Lies and Lullabies

by Sarina Bowen

  I made a noise of dismay, but Adam held up a hand. “No lawyer would negotiate child support without those things, Kira. That’s just standard procedure. But I don’t like their cover letter. It hints that they’re going to push for joint legal custody.”

  “Legal custody,” I whispered. “That means he could make decisions for her?”

  Adam nodded. “But, like I said, the guy might be posturing. I expected him to ask for what’s called ‘reasonable visitation.’” He made quote marks with his fingers.

  I felt as though the floor were dropping out from under me. “He said he’d never try to take her away from me. That was three days ago.”

  “Mama?” I whipped my head around to see Vivi standing in the doorway. “Where is Purple Kitty?”

  I took a deep breath and steadied myself. Then I got up to help Vivi find a tattered stuffed cat.

  Later, when Vivi was asleep, Adam and I sat together on the couch, plotting together in low voices.

  “I’ll call his lawyer tomorrow,” Adam promised. “I’ll try to figure out what he’s really trying to accomplish. The problem is that after you swab for a paternity test, it takes a week or ten days to come back. And he has no incentive to level with me until he has the results.”

  I fingered my phone. “Jonas has been calling me, but we haven’t connected. What am I supposed to say to him?”

  Adam’s gray eyes were full of concern. “You could tell him that you can only speak through your lawyers for now. If he’s going to play hardball, then so can you.”

  “God, I’m no good at hardball.”

  He smiled. “You are when it comes to me.”

  “Are you suggesting that I hide the plaintiff’s clean underwear until he does what I asked?”

  He shook his head. “That judge may construe that as harassment. However, as your lawyer, I’d advise you not to hide his salami until this is settled.”

  “Adam! I would never.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Um, never?”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “He’s still hot, though.”

  “No kidding.” But that didn’t help my case. “Adam, what’s the worst thing that could happen here?”

  “The worst thing? A meteor hits Boston.”

  I gave his knee a little shove. “I’m not kidding. Don’t mock.”

  “I’m not.” He leaned back against the couch, making himself comfortable against the cushions. “A lawyer’s job is to prepare for the unlikeliest scenarios. It’s your job to worry about the likelier ones.”

  “Fine. What’s the worst likely outcome, then. Hit me.”

  “Well, if he’s a vindictive asshole, he’ll pursue this joint-custody thing for real. The judge isn’t likely to grant it, though, because the state cares about Vivi’s welfare. And a child who lives in a good home shouldn’t be yanked out of it. That’s common sense.”

  I sensed a “but” coming. “Then why are you worried?”

  He toyed with the piping on the edge of the couch. “Because they might have a shot at convincing the judge that your deception is grounds for an unusual decision. The other side could argue that if he’d known about Vivi, he wouldn’t be a stranger in the first place.”

  I groaned.

  He reached over and pulled on my ponytail. “You asked me for the ugly version. I still think it’s just posturing.”

  “I hate this.”

  “I know. But this too shall pass.”

  I made another irritated sound and picked up my phone. Tapping the message app, I stared at Jonas’s message. When is a good time to talk?

  I wanted to reply: Does never work for you?

  But I didn’t do it. I didn’t reply at all.

  Eleven

  Jonas

  I lay in my bunk on the tour bus, staring at the ceiling, feeling tense. A movie blared from the big screen in the forward lounge. Since I heard frequent gunfire, I supposed Nixon had chosen the film.

  It got quiet, and for a moment I could almost hear my own thoughts. Just when I was beginning to relax, the blast of a Hollywood explosion tore through me.

  I sat up fast, nearly bumping my head. Pushing the curtains aside, I slipped to the floor and stomped up the aisle. “Could you turn that fucking thing down?”

  Two faces turned in my direction, each one reflecting mild surprise.

  Yes, I’m about to lose my shit, here. Thank you for noticing.

  They turned back to the screen, but Nixon reached for the remote, and a few seconds later the sounds of faux brutality dimmed somewhat.

