Page 11 of Grumpy Girl and Amaryllis

“Hello, Dave,” I say, trying my hardest to be respectful. Especially in front of my kids. I won’t poison them against their father. He is doing enough on his own to separate himself from them. He has to remember that they won’t be kids forever and will come to their ideas on how they want a relationship with him. And all I’m seeing is holidays and maybe birthdays in his future, not a random call to talk in sight.

Leaning over, I kiss my daughter. “Hi, sweetie, why don’t you go inside? Breakfast is almost ready.”

She nods and doesn’t say goodbye to her father.

Even now, he doesn’t notice that his daughter didn’t even say goodbye, even though they won’t see each other for several days. Or the fact that he is dropping them off early, practically missing out on a whole day with them.

I have them for as long as possible, dreading when I have to drop them off with him.

Dave grunts and shoves a bag at me.

Once Iris is in the house, I turn on him. “You could at least be cordial. And you need to stop being so grumpy with the kids.”

He sneers at me. “I’ll be and do whatever I want. Whose car is this?” Nodding toward Croix’s car on the street parked in front of my house. He took the big five bedroom in the suburbs and I found a three-bedroom rental. He was always so proud of that house, but never of his family.

My blood pressure rises. Glaring at Dave, I give him the answer he needs. “None of your business.”

His face turns red. “I want to know who’s around my kids.”

“Well, if you weren’t here six hours early, he’d be gone.” I clenched my fists at my side.

Shit, I’ve done it now. I admitted the secret. Dammit. Why can’t I keep my cool around him? Because he’s trained me to lose it so he can feel superior, that’s why. But this time is different, I didn’t break down. I broke out. And it actually feels pretty damn good.

His face is scarlet, and I swear steam pops out of his ears like one of those cartoon characters that just lost the mouse in a piece of cheese. He isn’t used to my smart mouth, and I enjoy myself for the moment.

Dave’s eyes widen as he watches the door.

“The kids’ teacher?” He spits out, “What the fuck are you thinking?”

Croix throws out, “Everything okay?”

Hating that Croix stepped outside, my courageous bravado distinguishes faster than it ignited. This spiteful man could take my kids away from me. He’s threatened it over and over. And I won’t jeopardize them. Losing them would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me.

“I gotta get back inside.”

Dave leans forward, “Oh, it will be. I’m going to let my lawyer know I’m going for full custody.”

My stomach bottoms out. This roller coaster ride is not for me. Turning from my ex-husband, I start to head toward my front door.

I wish it was, but nothing is okay and it probably never will be.

Croix

Voices outside are getting heated,the kids look at each other, and sadness envelopes their faces.

I can also tell that the voice rising is of a man, which doesn’t surprise me. Mari doesn’t have that in her. She’s more of a ‘let’s talk this out, I’m disappointed’ type of person, not a rash, angry, shouting type.

God, I hate that type.

My father, the General, was one of those. He was so proud when I went into the military and then equally as disappointed when I was released. Apparently, I should have “faked” being able to hear to stay in.Exactly, how does someone do that?

The way the kids are reacting, which I haven’t seen them do before, they aren’t strangers to this interaction with their parents. I haven’t seen them with their father, so this could be how they are with him, which saddens me. However, I also understand the tension. It was one of the reasons my mother left my father.

Watching them with their mother, they clearly adore her and can’t stop talking about her. I get it because I’m taken with her, too. And I’ve only been in her presence for a short time, a few amazing days. And in a handful of meaningful hours, she has impressed me as a person who cares and my feelings for her have grown like the plants in Dirty Hoes, I’m a jungle of love inside. I can’t help but fall for her. She makes it so easy.

I think over my conversations with the kids and realize they don’t mention their dad very much. They only talk about him if asked directly.

Turning off the stove, I turn to the kids. “Ash, can you set the table?”

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