Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Sophia
“I hate to bring down the vibe, but Josh is set to be released next week and I don’t know how to handle it.”
“Hire a hitman?” she suggests. I’m confident she’s only half joking.
I scowl at her through the video chat as I stop at a red light. “Without committing a crime, preferably.”
She rolls her eyes. “You could have mentioned you only wanted boring solutions.”
“I only want boring – reasonable – solutions, please.”
“Well what did your lawyer say?”
I’m driving home from my lawyers appointment as we speak. It didn’t exactly go badly, but I wouldn’t go as far as saying it went well, either. Anything that involves Josh being anywhere but behind bars, was always going to be a source of stress for me. My lawyer is doing her best, but sometimes it all feels like it’s spiralling out of control.
“She said that he wants to be able to see Ari when he’s released. He’s applied for weekly or fortnightly visitation. I think his lawyer plans to use his good behaviour record from prison as a selling point. I was told he’s been writing Aria letters every week.”
“She’s a baby. She can’t read a fucking letter,” she drawls. “What a hero.”
“I’m well aware, but I guess it paints a picture of a father who misses his child. I can only assume that was the whole point.”
“Slimy piece of shit.”
“I think I’ll have to give him the benefit of the doubt, or I’ll cry.”
“You can be delulu on your own time, nerd, what else did she say?”
“She was telling me that technically I have custody of Aria at the moment, and the right to make the decisions, but if he wants to take me to court at some point to challenge that, there’s nothing stopping him.”
“No judge is going to give that dipshit custody of a toddler. ”
“I hope not, but you never know, and maybe they won’t give him any day to day custody, but what if they agreed to let him have her every weekend, or even every second. I don’t think I could handle him taking her for an afternoon unsupervised yet.”
“Could you agree to supervised visits? A couple of hours every Sunday or something to start with? At least then you get to see what he’s like for a while before he’s alone with her. And it looks like you’re willing to help him maintain a relationship with his kid.”
“I think that might be the best of a bunch of shit choices.”
“Have you had to talk to him yourself yet?”
I shake my head. “I think we’ll have to do mediation once he’s actually out.”
“Slip something in his drink while you’re there, eliminate the problem.”
“What part of not committing a crime did you not understand?”
“Sorry, sorry, no murder, I forgot.”
“How are you not in jail already?”
“It’s a mystery. Does he get drug tested and shit?”
“Nothing has been officially decided yet, but my lawyer said that will be the case. He should have to get regular drug and alcohol checks, and he’ll be on probation for a long time.”
“What about the restraining order? ”
“I don’t really know. I don’t know if I have to throw the whole thing out if I agree to him seeing Aria, or if the visits could be an exception. I don’t know what he’s going to be like… if he’s stable, or a mess. It might be fine to get rid of that order, or my life might depend on it.”
“You should go and give talks in high school about the risks of teenage pregnancy. If this isn’t a walking ad for contraception, I don’t know what is.”
“Gee thanks,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“Nothing personal, girl, but like for serious, other than that adorable little squish, your whole situation is a shit show.”
I shouldn’t take offense to that, but it’s hard. It’s not like I don’t know it’s true, but it sucks. No one wants a criminal for a baby daddy. No one loves domestic violence. Restraining orders aren’t a fun time.
Fuck, maybe I should give speeches in schools after all.
“I think you’re just going to have to see what happens, Soph. You won’t know what you’re dealing with until he’s out and you see if he’s spent his time in there getting better or worse. Then you just do whatever you think is best for you and Aria. At least you’ve got your knight in shining armour to keep you safe now.”
I shouldn’t rely on Bryson for safety the way I do, but here we are. I know he wouldn’t have it any other way .
“You’re right. I guess hearing that he’s behaved enough to get out a little bit early is a good sign. They wouldn’t be doing that if he was a crack head in a gang, right?”
“I’m not overly familiar with prison rules, but I’m pretty sure good behaviour means keeping your nose clean and not throwing up any gang signs.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“What does step-daddy Bry think?”