  I went back to my bunk and put on a pair of noise-canceling headphones. But now I’d have to hold my phone in my hand, in case Kira finally called me back. If I couldn’t hear the ring, at least I’d feel the vibration.

  And where was she? The silence was killing me.

  It had been six days since my life blew up bigger than the blasts on my friends’ movie screen. And every hour that Kira avoided me left me feeling lower than the hour before.

  One thing was clear. If I’d had the balls to answer Kira’s letter five years ago, this could have been avoided. I’d have a daughter who knew my name. And possibly a wife.

  I’d had a chance at something real, and I’d blown it. Spectacularly. I’d let Kira think that I didn’t care. And all because I was afraid to put my heart on the line.

  All I’d had to do was pick up the phone. And everything would have been different.

  There would still have been difficult conversations, I reminded myself. When she’d discovered she was pregnant, I would have panicked for sure. And maybe wrecked everything.

  But maybe not. And now I’d never know.

  My phone vibrated.

  Ripping off the headphones, I craned my neck to read the screen.

  FLASH SALE! Up to 40% off brand name amps and pedals!

  Fucking email. I dropped my head back onto the pillow. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I tapped Kira’s phone number, dialing her. Again.

  It went straight to voicemail. Do not pass Go, do not collect proof of her existence.

  This was getting a little ridiculous, right? I’d been trying to give her a few days to get over the shock of seeing me. But my bus would arrive in Boston in forty-eight hours. And if she wouldn’t take my calls, how was I going to arrange to see her?

  It was time for the nuclear option.

  I pulled up her brother’s phone number and tapped it. Adam’s phone rang, at least. “Hello?” he answered tentatively.

  “Adam, this is Jonas Smith,” I said. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine, thank you.” His voice was cool. “But I think it’s best if you communicate through your lawyer for the time being.”

  “My lawyer? What the hell for?”

  There was a pause before Adam spoke again. “Jonas, you need to talk to your lawyer. Because he’s asking Kira for things that make it difficult for her to take your call right now. You can’t have it both ways.”

  “What? I’m not asking for anything.”

  “If that’s true, then you need to have your lawyer call me,” Adam said.

  Then he hung up.

  I stared at my phone for a second, wondering what the hell had just happened. Then I slid off my bunk and ran to the rear of the bus, past the stainless-steel kitchen with its shiny glass tiles. Past the tiny marble bathroom. Past each ridiculous show of opulence that some clown had decided belonged on a bus.

  Instead of knocking on the door to the rear lounge, I slid it open and burst inside. “Ethan?”

  The big man looked up at me over the rims of his reading glasses. He had itineraries spread out in front of him on the built-in table. “Yeah?”

  “What did Peters do?”

  Ethan removed his glasses with a frown. “I have no idea. But from the look on your face, I’m guessing it wasn’t good.”

  I slid the door to the lounge shut. After sitting down across from Ethan, I repeated what Adam had said, word for word. “If P
eters went in with guns blazing, then we need to hire somebody else to handle this.”

  Ethan pushed his itineraries out of the way and took out his phone. “Let’s take a deep breath first. You don’t haul off and fire the firm that’s negotiating your next contract with the record label.”

  “Fuck the contract. This is more important. Times a hundred.”

  The bald man looked up from his phone and smiled at me. “Okay, Jojo. I’m with you. Let’s divvy this up. You call Peters and try to figure out how big an asshole he’s been. I’ll work on scoping out a new lawyer.”

  “How are you going to do that?” I asked, scrolling for Peters’s number.

  Ethan didn’t answer, because he’d already placed a call. “Hi Adam, this is Ethan, do you remember me? I sure remember you.” A private smile crept across his face. “Aw, I like your grumpy lawyer voice. It’s hot. But this is a business call, after all. It seems we might need a new lawyer. Preferably in Massachusetts. And preferably one who listens when we talk. I was hoping you could save us some time and recommend someone.” He grinned to himself again. “Sure, I’ll hold.”

