentlest smile at the incompetent idiot and take a step back.
She eyes me like she’s waiting for me to go all super-freak on her but I stand patiently like Molly Mc-DoGooder and after a moment, her posture relaxes and she gives me a smile in return.
“Yes, all right,” she finally says. She pushes a few numbers on the phone and repeats what I said. She gives several nods as something is said on the receiver and then looks back at me.
“I’ll buzz you through. You can go directly back. It’s the last door on the left at the end of the hallway.” She’s still eyeing me like she can’t quite trust me, so I make sure to walk at a perfectly steady pace even though I want to flip her off and run down the hall to see my son.
I give one last glance at the clock before she buzzes the door to the office. 5:12. Damn lady just wasted another six minutes of Charlie-time hassling me.
Then twenty seconds later, none of it matters because I open the door and there he is. My baby. My Charlie. I open the door and he runs straight into my legs.
“Mama!”
I drop to my knees and pull him close. His pudgy little arms close around my neck and I breathe him in.
“You’re so big,” I say, choking up. The tears come almost immediately like they always do, even though I swore to myself I wouldn’t cry this time. Charlie doesn’t understand why Mama is always crying when she sees him. I tell him they’re happy tears but sometimes it makes him sad and he told me once that he cries a lot too.
He doesn’t understand why all the sudden he can’t see me every day. I’ve talked with the psychologist and it’s the only way I know the little I do about what’s going on with him. Charlie’s started having behavior problems. He was always such a happy boy. And now he’s acting out and also having trouble sleeping when he never had problems before.
She assured me that there are no signs of abuse, though. As much as I might hate David’s wife, Regina, since she was the one who was the catalyst behind all of this, Charlie’s incorporated her into his little world. He makes stick figure drawings that include her, David, and me as if we’re all one big happy family.
I squeeze him to my chest a little tighter. If only I could protect him from the real world and how horrible adults actually are to one another. If only he never has to know.
“Play, Mama.” He wiggles to get out of my embrace. It makes me want to hold him even longer. It’s so like my little man. Never satisfied with being still for long. He keeps squirming and I laugh and let him go. But not without tickling him.
He squeals with laughter and the sound fills up my empty soul. God, I should have gotten out my phone to record the sound. Maybe it could get me through the week between visits. A shot of Charlie’s laugh to help me ride out the rough patches.
I don’t have even a moment to get melancholy, though, because Charlie’s little hand is holding onto mine and pulling me toward the corner play area where the trains are. He grabs the wooden tracks and even manages to fit some of the links together correctly. I’m amazed as I help him make a simple circle and then some more difficult designs.
He’s developed so much even in the four months since he last lived with me. Grown so much bigger. I swallow hard. How much am I missing in the week between these ridiculously short visits? How many little daily moments when Charlie learns new words, new skills? When he has new revelations about his world and I’m not there to see his face as he takes it all in?
“Mama?”
Charlie crawls into my lap and puts his hand up to my cheek where I only now realize a tear has fallen.
“Mama sad?”
I shake my head and paste on a big smile, swiping at the errant tear quickly. “Sorry, sweetie.” I don’t want to lie to him and say I wasn’t crying. “No more crying.”
“Why Mama cry?” His low eyebrows are furrowed deeply.
I kiss his hand that touched my cheek. “Mama was just thinking about how much you’re growing. I’m sad I miss getting to see you grow every single day, that’s all. But I’m so happy that I’m with you now. Let’s focus on that. You want to make the train go around the track?”
But Charlie keeps frowning. “I want you to see me grow. Why can’t you live in the house with us?”
Talk about breaking my fucking heart.
“It doesn’t work like that, baby. Mama and Daddy live in separate houses. You stay with Daddy sometimes and eventually you’ll be able to stay with Mama again sometimes.”
He crosses his arms. “No. I want us to live in one house. Now.”
“Well, babe,” I tell him prosaically, “there’s what we want, and then there’s what’s gonna happen.”
“I want to live in one house.” He even stomps his foot.
I can see where this is going. He hasn’t changed that much. A tantrum is a tantrum, though from what the psychologist says, he’s having them more often and to further extremes.
I cut it off at the pass. I stand up and grab him underneath his chest and legs, then swing him up into the air. “Look who’s flying!”
Whoa, either he’s heavier or my arm muscles have gotten way wimpier.
He tries to stay stubborn, but after a few swirls in a circle, he gives in and giggles his head off. Good thing too, my arms are about to give out. I swing him around a couple more turns and know I’m still going to feel it tomorrow.
