by J. A. Little
The day after Logan’s graduation, I’m on call. I’m happy to sit in my office and do paperwork. Warren brings me coffee and we gossip for the first hour of the morning before he has to leave for court. Sara and Dana are in and out all day. Nothing in particular happens, and when it hits three o’clock, I actually let myself relax.
“Hey,” I greet my best friend as she walks through the door.
“Hi.” Her voice is quiet and strained, and she doesn’t make eye contact with me as she makes her way to her desk.
“What’s up?”
She sits down and fiddles with her stuff. I know she heard me, but I wonder if I should repeat myself. Instead, I just stare at her. I watch every single one of her nervous habits make an appearance, and then disappear just as quickly when she realizes what she’s doing. Finally, she looks up. I raise my eyebrows questioningly.
“Uh. I just came back from visiting my new case. The sibling one I got a couple of weeks ago—addict mom, two kids. The one where the kids freaked out when I tried to end the visit. She got a new place, and I was going to do a safety check.”
“Oh. How’d it go?”
“Um, well, it was in a crappy part of town, but the apartment was okay. Messy and it kinda stunk, but I’ve seen worse.”
I shrug, not quite sure what the weirdness is about. “And?”
“When I got there, I got a little lost and ended up going around a corner. When I turned myself back around, I heard voices. The woman I was there to see had a guy in her apartment. I recognized his voice, so I poked my head around the corner.” Sara’s face is pained.
“Who was it?”
She’s hesitant. Sara is never hesitant. “Um, it…it was Dean.”
It takes a second for what she’s said to register, but when it does, I laugh. “Funny.”
“I’m not joking, Kayla,” she says quietly. “They looked kinda… intimate. Her hand was on his face.”
“Uh…” I’m not sure what to say. “Maybe the guy just looked like Dean,” I try, desperate for this to be some kind of joke. Sara shakes her head.
“It was him, Kay. I asked her who he was. She said he was her ex, Dean. That it was his place, but he was letting her live there because he spent most of his time at Wyatt House.”
“What’s the name?” I ask, my voice weaker than I intend.
“Stephanie Newbaker. Her kids are Abigail and Zachary.” My stomach jumps into my painfully-dry throat. Stephanie. Steph. Abigail. Oh, God.
“I’m so sorry, Kay. I mean, I don’t know what he was doing there. Maybe—.”
I hold up my hand to stop her. I don’t need a bunch of speculation. I just need the truth. I lower my head and try not to let the devastation that I’m feeling completely cut off my air supply.
“Zachary?”
Sara nods. “He’s three.”
“What’s he look like?”
Sara shrugs. “He’s a little boy. Cute.”
“Did she say who his father is?”
Sara looks confused. “No.” Then she realizes what I’m wondering. “Oh, no, Kayla. I don’t think—”
“Do you have his birth certificate?” I interrupt.
She grabs a file off her desk and flips through the pages. She stops when she finds what she’s looking for.
“Father’s not listed. You don’t really think Dean’s the father, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think. He’s obviously been lying to me. Does he look like Dean?”
Sara shakes her head. “I don’t know. He’s blond. Neither of them is blond.” She sounds unsure.
“Okay. Thanks,” I whisper hoarsely.
Sara stays with me the rest of the afternoon, although we spend it in silence. I manage to hold back the tears, but my eyesight is blurry, and I can’t focus on the words on my computer screen. I answer a few phone calls even though my mind is jumping all over the place in an attempt to keep from losing it. I’m essentially useless.
Getting home, I sit down on my couch and finally let myself consider exactly what Sara said. Dean was at his old apartment—with his ex-wife. The ex-wife who’s a junkie. The ex-wife who’s a prostitute. The ex-wife who absolutely destroyed him. Or so he says. I’m having a hard time rationalizing it in my head. I know there has to be some kind of explanation, but right now, I don’t care what it is. I just want it not to be true. And she has a little boy. Is that why she’s living at Dean’s place? Because he’s the father? Or maybe he doesn’t know. The questions keep coming. I can feel my blood pressure rising.
