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December 11
To: Mason Herriot
From: Delilah Daniels
Hey,
Sorry we keep missing each other. It’s great that Amber is spending so much time with Kara. She’s been posting some great pics on Instagram. Yes, I follow her, since you don’t even have a social media account. Her posts are a way for me to keep up with you and Kara. And her band must be doing pretty well. She has several thousand followers.
I’m happy for you guys. Kara deserves both parents in her life.
Did you know that after varicose vein surgery one has to wear thick stockings for, like, six months? These are the kinds of things one learns in gardening club. Fascinating. And Spanx makes tight leggings that work just as well as the tight stockings, which really are not that attractive, according to Marge. Although, while I’d never admit this to Marge, as it might lead to a lengthy conversation on the subject, I have to agree the nude/natural skin color in thick stocking form should probably never be seen in public.
Kiss Kara for me.
xoxo,
D
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The subway rattles through the cavernous tunnels below Manhattan and under the East River. The fluorescent lights blink on one end. The evening rush has subsided. One man stands nearby, holding on to the silver railing overhead as he reads the New York Post.
I type my response to Delilah.
December 11
To: Delilah Daniels
From: Mason Herriot
Hey there, Delilah,
It is good that Amber is back in Kara’s life. Although I do worry she will disappear again, and that Kara is old enough that it will hurt more than in the past. But she and I are not together.
Is that why you’re avoiding me?
The subway pulls to a stop at Court Street Station. My thumb hovers over the keyboard, and I press delete. When I climb the stairs to reach the street, a dark night sky and the white glow of overhead streetlamps face me. I slip my gloves on, tighten my scarf, and make my way home.
When I arrive, I hover outside my apartment door, shedding my gloves and coat, listening. I want to hear my daughter and her mother. I want to hear laughter or the hum of a conversation. I need to know I am doing the right thing, allowing them to bond. I don’t hear anything, so I unlock and push open the door.
“Daddy’s home!” Kara squeals.
This right here is my favorite part of the day. I drop to my knees and open my arms, and she runs into them and I crush her to me.
“Daddy, too tight.” She pushes away then leans up and lays a wet kiss on my cheek. This little girl is my everything.
My mom walks into the room, and I stand. “Hey. What’re you doing here?” She’s welcome anytime she wants, but she and Amber don’t have the best relationship.
Kara’s small fingers wrap around my index finger and squeeze.
“Amber called me to come over this afternoon. She got a call about an audition. She mentioned that she thought Kara would be fine by herself until you got home, but that last time you weren’t happy with her when she did that.”
I close my eyes and raise my head to the ceiling. I knew it. Only a matter of time. After a long, loud, calming exhale, I hang up my coat and scarf, put away my gloves, and address my daughter.
“What have you and Ama been doing?”
The large crayon box sits on the table, and crayons are scattered all over. Several of her favorite coloring books are stacked to one side.
“We’ve been coloring.” She climbs into a chair, tucks her legs up under her, and resumes work on her masterpiece.
“Thanks for coming over. I wish you would have said something. I wouldn’t have stayed at the clinic so long today.”
“I was happy to come over and spend time with Kara.”
Mom follows me into the kitchen. I open the refrigerator door as I ask, “Have you guys eaten?”
“Yeah. I’ve been over here since around four. I fixed us a tuna casserole.”
I pull out a round glass dish of leftover chili and place it in the microwave. “Did she say if she’s planning on picking Kara up from school tomorrow?”
“I think she’s gone, honey. You’ll have to ask her, but it sounded like the audition is for a band in Chicago. A friend of a friend kind of thing for a band that has a chance to go on tour as an opening act for a well-known band. She talks so fast.”
I tap the counter, staring at the dull light of the microwave. “Did she say goodbye to Kara?”
“She hugged her. Said she’d be back to hang out soon.”
I lean back onto the edge of the counter. “Mom, I’m getting a lawyer. I’m going to seek full custody. Once the lawyer gives me the go-ahead, I’ll call Amber and tell her. It’s possible she won’t fight me on it.”
Mom tenderly squeezes my arm. “I don’t expect she’ll fight you, honey. You are doing the right thing.”
“Did Dad fight you when you sought full custody?”
Mom slides past me to open the refrigerator and pulls out two beers. She carries them over to a drawer and snaps the tops off with a bottle opener.
“I didn’t have full custody. We had joint.” She pushes an open bottle of beer on the counter to me.
“You didn’t? And you didn’t make him pay you child support?” We’ve never discussed specifics, but I know we struggled at times. Mom’s brother helped us out more than once.
Ever so slowly, she shakes her head, her lips wrinkled together forlornly.
I take a long swallow of the cold beer.
“Honey, a custody agreement doesn’t necessarily mean a parent will or won’t be involved. I think what you’re doing is the right thing, though. Amber’s too self-absorbed. And she’s too flighty. I don’t trust her. It wouldn’t shock me if she showed up when Kara’s fourteen and tried to take her to help out at a club she’s playing at or if she tried to take her away for weeks to some random city where she has a gig. Maybe tried to talk her into creating a band. She’s openly experimental too.” Mom jerks her nose up, defensive. “I’m not being judgmental. I experimented some myself back in the day. But she’s open about it, and it’s been going on for years. At the very least, it’s risky. If she becomes an addict, you’re much better off having clear legal rights to Kara.”
