The Risks We Take

by Barbara C. Doyle

  “It doesn’t count for anything! When were you ever there for me? When have you ever been a father figure?”

  “In ninth grade you scored the winning goal for your soccer team. Even though you seemed to love the game, you quit playing after that. I was there in the crowd watching, and I was always sad that I couldn’t go to more of your games.

  “Your sophomore year of high school, I watched you perform at a talent show, and you came in second. You won fifty dollars, which I later found out you used to buy groceries. Personally, I think the song you sang deserved first place, because that tap dancer who won nearly fell off the stage. I also think you should have spent that money on something for yourself, and not for your mother.”

  I couldn’t help but stare at him in shock, because not once did I ever see anybody other than Rosie and Jake in crowds for me when I was doing some event.

  “In your junior year of high school, I heard that you were in advanced classes. Knowing that my kid is smart is the best feeling, and you better believe I bragged to everybody I knew. Then your senior year came, and I noticed you didn’t participate in anything. You stayed in more. You weren’t in any clubs, didn’t play any sports, never did another show. You were just gone, and not being able to see you was not a good feeling.”

  My throat is closing up, with a lump forming in my throat.

  “I was at your graduation, you know.” He’s smiling now, his eyes trailing off like he’s remembering the distant memory. “My daughter, the valedictorian. Damn proud, Kasey. I told all the guys at work about you. Bill was probably sick of hearing me yammer on about you, but he always came with me to the events.”

  “Bill?” I whispered.

  He nods. “He was the one who told me about the things you were in. Heard it from Rosie. I don’t think she expected anything when he got the information, but nonetheless I went. Even sat by him at the graduation ceremony. Your speech about finding hope for a future, and going after your dreams was amazing. It crushed me when you weren’t listed as going to college.”

  I fight off the tears that want to spill over my cheeks. My chest is heavy with emotions I can’t even process as I try wrapping my head around what he’s telling me.

  “You were there?”

  “I didn’t miss one event. I’ve even been going to Taylor’s dance recitals. She’s getting better from when she started.”

  Shock turns into confusion, and my confusion bubbles into anger.

  Eyes narrowing and fists clenching, I demand, “You were fucking there? At everything? Were you hiding in a corner? Lurking in the shadows? If you made sure to come, why not actually speak to me? Why make me think that you didn’t give a shit this whole time!”

  “Your mother—”

  “Is sick! She has been sick for a long time, Dad. She needed you. I needed you. Taylor needed you.”

  “I know she did. I know.”

  “Do you?” I doubt, my voice getting louder. “If you really did, then where the hell were you? Did you ever stop by? Did you ever call? Did you ever write? No. You left us with a crazy bitch, while I was forced to grow up and take care of my little sister when it should have been you!”

  He let me get it off my chest before he continues, just watching me.

  “I showed up twice. Your mother wouldn’t let me in. She would never let me see you two. When I agreed to go, it was my assumption that I could come back at least to visit.”

  I blink. “You what?”

  He nods. “She didn’t want you girls to know that I was around. But I never left town. That may make you hate me more, but I want you to see that it’s my way of showing I’m dedicated. Have been this whole time.”

  Dedicated.

  The word is sour in my mind. He could have showed his dedication in other ways. He barely tried.

  “I fell out of love with your mother a long time ago,” he admits quietly. “But not once did I ever fall out of love with you.”

  I close my eyes, because if I don’t then the tears really will fall, and I don’t want him to see what he does to me. What he shouldn’t make me feel after all this time.

  I swear. I cuss. I tell myself to pull it together, because this is not who I am.

  “Is that why you cheated? Because you didn’t love her?”

  “Maybe.”

  Maybe.

  He doesn’t even know.

  I open my eyes once I know I won’t cry.

  “Is that all?”

  He shakes his head. “While I’m glad that you know I’m around, it’s not what I want you to understand.”

  The look in his hazel-green eyes makes anxiety rise in my stomach. I see how much I look like him. How much my mannerisms are the same. It scares me to see myself in somebody I hated for this long.

  “I want you to understand why I have to take Taylor.”

  Eleven words.

  One sentence.

  That’s all it takes to break my heart.

  Take Taylor. Take Taylor. Take Taylor.

  It repeats in my head like a broken record echoing like an empty cave. Jars me. Splits me. Breaks me.

  “You … you what?” My voice is weak. Defeated.

  “Kasey, please don’t take this personally. I’m doing this for the both of you.”

  My lips quiver. “Don’t. Don’t lie!”

  I stand up, my chair tipping over in the process. It smacks against the floor loudly, and the door opens with Amy bolting in like the place is on fire.

  “Don’t bullshit me into some sap story and then tell me that you’re taking her away! You haven’t been there for her like I have.”

  Amy steps forward. “Kasey—”

  “No!” I blast, dodging her extended hand. “I am so done being pushed around and bending over backwards just to be screwed over!”

  “Kasey, come on,” Dad pleas, standing up. “I’m not just doing this for Taylor. You need to live your life, not take care of somebody who shouldn’t be your responsibility.”

  I scoff. “You’re too late, Daddy Dearest. Taylor has always been my responsibility.”

