Page 20 of Wounded Dance
“Ray!” My mom is behind him, and behind her, my eight-year-old brother Andy.
“The Lord does not object to the truth!” my father says. “Are you lying with that man?”
I move away from him and calmly flip the page to photograph it. I only have a couple more, I think. Inside I want to cry out at what my father is saying, but I have to focus. I need the document.
Still, my hand shakes as I hold the phone over the page, trying to get a clean shot where the words are clear.
“It doesn’t matter if you get that document,” my dad says. “Your baby is in a good home far from here.”
I don’t know why he keeps saying that. I know exactly where my daughter is. But I’m not going to tell him.
I get the last page photographed, and I pick up the packet. “Thank you,” I say to Irma, and pass her the pages. “I’m sorry I snuck in for it.” I cut my eyes at my father. “I’m sure you see why.”
Irma takes the pages, her eyes full of tears. “I’m so sorry, Livia. I had no idea.”
I look behind my mother at Andy. “I miss you, Buddy,” I tell him.
He tries to come around her to get to me, but Mom grabs him and holds him back.
“I’ll try to find a way to see you,” I tell him.
“Like hell you will,” my father says. “I won’t have you corrupting him too.”
I turn to my father. When I lived with him, I always bent to his will, thinking I had so much penance to pay, I would never be free of my guilt. But now I know better.
“Denham isn’t my brother,” I tell him. “He was DNA-tested. And now he knows about the baby and wants her.”
My mother gasps. “How do you know that?”
I turn to her. “He found me. And he’s looking for the baby. I’m getting these to protect her.” I point to the paper Irma holds. “And to clean up the mess you all made.”
“Didi told me he was my son,” my father says, his voice less threatening now.
“Well, she lied,” I say. “And you fell for it. For someone who wants to talk about my relationships, you sure have a dirty history yourself. How long had you been seeing Mom when you were with that woman?”
My father’s hand comes up as if he would slap me, but Irma steps between us. “You will not lay a hand on this child in God’s house,” she says. Her voice quivers. “Livia, do you need me to walk you to your car?”
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I’m no longer afraid of him.” I head for the door. “I’ve grown up, Father,” I say. “And you don’t control me.”
Despite my confident words, I feel like I might throw up as I cross the parking lot again. For a moment, I’m confused, as I don’t see Blitz’s red Ferrari. The I remember the silver car on the curb, and head toward it.
“How did it go?” Blitz asks as I get in.
“I got the pictures,” I say. “Now step on it.”
Blitz doesn’t ask anything else, just punches the gas and we speed away.
Chapter 10
On Tuesday, we take the silver car and head to Dreamcatcher. Blitz has had mustaches delivered and wears one stuck to his face as we pull into the parking lot. I’m wearing a big hat and sunglasses.
“I don’t think the mustache is necessary,” I tell him as we approach the academy.
“I just wanted to look dashing for your ex,” he says.
“Oh, Blitz.” Despite my anxiety, I have to laugh.
Denham’s green truck is still parked on the curb.