When the front door opens, I close my eyes tightly and take a breath.
“Hey, baby. What’s the matter?” I can hear a slight tremble in his voice. He knows something’s wrong. I don’t want to look at him, but I have to.
“Were you planning to tell me about her, or were you just hoping I’d never find out?” I don’t mean to just spit it out like that, but I guess my mind and my mouth have different ideas. Dean looks like I’ve just slapped him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, and I can see his chest rise as he takes a step forward.
“Kayla, I…uh.” He gapes a little more. “It’s not what you think.”
“It’s not what I think? I think I found out today that my boyfriend has been lying to me for God knows how long.”
“Just let me explain.” Somewhere in the back of my head I’ve been hoping he would deny it, tell me it isn’t true, but that’s not what’s happening and it makes me want to scream. Instead, I grit my teeth together and stand up.
“Are you sleeping with her?” I spit out.
“NO!” he shouts immediately. “Jesus fucking Christ, Kayla. No! “
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest painfully. A bead of sweat drips from the nape of my neck down my spine.
“I really want an explanation, but I’ve been in emotional chaos for the last few hours. Honestly I’m pissed, and I don’t think I can have an adult conversation about this right now.”
“Kayla?” he pleads.
“No!” I snap. “I’m tired, and if we do this, I’m going to say things I may not mean so just…” I put my hand up and then clench my fist, “not right now.”
“I was going to tell you,” he says, quietly.
I snort, a sarcastic laugh escaping unintentionally.
“I was. I just didn’t know how.”
“You open your mouth and say ‘Kayla, I’m still involved with my ex-wife and she’s living in my apartment.’ That’s how you tell me.”
“I’m not involved with her,” he protests.
“So you haven’t seen her in the last couple of weeks?” I ask. A pained sound escapes his mouth as his face contorts into a grimace. I shove my thumbnail into my mouth and nod, trying to control the anger that’s rapidly taking over. “And she’s not living in your apartment?”
He looks away from me, his jaw shifting. I can practically feel the guilt rolling off him.
“She’s living there, but I’m not. I’m either here or at Wyatt House. You know that.”
I shake my head. “Right now, I don’t know anything other than the fact that you lied to me.” I want to ask him about Zachary, but I’m not sure I’m prepared to hear the answer.
“Kayla,” he groans, reaching out a hand. I look at it. “Can we just…”
“I need a little space tonight, Dean. Can you give me that? Just tonight. Please.”
He frowns. “You want me to leave?”
No.
I really don’t want him to go, but I can’t stand my conflicting emotions. I want to yell at him and push him away. I want to fuck him raw and take out all my anger and frustration on his body. I want to fall into his arms and cry, showing him exactly what he’s done to me.
“Yes.”
He scrubs his hands over his face and closes his eyes. “Okay. Um… I don’t know if I have to work tomorrow night. I fired Simon.”
My mouth drops open. My instinct tells me to ask what happened, but I can see in his eyes that’s exactly what he’s wa
iting for.
“Okay.” I respond. I can see he’s not happy, but he doesn’t fight. He stares at me for a few seconds and then turns. When he reaches the door, a horrible thought pops into my head. “Dean?” He turns. “Just don’t go back to your place. Don’t…go back to her.” It’s hard to get the words out. They physically hurt to say.
“There’s nothing going on, Kayla. I swear.”
I want to believe him, I really want to. I just need some time.
After he leaves, I stare at the door for several minutes. Part of me wants him to come back, but the overwhelming part of me is so angry. And hurt. How could he not tell me? If there really wasn’t anything going on, why would he keep it from me?
I wander back to my bedroom and strip off my work clothes, drawing myself a bath so hot it’ll probably boil me alive, but I don’t really care. Stepping in, the sting of heat hits my foot. My instinct is to jump out, but there’s a relief in the pain. Slowly, my skin begins to adjust, although the bright-red color should be an indicator that I’m doing some damage.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, listening to the water drip from the spout and trying not to think about why everyone I love seems to think they need to keep things from me. Andy and Sara, Claire, now Dean. I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty understanding and patient person. I’ve been through enough of my own shit that I tend not to judge—and yet those closest to me obviously don’t agree.
