by Renee Miller
CHAPTER 21
When Ronny woke up on his couch, pain throbbed over his left eye. Sunlight blazed through the window behind him, reflecting off a picture frame that hung on the wall across the room, directly into his eyes. He rolled off the couch and stood, then stumbled to the window to close the blind. The smell of vomit wafted up from his shirt. He needed a shower.
As he moved through the house, moments from the night before came back in dribbles. In the bathroom, he glanced in the mirror to discover the source of the pain. A purple bruise covered his cheek, yellowish green in spots and very swollen.
“Fucking pig,” he muttered and turned on the shower. Soon, thick wafts of steam clouded the small enclosure. He hated Billy Marsh. Now that he was a cop, Billy was a bigger jackass than he’d ever been in high school.
He peeled off his clothes and ducked under the scalding stream. Immediately he felt better, human once more. His thoughts turned to Dana. Maybe he’d call her after he picked Amy up from his parents’ house.
He grabbed a towel off the rack and dried himself. Amy was a growing concern. He tried to take her to the park when he had her, but she was mean to the other kids—often sneaking off with younger ones and making the other parents nervous. He told her over and over that she had to be nice and stay in the playground. She promised to behave, but soon forgot once she got playing. Speaking with his social worker again would be useless; he always told Ronny to stop overreacting, that children her age and with her background, often had trouble socializing. His gut told him something was wrong with her, though. He couldn’t wait until the judge set a date for the next custody hearing. The sooner he got her away from his parents, the better.
After grabbing a piece of toast and a coffee, Ronny sat at the tiny round table in the kitchen and switched on the radio. George Jones, sharing his limitless wisdom on women and heartache, filled Ronny’s ears. He listened while he ate, thinking how yesterday he would have agreed with the Ol’ Possum. Today, things looked brighter, possibilities seemed endless.
Things were going to turn around; Ronny felt it deep in his bones. Dana was the beginning. Even if he never saw her again, last night marked an important moment in his life, he just knew it.
—
Amy flitted around the apartment. Toys spilled across the living room and into the kitchen. Ronny let her play, only half-aware that she broke more things than she played with.
“Daddy,” she said, bringing a headless doll over to him. “I killed her.”
Ronny glanced down at the doll, one he’d bought for her fourth birthday. Red slashes covered her privates. Ronny touched a zigzagging line, just above the doll’s bottom and sighed. “Baby, why did you do this?”
“She was bad, but I didn’t want her killed. I just wanted her punished. Can you fix her?”
“I can get her head back on, but I can’t get the marker off. I told you we don’t color on anything but paper.”
Amy pouted. “I know that, but her bum didn’t go red like it’s supposed to when I hit it.”
She wasn’t sorry at all, he realized; she was mad. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind, you don’t get it.” She took the doll from him and marched to the garbage next to the fridge. Stepping on the little pedal, she waited for the lid to open and tossed the headless doll into it.
Ronny watched her stomp to her room to emerge an instant later, the doll’s head in her little fist. She tossed it in the trash as well. Before returning to her room, she glared at him for several seconds.
In a while she’d come back out asking for a new doll as though nothing happened to the old one. He was used to her ability to forget huge tantrums and anger, but it still bothered him.
Ronny picked up the toys scattered about and tossed them in a laundry basket he kept next to the couch when Amy was around. It made things easier if he just threw everything there because she’d drag it all out again anyway. He paused when he saw a rainbow of red, yellow, and blue, melted into the green, already stained carpet. Brown burn marks circled the edges and the wall behind.
“Amy!” he yelled.
A shuffle, then Amy’s door opened just a crack and her head peeked through. “What?”
“What is this?” He pointed at the plastic mound.
“Maryanne did it.” She looked him right in the eye, not even blushing at her lie. “She doesn’t like my Legos.”
“Maryanne isn’t real, and if she was, she heard me tell you not to play with my matches,” Ronny growled, trying to keep his temper in check. Everything she did she blamed on Maryanne, her imaginary friend. She had her own language for Maryanne, so he couldn’t understand what she said, but often it sounded angry and bitter.