  “What about college? What about getting away from this town?” he presses.

  “What about it?” I growl.

  He steps toward me. I step back. “You haven’t lived. You’ve been stretching yourself for everybody, and not once have you had time to just do what you want. I have never wanted that for you, and I don’t want that for Taylor.”

  My breathing becomes so ragged I feel like I might pass out. I brace myself against the table for support, just in case I lose my balance.

  “You’re existing,” he goes on. “You’ve got so much potential that you’ve had to give up just to take care of your family. That should have been my job, and now I’m taking responsibility. Please don’t hate me for this, Kay. Don’t think this is personal. I’m doing this because I love you, and because Taylor needs me.”

  I gasp for air and finally straighten out.

  “Do I even have a choice? A say?”

  His face says it all.

  Amy finally touches my arm. “Your father has a wonderful house just outside of town. It’s spacious, and it’s still in the district, so Taylor can stay in the same school. He’s a good choice for her, Kasey.”

  “And I’m not?”

  Her eyes sadden. “You’ve done an amazing job with her, but your father has a point. You’re so young. Take it from somebody like me. You need to experience life and you haven’t even had a taste. Do you really want to take care of a child on your own? To work at the diner for the rest of your life? If your father takes her, you can still see her. You can visit anytime you want. Nothing has to change drastically.”

  I look between them, the hurt still piling on my shoulders.

  “Taylor will be happy,” Dad promises.

  My jaw ticks. “You don’t know that.”

  He counters, “Do you know she’ll be perfectly happy with you?”

  I look away.

  “Neither of us
are going to make her happy all the time,” he tells me. “But just like you, I’m going to do my best.”

  I even out my breathing. “Will you give her everything she wants?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if she doesn’t need it?”

  He pauses. “Within reason.”

  “Another Barbie?”

  He nods.

  “A tutu? She only has three, so she’ll probably want more in different colors.”

  “Kasey—”

  “Cake? Her favorite is chocolate.” I pause, staring at him. “You don’t know what her favorite kind of pizza is. She’s very picky.”

  “Kasey—”

  “And she’s supposed to go to bed at seven thirty, but she’ll con you into reading Harry Potter until at least eight, and—”

  “Kasey!” he says again, putting his hands on my shoulders. “You need to breathe. I know that I’m not the best person in your mind, but I will be the best damn father to her. It’ll take some time to know what she likes, but I will figure it out, and I want you to help me. I want you in my life. In Taylor’s. She needs consistency.”

  I study him for a long moment, because I want to see the truth in his words. I want to know that he’ll protect her. Spoil her. Be there for her.

  But he hasn’t before. Not really.

  “How do I know you’ll stay, Dad?”

  I can see the flicker of hurt that I even have to ask, but there’s no way I can just go by his word. Not after he walked away once before.

  “I’m not the same man I was, Kasey. You’ll just have to let me show you that I’m in this for good. Plus, Amy will be taking the case. She wants to do visits. Check-ins. Everything is by the book. Everything will be documented. It’ll be okay.”

  It’ll be okay.

  “Can you promise me something?” he asks. “I know that you owe me nothing, and that making promises isn’t something you should have to do, but it would mean a lot to me.”

  I take a minute to think about it. To argue with myself about how I could tell him off or just agree to make things easier.

  I go with the latter.

  “What?” I find myself asking, voice barely audible.

  “Do something for yourself that you couldn’t do before. I don’t care what it is, just something that makes you happy. Can you do that?”

  I stare at him, throat thick from emotion, chest heavy from the turn of events.

  “Yeah,” I whisper, “I can do that.”

  Suddenly, there are voices yelling from outside the room and people are running around.

  “Whitman called it in,” Chief Daniell yells, jogging over to get his hat off the hook where it rests.

  I look around the frantic room, seeing pale faces and stricken expressions.

  “What’s happening?” I ask.

  Amy walks next to me. “I don’t know.”

  Somebody yells about an ambulance.

  Somebody else yells an address.

  A familiar address.

  The chief demands, “Did they get the bastard?”

  “He’s in cuffs, sir.”

  I’ve never seen Jeff look so livid. “I want two extra officers to go to the scene. Make sure that son of a bitch is detained. I’m going to the hospital.”

  Hospital.

  Scene.

  The address is repeated again over one of the radios hooked on the wall.

  My mother’s address.

  My childhood home.

  “What’s happening?” I ask louder, looking around. My mother was arrested. She’s here in the basement if it’s like where the others go. So why would there be people going to her house?

  Jeff walks over to me, expression void of any clear emotion. “There’s been an incident,” he tells me in a low voice. “We had a shooter situation, and an officer was shot.”

  My eyes widen. My stomach drops. My heart cracks, ready to completely break apart.

  No.

  “It’s Caldwell.”

  No. No, no, no.

  “W-what? What happened? Who?”

  He shakes his head. “He’s being taken to the hospital as we speak. I won’t know the details until I’m there. You should go home.”

  “What?” I demand. “I’m going with you! I’m going to see Jake!”

  “Kid, the last thing you need is this right now.”

  “I care about him, Jeff!”

