Delores continued to sleep in the guest bedroom into the following week. Each night they waited until Anton went to his room and then said a perfunctory good night to each other. David knew he was being punished, but some instinct told him not to push Dee, to give her the time she needed to figure out whether she could imagine a permanent future with Anton. And yet, with each passing day, his anxiety and anger grew. Dee was holding not just him hostage but Anton, too.
And there was the other thing. If Dee refused to keep Anton and the boy was returned to the foster system, what would stop Juanita Vesper from changing her mind and claiming him? And if that were to happen, how long before she told her son or someone else about that strange nocturnal meeting with Anton’s foster dad? Without meaning to, Dee was putting him in jeopardy. Hell, he could face criminal charges for what he’d done.
David rose from his armchair and went into the kitchen, where Delores was enjoying a cup of herbal tea. Anton was at a sleepover at Brad’s, and the house felt uncharacteristically quiet for a Friday evening. “We need to talk,” he said quietly, pulling up a chair across from her.
“I know.”
“It’s been a week—”
“I know.” She stared into her cup for a moment, and when she looked up, her eyes were red. “What would you like to do, David? Do you want—I mean, should we seek permanent custody or something?”
He sat still, afraid to believe what he was hearing. “What do you want?” he asked carefully.
She smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I want you to stop moping around like I’ve just killed your pet hamster.”
“Dee. You’re the one who’s been acting strange. You’re the one who’s been mad at me, and I don’t even know what for.”
She reached across the table and placed her hand on his. “David. Please don’t. This is not about us anymore. We have a young boy we’re responsible for.”
When he spoke, he despised himself for the eagerness he heard in his voice. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say. That we don’t have a choice. We can’t have Anton go from foster home to foster home.”
“No, of course not. That would be cruel.” She looked away for a moment, then nodded as if she’d resolved something. “Okay. I guess we’re going through with this.”
But he was suddenly panicked. This was not how he’d envisioned it, this grim, non-joyous acceptance of their new reality. “Dee,” he said urgently, “I need to be sure. Are you going to be okay if this . . . if, you know, we get permanent custody?”
“I think so. I mean, nothing can replace . . . I mean, James was—James.”
He shook his head vigorously. “Yes. No. Yes. Anton is not James. He never will be. And we should never do it for that reason.” He tensed, waiting for her to say something, but she remained silent. Finally, at long last, she said, “How the hell are we going to break this news to poor Anton?”
His body went slack with relief. “Don’t you worry,” he said gruffly. “We’ll figure out a way.”
“Don’t do it yet, David. Maybe the woman will still change her mind.”
HE WAITED UNTIL Sunday afternoon to ask Anton if he wanted to run down to the hardware store with him. The boy, who was lying on the couch, looked up from his copy of The Giver and yawned. “Nah. I’m okay.”
“Oh, come on,” David said. “You’re getting a little potbelly from lying around. You need the exercise.”
Anton gave him that unbearable preteen look that David and Delores were beginning to despise. “How’s riding in the car exercise?” he drawled.
The boy looked so smug that David laughed. He strode toward the couch and yanked the book out of Anton’s hands and threw it on the coffee table. “Come on, sport,” he said. “I need your help carrying the lumber home. And there’s an Izzy’s ice cream cone waiting for you somewhere.”
“Izzy’s,” Anton squealed as he rolled off the couch. “Why didn’t you say that?” He hurried off to the bedroom to put on his shoes.
David rolled his eyes at Delores. “He’s the most easily corruptible kid in town. All you have to do is bribe him with ice cream.”
She smiled, but he could see that she was worried. “You’re not going to tell him today, are you?”
He shrugged. “I’ll play it by ear. We don’t have too much time to begin the paperwork.”
“It all seems to be happening so fast.”
He could hear Anton making his way down the hallway, and without warning, David’s temper spiked. “We’ve waited a week already. Now, if you’re having second thoughts, we need to talk.”
“It’s not that.”
“Well?”
“Don’t you think we should sit down with him together? Instead of on the way to the ice cream parlor?”
“Dee,” he said, emphasizing each word, “I don’t want to make this, like, some dire thing. So, go with us and we’ll tell him together.”
“But it is a dire thing. The kid’s about to lose—” She broke off as Anton entered the living room. “Ready?” the boy asked.
David held up his finger. “In just a minute, Anton. You wanna go get in the car?” He turned toward his wife. “So? Come with us.”
“No. Maybe you’re right. It may be better to play this light.”
He kissed her forehead. “Like I said, I’ll only do it if the moment presents itself. Okay?”
“I guess.”
THEY WERE HALFWAY to the hardware store when David decided to change course. “You know what?” he said. “Let’s go get that ice cream first.”
“Oh, wow,” Anton said. “You’re in a good mood today, David.”
David smiled. “I am. And if I were you, I would watch the sarcasm. Because there’s nothing like a sarcastic little shit to ruin my good mood.”
They looked at each other and giggled. For the past six months they’d fallen into a routine in which, when out of Delores’s earshot, David used mild swear words around Anton. It had brought them even closer, this ritual of male bonding. “Geez. I’m sorry,” Anton said.
David smacked the boy’s shoulder lightly. “It’s okay. I know you’re not trying to act like a little shit. It’s just that you are . . .
“. . . a little shit,” they concluded together triumphantly.
It was a warm day, and they sat on a picnic bench at Izzy’s, enjoying their ice cream cones, shooting the breeze. Apart from the difference in their skin tone, they looked like all the other father-and-son pairs around them, both of them dressed in polo shirts and jeans. The early-afternoon sun hit Anton’s skin, turning it golden, and David felt a lump form in his throat at the sight.