Things We Didn't Say_ A Novel - Kristina Riggle [84]
Plus I can show the Friend of the Court all this great stuff I’ve been working on—I haven’t had a drop to drink in weeks—and I bet they would love to reunite a mother with her children.
Casey’s babble is trailing off now, she’s looking away from the glass. She looks tired. Maybe ready for bed.
“So, Casey,” I say. “You guys gonna have some kids, soon?”
Her eyes dart down, and I detect a tiny flinch.
She shrugs. “We’ll see. After we’re married.”
“Right. Do things in the proper order.”
“What’s wrong with that?” she says, eyes narrowed at me.
“Nothing. Don’t be so defensive.” I stretch, swill my fake drink, and get up to make myself another fake drink. This time I pour some Jack into the sink, so it looks like I’m making a dent. “I’m surprised he wants another go-round. He always told me two was his limit, and we had three.”
Her hands are trembling. She thinks I can’t tell. I know it by the way she’s got this supercasual posture all of a sudden, leaning way back in her chair, fooling with a fingernail.
“We’ll work it out.”
“Or maybe you won’t have any. Man, pregnancy is hard. Stretches you all out in every which way. You think PMS hormones are bad, whew. Pregnancy. Makes the men run for the hills.”
Her pretend-casual has crumbled completely. She’s leaning on her elbows now, her hands deep in her hair like she’s going to rip it out.
“Oh, sweetie. I can see how bad you want a baby. Sure you do, you’re so young.” I pat her arm. “Wow, a fourth baby for Michael. That’ll be a tough sell.”
“I know,” she says, almost whispering.
“He’s not into it, huh?”
“He used to be. He said he would, but . . . Whenever I try to bring it up, or set a wedding date, he changes the subject. Says we’ll talk later.”
“Oh, the famous later.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
I shake my head. “He’s got you feeling like you’re the one taking every wrong step. And look, you’re not me, okay? You haven’t pulled half the shit I did. In fact, it looks to me like you’re a goddamn Girl Scout. So what’s this ‘what I’m doing wrong’ bullshit? Doesn’t he have a part in this? Don’t let him saddle you with the whole thing. He does this all the time, he expects perfection out of everyone. It’s his dad who fucked him up like that. And he’s barely even aware of it, is the funny thing. Sad thing. Whatever.”
I lean in close. “You gotta ask yourself. If he doesn’t want to have a baby, or set a date, what’s his problem? Because from where I sit? You’re doing your damn best, and he doesn’t give you any credit at all.”
She picks up the glass without even appearing to notice she’s done it, and pours half of it down her throat.
I take a drink, too, to hide my smile.
That’s it, sweetie. Drink up.
Chapter 36
Michael
I jerk awake to discover we’re pulling off the highway. I look back to Dylan in the seat, and he’s awake, too.
I stare at him until he flinches away from me, relishing the fact that I know exactly where he is.
“Almost back,” says my dad. In the weak yellow glow from the streetlights he looks older than he should, far older than he did just two days ago when I was so irritated with him at lunch.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, because I have to. He drove all that way without complaint. I never would have made it, tired as I was, in a blizzard.
He nods in response, then checks for traffic and changes lanes.
It’s the blackest part of night. No one seems to be around at all except for salt trucks and plows. A taxicab passes. My dad’s driving is more relaxed and assured. The roads must be better by now.
Just a few turns to the house.
I turn back to Dylan. “Everyone’s probably asleep. But there’s a chance your mother waited up, and you know how she can get.”
Dylan cringes. Looks out the window.
“I’m just saying. Brace yourself. We’ll talk tomorrow. Right now we all need sleep.”
I can see through the front window that the kitchen light is on at the back of the house. Someone may have just left it on. I’m hoping no one is awake. I’m in no mood for an encounter of any kind.
My dad says, “I’ll idle here until I see that you