  “And he’ll be in good hands,” he promises. “Now I have to go.”

  Before I can argue, he’s out the door.

  A hand rests on my shoulder.

  “Kasey?” Dad’s voice is soft. Too soft.

  My racing heart is the only thing I hear. Feel. It’s about to burst.

  “I-I have to go to the hospital.” My eyes go wide. “Oh my God. Somebody has to call Rosie.” I look at Dad, then at Amy. “Is somebody going to call her?”

  Amy’s ashen expression meets mine. “I’m sure somebody will at the hospital.”

  My hands are shaking, and my feet—once rooted to the floor—are now moving quickly to the front doors.

  All I can think about is Jake lying in the hospital.

  Jake’s been shot.

  Jake’s in the hospital.

  “Kasey!” Dad calls after me.

  But I don’t hear him.

  I just run.

  KASEY

  There’s too much noise in the waiting room, but not enough to stop the panic attack ensuing from all the thoughts.

  Rosie is sitting next to me, her body too still. She’s not fidgeting like I am. My knees are bouncing, my nails are all chewed down, and my eyes are shooting around the room every time a doctor walks by, while she just sits like a statue.

  Jake has been in the operating room for almost two hours. He was shot once in the chest, and once in the back. One bullet went right through. The other is lodged in between two ribs.

  Critical condition was thrown around.

  Against the odds was used once.

  Extensive blood loss.

  Blood transfusion.

  Rose puts her hand on my knee to stop it from moving. She’s staring at nothing, her eyes clouded over as the minutes tick by.

  Chief Daniell told us that there was a report of somebody breaking into Mom’s house. There was one officer watching over the property in case her boyfriend came back, since he was the one who supposedly supplied the drugs. But since I couldn’t find it in me to believe anything Mom said anymore, who knows what to believe?

  It’s why I decided that I wouldn’t bother seeing her again. Not during her trial. Not for visitation. She doesn’t deserve my time anymore, because she’s wasted enough of it.

  Either way, her sleazy boyfriend went back for the drugs, and brought a gun to greet anybody who tried stopping him. I assume the call Jake got when he dropped me off earlier was for backup at the house.

  Jake was shot because of my mother.

  All I could wrap my head around was one thing. “It’s my fault, Rosie.”

  “Hush, Kasey.”

  “Rose—”

  “You didn’t pull the trigger. Some deranged man did.”

  I close my eyes, and put my face in my hands without saying anything else.

  “Listen to me, and listen to me good,” she says in a ghostly tone. “I have never been a fan of your mother. I haven’t liked what she’s done, and what she continued to do. But even now, with my only son laying on that surgical table, I don’t hate her. Or blame her. How could I possible blame you if I don’t blame the person who brought that man into our lives?”

  I peel my face from my hands, and stare blankly at her.

  “How?” I ask. “How can you not blame her?”

  Her smile is empty. “Blame isn’t going to take back what happened. Jake will still be on that table if I did. So why put all my energy in blaming somebody, when I can put my energy into praying for something positive.”

  I put my hand on hers, not saying a word.

  We sit like that
for another forty minutes before anybody comes to see us.

  And when they do, their face says it all.

  “Mrs. Caldwell,” the white-haired doctor calls, voice grim.

  My heart is pounding so fast it hurts.

  “He’ll be awake soon, but … there’s too much damage. The bullet couldn’t be retrieved, and his levels weren’t strong enough to continue the operation. We had to stop before it was too late.”

  Rose took a deep breath. “What does that mean exactly?”

  “It means that he doesn’t have long. He may not even wake up. We’re making sure that he’s comfortable, but that’s the best we can do for now.”

  A single tear escapes her eye.

  “You couldn’t save him?” I whisper.

  The doctor turns to me. “Miss, we did all we could. But … I’m sorry, we had to make a choice.”

  A choice.

  Life is all about choices, and everybody has to make them.

  I can’t imagine having to make that one. To end somebody’s life.

  I let out a frail breath. “A choice.” I nod. “I guess we all have to do that sometimes, right? I made a choice. He made a-a choice. And then you guys.”

  “Kasey,” Rose says lightly.

  My breathing hitches, and everything inside of me drains. Feelings. Thoughts. Emotions.

  All of it gone.

  Numbed.

  I stare at the doctor. “Can we see him?”

  He looks between us. “Usually we only allow one person in at a time in the ICU, but yes. You can both go in.”

  Usually, but not now. Because now is different. Jake is dying. Not getting better.

  The doctor steps back, giving us one last sympathetic glance. “I’m very sorry to the both of you.”

  He’s sorry.

  He’s sorry, but not for our loss. Because Jake isn’t dead yet.

  Yet.

  Yet.

  Yet.

  Rosie stands, pulling me with her.

  Silently, we follow the doctor to the room that Jake was taken to.

  I can see Rose hold her breath when she walks in. I see why. Jake is paler than he has ever been. His skin appears almost ghostly. He’s got a tube in his mouth, wires hooked up to him, and needles sticking in his arms.

  Her hand squeezes mine.

  Neither of us say a word. The doctor leaves us alone with him۫ not another word spoken as he closes the door.