Pushing harder. “Higher, Mommy!”
Her laughter like bubbling water. Dimpled hands clapping. Blond hair flying.
“Again! Again!”
She pushed until she was tired. Then they went to sit in the shade, a little way apart from the other mothers. Ruth spread out the blue blanket she had taken from Frankie’s bed and they watched Frankie on the slide. One of Norma’s kids kicked a ball wild and it bounced close to Cindy’s face, making her squeal. Frankie ran over, squared up to him: the boy was two years older and four inches taller.
“Hey! Don’t you hurt my Cindy! Don’t you hurt her!”
The kid looked like he might laugh, so Ruth called Frankie back, showed him that Cindy was fine. They shared the last of the soda between them.
Within five minutes it was forgotten and Frankie trotted over to the jungle gym. Ruth leaned against the rough bark of a tree, holding Cindy against her, soothing her, half-listening to the voices around them.
“I said to him, I said, for Chrissakes, Phil, she’s your mother, you need to tell her, and he said yeah yeah, but I know he won’t say anything, he’s such a . . .”
“. . . so his boss came over for dinner on Saturday. I made that turkey roll thing, Joanie’s recipe. You know. And my lemon pie. He had three helpings. Three! I never saw . . .”
She felt Cindy’s head droop, felt her limbs grow heavy. She let her own eyes close.
“He says he’s working late, but I know what that means. I call the office and there’s no reply. And when he gets home, I tell him straight, I say, I know what you’re up to, Bob, but he just . . .”
Ruth came to with a start. Her arms were empty. She sat up, heart thudding. Angela saw her face and laughed. “They’re over there, with Norma. Don’t worry!” Ruth breathed out, nodded her thanks. Checked her watch and got to her feet.
“You leaving already?”
She brushed down the back of her slacks, folded the blanket. “Got to go. Got to make a call and get dinner for the kids. See you, Angie. See you, Norma.”
She walked toward the playground, called Cindy and Frankie to her, put an arm around each of them. They left the park together, the three of them. For the last time.
“We left at four.”
“Because I made sure to leave by then. I had to make a call before five.”
“Arnold Green. My lawyer.”
“He told me to call back. Normally he finished work at five, but he told me he’d be working late.”
“Well, we came home. Oh, I picked some food up first. From Walsh’s Deli. On Main Street. There was nothing in the apartment for dinner.”
“Uh . . . meat. Veal. And a can of string beans. Milk.”
“No, we drove straight home. The kids went outside to play, and I called Mr. Green again. We talked for . . . I don’t know, maybe fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“Well, about the custody case. Look, why is all this necessary? What has this got to do with anything?”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m just upset, I guess. I understand. I’m sorry.”
“Do you have another cigarette?”
“He told me that my former sitter is going to testify against me.”
“No—not about the kids! She’s claiming that I owe her money. Six hundred dollars. It’s bullshit. She says that if I pay her, she won’t testify for Frank. He wants the kids to live with him and she’s threatening to help him get custody.”
“I told you, it’s not true. She’s trying to blackmail me into giving her money I don’t owe her.”
“Like hell I will.”
A pause. The click of a lighter.
“It’s just another problem I have to deal with. That Frank left me to deal with.”
“Christ, Arnold, she’s lying! . . . I told you before, she’s a mean bitch and she’s just bitter because I fired her.”
“Okay, Ruth, okay. Calm down.”
“I am calm! Jesus. What does this mean? What does it mean for the case?”
“It depends. I need to hear what she has to say first. I’m going to talk to her again before the hearing.”
“He can’t win, Arnold. He can’t.”
“Don’t worry, okay? She doesn’t make a good impression. The judge won’t like her. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“He can’t get the kids. I won’t let him take them. I won’t.”
“He won’t win, Ruth. No judge is going to take two young kids away from their mother unless . . . well, he won’t get custody. It’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure? You don’t sound as sure as you did last week.”
“Ruth, don’t worry. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
“You better be right. He can’t have the kids. He can’t have them. I’d rather see them dead than with Frank.”
“Yeah, then I started dinner. No, wait—first I made another call.”
“A friend. He told me he’d call back.”
“Just a friend.”
“Okay, Christ—okay! His name is Lou Gallagher.”
“Yeah. That Lou Gallagher. The construction guy.”
Another pause. The murmur of voices, just low enough that the tape couldn’t catch them.