U Is for Undertow (Kinsey Millhone 21)

“Sorry we didn’t keep you informed about our busy lives,” Shelly said.

Deborah turned on her in a flash. “I’m not going to put up with any shit from you so you can knock that off.”

Shelly shut her mouth, but she made a comic face, eyes getting wide, mouth pulled down in mock surprise. Like, Lah-di-dah, the nerve. Did you hear what she just said?

Greg made a gesture, indicating that he’d take care of it.

At least he was starting to stand up to her, Deborah thought. Watching them, she felt like she’d developed X-ray vision. She could see all the little nuances in their communication, the ploys, the dodges, the way they tried using emotion to throw her off balance. This was like the children’s game of hot potato, where the object was to leave the other guy holding the bag.

Greg said, “So where’s Rain? Shawn’s been looking forward to seeing her.”

“I’m picking her up at three. How long did you plan to stay?”

“Couple of days. Depends. You know, we haven’t decided yet.”

Shelly cupped a hand to her mouth, like she was making an aside that no one else could hear. “Notice how she’s ducking the subject of Rain,” she said to Greg.

Deborah kept her voice in a singsong range, as though speaking to a child. “Well, Shelly—oh, excuse me. I meant Destiny. What is there to say? We didn’t think you were interested in Rain. There was never a letter or a phone call and not a penny of support for her. The child is ours now.”

“What, like you gave birth to her? News to me.”

Deborah didn’t think it was possible to loathe another human being more than she’d loathed Shelly in the past, but apparently, there were untapped reservoirs of hostility that Deborah could call upon at will. “We adopted her. We went through the court system. Your parental rights were terminated. That’s what they do when parents abandon a baby at the age of five days.”

Shelly said, “Fuck you, bitch. I’m not putting up with any shit from you either!” She got up, agitated, and snatched up her shawl. “Come on, Sky Dancer.” And to Greg, “We’ll be in the bus when you get done kissing butt. Jesus, what a mama’s boy.”

Greg made his excuses shortly afterward. There was no graceful way to exit the conversation. He went out to the bus, and Deborah went upstairs to the master bedroom and called Patrick, who said he’d drive up for the night, but he’d have to return to L.A. first thing the next morning. “Keep away from them if you can,” he said. “I’ll take care of it when I get home.”

“That might not be necessary. Now that Shelly—oh, excuse me, Destiny—has worked herself into such a state of righteous indignation, they may take off of their own volition.”

But such was not the case. Deborah picked up Rain from her playdate, half expecting the yellow school bus to be gone on her return. Instead it was parked where it had been, which seemed curious in itself. Flouncing off in a huff was a typical Shelly move, meant to alert you to her displeasure. Emotional one-upsmanship.

Shawn knocked on the back door soon after Deborah and Rain got home.

“Is Rain here?” he asked.

“Of course.” Deborah let him into the kitchen. He stood by the door, not quite sure what to do with himself. It was almost as though he held a hat in his hands, turning the rim while he waited for what came next. Deborah said, “Did your dad send you?”

“Greg’s not my dad.”

“Sorry.”

“He and my mom are asleep.”

“I see. Well, why don’t you have a seat? Rain went up to her room. I’ll tell her you’re here. She’ll enjoy the company.”

Shawn perched on the edge of a kitchen chair. His tennis shoes were ill-fitting and he wore no socks. Deborah wanted to weep at the sight of his ankles, which looked as frail as a fawn’s.

She said, “I’m happy to see you, Shawn. I mean that.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She went upstairs to Rain’s room and told her she had company. “His name is Shawn. His mother calls him Sky Dancer and it would be polite if you did, too.”

She took Rain by the hand and the two went downstairs. Shawn was actually Rain’s half brother, but Deborah thought the concept would be confusing to a four-year-old.

Shawn got up from his chair when Rain entered the room. She stood there looking at him and he looked at her. There was an unmistakable resemblance between them. Both had Shelly’s dark hair and big hazel eyes. Rain’s hair fell into natural ringlets, and she was rosy with good health, where Shawn looked like a prisoner of war.