“I’m not necessarily worried about Amber becoming an addict.” I say the words slowly. “I am worried about her coming in and out of Kara’s life. Going a year or two without a word. How do I prevent that?”
“You can’t, honey. You can’t control Amber or force her to be an involved parent. But you can talk to her. Beg her to either remain in touch, or to stay away until she’s ready to commit to being a more reliable presence in Kara’s life.”
The microwave beeps, and the hot glass bowl sears my hand as I pull it out, and send it clattering along my tile countertop. “Fuck.”
Mom leans against the kitchen wall, sipping her beer. “How’s Delilah?”
I take out a fork and stir the chili, letting the steam escape. “Fine, I guess. She’s another one who’s chosen to walk away.”
“Well, she didn’t really have a choice. How’s her dad doing?”
“Oh, Mom. She has a choice. Her dad’s fine. He has MS. It’s not a death sentence. She’s choosing to stay in New Orleans.”
“Have you given her a reason to come back here? A real reason?”
“For what? So she can leave again if he gets sicker?”
“Honey, she can come back here and you two can figure out if what you have is worth making some tough choices for. No parent wants their child to give up their life. From what you’ve told me, her parents are financially secure and can hire nurses if it comes to that. And you and Kara could move to New Orleans.”
“Mom. I’m a part-owner in a veterinary clinic.” An almost overextended veterinary clinic with a mountain of debt and too few practicing veterinarians.
“Yes, you are. And if it comes to it, you can sell your share to another vet and buy into a practice in New Orleans. There are always solutions if you open your mind to possibilities.”
“She’s out of my league. Used to a lifestyle I could never provide.”
“Maybe. You’ll never know until you talk to her.” She pats me on my back and leaves the kitchen.
I eat my chili standing over the counter. In some ways, she’s right. The problem is that Delilah and I never got our relationship to the point where we could decide if it was worth making sacrifices. We jumped right in and were hot and heavy in a nanosecond. We were so new when all of this came about. Leaving New York had been something I wasn’t willing to consider because of Amber. Now, I suppose that’s changing. But selling my share of the business won’t make sense until we’ve built the new locations into thriving practices, and moving for someone I just met would be the definition of insanity. But Delilah doesn’t have to be in New Orleans right now. She can come back.
Mom’s question reverberates in my head. Have I given her a reason to come back? The last time I gave someone a reason to stay, she backed out the door. I clean my dish and leave the kitchen to join Mom and Kara in the living room. I hear a soft southern twang, and my heart clinches.
My mom’s phone leans against a stack of coloring books, and Delilah’s sun-kissed face and bright blue eyes shine through the screen. I stop and stare. Kara beams as she dabs her brush into paint, mixing hues of yellow and red, then holds up her white plastic palette to share the results with Delilah.
“Oh, that’s looking good. Maybe add a little white in the mix to lighten it up?”
Mom comes to stand beside me. “Kara asked to speak to her. I hope you don’t mind.”
“How’d you get Delilah’s number?”
“Oh, sweetie. She and I talk almost every day.”
“You do?”
She swallows her beer. “Yes. And when I have Kara, we FaceTime. But it hasn’t been too much lately. I think she’s suspected you and Amber might be rekindling something.”
“Why would she think that?”
“Honey. You have been spending a lot of time with her. And have you looked at Amber’s Instagram?”
I shake my head as I recall Delilah’s email, but before she can say anything else, I step forward and stand behind my daughter.
Within seconds, Delilah’s mom’s voice rings through the background. “Delilah, come back outside, dear. Tom came to visit.”
It’s almost 8:00 p.m. her time. Who is Tom?
“I’ve got to run. Kara, tomorrow afternoon, we’ll finish the painting, okay?” Kara and Delilah both kiss their palms and blow kisses off to each other. Delilah doesn’t acknowledge me before the screen disconnects.
Mom announces it’s time for her to go home. As I hold the door for her to leave, she shoves her phone into my hand.
“Look at the photos she’s been posting.” Mom has Amber’s Instagram open on her phone. Photo after photo of Kara and me, and some selfies of the three of us. I remember her telling us to smile, but it never occurred to me she was posting these. There are also a lot of pictures of my backside with captions like “Nice ass.” and “Yum yum.” Unreal.
After saying goodbye to Mom, I usher Kara to the bath. On the way there, Kara points out the new art she’s recently completed with Delilah while on FaceTime. It seems the two of them have a system going, with Delilah as instructor and Kara as pupil. She’s still there for Kara but stonewalling me. Once Kara’s asleep, I call Delilah. Of course, her voicemail picks up, so I text her.
Mason: Hey there. I want to be clear. Nothing is going on with Amber and me. Nothing has happened at any point with us romantically. She has been spending more time with Kara, which I encouraged. She was also helping us out by spending time with her when I was at work. I plan to get a lawyer to work on getting sole custody. Can we talk?