3. The Béchamel Redemption #2
The fading sunlight casts long shadows across the backyard, the last streaks of orange and pink stretching over the wooden fence. I smack my fist against the outdoor grill, the side of my hand throbbing immediately, and a few birds flutter from the trees, startled by the sound.
I turn around to make sure Sadie didn’t hear anything, but she’s still watching TV, Mollie curled up in her lap. “And how long exactly is this program? Because your website says four weeks, and she’s been there for six months,” I hiss through my teeth.
“However long our patients believe?—”
“Look.” I grip my hair at the roots, closing my eyes. I need to calm down, to not antagonize this woman, but I’m this close to getting into my car and driving there. “It’s important I speak to her, okay? Tell her it’s an emergency.”
“I’m sorry, but?—”
“Tell her it’s about her daughter. Her six-year-old daughter.”
“Mr. Coleman, I truly wish I could help you, but?—”
“No, trust me , you’ll wish you’d helped me if you don’t put her on the phone right this fucking minute. ”
There’s silence on the other end of the line, so I try a different approach. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. But please, put yourself in my position. I want nothing more than for Josie to be healthy, but her daughter needs her. I don’t know what else to do.”
“I understand, but?—”
“ Please ,” I insist, my voice shaking. “I’m begging you, okay? Just one minute of her time, and I’ll take all the responsibility.”
With a sigh, the woman on the line says, “Give me a moment, please.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” I raise my fist in the air as the annoying hold music starts. This has never happened before. Despite my numerous attempts, no facility staff ever got close to letting me talk to Josie. Shit, I hope they will this time.
The door to the backyard opens, and Sadie sticks her head out. “Daddy, I’m hungry.”
“Yes, baby. I’ll make you a PB&J—give me just a minute.”
She nods and returns to her spot on the couch.
“Hello?”
My body tenses, my eyes going wide. Is that...that sounds like Josie.
“Aaron? Are you there?”
“Y-yes.” Holy shit . We haven’t talked since she last disappeared, leaving only a note behind. Took me months to get over that and start worrying about her prolonged absence. “I’m here.”
“I told you not to call.”
My chest heaves, the pain digging deeper and deeper. That’s all she has to say? You know what—Kyle’s right about her. “Your daughter is alive. Thank you for asking.”
“I know Sadie is okay. I talked to your parents.”
She what? “When?”
“Every week. Don’t be mad at them—I asked them not to say anything. It’s better for my sobriety if we keep some distance from each other.”
I slump onto a patio chair. “No, I’m not mad at them . I don’t have any room for more anger, honestly.”
“Why are you calling?”
“When are you coming back?”
“ Why are you calling, Aaron?”
“That’s why I’m fucking calling, Josie. You’ve been gone for six months, and I know your sobriety is important, but if you don’t give a shit about leaving me stranded, come back for your daughter. She needs you.”
She sniffles. “I can’t come back until I’m better.”
“Maybe you won’t get better until you come back home.”
“And how could you possibly know that?”
I look up at the sky, letting the orange and pink hues ground me as the sun sets on another day. “I don’t, actually. And to be honest with you, I don’t care . Not right now. Not when my daughter is saying her mom left her behind.”
“I hope you told her that’s not true.”
“No, Josie. I told her you liked another child better. What the fuck do you think I said?”
“See—this is why I can’t come back yet. I’ve been talking to you for one whole minute and I already want to drink.”
Lips pursing, I try to summon all the calm I can harness.
“ I’m the problem, Josie? Well, fine. You’ll never have to see me.
You can have the house, the car. Fuck, you can have everything, and we’ll only cross paths when I pick up or drop off Sadie.
But you need to come back. It’s been six months.
You don’t get to abandon your kid indefinitely. ”
“Aaron, I have to go.”
“Her teacher wants her to see a counselor,” I rush out, standing. My heart is pounding, because if I don’t convince her now, I might not get another chance to talk to her.
“What? Why?”
“Because she’s struggling. She’s closed off, and she’s not socializing. I see it at home too. She’s sad, lost in her thoughts. She needs you, Josie.”
She’s silent for a long while—so long that I check if the call disconnected. Eventually, she says, “Have you considered that my being there might make things worse? That if I come back before I’m ready, I might stumble again? Do you think that’d be good for her?”
“No, of course not.”
“I’m a mom, and I’m a cop, Aaron. When I come back home, come back to work—I need to be sure I’m ready to face the challenges and responsibilities that?—”
“I get it,” I insist.
“Then let me go, Aaron. I’ll be back when I’m ready.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying hard not to cry. But the stress is creating a fire-hot ball in my chest, and I’m so fucking tired. Exhausted from being worried. Worried Sadie can see how exhausted I am.
What if she never gets better? What if she never comes back?
“Talk to her at least,” I try. “Please, Josie. Just talk to your daughter for five minutes. Tell her you miss her, that you love her and you’ll come back to her. Please .”
She hesitates and I hold my breath, waiting.
Until the signal tells me she hung up.
She hung up.
On me—on her daughter.
“Daddy! Can I have the PB&J now?”
My chin is shaking, my eyes burning so much I can barely keep them open, and I’m pretty sure if I hold on to this phone any longer, I’ll crack it.
But I’m all Sadie has. For now, and maybe forever. So I force a smile on my face and get up to take care of my kid.