Muscle

by Lexi Whitlow

  “Waffles.” Brie’s voice is caged and hesitant. I follow Amber into the kitchen and nod at Brie. Her eyes lock on mine. “Dad made bacon too. And we had fruit—fresh fruit.”

  “Is that ice cream on those waffles, though, sweetheart? Looks like it’s melted a little. That’s a lot of sugar so early in the morning, don’t you think?” Amber turns to me with a sweet little smile that makes me want to punch a whole in the wall. Donna joins us in the small room, noting something in the small book, perhaps that I’ve given my child an inappropriate amount of sugar. Donna begins looking through the cabinets, noting a dusty bottle of whiskey and a mostly empty bottle of vodka. She opens a drawer and finds a few old cigars.

  “Do you smoke in the house, Mr. Dougherty?” Donna looks at me quickly and writes something down in her notebook without waiting for a response.

  I crack my knuckles and feel my face growing flushed. It’s impossible not to think about the millions of kids out there who have parents smoking meth or locking them in closets. Or smoking meth while locking them in closets. All I have is a felony on my record, and a mother-in-law who has some kind of narcissistic grudge and connections deep enough to get CPS out to Queens on a Sunday morning. I’m hoping the judge sees through her bullshit. Donnelly said it’ll be the guy who wanted me in a relationship—so we might have that on our side. Still, it makes me nervous. It’s supposed to unhinge me, this visit from CPS. I try to remain calm.

  I cross my arms, and shift from side to side.

  I have to bite my tongue. Marta wants me to fuck up. She wants me to fail.

  If I stay in this room with them talking to my daughter for one more second, I might scream. Just when I think I’m going to reach my breaking point, I feel a cool hand on my shoulder. I turn, and I see Skye standing next to me.

  “Hi there,” she says. The two women from CPS turn to see Brie, her hair dried and styled, wearing her green dress from the day before. She even has on flat shoes with little bows on them. “Would you like to see Brie’s room here? Liam worked on it with her last night. And then we read some books from the library.” She quickly catches Brie’s eye and winks at her. The women don’t catch it, but I do.

  “Yeah, we read books in there,” Brie says. “Let me show you. It’s like a castle. I helped make a healthy dinner too.”

  This kid. She catches on fast.

  Brie skips out of the room and runs down the hall, making the women follow behind her. “This is a pretty nice place,” Amber says.

  “There’s no central heating unit, it doesn’t look like. I’d imagine they got it like that because it’s cheaper. Remember what the grandmother told us—”

  Not missing a beat, Skye turns to them as we reach the bedroom. “There’s actually baseboard heat. It’s oil-based, but it’s provided by the landlord and included in rent. He has window units for air conditioning in the summer. Good ones.” She looks over at me. “And Liam is making enough to pay for the whole thing himself. It’s an up and coming neighborhood. Pretty expensive since it’s so close to Brie’s school. He’s worked really hard with his brother at the bar. He co-owns it, you know? He’s been saving every penny he’s earned. So even if Marta has you on the hook, give us a chance here. We’re not the enemy.”

  Amber and Donna look between each other but don’t say anything. They follow Brie into her room, and Skye and I listen as Brie gives them the grand tour. It’s a sad thing that Brie knows well enough by now that her grandmother sends people—lawyers and P.Is. and now CPS—all to make sure that she doesn’t live with me. Hell, that she doesn’t even see me. That’s why Brie fell into line so quickly this morning. She knows exactly what this is about, and the poor kid is only six.

  They stay in the room for a solid fifteen minutes with Brie, while Skye and I stand outside. The voices inside are low, and we can only hear scraps of conversation.

  Neither of us say a word. Instead, we stand against the wall. When the time starts to stretch, and the churning in my stomach grows almost too intense, Skye reaches over and puts my hand into hers. I look over at her and see that her face reflects the same worry that I feel.

  “I wonder what Marta’s done to get them out here on a Sunday morning,” she whispers, leaning into me. “Whatever it is, it’s not good.”

  “No, it’s not.” My body grows tight, and I close my eyes. I imagine myself slamming my fist into the wall, what it would feel like to crush the drywall beneath my knuckles. But that isn’t me anymore.

  It might be. But Skye is here. And she feels like a life raft in a storm, while my daughter talks to two women who will help decide the fate of my family—of my entire world.

  When I open my eyes, I see the ladies shuffling out of Brie’s room. There’s a stern look on Donna’s face, but Amber still retains that slightly stunned look that doesn’t seem either negative or positive.

  “Can we speak in the front room, Mr. Dougherty? Your wife can stay back here with Brie and Amber. If she knows Brie well enough, that is.”

  Skye’s eyes grow wide in surprise, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she walks silently into Brie’s room, looking back at me for a brief moment. I nod to her and walk with Donna to the living room.

  “What’s this about?” I try not to growl the words, but it’s hard after the intrusion.

  “I think you know, Mr. Dougherty.” Donna looks at me expectantly, like I’m a particularly slow student who she’s sure will catch onto her assignment.