  “You’re flirting with Kira’s pissed-off brother?” I hissed. “How is that a good idea?”

  “It’s a fine idea,” Ethan said, picking up a pen. A moment later he jotted a name and a number onto the corner of one of his file folders. “And this is a good guy? You trust him? Okay. Awesome. We’ll be in touch, once we figure out what the fuck is going on. Thank you.” Ethan hung up.

  I reached across the table for Ethan’s glass of ice water and drained it. “God, how did we end up here?”

  “Oh, honey. Did they not teach sex ed at your school?”

  I gave him an irritated groan and put my forehead down on the table. I’d been so angry at Kira for not telling me about Vivi. And now that I was getting used to the idea of having a daughter, my lawyer was fucking everything up.

  I’d been an idiot to walk away from Kira. And I hoped I’d get the chance to say so.

  Twelve

  Kira

  I was cleaning up from lunch on Monday when I got a text from Adam. New paperwork from Jonas’s new lawyer. Reasonable visitation! *fist bump*

  I dialed Adam immediately. “This is good, right?”

  “Hey!” he said, sounding happy. “I’m just running into a meeting. But yeah, this version is much better. You can relax. But now I have to go. I’m trying to cram as many billable hours into this week as I can. I have a client dinner tonight, too.”

  “I know. Sorry.” Instead of trying to relax and think positive thoughts, poor Adam was working overtime to prepare for his medical leave. “You can show me the papers tonight. I’ll wait up.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll messenger them over. You’ll feel better if you read it yourself. Gotta hop.”

  I let him go. Since Vivi was singing her way through nap time instead of sleeping, I went into her room and sat on the bed. “I don’t have to work today. So we can go to the park later.”

  Vivi sat up so fast that her curls bounced against her face. “How ’bout now?”

  I should have seen that coming. Adam sometimes referred to her as the Little Negotiator. He’d suggested that we should be setting aside money for Vivi’s inevitable law school tuition. “Not yet, sweetie. I’m waiting for a package.”

  Her eyes got wide. “For my birthday?”

  “Not this time,” I said quickly. “It’s just some boring papers. But after it comes, we’ll go out to the swings.”

  “Can I push my doll stroller?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can we get ice cream?”

  It was like living with two lawyers. “Maybe.”

  Vivi clapped her hands, as if it were a done deal. Then she wiggled off the bed and went to choose which dolls would have the honor of riding to the park.

  Twenty minutes later, the intercom buzzed.

  That was fast. I went to the door and pressed the button allowing the messenger access to the elevator.

  Vivi came skidding out of her bedroom. “Your boring papers are here?”

  “I think so. Unless you ordered a pizza.”

  Her forehead crinkled. “We already had lunch.”

  I laughed. “I’m kidding. Go find your shoes.”

  Vivi tore out of the room again. The messenger tapped on the door, so I pulled it open.

  And came face to face with Jonas.

  For a long moment, I just stood there like an idiot, staring into his indecently attractive turquoise eyes.

  “Hi,” Jonas said quietly, his lips twitching.

  “Why are you… here now?” I sputtered.

  He frowned. “I told you I was coming to Boston for a show.”

  “Tomorrow night,” I protested. I’d assumed I’d have a good twenty-four hours before we shared a city. I’m not ready.

  There had been other times when his band played Boston venues, I’d wondered where he was, and if he’d even remember me.

  If a girl could get a degree in self-torture, I’d already have the diploma. With honors.

  Jonas put a hand to the back of his neck, still peering at me. “The show is tomorrow night, that’s true. But we drove all night so that I could sign papers for my new lawyer.”

  “Oh,” I said stupidly.

  Vivi clattered into the room behind me. “I’m ready!” she yelled.

  I turned to see her pushing her toy double stroller, a doll strapped into each side. When she saw Jonas at the door, she stopped. “Oh, it’s you again.”

