Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I say. “I’m her aunt.”
“I’ve done some research into Amelia’s—”
“Millie. Her name is Millie.” She doesn’t even know my niece. What research does she think she’s done?
“Yes, well, I’ve looked into Millie’s case. It seems she has another living parent, a Mr. William Frisk—”
Oh, no. I have to choke down a rock in my throat before I can speak.
“Will Frisk. Right. She’s seen him a handful of times in her four years alive, and he has a rap sheet longer than the state driver’s manual,” I say bitterly.
“Is that true?” Smith pauses.
Why would I lie to her?
“Uh—to the best of my knowledge criminal records are public. Since you’ve done so much research—” I pause, trying and failing to hide my irritation. “You’re totally welcome to look it up.”
“Miss Halle, please understand that these situations are governed by state law. I’m simply doing my best to—”
“Let me tell you something,” I cut in. “My parents died in a car wreck when I was two years old and Abby was six. We were at the neighbor’s house when it happened. Aunt Sarah—our kind neighbor, basically an adopted aunt—wanted to keep us. CPS said she didn’t have enough space or money, and she wasn’t a relative.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Smith says robotically.
I’m not finished.
“We bounced around from foster home to foster home until Abby aged out of ‘the system.’ She finally found a stable place to live and convinced someone she could be my guardian. We didn’t misunderstand anything. You’re not taking this kid before I’ve even spoken to an attorney. Abby and I are orphans. Her mom’s in jail, and I’m Millie’s only family. Her sperm donor dad who should be arrested for back child support doesn’t count in any sane universe.”
She clears her throat and mutters something on the other end of the line. “Well. I didn’t realize this was Abby’s situation. I’ll have to do some more digging.”
Eff your digging, I want to say.
Play nice for Millie, a voice warns me. Control your temper.
“Look, I’m sorry. There’s just a lot to deal with right now and I’m trying to make the best of this,” I say.
“I understand that. How about this—I’ll let you keep Millie in your custody for now if you promise to reach out and let Mr. Frisk know his daughter’s safe with you.”
“I will. Do you have his number? I don’t.”
“I found a phone number for him, but unfortunately it’s disconnected,” she tells me.
“So, I can keep my niece on the condition I let her sperm donor know, but I have no way to get in touch with him, and even the government doesn’t have a working number?” I hold my head up, staring at the ceiling, trying so hard not to scream.
“It doesn’t have to be immediate. However, it should be timely. Just make sure you get in touch with him when you can, and a qualified attorney if you feel your case needs legal attention.”
“Okay.”
“One more thing,” Smith says, dragging it out.
It’s CPS. Of course, there’s one more thing.
“I need to come out very soon and pay you a visit to ensure Millie’s in a safe environment.”
Lovely.
This is exactly what went down when they snatched us from Aunt Sarah’s many years ago, and we bounced around from one shady foster family to the next.
“What time?” I say, hoping I don’t sound frazzled.
Ugh. I hope they don’t decide my building is too old and the landlord’s slacked on inspections, or one bedroom isn’t enough space, or whatever else it is they can latch on to in order to steal Millie.
“What time?” I ask again.
“I can’t tell you that. Sometimes bad actors enjoy putting on appearances, you understand,” she says, ice-cold as ever.
Oh, I’ll be putting on a show if I make it through the meeting without punching someone.
“No problem. I just need to visit my sister, talk to her attorney, and if he’s not working out, find a new attorney, then make arrangements at my job for more time off since I’m sole guardian to a preschooler, hunt down a sperm donor whose number you don’t have, and find childcare. I’m sure I can do all of that while waiting for you at my apartment. Totally reasonable.”
“Take care of whatever you need to. If you’re not there when I show up, I’ll come back until you are.”
Wonderful. There’s nothing like having a stalker who can snatch your kid away at the smallest slip.
“Thanks.” I cut the call off there. I have nothing useful left to say.
I try not to dwell on how awesome this day is starting as I bundle Millie up and we go visit my sister.
* * *
Abby looks like hell when she sits down on the other side of the glass.
Her hair hangs down in streaks, knotted up after a single day in a cell. Day-old mascara leaves black streaks around her swollen eyes. Whatever passes for hygiene and a pillow in prison isn’t helping her, and it hurts my heart.