Rebecca called early in the evening. Our appointment with Child Protective Services would be at ten o’clock the next day, and she gave me the address.
She’d been right about one thing—I needed to talk to someone myself.
At the moment, though, I didn’t have the time for a professional. However, my best friend might be a sympathetic ear—so I called Justin.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t who I got.
It was Chelsea—and before I could even ask a question, her voice screeched through the phone. “Look, Randi or Rascal or whatever the hell your name is, I want you to stop calling this number. Justin doesn’t want to talk to you.”
I didn’t know that that was true. “I need to talk to him. Just have him call me later.”
“Sure. Whatever.” Click.
Obviously, Justin wouldn’t get that message. Today had been way too much—and, although I’d spent most of my evening washing windows, walls, and the inside of the refrigerator when I wasn’t running outside for a couple of drags off a cigarette, I was on the lookout for other tasks to keep me busy. Sarah wasn’t interested in talking anymore, and I suspected the day had drained us both. Once the kids were in bed, I went in the utility room and smoked too many cigarettes in between bouts of crying.
After nine o’clock, I considered texting Justin but decided to try calling again. I wanted to hear his voice. When I instead got his voicemail, I left one simple message. “If you don’t want to talk to me, at least have the balls to tell me yourself.”
Sometime after six AM, Devon woke me up on the sofa by shaking my shoulder. I hadn’t remembered falling asleep there or even when I had. When I made my way into the kitchen, I started making coffee while also calling the middle school, informing them that Sarah would not be in school today.
After taking Devon to school, I mustered up the courage to call Sarah’s dad. I’d put it off last night, but there would be no justifying it today. And, of course, the ever-vigilant Kent answered his cell phone almost immediately. “Are you busy?” I asked, lighting a cigarette before stepping outside into the small backyard.
“No. What’s going on?”
“Sarah had a breakthrough with the psychologist yesterday—and it’s worse than I’d imagined. Would you rather I call you later after work?”
“If it’s that bad, Randi, you should tell me now. Just let me get to my office.” Through the phone, I could hear some rustling and then a click that was probably a door; meanwhile, I sucked down the smoke. Finally, Kent said, “Okay.”
After a slight hesitation, I said, “Sarah was sexually abused.” There really was no other way to say it and definitely no way to sugarcoat it.
The line was silent for so long that I considered asking him if he was still there. But then words started spilling out. “She was what?” He muttered something unintelligible and then, when he spoke again, his voice was elevated. “How could you let this happen, Randi? Was it one of your boyfriends? Or your ex?”
“What the fuck, Kent? It wasn’t someone I was dating.” My teeth were clenched as I spat out, “It was her fifth-grade teacher.”
The line grew quiet again for a moment as he continued processing. “Has he been arrested?”
“We’re meeting with Child Protection this morning so Sarah can give a statement.”
“How did this happen, Randi? Weren’t you paying any attention to her?”
Fuck. I already knew where this was going. “Of course, I was, Kent—but you know as well as I do that I can’t be with her every second of every day, any more than you could.”
“But Ann’s here. All she does is keep an eye on our children.”
We’d been here before a few years ago. Their oldest kid was Devon’s age but now, if I wasn’t mistaken, both of his other children were old enough to be in school, attending the private institution Ann valued so much. The first time Kent had threatened to take custody of Sarah, he hadn’t had the bills he had now. His wife had champagne taste and wanted the same for her children. She could put up with my ragamuffin for summer and a week at Christmas, but that was all she could tolerate.
Still, I wasn’t willing to place that bet because fear can be motivating.
Instead, I had to assure her father I had things under control—even though I clearly did not. “Kent, I know you’re worried about her. So am I. I’m doing everything I possibly can to take care of her. Her psychologist is amazing, and I’ve already seen Sarah making progress. Right now, she’s got some stability.” I had no doubt Kent could provide our daughter with a more lavish lifestyle, but at his house she’d always be a second-class citizen when compared to her half-siblings. While I didn’t have much, I loved my children ferociously.
I could almost hear the defeat in his voice. “If you change your mind…”
“Thanks.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t come to Colorado right now. I’ve got some big stuff going on at work this week. But, if you want, I could talk to my lawyer.”
“What for, Kent? This would be a criminal suit. What would your lawyer be able to do?”
“Protect Sarah, for starters. I just don’t want some overzealous DA using Sarah to nail this bastard.”
“I don’t want that, either.” Hell, I didn’t even know how all this was going to work.
“Did they find other girls that went through the same thing?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Like I said, Sarah will be talking to the Child Protection today.” I refrained from letting out all my emotions. I really needed to fucking get some shit off my chest—but Kent had already drawn a weapon, so no way in hell was I going to give him ammunition.
“Do you know the guy who did it?”
“Not