  Jonas burst out laughing. “What a greeting. From both of you.”

  Vivi had her hands on her hips. “Did you bring the boring papers? I can’t go to the park unless they come.”

  He held his hands out to the sides, empty. “Sorry.”

  “You want to see my dolls?”

  “Sure!” Before I could argue, Jonas had slipped past me into the living room. He went right over to the rug and sat, criss-cross applesauce, as if it were a perfectly ordinary part of his rock-and-roll day to plop down for a tea party. “Introduce me.”

  Vivi began an elaborate description of the merits of each doll. I stood by my open door like a zombie, trying to figure out just how this had happened. The door buzzer went off again, and because I was standing right beside it, I jumped.

  The messenger had finally arrived. I buzzed him up and signed for the package.

  “Yes!” Vivi leaped to her feet. “We can go to the park now.”

  Jonas caught her by the hand. “Give your mom a minute to read her boring papers, okay?”

  I didn’t know whether to be grateful that he was trying to distract Vivi, or annoyed that he’d show up in the first place. I walked past the two of them, slitting the big envelope with my thumb as I went.

  “Do you know it’s my birthday soon?” Vivi asked.

  “I’d heard that,” Jonas said gently. “What do you want for your birthday?”

  “A pony,” Vivi said immediately. “Or a rowboat. But I can’t have those because we live in the city.”

  “Ah,” he sympathized. “Ponies don’t like elevators.”

  My daughter continued to babble to Jonas, and I tuned them out so I could skim the contents of the envelope. The first sheet was a short letter.

  * * *

  Dear Kira,

  Please accept my apology for the documents you received from my previous law firm. I would never try to take your daughter away from you.

  (My new lawyer did not want me to put that in writing. Lawyers are trained to think of all the outlandish possibilities. But since you’re not the kind of girl who is likely to start a meth lab in your kitchen, I’m just going to go out on a limb here and assume that my intervention for Vivi’s welfare will never be necessary.)

  Enclosed please find a standard “complaint to establish paternity.” (I don’t like the word “complaint,” but that’s what they call these things.) After a judge helps me establish that I am Vivi’s father, I will request “reason
able visitation.” But not before discussing it with you.

  Again, I apologize for any anxiety my crack legal team has caused. That was never my intention.

  Sincerely,

  John Jonas Smith

  The complaint to establish paternity was the only other document in the envelope. It was not quite two pages long and entirely straightforward.

  I let out my breath for what felt like the first time all week.

  Thirteen

  Jonas

  Kira’s shoulders visibly relaxed. Thank fuck. If there was any justice, I’d make it through the next forty-eight hours without finding brand-new ways to alienate her.

  It was pretty trippy to be sitting in her apartment. I wanted to wander through the rooms and get a better picture of her life. Or—even better—to sit beside her and ask questions. I wanted to take a seat at one of those barstools separating the kitchen from the living area and listen to her talk about her day.

  Years ago, I’d loved sitting at the general store’s counter in Maine, letting her musical voice wash over me and watching the flutter of her pulse at her neck as she worked.

  But that wasn’t in the cards today. Because every time I managed to get close to Kira, I found a way to ruin it. It was tempting to blame this latest disaster on my ham-fisted West Coast lawyer, but as usual, I’d been asleep at the wheel when it counted.

  Beside me, Vivi was describing the life cycle of a butterfly. My baby was a talker, that was for sure. A lucky thing. It gave me an excuse to observe her, taking in the sound of her high little voice, and the way her eyes were quick and warm, like Kira’s.

  “…And then the larva eats and eats. And then it finds a leaf to stick on.”

  “It has to make a cocoon, right?” I put in.

  “Nope,” Vivi corrected me mercilessly. “You call it a chrysalis. Cocoons are for moths. That’s different. A butterfly has a chrysalis. Chrysalis, chrysalis, chrysalis!”