I am still feeling relieved from this discovery, and mellow from the glass of wine, when my cell phone rings. It’s Monica.
“Just checking that everything’s going all right,” she says after I answer. “Sorry we had to leave so abruptly—we had another situation. Anyway, how is Dylan?”
“He’s great,” I practically chirp. “Really great.”
“That’s wonderful,” Monica says after what feels like a slightly startled pause. “Susan will be so pleased. She was worried, but she also wondered if he might do better away from his mother. Anyway. So there are no problems?”
I think of the screaming, but decide it’s not worth mentioning. We got over it, after all. “No, no problems. Like you said, he’s very quiet, but he’s fine. We’re figuring out what he needs, and he listens really well. We’ve had dinner and he’s having a bath now and it’s all good.” I sound as if I am brimming with benevolence, and right now I feel as if I am. What on earth was I so scared about? This is easy. This is fun.
“That’s terrific, Ally,” Monica says. “That will be a big relief to Susan especially, and of course to Beth. I’ll be in touch in a day or two about Beth’s visit. Is that okay?”
“That’s great.” I couldn’t sound more thrilled if I tried. I’ve got this.
After I finish the call, I drink the last of my wine, smiling to myself, imagining going upstairs and seeing Dylan all freshly washed and in his pajamas, smelling of baby shampoo and soap, ready for a bedtime story.
Then, as I take my wine glass to the sink, I hear that scream again.
7
BETH
As I lead Susan up to my apartment, my resolve hardens to steel. I am not going to give up my son without a fight. A big one.
Susan must sense what I’m feeling, because she looks friendly but cautious as she puts her bag down on a kitchen chair, and then pulls out another one to sit in. She gives a quick glance around the kitchen, and I’m pretty sure she’s taking in how clean it is, but she doesn’t comment on it.
I stand in the doorway, my arms folded, trying not to fidget.
“So, Beth,” she says with one of her smiles, “how are you feeling today?”
“I’m feeling like I want my son back.” I didn’t mean to come out swinging quite so much, but I can’t help it. Mike’s words are ringing in my ears, and right now I can’t believe I just let Susan take Dylan the way I did. I’m sure if I talked to a lawyer, he or she would tell me how I’d been coerced and manipulated. Something about what happened yesterday felt not just wrong, but illegal, and part of me wants Susan to know that I know that now, even as another part of me shies away from such a confrontation. It never goes well for someone in my situation. Susan can use anything and everything against me, when the time comes, and no matter how sympathetic she seems now, I’m sure she will.
“I want that too, Beth,” she answers carefully, keeping her smile in place. “And that’s why I’m here. To talk about how we can make that happen.”
“And why do we have to do anything to make that happen?” I demand. I can’t keep the aggression from my voice, or my fists from clenching. “I thought I was supposed to sign some paperwork yesterday. I didn’t even see whatever order you were meant to have so you could take Dylan from me, and surely I should have. And now you’re going to tell me what hoops I have to jump through just so I can get my own child back, when maybe you didn’t have the right to take him in the first place?”
All the while I’m ranting, Susan gazes at me steadily, her hands folded on the table in front of her. She looks unfazed but still sympathetic, and I wonder if this is a look social workers have to learn to perfect, no matter what the situation.
“I can see you’re frustrated, Beth, and I understand that.”
“Frustrated?” I repeat incredulously. “I’m a lot more than frustrated, Susan. I’m angry. What happened yesterday was wrong.”
“What happened yesterday was unfortunate,” Susan corrects me carefully. “As I’m sure you remember, I had to leave abruptly, due to Dylan’s extreme reaction, which is why I’m here today, so we can go over the paperwork you mentioned, as well as address any questions or