32. Porter
32
porter
I don't know why, but I never deleted my mother's phone number. The last time I used it was almost nine years ago, when I realized Pops didn’t have that much longer to live. I thought she’d want to know that her ex-husband and the father of one of her children was dying. She then had the audacity to ask me if he had left her anything in his will. I don't even think I said goodbye when I hung up on her.
I should’ve deleted it then. I had no reason to talk to her again after that. Yet, there was something that always made me keep it. I guess that something is today.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Quinn asks, holding my hands as I stare down at the screen. All I need to do is hit the green button and the call would go through. But I’ve been staring at it, frozen, for the past ten minutes.
In reality, I’ve been in a daze for the past few hours. Once it hit me what she was doing, I couldn’t concentrate on anything else and all thoughts of a celebratory dinner were out the window. I knew I needed to call Bonnie and try to figure out what her game was, but I didn't trust myself to not lose it and scare Gracie. So Quinn and I hurriedly packed her up and took her to Wes and Betsy’s. They told me they’d keep her as long as I needed. Which is good, because once I speak to Bonnie, I have no idea what’s going to happen.
"I have to. Something doesn’t feel right about this. She’s up to something.”
"How do you know?"
"Because even though I haven’t had a relationship with her since I was a teenager, I know my mother well enough to know that she wouldn't be doing this without a reason. And before I get lawyers involved, I need to know what I'm up against.”
Before I lose my nerve, I let go of Quinn's hands for just the second I need to hit the call button and switch onto speakerphone.
The phone only rings once before my mother's voice sends a chill down my spine.
“I was wondering when I'd hear from you.”
“Bonnie,” I say evenly, not giving her the satisfaction of hearing me riled up. Or calling her “Mom,” because she sure as shit doesn’t deserve that title.
“How are you? How’s my granddaughter? I’ve wanted to?—”
“Cut the crap, Bonnie. What do you want?”
I hear her snicker, which is somehow more cruel than the custody petition. “Can’t we catch up? It’s been so long.”
This woman’s audacity is growing with every word that comes out of her mouth. “You want to catch up? Then meet me at The Joint in an hour.”
“The Joint? Oh Porter, you know I can’t do that. I don’t live?—”
“Don’t lie. I saw you the other day. I know you’re in town. Be there in an hour.”
I hang up the phone before she can say anything else.
“Do you think she’ll come?”
“Yeah. Whatever game she wants to play, she needs me for it. She’ll be there.”
“Hey,” Quinn turns me to face her as the adrenaline rush crashes through me. “Are you okay? Are you ready for this?”
My head falls, suddenly the impact of everything hitting me.
I’m about to see my mom. And she wants Grace.
“I have to be,” I say. “I have no other choice.”
“You could just get lawyers involved,” Quinn says. “If it’s too much to face her, let the lawyers handle it.”
I shake my head. “I will if I need to. But she’s here, and she’s choosing to fuck with my family. And no one, not even blood, fucks with my family.”
“Okay then,” Quinn says as she stands up and she starts swinging her arms around.
“What are you doing?”
“Warming up,” she says.
“For what?”
Quinn comes back to me, bending over with her hands on my thighs so she can look me right in the eye. “For a fight. She’s not just fucking with you, she’s fucking with me too. You. Me. Grace. We’re a family. The people I love. And no one fucks with the people I love and gets away with it.”
I let out a deep breath, and for the first time since I opened that envelope, I feel a little more at ease.
“I love you, you know that, right?”
She gives me a quick kiss. “I do. Now let’s go fight your mom.”
* * *
“Well, this place hasn't changed.” One hour and fifteen minutes later, the woman I haven't seen in nearly twenty years saunters into the bar. “Aren't you gonna give your mother a hug?
My eyes are trained on her, not giving her an ounce of emotion. “Sit, Bonnie.”
“My my, and here I thought I was missing out on all that Southern hospitality when I moved away from this shithole town.”
Bonnie finally sits, and it’s then she takes notice to Quinn.
"And who is this?"
She holds out her hand, but Quinn doesn’t give it back to her. “I’m the woman you really don’t want to fuck with.”
Bonnie clutches her non-existent pearls at Quinn’s comeback. “Porter. Are you going to let your girlfriend talk to me that way?”
I don’t look over to Quinn immediately, but I can tell she’s trying to get my attention through her sideways glance. Did Bonnie guess that she’s my girlfriend? Or has her visit in town included some detective work?
“She’s a grown woman. She can talk to you however she sees fit.”
“But I don’t want to be more rude than I suspect I’m going to be during this conversation.” Quinn now extends her hand. “Quinn Banks. Now what the fuck do you want?”
Bonnie looks at Quinn’s hand then back to me. “I remember you. Porter? You’re seriously dating that awful girl who released toads in the town square?”
Quinn dramatically takes a bow. “Why, Bonnie, I’m flattered. I didn’t realize I was so memorable.”
The two women have a stare down, and if my entire life wasn’t on the line right now, I’d think it was comical.
“How long have you been here?” My question breaks their stare.
She shrugs. “Long enough.”
“How did no one see you?”
“I have my ways.”
She’s bluffing, or at least exaggerating how long she’s been in town. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Rolling Hills isn’t that big. Not many people move out. Fewer move in. But if she would’ve made her face seen at any point, someone would have told me. Because she might look twenty years older, and on the outside it looks like she's lived a hard life, but she’ll always have those damn green eyes.