“She is real. You never believe me.” Amy came out of the room, chubby arms folded over her chest.
“I do believe you when you tell me the truth. Maryanne is only in your imagination. She can’t do things like this.”
“She can too.”
He’d get nowhere if he tried to punish her. She’d cry and scream that he didn’t really love her, then she’d climb into his lap, press her face into his neck and make him feel awful about getting angry. Minutes later, she’d do the same thing he’d chastised her for to begin with. The social worker said to try to reason with her, as much as one could reason with a four-year-old. Be calm and pleasant. Use positive words.
“Listen honey, you…and Maryanne cannot play with matches. Is that clear? You could get hurt and I’d be really sad if you got hurt.”
“Sorry.” She stuck her finger in her mouth.
He hated the habit, but let it go.
“I was just bored and Maryanne said it would be fun.”
“From now on don’t listen to Maryanne. She just gets you into trouble.”
“Okay. Can I keep it though? It’s my art.” She pointed at the Legos.
Ronny sighed. “Fine. Just no more burning anything. Promise?”
“Okay.” Amy ran to the corner, peeled the plastic mess from the carpet, taking most of the fibers with it and ran to her room.
—
It took four more hours before Amy was ready to sleep. Ronny tiptoed from the door of her bedroom, knowing the slightest bump would have her up and eager to go once more.
He wondered how his mother managed to get the kid to bed every night at six. She probably lied about that one. Ronny couldn’t imagine Amy passively doing anything any adult told her. He refused to believe he was that inept at parenting. It was just after nine now, and he’d been trying to get her to sleep since six-thirty.
From his back pocket, he took out a matchbook with Dana’s number scribbled on it. The challenge now wasn’t calling her, he wasn’t afraid of that, it was deciphering the number and making sure he didn’t call a stranger. Despite his best efforts at reading, numbers still proved impossible for him. Often, he read them backward or completely wrong.
At the phone, now hanging high on the kitchen wall because Amy liked to call the operator several times a day, he picked up the receiver. After dialing the first three numbers, the wheel spinning back distracted him. He thought for a moment and then hung up. Ronny couldn’t remember which number he rung in last. He sighed, opened the drawer next to him and rummaged through matchbooks, keys to mysterious locks, and bills, to find a pen. Then he scratched each number off as he dialed.
It took forever, he had to hold the matchbook next to the phone, making sure the numbers matched, then set it down to mark it off and bring the matchbox back up again. Finally, he set everything down and listened to the ringing on the other end. He hoped Dana would answer. If she knew the trouble it took to call her…well, she’d probably run away if she knew it. On the fifth ring, she picked up. His breath caught at the sound of her voice.
“Hey, how are you?” God, I’m such a dork.
“Hi.” A pause. Scooby Doo blasted in the background. “I’m sorry, who is this?”
“It’s Ronny, from last night.”
“Oh, so
rry. My head is pounding and the kids have been up since dawn. I’m not really myself today.”
“I hear you. My daughter just went to bed.” He hoped mentioning Amy would soften her a bit, make her trust him.
“You have a daughter?” There it was; interest in the slight lilt of her voice.
“Yeah, she’s four. I have to leave her with my parents through the week, but when I’m not working, she’s here.”
“Oh.”
“So, it was nice to see you again.” This was awkward. She wasn’t very talkative.
“Again?”
“I remember you from school. You used to help out in the ret—the delayed class. I was in it. I used to hang out with Garrett O’Brien. You remember him?”
Silence again. Did she gasp? He wasn’t sure. He stared at the matchbook, spinning it around, picking at the worn edges.
“Where have you been since then?” she asked.
“Well I used to drive truck. Took me away from home a lot.”
“So, you wouldn’t know.” She sounded quiet, almost distracted.
“Don’t know what?”
“About me and Garrett.’
“You and Garrett?”