  “No, I don’t think I do. I have a legal right to have my daughter for overnights now that I have an apartment and a stable relationship. And I know enough about CPS to know that this isn’t an ordinary visit.”

  “Mr. Dougherty,” Donna says, sighing, “Brie thinks she’s going to live here from now on. And it seems that you and Ms. Williams didn’t let her know that’s not even a possibility.”

  “It is a possibility. We’re going to court on the twenty-eighth with a preliminary hearing on the twenty-seventh, and we have plenty of evidence that this is a better living situation than she’s in right now.”

  “With her grandmother, who loves her and sends her to private school. Can you afford the Catholic school she attends?”

  I groan. “Yeah, I can. But since when is private school a concern of CPS? Is there anything here that would endanger Brie? No, I didn’t think so.” I sigh quickly and go to the door, opening it for Donna. “Unless there’s something here I don’t know about it, I’m going to kindly ask you to get the fuck out of here.” I give her my best charming smile.

  “See—that right there. The anger. The attitude. And don’t get me started on this relationship you have with that young woman. Marta informed us about your history. It’s clear you picked this one up somewhere and convinced her to marry you. Give me a break, Mr. Dougherty. This is all confusing for Brie, and furthermore, it’s clearly not a good place for her to be. She has no place to put her clothing. She was given highly unhealthy food for breakfast, and I saw several empty packs of candy in the trash. That’s not how you treat a child you want to raise and support.”

  “Come the fuck on,” I snarl. “This is all bullshit, and you know it. How much is Marta paying you? There, I said it. The big goddamn elephant in the room. I have plenty of experience with that sad excuse for a woman, and I know that’s what she does to get her way. She’s running out of money from doing all this crap, I bet. And now she’s trying to get me to fork over the money I have saved for Brie. That’s not going to fucking happen. I’ve got all that so she can’t get to it.”

  Skye steps around the corner and comes to my side, touching my arm. “Please forgive my husband, Donna. He’s very protective of his daughter. And Brie brought to our attention that Marta isn’t providing adequate food for her. I couldn’t help but overhear your observations about her diet here. But it seems she doesn’t even get a full dinner at Marta’s house. We made tacos last night with a salad, and then we allowed her a treat. She also had fruit with her waffles this morning.”
Skye squeezes my arm as she talks. “She says that Marta allows her only bread for dinner. Her grandmother takes away food as a punishment. Isn’t that the kind of thing CPS might be interested in? Write that down in your book.”

  “I can hardly see how that’s true,” Donna says, unmoving. The breeze rolls into the apartment. It’s sunny and smells like spring outside, which doesn’t match the scene in here at all.

  Amber joins us in the room, stepping up to Donna. “That is what Brie told me. Without Ms. Williams in the room. She also told me that when we visited her at the grandmother’s—”

  “Hush, Amber,” Donna says. “We’re not here to discuss Brie’s current living situation. I do think it’s time we left. We need to type up notes for this visit so we can take them to the judge that’s seeing their case. And we both need to get on with the day.” Donna smiles, full of fake sweetness. “And Ms. Williams and Mr. Dougherty here—they might want to enjoy the time they have remaining with Brie. It doesn’t appear this is a place fit for a child. Not in my book.”

  Skye steps forward, inches from Donna. “What was the first reason you started working for Child Protective Services? Was it actually to protect children? Or was it to take on outside clients like Marta and run your own rogue business on the weekends?”

  Donna’s face grows pale. “I don’t see your point, Ms. Williams. We’re here working for the city, making sure that a child is where she ought to be.”

  “I don’t think so,” Skye says. “I just checked with my friend, Rhiannon. She says there are plenty of people at CPS who will do anything for a few extra dollars. It’s not the most high-paying job, is it? And the city is expensive. I understand. But that isn’t the reason you started working for CPS, is it?”

  “I think we’d better go, Amber,” Donna says, completely ignoring Skye.

  “I think we ought to listen to what Mr. Dougherty has to say about Brie’s living situation,” Amber says. “He’s the biological parent—and the child seems quite happy here.”

  “I said we need to go. Now,” Donna replies. “Fall in line, Amber. Your job is quite new. Please remember that.”

  Amber looks like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she follows Donna out the door, and Skye and I are left there, watching her.

  “Farewell, Mr. Dougherty,” Donna yells back at us. “I’m sure you’ll be hearing our report when you get to the courthouse. Just a few days now.”

  My heart sinks down into the pit of my stomach.

  I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know if there is anywhere to go.

  But Skye is beside me, and that makes me feel like we might be able to fight. Her head is far cooler than mine, and maybe some of her words will get through to those women.

  We can only hope.

  Skye

  It’s hard to say goodbye to Brie when Marta comes to pick her up. The old woman has a triumphant look on her face, like she’s already won. I fight the urge to tell her the fuck off. We might have hurt the case, or we might not have. There’s no way to know until we get to the courthouse.

