Chapter 34
Reed
The next morning, with a heavy pit in my stomach, I went through the regular motions.
The routine Abi and I had successfully fallen into.
Abi was quiet, contemplative, on the short drive to the school.
I walked her to her classroom and peeked in to see Cici talking with another parent.
She gave me a little wave as she continued giving the parent her attention, and I ducked out even though I longed for her voice and her touch and the missed opportunity to sneak a kiss.
Back at home, I sat through meetings, barely comprehending the topics and my deliverables, but I’d have to cross that bridge when my head was in a better place.
I exited my final meeting of the morning and dropped my head.
Rubbing my temples, I tried to relieve the throbbing, but I knew this wasn’t a simple headache. My whole body ached with dread.
Like the saint she was, Nina called just as I was on the verge of breaking down. “Hey, Reed, I just wanted to go over the plans for this afternoon to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“Okay, yeah.”
“You doing okay?” As always, Nina went above and beyond in her job.
While she was meant to support our family unit and determine what was best for Abigail within my time of trial, her empathy and willingness to talk through my issues as a parent was the only lifeline I’d had for what felt like forever, at least until Cici.
Nina never crossed the line into friendship, but she cared like a friend would, and I’d always felt that genuineness from her.
I scrubbed at my hair, unsure how to answer.
Nina was our caseworker, but she wasn’t in charge of the final custody allocation.
How much could I share without making myself look like a bad parent?
Why should my feelings count when it was Abigail who was unknowingly being tossed around in this battle?
“It’s okay if you’re feeling your own pressure or pain from this, Reed.”
“Thank you,” I sighed. “My focus is Abigail, of course, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fearful for her or spiteful toward them.
” I urged down the ugly emotions before they made their way further into the space around me.
“But I know to keep that separate from Abi, and to be honest, Nina, she’s really excited about today.
I can tell she’s nervous, but she has been curious about having a grandmother. ”
“That’s wonderful.” Nina’s smile was clear in her voice. “And I want to assure you, and her, that I’ll be there as her safe person. Just tell her she better bring me some of those Scooby fruit snacks.”
I loosed a chuckle, appreciating Nina’s attempt at comedic relief. I trusted her. Abi did too. A tinge of relief swept through me, masking the hurt and anger that continued to threaten my mind’s stability.
“So, I’ll meet you at the Spaghetti Factory parking lot, quarter to six? Does that still work?”
I jotted down the time and place, even though it was etched in my memory since the moment the plans were set. I’d written it on several Post-its, scribbled it in my planner, and had it on my Google calendar.
“Yep, we will be there.” I let out a big sigh and pictured the memory of last night.
The happy moments Cici and Abi shared, and how much Abi couldn’t wait to slurp pasta.
As I ended the call with Nina, I let my head hang back in my seat.
“It will be okay,” I reassured myself, even if it was halfheartedly.
By the time I stepped into the classroom to pick up Abigail after school, I had ordered our groceries, laundered and folded every button-up, tee, and tutu, and matched every tiny sock and sorted them.
Cupcake socks were her new favorite, and I swore she hid them from her laundry basket so she could wear them a few times before washing.
The girl had stinky feet, but if it made her happy, there were worse things than foot odor.
I’d heard the phrase “pick your battles,” and the sock one was definitely one I didn’t want to revisit.
Cici was deep in conversation with Jill, of all people. Abigail was nearly latched on her leg, standing as close to her as possible without spider monkeying all over her. Remaining engaged with Jill, Cici patted Abi’s shoulder and pointed to me. She didn’t wave, just nodded with apologetic eyes.
I didn’t miss how Jill’s gaze passed between Cici and me, so with a lame smile and nonchalant nod, I grabbed Abi’s hand and headed out.
The feel of her hand in mine momentarily stopped the panic that had been quivering through me all day.
I wanted to pull her into me. Pick her up like I did when she was a toddler.
Tip her upside down and pretend I was going to let her fall, but she knew I’d never let her go.
The tightening in my chest strained further. Tonight I’d have to let her go.
Once in the hall, I rolled my shoulders and exhaled loudly.
“Do you need to do a snake breath, Uncle Reed?”
“Huh?”
Abi rolled her eyes at me, because I was a complete imbecile, obviously. “You breathe like a snake, and it helps you calm down.”
Does she feel my nerves? Do I really look like I need a breath named after a terrifying reptile? How is that supposed to be calming?
I patted her head. “No, Abbers, I’m fine.” Last thing my sweet niece needed was to carry my tension with her.
She was quiet on the drive. When we got home, she flopped on the couch, legs crisscrossed, shoes strewn on the floor, and her lunch box on her lap. She usually finished off the remainder of her lunch after school, polishing off crackers and treasured fruit snacks.