“We were married,” she murmured, a catch in her voice. “But he went to Alberta with his parents.”
“You married Garrett? Wow. Small world, I guess.”
“More like small town.” The sound on her end muffled. She spoke to someone. A child? Then she must have removed her hand from the receiver. “I’m sorry, but I have to get my kids to bed. Is there something you wanted?”
“Oh, it’s okay, I just wanted to call you, see what you were doing.” What a doofus. “Um, are you busy this week?”
“I work,” she said. “Why?”
“I thought we could do something. A movie maybe?”
“I can’t afford a sitter, but thanks.”
“What if we took them?” He was nuts. Taking kids to a movie? He knew better. The last time he took Amy to the drive-in it had been a nightmare.
“Really?” She sounded shocked, but interested again.
“Sure, why not?”
“Do you still talk to Garrett?”
Strange question. “No, I haven’t seen him since I left school.”
“Okay.” She paused again. Dana seemed to measure every word. “Just wondered. It wasn’t a friendly divorce and I don’t want to put anyone in the middle.”
“Sure, no problem.” Ronny’s curiosity sparked, he was dying to know what happened, but knew better than to ask. “So, are we on?”
“I guess…” She showed little enthusiasm. “But just as friends. Not like a date.”
“Okay.” If that made her feel better. “What night?”
“Friday is best. I work Sundays, and have Friday and Saturday off.”
“Friday it is. Where do I pick you up?”
Silence again. God, it was like pulling teeth. She was so defensive and cautious. What did Garrett do to this poor woman?
“Could we meet somewhere?”
“Sure.” He thought for a moment. Not knowing where she lived, he wasn’t sure where they could meet. “Maybe at that coffee place on Alexander Street. You know the one with the big donut out front?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.” A child’s scream followed by a giggle erupted in the background. “Devon! Sorry Ronny, these guys just won’t stay put while I’m on the phone. I need to go.”
“Okay, see you Friday, at six.”
“Six, great.” She hung up.
Ronny stared at the receiver in his hand, not sure if the conversation he just had was good or bad. She agreed, but she wasn’t very happy about it. She really was kind of rude.
“Let’s hope O’Brien didn’t ruin her,” he muttered. Ronny hung up the phone and edged to the fridge for a beer. He couldn’t imagine such a kind, gentle person with a beast like Garrett O’Brien.
CHAPTER 22
February, 1981
“Devon, hurry up.” Hayley cried, banging on the bathroom door. “Mommy, Devon’s taking too long.”
“Do you have to pee, honey?” Dana looked up from the fridge to watch her daughter stomp back through the narrow hallway into the kitchen.
“No, I wanna look at the mirror.”
Dana smiled. Today Hayley turned three and like any princess, she wanted to look perfect. She also liked to stare at herself in the mirror.
Uncle Danny had bought her a princess dress complete with tiara and they were supposed to have an indoor picnic and games. The only guests would be Ronny and his daughter—who Dana had yet to meet—Danny, and themselves.
“When’s Ronny coming?” Hayley asked. She danced around on tiptoe, watching her baby-blue dress twirl out as she turned and grinned with delight.
“Soon. He has to pick up Amy first.” Dana finished frosting the cake, pink with purple flowers, and set it on the high reaches of the fridge. Any lower and it would be covered in finger marks from the kids sampling it.
Hayley stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t like Amy. She isn’t Ronny’s girl. I am.”
“You both can be Ronny’s girls, Hayley. He loves you equally.”
“He never comes here when Amy stays at his house. He doesn’t even call to say night to me and Devon.”
Dana smiled and ruffled her hair, earning a scowl.
Ronny fit nicely into their little unit; something Dana didn’t think possible at first. Devon worshipped him like the father figure he desperately needed, and Hayley had him wrapped around her chubby little finger. Once she flashed a dimple, or showed signs of a meltdown, Ronny was putty in her hands.
