Should Have Known Better

There was silence, but I waited. I waited and waited, because I swear I wasn’t going to allow him to just get off the hook with some half-baked lie about needing space.

“Why did you have to go to her job? If you would’ve just waited until I called you,” he said weakly.

“Well, I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait. And your children couldn’t wait. And have you even considered what your little disappearing act is doing to them? They wake up in the morning and their father is just gone? What am I supposed to say to them?” I snatched the phone from the charger.

“Where are they?”

“Where are you?”

“Dawn, don’t play games. Where are my children?” he asked, but it sounded more like an order.

“They’re with me.”

“Where?”

“OK, I’ll tell you,” I said. “I’ll tell you where we’re at if you tell me where you’re at.”

There was loud banging on the phone and I could tell Reginald was hitting it against something hard.

“You tell me where they’re at. They’re my kids and they have nothing to do with what’s going on between me and you.”

“See, that’s the thing, Reginald,” I said. “I still don’t know what’s going on between you and me. Until Sasha showed up at our house, you seemed fine. And now, suddenly, you need space and you’re taking off and not calling to check on the children you now so quickly care about.”

“Now you didn’t know I wasn’t happy?” he spat. “Please, you know I haven’t been happy in a long time. You just don’t do it for me. But now I know what I need.”

“And what’s that? What do you need, you fucking bastard?” I cried. “You sound like a tape recorder. Is she sitting there, is she sitting there telling you what to say?”

I saw my mother rushing down the steps in her nightgown. R. J. and Cheyenne were behind her rubbing their eyes.

“Never mind her,” he said. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“How doesn’t it?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you right now,” he said and I’ll say that was the farthest his voice, his thought, his concern had ever been from me. It was like I was speaking to another person. “Now, you claim I’ve abandoned my kids, so I want to see them.”

“Oh, you want to see them now?”

“Is that my daddy?” Cheyenne asked, coming over to me.

“Come here, Cheyenne. Your mother’s on the phone,” my mother tried, but Cheyenne wouldn’t budge.

“Yes, I want to see my children this weekend. I’m coming to get them,” Reginald said.

“Get them? Get them and take them where?”

“Where is no matter to you. Now stop making this hard!”

“Making it hard? I’m making it hard?”

“I want to speak to my daddy,” R. J. cried sleepily, stepping up behind his sister.

“You know what,” I started, “I’m going to make this really easy for you. If you want your children, you’ll see them. You’ll see them right now!”

“What are you saying?” he asked, but I hung up the phone.

“What are you doing?” My mother pushed the twins out of the way and grabbed the phone.

“Nothing. He said he wants to see the kids, so he’ll see the kids,” I answered coolly, but the alcohol added a sway to my voice. “Ya’ll go on upstairs and hurry up and put your shoes on,” I said to R. J. and Cheyenne.