Page 85 of Play For Keeps

We manage to be cordial, for two people who can barely tolerate one another. We talk about Thanksgiving coming up and she invites Birdie and I for dinner. I wonder what Jake will be doing. I miss him terribly. Not being able to see him after work or when I wake up in the morning is hard. He has visited a few times already, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. Grant, on the other hand, hasn’t asked to see Birdie once.

“Have you and Grant come to some sort of an understanding for Birdie’s sake?” The way she asks that makes me want to vomit. How can you reason with Grant? It’s like talking to a petulant toddler. No, we haven’t come to any type of understanding. He insisted I move back here, and now he keeps making up excuses not to see her.

“I haven’t seen him to be able to come to any kind of understanding, although it’s not for my lack of trying.”

“What do you mean? You’ve been here for three weeks, and you haven’t spoken to him? Has he not seen Birdie?”

Why do you sound surprised? Your son is a dick.

“He hasn’t seen her. Hasn’t even tried.” And because I am done playing nice, I continue. “Grant made it very difficult to be his wife; it’s not easy when you’re not the only woman in your marriage. Now he’s making it very difficult for me to co-parent with him. He has seen her twice this year and it’s already the middle of October. He didn’t even bother to call her on her birthday.”

Holy shit, did I just say all of that to my mother-in-law? A jolt of panic momentarily races through my veins. But when I look at Miranda, I almost think I can see empathy in her eyes.

“I knew there were problems in your marriage. I wasn’t clear on what they were. I’m sorry my son put you through that. I’m sorry he has hurt you and Birdie.”

Ummm, did I just hear her correctly? She has always taken Grant’s side. She has never been kind to me. What has changed all of a sudden?

“Miranda, why did Grant come home early from North Carolina?” I ask carefully.

She doesn’t answer. She just shakes her head before taking a sip of her coffee. All this time I’ve wondered what happened. I’ve wondered what he did to get himself sent back to Brookmont. But she’s not going to tell me. Why would she?

My phone rings on the counter and I get up from the table to grab it, smiling when I see that it’s Jake.

“Hi babe.”

“Is that Jake?” Birdie hollers from the living room. “I want to talk to him.”

“Jake, I have Miranda here, so I’ll call you later, but Birdie wants to say hi.” He asks me to put her on the phone, but not before telling me he loves me. My heart burns for him. I would do anything to see him in person right now. To see the intensity in his green eyes when he wants to undress me.

“Here baby, but don’t be too long, he’s at work,” I say, handing my phone to Birdie, who is basically climbing up my leg to grab the device from my hand.

She walks to the living room, jabbering away with bright eyes and a smile that reaches her ears. “Jake. I miss you. When are you coming to visit? I hate living this far away from you, and I really want you to take me bike riding again.”

Miranda is listening with pursed lips, but surprisingly there isn’t a single trace of anger.

“Those two are close,” she remarks, and I brace myself for whatever judgemental comment comes next. But she says nothing.

“They are. He loves her.” A warm sensation spreads through my body thinking about the way Jakes treats my daughter. She isn’t his, but he chooses her. Birdie is his choice.

Birdie walks back into the kitchen with my phone, clutching the stuffed cat Jake gave her. “I miss Jake, Mommy. I want to go back to Reed Point. I hate it here.”

I look at her pointedly. “Mind your manners, Birdie. We don’t use that word in this house.”

“Well, I mean it. I miss Reed Point. I want Jake. He tucks me in and takes me bike riding. When can we go home and see Jake?” she protests in her little voice, and I can tell that she is fighting back tears.

I do my best to explain that we are home. I silently curse Grant again for the way he ignores her. She doesn’t deserve to be forgotten about, but I can’t change that. I just need to love her enough on my own. I hug her to my chest until she’s calm again, and then my little spitfire is gone running to the living room to play with her dolls.

Miranda and I sit in silence for a moment before she turns to me. “Everly?”

I nod.

“I want you to know I’m sorry Grant hasn’t been a present father. It is not okay with me.”

“It isn’t?”

“How could it be? I like to think I raised him better than that, but now I’m not so sure. I obviously made mistakes along the way.”

I inwardly wonder if she got anything right. “I’m sure you did your best.”

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