A couple cushions down, I just sat with her. After enduring an episode of some high-pitched sing-along fairy shit, I turned to her and looked at her box of hardly touched food. “How come you didn’t eat your lunch today, Abbers?” It wasn’t scolding, just a genuine question.
She shrugged, eyes still on the TV. “Wasn’t hungry.”
That was concerning, considering there were times she’d requested extra sandwiches because one was not enough. I prodded a little further. “Did you nail that William kid in the face at dodgeball today?”
Another shrug. “I didn’t play dodgeball today.”
“Too busy showing everyone who’s boss on the monkey bars?”
Her little mouth twitched, but she still didn’t turn her head to me. I checked my watch. We had an hour left to go before meeting Nina. “Abbers, do you want to change before we go to the Spaghetti Factory?”
She nodded but looked at her hands, which were twisting and turning in her lap.
She didn’t make a move to get up and change, so we sat in silence for another moment until…
“Uncle Reed?” Her little voice was quieter than I’d heard in a long time, and her timidness squeezed my heart.
I turned to her and scooted one cushion closer. “What if my grandma doesn’t like me?”
“Well, that’s impossible.” I tossed up my hands as if she’d said the most ridiculous thing ever. Which she did. But I couldn’t tamp down the fear that as much as my mother would adore Abi, she’d still try to change her. Just like she and Bruce had with Caroline.
Abi’s smile crept on her face, and I continued, hoping to lighten her spirits.
“Abigail Marsh, you are the most wonderful, beautiful, creative kid I’ve ever known.
There is no way in the entire world of grandmas that any single one of them wouldn’t love you the moment they saw you.
” I patted her head, and her smile grew.
“Plus, you have the best knock-knock jokes. Now go get dressed.”
She skipped toward the hall, then turned. “Knock, knock?”
I played along with a grin. “Who’s there?”
She rose on her tiptoes in delight and squeaked, “Olive.”
“Olive who?” I mimicked her voice, mine cracking as I tried to reach her high pitch.
She ran back and jumped on me with a big hug, shouting, “Olive you!”
This fucking kid. I hugged her back with all my might, wiggling as I held her, and she squealed and laughed. Her heart was so strong, and I’d be damned if anyone in this world didn’t like her. If they didn’t love her, they didn’t deserve her.
She ran to her room to dress and returned ten minutes later wearing something so very, very Abigail that I couldn’t hold back my huge grin as she twirled for me.
Striped leggings. T. rex—with rainbow hearts—socks, with her well-worn Converse All Stars.
Her tutu was pink with rainbow sparkles, and her long-sleeved top was rainbow striped.
She plopped the biggest pink bow on the top of her messy head of curls, almost losing it in the sea of red.
She beamed like she was receiving an Oscar, clearly proud of her ensemble.
My mother never would have let Caroline in public like that.
Self-expression didn’t belong in clothing choices, hence why Caroline ended up with so many tattoos.
The idea of my prim and proper parents sitting at the Spaghetti Factory, slurping away with this chaotic ball of love and fun, made me wish I could turn invisible and join them.
Go rock their world, Abbers.
As we pulled into the restaurant parking lot, Abi’s feet kicked nervously from her booster seat behind me, vibrating into the back of my seat, mirroring my nerves.
“We’re here,” I cheered listlessly, rummaging all the positive force I could but struggling.
Luckily, Nina’s car pulled in right next to us, grabbing Abi’s attention as she called out to her.
At least it was nice to start this tense moment with her welcoming face.
Abigail’s seat buckle released with a click, and I barely moved out of the way fast enough for her to spring over to Nina, who delighted in some fast-paced story Abi began blurting out.
But my hearing turned to static and my vision turned fuzzy as my mother approached the front of the restaurant.
Her designer purse was tucked against her body.
She looked tense, but it was most likely her turning her nose up at the food establishment.
How dare she be forced to dine at anything other than a five-star Michelin restaurant.
Seeing her standing there, alone and waiting, jostled a far-off memory of a time when we did eat in family-friendly restaurants.
Caroline, Mom, Dad, and me. Because back then, we were a family.
While we were never allowed to slurp, even back then, we were able to color on our placemats and play thumb war while we stuffed ourselves full of the free bread.
We ate hot dogs and mac ’n’ cheese, even at Italian restaurants, because we were kids and were allowed to be.
A little hand tucked into mine, bringing me back to this moment. I looked down at Abi’s sweet, nervous face, then squatted down and kissed the top of her head. “Go meet your grandma and show her how magical you are,” I whispered into her curls.
She nodded and let go of my hand. I watched in slow motion as she exchanged my hand for Nina’s and walked toward the restaurant, head high, feet a little bouncy, and sparkles glimmering in the sunset.