I lower him so that he’s propped on my hip and drop my forehead to his before sticking my tongue out at him and maki
ng a funny face. He giggles more and I feel confident that I’ve distracted him from the previous subject. At least for now.
I don’t glance to the corner where I can feel the psychologist watching us. I’m not sure if distraction is a Psychology 101 approved method for dealing with tough subjects, but any mom knows that any and all tricks to avoid tantrums are one hundred percent super bueno.
“Want to read a book now?”
Charlie nods and we head over to an area that has a plush carpet and pillows set up. I pick up a stack of board books and Charlie settles onto my lap, his sweet head nestled on my chest. I close my eyes for one quick moment, trying to memorize the feel of him against me.
Then I start to read, exaggerating my voice to be all the characters. Anything to hear my baby boy’s laugh again.
My hands are on my phone as soon as I’m back in my Uber on the way home.
I text my new friend Lydia who I’ve gotten really close with over the past few months after meeting her in my self-defense class.
ME TO LYDIA: I need to get PISS ASS drunk tonight. Wanna make a girls’ night out of it?
I hit send and then slump my head back against the seat with my eyes closed. It’s Friday and it’s been a long as hell week. But my sister and also roommate, Shannon, is gone to a week-long conference and I know if I go home to that empty apartment, I’ll just drive myself fucking insane.
David and the Shrew were in the lobby when I came out. I avoided eye contact, but still. If only I had made David sign away his parental rights when I first told him I was pregnant and his response was an envelope with two hundred bucks and staunch instructions to “Get rid of it.”
I kick the seat in front of me. The driver looks back at me with a glare.
“Sorry,” I mutter. A girls’ night will make everything better. After last night, I don’t exactly trust myself to try going solo again. Plus, I just wanna get drunk. I might feel that same itch, the one that wants to… go on the hunt like that. But shit, after last night I can see how fucked up it is.
I’ll just be normal tonight.
Normal. I can do that… Right?
My phone pings and I look down. I have two texts. A response from Lydia but also one that I missed since I had my phone turned off while I was in with Charlie. I check Lydia’s first.
LYDIA: Sure. Where you feel like going?
Then I check the one I missed. It’s from Bonnie, a chick I work with and part of the happy hour group I join sometimes.
BONNIE: Wanna go out tonight? I got VIP passes to Chandelier. I’m thinking like @10?
I perk up. Chandelier is a total hot spot.
ME TO BONNIE: Do you have an extra pass? Love to hit Chandelier with you but just made plans with BFF.
ME TO LYDIA: Checking on something, back to ya in a sec.
Only another minute passes before I get a ping and it’s Bonnie.
BONNIE: Totally! Bring her along, Jamaal scored a bunch of VIP passes through this guy he knows who’s friends with the owner.
Jamaal is Bonnie’s live-in boyfriend who she’s been going out with since high school. He started working at CubeThink because she did, though in a different department, sales or marketing or something. She keeps waiting for him to pop the question so they can, in her words, “settle down and start having a ton of babies.” Jamaal on the other hand, keeps talking about all the trips they can take traveling around the world once he saves up to buy a catamaran.
Yeah. The rest of us at work can’t decide if we should have an intervention to introduce Bonnie to the real world or if it’s better to let her keep living in fantasyland. Otherwise, she and Jamaal are totally, completely happy and compatible.
ME TO LYDIA: I just got the hook up to VIP passes for Chandelier!!! You gotta come!!!
It’s only a few seconds before I get a response.
LYDIA: Shut the front door! Of course I’m in. You want to come over to get ready?
ME TO BONNIE: Awesome, meet you outside the club at 9:45?
ME TO LYDIA: Abso-fuckin-lutely. Who else would I trust to glam me up?
BONNIE: Perfect. See ya then!
ME TO BONNIE: See ya!
LYDIA: Haha, no one. Lord knows what you’d end up looking like on your own. Probably the same ducking thing you wear to work.
LYDIA: duck auto-correct
LYDIA: ducking
LYDIA: FUCKING! Fuck auto-correct
I’m almost pissing myself I’m laughing so hard. The Uber driver probably thinks I’m a crazy nutjob. Oh my God, I love Lydia. My self-defense instructor turned best friend is seriously my saving grace in the shitstorm that is my life lately.
ME TO LYDIA: Omg, LMFAO. You are my special snowflake.
LYDIA: Fuck you. Get your ass over here.
I’m still laughing as my screen goes dark.
Several hours later Lydia and I are glammed up and looking fab as our ride nears Chandelier.
“Stop that,” Lydia lightly swats my hand as I tug down on the bright red miniskirt she chose for me from her closet.