Dana told Ronny that Amy was welcome in her home any time, but he seemed reluctant to introduce her. He said Amy was a difficult child. She didn’t do well with other kids. Dana had scoffed. Every child was difficult in a new situation. They had the discussion many times, but he changed the subject and she would forget about it until she was alone.
Devon finally stepped out of the bathroom. Hayley zipped past her brother, almost knocking him over, to slam the door behind her.
“Do you think Ronny and his daughter will live with us?” Devon asked.
“Why would you ask that?”
“I was kind of spying on you guys last night.” He inspected his feet. Dana watched him wiggle his big toe through the hole in the end of his sock. “I heard Ronny say he’d like to get a house with a yard so we could all live together.”
Dana knelt in front of him. “First, you know what I said about listening to other people’s private conversations. Second, it’s a big step and we’re still getting used to it being just me, you, and Hayley. I think it might be too soon for such a big change.”
“But he sleeps here all the time. It’s kind of like he’s living with us anyway.”
Dana loved Ronny. He was sweet, gentle, and adored her kids. That was all she ever wanted, but some things bothered her, like his weirdness about Amy. He drank a lot too. She tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. He often got into fights, and while he never raised his hand to her, he was sometimes angry and defensive when she suggested he’d had enough. That made her nervous about committing entirely to their relationship.
“I think you should let him live with us,” Devon said. “I like him, and if we had a house it would be awesome.”
“We’ll see.” Dana hugged him and stood. They would arrive any minute and she wanted to have everything ready.
Eyeing the small kitchen-dining room, she smiled. Colorful balloons hung everywhere, courtesy of Devon and Hayley rubbing them on their hair and giggling hysterically while they stuck them to the dingy white walls. Dana stuck a piece of tape behind each one to make sure they stayed.
The table was set. All she’d had was an old brown and orange flowered vinyl tablecloth, but Hayley didn’t complain, and Dana wasn’t going to point out how ugly it was if the princess didn’t care. The pizza was warming in the oven. Now she only needed guests.
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br /> As though reading her thoughts, someone buzzed from downstairs. She pressed the button on the pad next to the door to let them in. A few minutes later, she heard Ronny’s voice and then a knock. Dana opened the door.
“Hi.” Ronny waved. Next to him was Amy. She was so much like her father, though her hair was light brown rather than black. Both were coated in a powder of melting snow. “This is Amy.”
Dana knelt and held her hand out. “Hello, Amy. I’m Dana.”
Amy sucked her fingers, stared at Dana, and offered nothing.
Ronny tugged on Amy’s arm
She glared up at him.
“Say hello, Amy.”
“Hi,” she sighed.
“Sorry,” he said.
Dana stood. “Sometimes kids are shy. She’ll come around. Give me your coats.”
Ronny pulled a reluctant Amy into the hallway and removed her green coat and matching boots. Dana took them from him and shooed Amy and Ronny into the kitchen.
“Where are the kids?” Ronny asked when she rejoined them.
“Hayley’s in front of the mirror as usual, and I’m not sure what happened to Devon.”
“I’m right here,” Devon chirped from under the table. “I’m good at hiding, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are,” Dana said. “That’s how you hear all the stuff you’re not supposed to. Now, come say hi to Amy.”
Devon crawled out and stood in front of Amy, who was much shorter than he was, although they were the same age. She favored him with a small smile, but nothing more.
Devon looked at Dana, and at her nod he put his hand out. “I’m Devon.” He held his hand there for a moment. When Amy ignored him, he frowned. “You’re supposed to shake and say ‘I’m Amy’ so that we can be friends. When you don’t that’s called rude. Mommy doesn’t like rude people.”
“I don’t care. I don’t like you guys anyway.”
“Amy!” Ronny growled, but Dana put her hand on his arm and forced him back into his chair.
Dana sat down opposite him and facing Amy. “She’s nervous. This is new for her. I’m sorry we haven’t met before; that’s not fair. We all know each other and you know no one.”
“I’m an entraverd. Granny says so.”