I hear the roar of an engine from outside. Logan’s car is unmistakable. But Claire wasn’t supposed to be home until seven. Lifting my hands out of the water, I see my fingers are pale and wrinkled. The water is lukewarm at best.
I lift myself out and wrap a towel around my body. The clock in my bedroom does, in fact, read 7:13 p.m. I completely zoned out or fell asleep in the tub. Either way, all I want to do is climb into bed and sleep. After slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, that’s exactly what I do.
I vaguely hear a knock on my door at some point. It opens and Claire’s soft voice calls my name, but I ignore it and hear the door close again.
My sleep is riddled with images of Dean and me. Snapshots from the weekend: his sexy smirk when he’s about to pounce, and the muscles in his body stretching and straining as he hovers above me. But they’re not good dreams. There’s an unpleasant shadow hanging over us. I swear at one point I can actually feel him, his fingers in my hair, his lips on my forehead. I hear him say the words I’ve wanted to hear. That’s when I know it’s another dream. Opening my eyes to an empty room, I sigh, roll over, and try to fall back asleep.
* * *
When the sun finally starts to rise, I’m already wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
“Kayla?” I hear Claire say as she opens my door.
“Yeah? I’m up,” I groan. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. Why is Dean on the couch?”
I bolt upright. “He’s what?”
“He’s, like, passed out on the couch. Did you guys have a fight or something?”
I grit my teeth. “Or something.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” She grimaces. I get out of bed and stand up, stretching my arms over my head. “Should I stay in my room?” she asks cautiously. I shake my head and then abruptly stop. Claire looks nervous, and I realize that when Richard and our mom fought, things probably got a little out of control. I reach for her hand.
“No, honey. It’ll be fine. You know how I told you Dean and I have our problems? Well, that’s what’s going on. We’re dealing with stuff.”
“So you’re not mad at him?”
I sigh. “No. I’m extremely angry with him, but it’s nothing you need to worry about, okay?” I glance over at the clock and blanch. “Shit!”
“Yeah, that’s the other thing. You overslept. I thought maybe you were sick.”
“I didn’t oversleep, I just wasn’t paying attention. Fuck. I have to be in court in an hour. Can you make me some coffee?”
She nods and leaves. I shower and dress quickly before heading to the kitchen. Claire was right, Dean is facedown on the couch, fully dressed except for his shoes and socks. I know he’s awake. Dean doesn’t sleep that soundly. Especially not when he’s on the couch.
“I thought I asked you to go.”
He sits up and opens his eyes, rubbing them with the tips of his fingers. By the look of him, he didn’t sleep at all.
“You did,” he answers. I raise my eyebrows, and he shrugs. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
I huff. “I don’t have time for this right now. I have to go to work. I’ll talk to you later.”
He doesn’t move from the couch, and I don’t force it. Claire hands me a travel mug full of coffee and my purse, and I book it out the door. Before I drive off, I grab my phone from my bag and look at it. I’ve got three missed calls and two voicemails. The first is Andy, calling to check in on me. The second is Emily.
“Hey, Kayla. It’s Emily. Look, I just got a visit from Dean. He’s a mess. I know it’s not any of my business, but he’s my brother-in-law and you’re my friend, and I know he screwed up, but please listen to him—” I hit END CALL before she finishes because I don’t want to hear it right now. I need to be allowed to be mad for a little while.
The stuffy court prep room is busy, but my brother finds me anyway. I think he has homing radar or something when I’m upset.
“Hey, buttercup.” Andy opens his arms, and I walk right into them. “Sara told me. You okay?” I nod against his chest. “Did you talk to him?”
“Yes.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me away enough so that he can look into my eyes. “Really?”
“Sort of.” I shrug. He continues to look at me until I fold. “I didn’t want to talk to him. I’m pissed.”