  With all that I’ve done for Liam, I’m holding desperately onto the idea that we can save Brie. That we can save this family.

  I pace around the apartment, kicking off my shoes. I sit on the edge of the bed and lie back on it. The ceiling has that popcorn type paint on it. It’s ugly, but I’m getting used to it. I lie there and look at it, trying to clear my head of everything—Brie, Liam, the women who came here this morning.

  “This is a lot for you to deal with, Skye. I know that.”

  I look up and see Liam at the door of the bedroom, his changeable eyes cool and distant.

  “It’s not. I just want to see it work out. And now it feels like we know even less than we did last week.”

  “All this with the ‘we.’ And ‘our.’” His voice has that wry tone to it, the way it does when he’s teasing me.

  I swallow hard, trying to read him. “What does that mean to you, Liam? You said you might want to have me around. What are you saying? Tell me.”

  “I’m saying I might want you here. For as long as you want to be here. It feels like we’re in this battle together now. I don’t know if you’d want to stay—”

  “I don’t know either.” I look away to the window, so I don’t betray my own feelings. I know very well what I want. And I probably wanted it since the very first time I walked up to his apartment. The first moment he looked at me, the first time he touched me. But what he’s proposing is less a relationship and more a marriage of convenience. With hot sex. Very hot sex. But still, is there something else I deserve—something beyond this? There isn’t a commitment here, not a real one. There’s a signed piece of paper, sitting somewhere in a courthouse, but it could be dissolved in an instant with a quick divorce. That’s what we agreed on. We didn’t agree to the vows we said—until death do us part. That was just something we said. Not something we meant.

  I keep myself turned away. If I look at him, all my rational thoughts vanish and become a jumble.

  “I think you want to stay.” I can feel him looking at me, and I hear his footsteps as he walks toward the bed. “Look at me, Skye.”

  I follow the sound of his voice, my eyes meeting his. “And what if I do want to? Does that mean that we’re a couple? That this is real? That it means forever?”

  “I don’t know,” he says simply. He sighs. “I’ve never had anything like that before. Like I said. Not with Tabitha. Not with any of the other women I’ve ever known. This relationship—this marriage—it provides real stability for Brie. It might mean the difference between temporary and permanent custody. It might mean that she has something to hold onto, something real to come home to.” His voice wavers, full of emotion. This isn’t the man I met back at the bar—he’s changed, grown. “Skye, I want you here. It’s not just for Brie.”

  I let out a quick breath. “I care about you, Liam. I do. But we rushed into this. And there’s Marta. And the women from CPS. And the courts. I agreed to it—but it’s heavy. A lot fucking heavier than I thought it would be.”

  “Let me make it clear. I want you to stay, Skye. I want you to change your fucking name so that there aren’t any more questions. And I want you to cancel the lease on your apartment in Brooklyn.” He shrugs. “Queens seems a little nicer than that shit hole, anyway. I’m warming up to Queens. Fewer hipsters here. Fewer than I thought.” He gives me a wry smile.

  My heartbeat speeds up, blood rushing through my veins. “Liam, think about what you’re saying. The life you had before—”

  “Wasn’t much of a life. The women came and went, and I was living free above the bar. That place doesn’t even have good water pressure. Or a dishwasher.”

  “That’s what this is about—” I feel the irritation rising in me again, like it does with this man.

  “No. Well, the nice shower and dishwasher here are just bonuses. But if you leave and go back home, then it’s just an empty box.”

  “And if Brie moves in? If she doesn’t?”

  “If she moves in, she’ll want you here too. If she doesn’t, you need to stay. I’ll need you to help me fight it.”

  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? All that stuff you said about Brie. The stability and the judges and all that. That’s always what it’s been about, and you said it from the beginning. If I stay, that helps make it stick.”

  “It does.” He looks at me evenly. “But it’s more than that, too.”

  “We’re talking in circles, Liam. Saying the same thing over and over again, and it makes me so tired. I’m exhausted. I think I’ve been tired since I first met you.” I turn over on the bed, my body still facing away from him. “I get that this is fun for you, and it has been for me, too. But we’re coming up on the hearing, and there’s going to be a decision one way or another. And then we’ll need to make a real decision about us.”

  “I’ve made my decision,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “I wa
nt you here. How many times do I have to say it?”

  Sunlight filters in through the window screens, and there’s a slight breeze from the spring wind outside. It feels comfortable and real, but the foundation of this relationship isn’t either of those things. It was based on lust and excitement and adventure—not just for me, but for both of us. This place, this marriage, this quest to get his girl back—all these things have occupied Liam’s mind. This marriage has kept his mind off of women, alcohol, the bar. It’s given him a weapon in his holy mission to get his daughter back. When the dust settles and all the shiny veneer wears off, there won’t be anything left.

  Still, even on a morning like this, when the threat of failure looms closer than ever, Liam’s gaze on my body sends shivers down my spine, singing through every cell in my body. It’s a distraction, the pull between us. It’s why we’re both here right now, why we got wrapped up in each other’s lives.