I shake my head in amusement. She’s such a smart bitch.
“He’s all for a hit man too.”
“Smart man that one. Always liked him.”
I hear a beeping and glance down at my phone to see I’ve got another call coming in from a private number.
“I’ve gotta go, that could be my lawyer calling.”
“Alright, be safe, call me if you need any encouragement to incite violence.”
I end the video call and pick up the voice call.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Sophia?”
I don’t recognise the voice.
“It is.”
“Oh good, I finally got hold of you. This is Maria.”
“Maria…?” I probe.
“Maria Tonks. Joshua’s mother.”
She sounds a little irritated about having to explain further, but I don’t know what she expected. I’ve met the woman once, and she’s never tried to call me before.
“Oh. Right. Um hi, how are you?” I stumble over my words, unsure what to say.
“I’m much better now that my boy will be free again soon, I’ve missed him terribly. I’m sure you feel the same way.”
I don’t know what to say back to that. I guess I could tell her that I wish they’d lock him up and throw away the key, but I won’t. If she’s anything like Josh, she probably wouldn’t appreciate that.
“That’s good. Is there something I can do for you?” I dart around giving any opinions.
“Well I was planning a welcome home party for him, and I want to know what time I can collect my granddaughter.”
What the fuck.
There is no universe in which I would be agreeable to letting this woman, this stranger , take my daughter, let alone to a party for Joshua, fresh out of jail.
This bitch must be high.
“Ah, I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking?” I laugh – a nervous habit when I’m uncomfortable.
“For the party,” she says, definitely irritated now, “obviously Aria is going to need to be there to welcome him home, and I understand the two of you have your differences to work through, and that you won’t be able to be there right away, so I’ll collect Aria and take her there myself.”
She’s talking to me like I’m an idiot for not understanding. You could be forgiven for thinking she was a regular fixture in Aria’s life, and that she was talking total sense, not this utter nonsense.
She’s seen Aria twice in her life, when she was a little baby. And then Josh and her got into some big fight, and she didn’t talk to him again for months. He’s been locked up since, and not once has she ever tried to reach out to me until now.
I’m baffled, honestly. I don’t know how to respond.
“I’m not sure what Josh might have told you, but he’s not allowed to have Aria, not at the moment.”
“You’re not listening to me, Sophia,” she snaps.
I balk at the harshness in her tone.
“I’m not saying Joshua will have her. I’ll have her, and take her to see him. What part of that are you not understanding? Now, what time can I pick up my granddaughter?”
I don’t appreciate the way she keeps saying ‘my granddaughter’, as though she has some right to Aria. She has no right to anything. We barely know her, and she’s clearly not entirely sane, not if she really thinks I’m going to just hand over my child to her like that.
I sigh. I guess this is going to have to turn into an argument .
“Look, Maria. I don’t want to be a bitch about it, but Aria will not be going with you, certainly not to see her father. The only way Josh will be seeing her, is through whatever means our lawyers and the courts decide is right and fair. If he can prove himself to be reliable and stable, then maybe in time he might get time alone with her. But she will not be going anywhere with you. She doesn’t even know you, and neither do I.”
There’s silence for a brief moment before she starts screeching at me, telling me what a horrible bitch I am, how I have no compassion, how I don’t care about what’s best for Aria.
It’s ironic really, because I’m fairly sure that what’s best for Aria, is to be as far away from her as possible.
She sounds like a crazy person.
I’m going to have to tell my lawyer about this.
Thank god this woman has no idea where I live.
“Maria,” I try to interrupt her, but I doubt she can hear anything over all her yelling.
“MARIA!” I try again.
She still doesn’t stop.
Fuck this.
I end the call. There’s no way I’m going to sit here and try and talk sense to a moron.
I don’t know where she gets off, thinking she has any right to demand such irrational shit.
Bitches be crazy, man .
I think about rushing home, but decide I should write that all down now, while it’s fresh in my mind – although I don’t think I’ll be forgetting that encounter anytime soon.