“You have to talk to him, Kayla. Dean’s not the kind of guy who does shit like that without an explanation.”
“He lied to me, Andy.”
“Eh.”
“Don’t ‘eh’ me. Why is it that men don’t seem to see omission as a lie?”
“I’m just saying let the man explain himself. If you can’t live with the answer, then move on, but don’t run away from a good thing over a stupid misunderstanding.”
“Leave me alone,” I grumble. He kisses my forehead and smiles. It’s one of those you know I’m right smiles. Fucker.
“Look. Sara told me what she saw, but…I don’t know. I’m a freaking clueless guy and even I can see that the man would die for you. Talk to him. Find out what happened. If he really did step over the line, I’ll fuck him up for you.”
This makes me laugh. Andy’s a big guy, but I’m pretty sure he couldn’t take Dean in a fight. Regardless, I appreciate his support.
“Thanks, Andy.”
* * *
After three hours of waiting at court for a ten minute progress hearing, I grab some sushi from the Asian Bistro and head into my office to prepare for my one o’clock termination of parental rights board. I’m presenting the case of Garrett Turkins—the case I got from Dana. She’s done all the work, so I just need to provide an update. I haven’t met with Lizzie yet, but if it goes through, I’ll be the one who has to inform her that once her rights are severed, we’ll no longer be working with her toward reunification. I’m not worried. It’ll go through. She’s played with the system far too often in the last few years and Garrett’s the one suffering. His foster mother says he has nightmares for a month after every visit. We think it’s due to the fact that his mother keeps telling him he’s coming home to her. He’s confused and scared because he doesn’t even really know who she is. The nail in her coffin was her dirty urine last week. She’s been on methadone, but apparently she needed a booster and didn’t think she’d get called in. She was wrong. She’ll get one final visit and that’s it. Then Garrett’s foster parents will be allowed to file for adoption.
As I’m standing in the hallway waiting to go into the board, my phone buzzes w
ith a text.
I have to work tonight, but not tomorrow. Can I come home?
I swallow the lump in my throat. I’m about to answer him when the door opens and another caseworker comes out. She smiles and holds the door for me as I shove my phone back in my pocket and grab my files from the floor.
“Thanks,” I mumble. Dean’s going to have to wait.
Chapter 66
Kayla
“So?” Dana asks when I walk back into our office.
“We got it,” I answer.
She smiles lightly and nods. “I hate to give up on her, but this is what’s best for Garrett.”
“You’ve spent ten years trying to straighten her out, Dana. There’s only so much we can do for her.”
“I know,” she sighs. “I’d like to do the final visit with you if that’s okay.”
I nod. “Sure.”
“Oh, and by the way, Jasmine stopped by looking for you. She said to call her.”
“Thanks,” I say, sitting down and picking up my phone. I’m eager to find out what Jasmine has to say. I know she’s been working on Claire’s case.
“Hey, it’s Kayla. What’s going on?” I greet when she picks up the phone.
She groans into the receiver. “This has been a long week. I wanted to give you an update on Claire’s case.”
“Fantastic. Shoot.”
“Okay. I sat down with Celia a couple of days ago. I thought if I could get her alone, I could work on getting her some help, but…”
“No-go?”
“No. I told her I could return Claire to her if Richard moved out and had no unsupervised contact.”
I snort. “No way.”
“She refused. I tried to talk to her about the abuse, but she wouldn’t admit any of it. She’s like a brick wall, that one.”
“Did you…see any signs that he’s hurt her?” I ask in a whisper.
“She was covered,” Jasmine says. “I’m sure I’m not supposed to be discussing this with you, but if she were my mother, I’d want to know, so I’m going to extend you the professional courtesy. I worked in a DV shelter for a few years back in college and saw a lot of battered women. She’s not the stereotypical case, but I absolutely think she needs to get out of that house.” I look down and start chewing on my thumbnail before realizing that I’ve been doing it so much recently, I’m down to the skin. “In any case,” Jasmine continues, “I then met with the two of them together to go over a service plan for reunification. He wouldn’t sign.”
