“Absolutely not,” I said, the words out before I could even think about them. I ignored Lana’s, “Dee,” and Rod’s hurt expression and April’s little horrified gasp and put the awful dolls back into one of the boxes on the coffee table. “Sorry, but Rod, you’ve only been sober for six months. Maybe that’s the longest you’ve ever been sober, and that’s great but why the hell should we trust the boys with you when you’ve proven yourself to be the very opposite of trustworthy almost all their lives?”
“Dee, please.”
“He’s worked really really hard and he deserves to see his kids,” April said, voice trembling. “He deserves a chance.”
“He’s had a chance. Several of them. Hundreds even.” I should’ve stopped, I should’ve shut my mouth and sat down but I couldn’t do it. “I can’t even tell you how many times he promised to take the boys places, to call them, to fucking send them a card on their birthday and then just disappeared without doing anything. And now, after a mere six months I’m just supposed to trust he’s not going to forget to feed them or maybe offer them drugs or—”
“Dee. Stop.” Lana stood and put herself between me and Rod. I realized I’d taken a step toward him and my hands were in fists at my side. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Our boys have such a fierce mama bear and I love you for it. Can you maybe take a breath?”
I did take a sharp one, every bit of me angry and sick to my stomach at the idea of the boys halfway across the country with Rod. Maybe it’s silly. They aren’t little anymore. Seventeen and fifteen, in fact. But after all the shit Rod pulled …
“I talked with my lawyer and he said—”
Lana went red and she turned on him. “Excuse me? A lawyer?”
Rod swallowed. I wanted to wrap my hands around his skinny neck and squeeze. “My sponsor thought it would be a good idea—”
“You spent years breaking promises to those boys. Drunken phone calls. Awful letters. And you know what, Rod? I still convinced Deena to come down here and give you another chance. And now you’re talking to lawyers?”
He hung his head, which made April clutch his arm and glare at us, but I knew what he’s doing. He liked to play the kicked puppy. It got him more pity from those who didn’t know him.
I put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go, Lana.”
“I’m sorry,” he said with an artful hitch in his voice like he was about to cry. “I wasn’t going to try to take them from you.”
“That’s rich,” I said, and Lana slipped her hand in mine, probably to make sure it wasn’t free to smack Rod.
“I just talked to a lawyer and that’s all. I don’t want to take them from you, I know they’re happy in Seattle. I just wanted to see them.”
I leaned in, Lana’s hand tightening in warning. “Then why not just ask them nicely? Is it because you know they’ll say no? Is it because you know they won’t believe you’ll follow through? Is it because you hurt them so many times they are angry with you?” April was waiting for an explosion, I could see it all over her face, so I said, “We wouldn’t hit him, no matter how many times he hurt the boys. He’s not worth it.”
A single tear dribbled down his cheek and I almost hit him anyway despite what I said.
“Let’s get these things out to the car,” Lana said. “That is, do you still want us to take them?” When Rod nodded, I picked up the creepy doll box and Lana got another. Rod rubbed at his cheek and picked up the third and we all traipsed silently outside, our shoes scuffling the wet leaves. Somewhere down the street a dog barked, and April stood in the doorway looking small and lost.
When the boxes were all in, Rod said sorry again. “I know I’ve been a shit dad. And I know I don’t have the right to ask for another chance, but I’d like one.”
“Then talk to the boys about it,” Lana said. “Tell them you’re sorry. Actions not words. I’ve told you that a million times. Prove to them you mean what you say and don’t expect them to forgive you any time soon.” She rested a hand on one of the boxes. “They’ll like these, and I’ll tell them the stories. I’ll also tell them they can hear more from you, but that’s it. I’m not cheerleading for you. You dug this hole and you have to get out of it on your own.”
That’s why I loved her. She was intelligent and she didn’t take crap from anyone, not even me. She knew her boundaries and how to communicate about them—it had saved our relationship more than once.
Rod shook my hand and said goodbye, albeit a bit stiffly, and then we were in the car and Rod and April in the rearview.
“Thank Odin,” I said, and Lana whacked me lightly on the arm. “Sorry,” I said. “I saw red.”
“Me too. But damn, we have to work on your poker face. I thought you had to be all calm when your kids from the Rainbow Center tell you crazy shit.”
“I am calm when they tell me stuff. I care about them. Rod? He made the boys cry. A lot. Fuck him.”
Lana sighed. “I know. A lawyer. Can you fricking believe it? ‘My sponsor told me to get one,’” she said in a dopey voice and I laughed, then swerved when a woman lurched out into the road. The woman screamed at us as we passed her. “Should I stop?”
“Would you stop at home?”
I glanced in the mirror. We hadn’t hit her, and she didn’t look hurt, just drunk. “Nope.”
Lana turned in her seat and watched until the woman was out of sight. “That was weird. She looked like she was foaming at the