I pull over to the side of the road to email my lawyer, and ask for advice. Maria tries to call me three more times while I’m typing, but I end them all without answering.
This is just wonderful. I love myself a disgruntled grandmother.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any more stressful.
“Thank you. I was sure that was the situation, but I just wanted to know for sure, in case she were to turn up here or something.”
I finish my call, calmer than I was when I started it, and head into the living room where I can hear Bryson and Aria playing.
Aria is giggling away like crazy. That sound always makes me smile.
I don’t know what game they’re playing, but it sounds like they’re both totally into it.
I walk into the room to find Bryson with a tiara on, and a wand in his hand, and Aria giggling uncontrollably, wearing a dress up frog head.
I bite back a laugh as I watch from the doorway .
He seems to be pretending to be a fairy of some sort, and he’s turned her into a frog.
“We might have to get you some glittery wings,” I say.
He snaps his head around to find me, and grins when he sees me watching the two of them.
Most men would probably lose the sparkly headpiece pretty quickly, or at least look a bit embarrassed to be caught playing fairy, but not Bryson. He’s totally lacking in shame when it comes to playing whatever Aria wants. He let her put makeup on him the other day.
“I think that would complete the look nicely,” he agrees.
“And what is this in my living room? Is that a frog?” I ask animatedly.
Aria giggles again and tries to frog hop in my direction. “Wibbit.” She laughs.
“Oh my gosh, not a slimy little frog, I better scoop her up and put her outside,” I tease her before picking her up from the ground and pretending to walk towards the door.
“Muuuummmmaaa!” Aria yells, laughing hysterically. “Ari not frog.” She tugs the frog dress up off her head, and beams at me, her hair a crazy, frizzy mess.
“Oh my gosh, Ari-bug! I thought you were a real frog!”
“Silly mumma.”
“She also asked me to magic her hair into spaghetti,” Bryson informs me.
I laugh. We played with playdough yesterday with those heads that have the holes in the top for the dough to come out in little strings. I told her they were spaghetti heads.
“Basketti head!” Ari cries.
“You’re a spaghetti head!” I tickle her belly before putting her back down on the ground.
She runs over to her play kitchen and starts banging around in there, laughing and talking to herself.
I grab Bryson’s hand and drag him down to sit next to me on the couch.
“Thank you for entertaining her.”
He scoffs at me, still wearing his tiara. “You don’t have to thank me, I love hanging out with her, she’s the best.”
We both look over at her, her little blonde head a mess, but happy and content.
“She really is the best.”
She comes running over, holding up a small plastic frying pan that she seems very excited about for some reason.
To my surprise, she bypasses me and goes straight to Bryson. “Bear, wook!” she says, holding it out to him.
“Wow, Ari-bug, that’s a pretty cool frying pan,” he replies, looking it over like he’s genuinely interested.
She beams at him, and as though I’m not even there, takes it back from him and runs back to her kitchen.
This repeats about six times, with her bringing him things, and him treating them as though they’re the most spectacular things he’s ever laid eyes on.
Each and every time, she calls him ‘Bear’.
“Bear… When did she start doing that?” I ask him. I should probably know the answer to that, I’m her mother, but this is new to me.
He shrugs. “Today is the first time I’ve heard it. I was trying to teach her to say my name and she just kept coming out with ‘bear’, and then giving her head a satisfied nod, like she had it exactly right.”
I laugh. That sounds like my daughter. She’s like Joey thinking he’s speaking French on Friends .
“That’s pretty cute.”
“I think so.”
He looks so chuffed. He’s proud as punch to have a nickname from a little girl.
“You’re pretty happy with yourself, aren’t you?”
A huge grin breaks out on his face, a rare sight for this man. It’s so dazzling, it renders me speechless.
“You want to know if I’m happy that little munchkin seems to adore me as much as I adore her? Yeah, I think happy is an understatement, baby.”
Well, I can’t argue with that.