I closed the clipboard. “Be right back.”
Opening the trunk of my car, I took out a few calico bags and loaded them up. When I carried them over, I was pleasantly surprised when Gianna opened the door all the way. I took her unspoken invitation and headed inside. The moment I stepped inside, I came to recognize why she didn’t want me in her house.
It was a mess.
Ignoring the clutter, I walked on through to the kitchen, and said, “In here okay?”
The smell was bad.
When Gianna followed me into the kitchen, she watched as I unloaded the groceries and hugged herself, making her look even smaller than she was. “I’ve been meaning to clean up.”
Of course she had. But, for a person with anxiety, it was easier said than done.
Without asking, I went over to the pile of dishes at the sink and turned on the hot water. The pots on the stove looked moldy.
Gianna looked mortified. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Why don’t you sit down and eat something and we’ll chat.” I pulled on the gloves and allowed the steaming water to soak the plates a minute before I took the sponge and started scrubbing.
Knowing I was going to do what I was going to do, Gianna hesitantly poured herself a bowl of cereal then sat at the table as I washed the dishes. “Thank you.”
That was it. That was all I needed. It made it all worthwhile.
I twisted back to her and smiled. “You’re so welcome.”
We spoke a while before I told her about the free session of therapy she was entitled to. She politely declined, but I left the leaflets with her anyways. We continued to talk as I cleared away all the empty boxes from around the house, and when I started picking up clothing off of the floor, Gianna joined in.
I put on a load of laundry for her and made sure to stay until it was finished, knowing it would likely not get taken out of the machine if I didn’t pull it out myself.
It wasn’t laziness. It was just the condition she was suffering from.
A couple of hours later, I left her cleaner home and told her I’d be back in a few days to check in. Gianna waved me off, and I had a feeling the next time I came over, she’d let me in.
Yeah.
My job was hard but most definitely rewarding.
A sad thought crossed me as I drove away.
Here I was helping people, and I still couldn’t figure out how to help my son.
How depressing.
***
Twitch
It had been days since I’d seen my son, and I was going through withdrawals. I was irritable, irrationally mad, and I was on edge. Short of breaking into the house and stealing him away for a while, all I could do was watch on from afar as the little Goth took him out and about, to and from school, to the park for a play, grocery shopping where A.J. snuck things into the shopping cart and the small woman pretended not to notice.
I didn’t know who she was, this babysitter, but I couldn’t ignore the clip she wore under her jacket.
Whoever she was, she was there to guard my son, so I decided she was okay. She didn’t look like much, and the truth was, I could’ve taken her out in a heartbeat, but Lexi trusted her enough with our boy, and that was all the credentials I needed to see.
The woman unwrapped an ice cream for A.J., and before she gave it to him, she squatted down in front of him and started speaking. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she kept A.J.’s attention and her face softened in a way I’d never seen while watching her. A.J. threw himself into her arms and she held him tightly, stroking his messy dark hair and kissing his forehead as a mother would.
A.J. took the ice cream from her, and the woman smiled down at him lovingly.
Yeah.
She was okay, I guess.
When a group of large men approached, I stepped closer, frowning. But the little woman smiled up at them, laughing, before she took turns hugging each one. I didn’t recognize any of them, but I recognized the jackets they wore.
D.M.S.
Drugs, Money, Sex.
They were a Maori gang, and it seemed A.J.’s babysitter knew them well. It made me wonder who this woman was exactly and where she came from.
The large men all took turns shaking A.J.’s hand when the woman presented him proudly to them, and I silently fumed.
Who the fuck was she to introduce my son to New Zealand gang members like it was nothing?
If I had a living voice, I’d be having words with Lexi—mark my words.
This was not acceptable.
I needed to talk to Happy.
***
Molly
It was difficult for somebody like me to have attachments.
My life was sour, and for the most part, I felt I didn’t deserve the kind of sweet I got from the little monster who had wormed his way into my heart.
I sipped my coffee, watching the boy I had grown to love over the rim of my bright yellow Pokémon mug. His tart expression was obvious. Of course, Lexi noticed it too, but A.J. had been moody for a while now and she didn’t know why.
I caught her searching his face with well-hidden worry. She was desperately trying to find the cause of A.J.’s irritability.
I knew the cause. Part of it, anyways.
Zoe ‘The Cunt’ Braemore.
The little shit who teased A.J., and she baited him with something that should have been off limits. She teased him about not having a dad.
It would explain why A.J. had started to see his dad at night. It would also explain the sudden angst he developed in the mornings before school.
Something told me fucking up a five-year-old was bad form, but what did I know?
I was a hood rat, after all.
I pled ignorance.
The chair creaked when I leaned back in it, lifting my leg to rest an ankle on my knee. I waited a moment, basking in the comfortable silence, before looking to Lexi and stating, “So, I’m gonna pick up A.J. from school today.”
Lexi looked up from the newspaper, a small frown creasing her pretty brow. “What?” She put the paper down. “It’s your day off. You don’t need to do that. What do the kids do for fun these days? Spoil yourself. Go out and get your nails done.”
I glanced down at my chipped black nails before peering back up at her.
When she took in the face I made, she rolled her eyes. “Okay, so don’t get your nails done.” She smiled in encouragement. “Do something reckless and fun. Enjoy yourself, Molly.”
My boy was damn near hyperventilating. A.J. stared into his toast, feeling my eyes on him.
“Nah.” I sipped my coffee. “I have plans for my little boo.” Lexi wanted to protest, but before she could, I asked A.J. “Handsome Dan, you wanna go for a ride with me in Big Red?”
Eyes wide, his fingers went limp, and the piece of toast he held in his hand dropped to the table with a dull plop. “Really?”
I didn’t smile often, but when I did, I made sure I saved them all for this child. This beautiful, pure child who wore his heart on his sleeve. He was too good for this world, and somehow, by fate alone, I was the lucky bitch who got to spend almost every day with him.
Guiding him. Minding him. Protecting him.
It was not a job I took lightly.
I might’ve only been twenty-two years old, but I had seen some shit. That shit had aged me some. It also taught me a whole lot about life and who not to trust. It made me good at what I did, and although there were days when I wished I was never born, I’d go through every single bad day over and over again if it meant I would end up exactly where I was right now.
My thick lips felt wide and uncomfortably stretched. “Hell, yeah.” I paused a sec. “As long as it’s okay with your mom.”
She was focused on me, hard. Her voice, however, remained quiet. “What’s going on?”
Lexi was not a dumb woman. You would never guess it from looking at her, but the shit I’d seen? She’d seen it too. We just wore it differently.
I wore my battle wounds openly.
She wore them as deep-set scars.
You do you, girl.