“It’s just so short,” I whisper back.
“You’ve got great thighs. The world wants to see them.”
I feel my cheeks heat up. Does she not see the Uber driver glancing back at us in the mirror every few minutes? He’s totally listening in on everything we say.
“The knee-length maroon dress would have worked just fine,” I say, continuing my argument from earlier when she was picking out my look for the night. I should never have given her carte blanche to choose my outfit.
“Booooring,” she sing-songs. “What’s the point of torturing yourself at CrossFit if you don’t get to show off your hot bod?”
I bite my lip, glancing down at my bared thighs and tugging down on the miniskirt and the sparkly halter Lydia paired with it. The truth is, the outfit is hot and I look hot in it. I also don’t know why I feel so embarrassed since I’ve been going out in outfits that reveal just as much if not more for weeks now.
But that’s different. I’m not… me when I do that. It’s like I’m playing a character. I’m The Vixen. The Siren.
But now?
I’m just me. Out with my friend. But I’m wearing Siren Callie’s choice of outfit.
I pull my silken wrap a little tighter around my shoulders. Finally, we pull up in front of the club.
It’s a newer place on the outskirts of downtown San Francisco, a refurbished theater built during the late twenties that was bought by restauranteur Kennedy Benson. He turned it into one of the hottest hot spots anywhere in the Bay Area. I watched this whole Netflix documentary on Chandelier and Benson a while ago and have been in awe ever since. A real rags to riches story, he’s also the owner of several very popular restaurants in town.
Lydia pays—I already gave her my half of the fare—and I step out onto the sidewalk. I’ve always wanted to come check out this club, but looking up at the sparkling lights of the façade and the line that goes around the block, I’m reminded of the reason I never have before.
“Callie! You made it!” Bonnie’s high-pitched squeal is hard to miss and when I turn around, I see her grinning as she stumbles toward me on heels that seem too high for her to handle. I look down to inspect more closely and shit, those skyscraper heels would be too tall for anybody.
“Damn girl,” I laugh as I catch her in a hug, stabilizing her as she battles for balance. “You gonna be able to stay upright in those ankle breakers all night?”
Lydia steps up beside me and lets out a low whistle, checking out Bonnie’s footwear.
Bonnie just laughs me off. “That’s what Jamaal is here for.” She gestures back to her boyfriend who just caught up with her. She grabs his arm and leans into him. He’s tall with crazy-wide linebacker shoulders. Even though the rest of him is pretty thin, those shoulders give him a hulking appearance. He stands almost a head taller than Bonnie. She grins up at him. “He’ll hold me while we dance.”
“I told you before we left the house.” Jama
al shakes his head. “You’ll break your neck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Those things are deathtraps.”
She turns her head and glares at him. “That’s not all you said. And I quote,” she drops her voice and gives it a slightly growly quality to imitate his, “but damn, baby, you look sexy as fuck in ‘em.” She looks back at the rest of us. “And then he proceeded to—”
Jamaal covers her mouth with one of his large hands and turns to Lydia with a bright smile. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” He holds out the hand not covering Bonnie’s mouth.
Lydia laughs and it’s her throaty, bighearted laugh as she shakes his hand. Bonnie yanks away from Jamaal’s grasp and smacks at him. He pretends to wince in pain, even though beside him, she looks like a tiny kitten swatting a bear.
Finally she turns back toward us. “Hi Lydia, I’m Bonnie. This caveman over here,” she jerks a thumb toward Jamaal, “is my boyfriend, Jamaal. You can ignore him, though. It’s what I do.”
“Oh no you don’t, woman,” Jamaal growls before wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off her feet, swinging her in a circle. Bonnie’s shrill giggles fill the night.
I roll my eyes at Lydia. “Yeah, they’re disgustingly adorable like that pretty much all the time.”
“Aw,” Lydia says, still watching them over my shoulder. “It’s sweet.”
I make a choking noise with my finger down my throat. Lydia laughs and smacks me on the arm.
The next moment, though, Bonnie’s back and waving our VIP passes at us. “Come on, I’m desperate for a drink. These passes let us skip to the head of the line too. Isn’t that epic?”
Lydia shoots amused eyes at me and I grin. Bonnie and I are the same age—maybe it’s being a mom, but I feel about a decade older than her. Lydia is a decade older than both of us, so she and I click perfectly and I find myself making fun of my generation to her regularly.
“Totally,” Lydia says with a wink at me after Bonnie’s turned around.
We each take a VIP pass and then Jamaal is ushering us all toward the bouncer.