Plus, everyone remembers, and hates, the woman who ran out of town, leaving her husband and son. Someone would’ve told me if she was here. And since the party was just a few days ago, I have to think that’s around the time she arrived.
“So these?” I toss the envelope on the table. “You had to have someone bring them to me? Couldn’t do it yourself?”
“That was my lawyer’s doing,” she says. “But I hate that we even have to get the lawyers involved. So I thought I’d come down here and see if we could come to an agreement. Plus, I missed this town.”
Now I know that’s a lie, but Bonnie pretends as if she truly misses this bar as she stands up and starts looking around. It’s like she’s having some sort of nostalgic moment. Which she’s not. This bar was my father’s pride and joy. He renovated it from the shack it was and turned it into a town institution. He poured blood, sweat, and tears into this place.
And my mother had always resented him for that. Forget that this place kept a roof over our head and food on the table. To her it was just something that she wasn’t a part of, and her ego couldn’t handle it.
“You know, no matter what I did, your father never loved me as much as he loved this bar.”
"Gee, shocking," Quinn says. "With your sparkling personality, I can't imagine why."
The two have another stare down before Bonnie turns back to looking at the wall, this one filled with pictures of Pops and I, and bar regulars, over the years. And the newest additions, pictures of myself, Grace, and Quinn.
"You know, when I left, he didn't give me a dime. I had to fight tooth and nail in divorce court."
“Do you think he was hiding money from you?" I ask. “I don’t know what kind of business you think this place does, but I assure you we’re not sitting on a gold mine.”
She waves off my statement and comes back to sit down.
“That’s neither here nor there,” she says. “What I came for is Grace. Where is she, by the way? I'd love to hold her."
“Where she's at is of no concern to you,” I say. “And where do you think you get off requesting custody? And why all of a sudden? Or did you just realize that your daughter and granddaughter were gone two months later?”
“I take offense to that.”
“You should,” Quinn says.
Bonnie shoots a look to her. “I don’t like you very much.”
Quinn smirks with a nonchalant shrug. “Good.”
Now, as much as I’d love Quinn to go full-Quinn on my mother, I need to get this back on track.
“Whatever this petition is, it’s going to get thrown out,” I say. “Missy wrote a letter specifically asking me to raise Grace. I’m not a lawyer, but that has to count for something in court.”
“You think they’re going to believe a single mom who got pregnant at nineteen who abandoned her daughter? Or me, her mother? The woman who gave them shelter and food because she didn’t have a job?”
“Are you talking about the same woman who also abandoned her first family twenty years ago? That was you, wasn’t it? Or am I missing something?”
If Quinn didn’t say it, I was going to. And frankly, her added snark made the dig that much better.
“Bonnie, why do you want custody?” I ask. “Grace is happy and healthy with me. That’s all you should care about.”
“That’s great to hear, but let’s be real, Porter, you can’t raise a child.”
“And you can?” I punch back. “Rich, considering I haven’t seen to you in twenty years, before that Pops raised me, and your daughter specifically drove down here to make sure you didn’t raise your granddaughter.”
Bonnie’s eyes narrow at me. “Watch your tone.”
“Or what? Now you want to be a mother? Practicing how you’ll raise Grace? Cut the shit, Bonnie. Why do you want Grace?”
“Because I miss her!” she exclaims before her shoulders slump and her eyes turn defeated. She’s trying to fake a “woe is me” act, but I’m not buying it. “She’s my granddaughter. My blood. Missy…well…Missy was a difficult kid. She never understood how much I loved her. And Grace…I just love that little girl so much, and if Missy can’t raise her, well, then I only think it’s right that I do.”
Quinn and I are both silent, because it’s quite a sob story, but I’d bet the bar that it’s ninety-five percent a lie.
“You want us to buy that?”
“It’s the truth,” she says. “And no matter what you say or think about me, I have rights too.”
“Really? Rights? What kind of rights?”
Bonnie lays out the paperwork that was sent to me. I didn’t look through all of them, so I’m not exactly sure what this one says. “In Indiana there’s a thing called de facto custodian. And because Missy was in and out of my house the entire first year of Grace’s life—she really was a horrible mother—per the law, I am considered her de facto custodian. Which, I’m sure if I took this to a police department, you could be charged with kidnapping my grandchild.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake lady, the delusion is strong with you, isn’t it?”
“I’d watch that smart mouth of yours,” Bonnie says. “I’m petitioning the court to give me custody. And since I’m assuming that you two are going to continue to play the little family, that means they’ll be visiting you both. I’m sure with someone who has the arrest record you do, it probably wouldn’t look good in front of a judge.”
“Hey! I resent that!” Quinn screams, standing and smacking the table. “Eight arrests. Eight charges dropped. My record is clean, lady.”
Bonnie only snickers. “You two think you’re so high and mighty here. Well, guess what, you’re wrong. Grace is going to be coming home with me. Whether you two like it or not.”
“Bring it on bitch,” Quinn says as I’m too overwhelmed to speak. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”
The two have one last staredown before Bonnie grabs her purse and exits the bar. I don’t move as she does. Because all I can think is that she’s right. There’s a chance, at least a small one, that a court could side with her.
And that small chance is far too big for my liking.
“Hey,” Quinn says. “Don’t think like that.”
I don’t know how Quinn could read my mind, but I’m grateful that she did.
“What am I going to do?”
“Easy,” she says. “We’re going to round up my family.”