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been for some time. I settled her covers, brushed her hair back from her face, and took a
look around. She d been in here a solid year, her dolls and clothing and staggering
amount of pink doodads making a mess of the place; making it somehow her own. I
hadn t done much to make it permanent. I needed to paint this damn room pink. Get
some pink curtains. I sighed. Another trip to Target loomed on the horizon. I sensed I d
be spoiling this child if I wasn t careful.
L.B. Gregg
Wednesday, June 20th
I exercised in my home gym every morning before work. I d taken an empty room
on the second floor and filled it with an elliptical and some free weights. At six eighteen
the phone rang. I knew even before I picked up it was going to be the increasingly
difficult and verbally unimaginative Ben Martin. This was the fourth call. I wiped my
face on my shirt and answered the phone.
 Yeah.
 Weston?
 Yeah. Just get to it. I ve got things to do.
 You think this a joke? His voice hiked an octave.
 Isn t it? What s your goal, Ben Martin? Do you have a plan? Are you trying to get
custody of Molly? Visitation privileges? Are you making a political statement? Or, I
know I m reaching here, are you after money?
 You think anyone s going to let you keep the kid?
He was serious?  As original as that thought line is, Ben, you need to understand
that the law in this state is clear. I believe it ll come as no surprise to my attorney that
I m gay. You gave up your rights. I have guardianship. I m her next of kin, officially. So
tell me, what is it you really want?
 To drop this forever?
He was serious. Unbelievable.  You did that six years ago. What will it take for you
to stop calling? Another charge of harassment? I can handle that.
And he hung up. These calls were a waste of time and he was pissing me off. I set
Happy Ending
the answering machine and went to take my shower. Did he think I meant how much
money do you want? Idiot.
But while Molly was brushing her teeth and getting ready for her day with Miss
Pat, I was on the phone again this time with Trooper Gervase.
L.B. Gregg
Wednesday, June 20th, Late Afternoon
We were hanging out in the driveway after work. Molly was riding her bike in
circles, the dog was sleeping and snuffling, I was busy hosing mildew off some lawn
chairs and eating a granola bar, when a green Ford Escape pulled up to the curb. It was
packed with people. David Cooke climbed out of the driver s seat as kids spilled out of
every door. There were eight people crammed into that vehicle, like some kind of clown
car in a circus. The Cooke Family Circus. I shut off the hose. Molly dumped her bike
and ran down the driveway to Katie, who scrambled out last. I wondered if she d been
riding in the glove box. Where the hell had he fit all those kids? And wasn t that against
the law?
David pointed my way, and then addressed the horde.  This is Mr. Weston.
Behave or I ll kill you. I hadn t spoken to him since Monday evening, and I knew
instantly that he was here to apologize for his outburst.
A teenage girl, impossibly blond, lean and pretty, came over and held out her
hand,  Hi, Mr. Weston. I m Claire Cooke. I m eighteen. If you need a sitter, anytime, I m
available and my fee is negotiable. I have tons of experience, obvi, and I have
references. I took her hand, speechless. What the hell did obvi mean?
 Just excuse her. She s trying to buy a car and she s shameless about drumming up
business. Claire smacked him in the head, the gesture painfully familiar and lost to me
forever.
There were too many people, blond people, milling around my driveway. I felt
unusually introverted, hugely tall and old. I was used to the tall part. All the kids were
Happy Ending
talking at once, the noise raucous and high-pitched, and, glancing over at Molly, I saw
that she was basking in the attention and having the time of her life. The kids admired
her new bike and then they all started tearing through the grass after the dog, who
incredibly, was running.
 So. Sorry to show up like this, uninvited, but my parents live on Old South. I
promised them I d take the kids to DiPino s.
 They have good calamari, was the only thing I could think of to say.
David smiled carefully and spoke to me as if I were addled.  Yes, but not on the
menu for this crowd. I thought, while they re on West Street, maybe we could talk for a
few minutes.
I glanced at Molly, who was running behind the bigger children, her sneakers
muddy, her face glowing.
 She can go up with the kids for pizza. Doubtful. I hadn t ever let her do
something like that. Was that strange? I must have looked skeptical at his
pronouncement, because David went on to assured me,  Claire will keep an eye on
them, and Mary s fifteen, she s good. They ll be fine.
 I don t know. She s only six.
 Seth, she ll have fun. The kid needs to have some fun. Katie s six, too. It s right up
the street and we have cell phones.
The kids tore down the driveway toward us and I braced myself for collision. They
stopped mere inches from my feet, breathless and laughing, everyone chorusing their
hunger.
 I ll take them up. We ll be about an hour, okay, David? Claire took the two small
girls by the hand then turned toward me. She was a straight-shooter, that one.  Is that
all right with you, Mr. Weston? This one s on me. And she grinned so wide I could
finally see the resemblance to her brother. She had that manipulative gene.
 Please, Sethie, please please please? Molly begged while bouncing. I was going
to lose this battle.
 Okay. But you are to stay together and not let go of Claire s hand until you are in
the restaurant. No. Soda. The kids groaned in unison. Even David groaned. What? I
L.B. Gregg
relented.  One soda. She squeaked and jumped up and down more rapidly.
 Can it be root beer? Please? I sighed and nodded. The group left in a jumble,
taking the sidewalk by storm. They were only going a block and a half and I knew this
was no big deal, but it was still hard. I needed her in my sphere of control.
 She ll be fine, Seth, and back in an hour. And she ll tell you all about her
adventure. I swallowed. Molly was all I had left in the world and I liked her either
with me, Annabelle, or in school. David went on.  She s really a nice kid and she s well
behaved. It s Paulie Claire s going to have to nail to the floor. That s why we brought
Mary. She ll sit on him.
 C mon in. He followed me to the steps of the porch and on into the coolness of
the hallway. My air conditioner chugged away, keeping the house a blissful sixty-eight
degrees. The entry way was clean; the ladies I employed had come today, so the house
smelled of pine sol, dryer sheets, and fresh linens. I loved Wednesdays.
Tuckered out from her run and searching for a place to sleep, Prissy strolled in
behind us and plodded into the kitchen. We headed for the den, my favorite room in
the house. A TV, a sofa, some books, and wireless internet are all I required to relax. It
was a comfortable room. David began with no preamble as we entered.  I wanted to
stop by, say that I was sorry I hit you I m not usually violent and I thought maybe
you should know what I found this afternoon.
He pulled a familiar manila envelope from his back pocket and casually tossed it
onto the freshly dusted surface of my coffee table. I sat down on the couch and opened
it inside were the expected photos. They were the same. My face was still sinister and
I had another moment s regret. I squelched it. That episode had been consensual,
regardless of what was revealed in these images.
David took his keys and his phone from his back pocket, placing them on the table
and sat beside me on the couch. He eyed the photos critically.  I look far too into this.
Not as much the victim as one might think given that attractive snarl on your face. And [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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