Wings of Glass (22 page)

I FIGURED
Trent would come calling that night, and I was right. Callie Mae answered through the chain lock, so we could see only an inch or two of his face. I sat in a chair, with my back to the door, trying to get you to nurse. You were crying so hard, frustrated by my lack of milk, I suppose. You just wouldn’t calm down enough to latch on.

“She’s my wife,” he said. “I have a right to see her.”

My stomach flip-flopped. Would he kick the door down to get to me?

The louder his voice grew, the softer Callie Mae’s became. “Your wife or not, she has a right to tell you she doesn’t want to see you.”

It wasn’t true, though, Manny. I did want to see him. I missed him so badly it made my heart ache, but I didn’t have the courage to tell Callie Mae that to her face.

“What about my son? I haven’t even met my own son. I should at least be able to see him.”

“You should have thought about that before shoving—”

“It was an accident,” he pleaded. “Penny! Penny, are you in there? Tell her it was an accident. Let me see my son. Please, baby!”

“He’s fine,” I called. “You’ll see him soon. I promise.”

Callie Mae turned around and shot me a frigid look, then turned back toward the cracked door. “We’ll arrange visitations in a few days, after you’ve calmed down.”

“One Cent, please. Let me meet my son, for crying out loud. He’s my son. I’m sorry about all of this. You know I didn’t mean to hurt your friend. You don’t know how worried I’ve been about you. I love you, Penny. She don’t know how it is for us. Let me just see him, please?”

Teardrops rolled down my cheeks onto the top your head. I wanted to run to him. To show him you had his nose. That you were beautiful and perfect . . . and that I forgave him.

“Your wife almost died,” Callie Mae said coldly. “She almost bled to death while you were stumbling around drunk. You don’t need to see them right now, and they don’t need to see you. What everyone needs is for you to get help.”

“You don’t own her,” he hissed. “She’s my wife, not yours, you old bat.”

Callie Mae’s voice dropped an octave, and she spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear her just a few feet away. “I don’t own her, Trent. But believe it or not, neither do you. Being a husband isn’t the same thing as being a slave owner.”

“Unlatch this door and say that to my face.”

“This conversation’s over.” With that, she slammed the door.

He banged on the window, then the door, then the window again, screaming for us to let him in.

After a few minutes, his car roared out of the driveway, and I relaxed.

Callie Mae sat beside us. “He’ll be back.”

“I know.” I looked down at you and saw, for the first time, a dribble of milk slip down the corner of your mouth, and you were gulping. My milk had finally come in. Maybe I wouldn’t starve you to death after all. Maybe everything really would be okay.

Callie Mae pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair, letting it spill to the top of her shoulders. “Penny, I need to know when I go to the food bank tomorrow that you’ll be strong enough to not let him in.”

I knew that the moment he knocked on the door, I was going back to him sooner rather than later, and I was so tired of lying, so I said nothing.

“Promise me you won’t let him in. He could kill you this time. He could kill Manny.”

I thought she was overstating it more than a little, but I knew I’d never convince her she was wrong. Her daughter had been murdered, so in her mind, I might be too. But she didn’t know that Trent was always sorry after an incident like this. He would be on his best behavior for at least a few weeks. There would never be a time when I’d be safer around him. And you were his son. He had a God-given
right to at least meet you. And what about your right to have a father?

“I promise I won’t let him in,” I said reluctantly. That didn’t mean I couldn’t visit with him on the porch. He could at least hold you a minute or two. He needed us now more than ever, and in my emotionally unstable state, I thought we needed him, too.

She gave me a look that made it clear she wasn’t convinced, but my promise would have to be enough for her. I was a grown woman, after all. She had just told Trent he didn’t own me, and neither did she.

While you finished up your meal, she turned on the TV. We watched a game show in silence. As the contestants were informed of their parting gifts, the phone rang. I knew it would be him.

Jumping up, Callie Mae rushed over to the phone as though she was afraid I might beat her to it. “Hello?”

She looked over her shoulder at me and mouthed,
It’s him.
“I’ve already told you she isn’t going to see you right now. Don’t call us. We’ll call you.” She slammed the phone down. “If he keeps it up, I’m going to have to report him for harassment.”

I looked down at you to see you’d fallen asleep. Your long eyelashes fluttered as if you were dreaming, and the side of your mouth twitched up. I carried you to your crib, kissed your nose, and laid you down. After I covered you, I tiptoed back out of the room and closed the door.

Callie Mae was staring at the TV, which was now just a black screen. “I have a gun,” she said through tight lips.

My eyes widened. “A gun?”

She walked over to a small table resting in the corner of the room and opened the drawer. “I loaded it this morning.” She pulled out a white-handled pistol. “Do you know how to use it?”

This was getting way out of hand. I wasn’t about to shoot my own husband. What was she thinking?

“Just in case. Know it’s there.”

“I don’t need a gun, Callie.” I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Sara didn’t think she needed a gun either.”

I rubbed away the goose bumps that had broken out over my arms. “He just needs a little time to think about his temper. He doesn’t need me to murder him.”

“You just pull the hammer back, aim, and fire.” She held the gun with both hands, pointed it at the door, and pretended to shoot it. The glazed-over look on her face wasn’t one I’d seen before, and it scared me. Slowly, she lowered the gun and walked it back over to the table. “That’s all there is to it.” She set it beside a phone book and closed the drawer. “Not murder. Self-defense. If he breaks in here and tries to hurt you or take Manny, you have a right to protect yourself.”

“He wouldn’t take Manny.”

“You don’t know what he’ll try to do. He’s going to get desperate. The behavior you’ve seen so far is nothing compared to what he’ll do if he thinks he’s losing you.”

He’s not losing me,
I thought. Did she think I was going to keep him away from his own son forever? That I was just
going to live in her guest room for the rest of my life? This wasn’t home. I missed my kitchen, my bed, and my husband. We were a family—Trent, you, and me. She was my friend—a good friend—but that was no substitution.

The next morning, as soon as Callie Mae left for the food bank, I called Trent before I could lose my nerve. I thought he would cuss me out for not letting him in the night before, but he was just so relieved to hear I still loved him. He begged me to come home and I agreed, with the understanding that if he ever touched me again, I would press charges. He said I wouldn’t have to. He would do it himself. Once again, I chose to believe him.

I left a note on the table apologizing for the trouble I’d put Callie Mae through and a promise, which I hoped wasn’t empty, that everything would be okay.

I had no ride and just enough money for the city bus, so I walked the half mile with you snuggled inside my coat, lugging my bag of things to the bus stop, knowing I’d have another two miles to walk after the bus dropped me off.

When I finally got home, my arms were burning and the house was a mess. But surprisingly, there were no empty cans or bottles lying around. I thought for sure he would have gone on a bender when Callie Mae refused to let him see us. In my convoluted mind, this was confirmation he really was changing. I set you in the swing I’d picked up at the thrift
store weeks before, and you were just as content as could be swinging to and fro as a lullaby played.

By the time the house was picked up and dinner started, the phone was ringing off the hook. I knew at least some of the calls were Callie Mae, so I didn’t dare answer. I couldn’t face her. I didn’t doubt for a second her motivation was love, but Trent was right—she didn’t know how it was for us. I wasn’t Sara, and Trent wasn’t going to kill me or hurt you. I promised myself if he got himself all worked up again, I’d leave. If he put one finger on me, or so much as looked at you the wrong way, I’d call the police and file charges.

About five thirty his car pulled up. He rushed through the front door, scooped me up, and swung me around grinning and kissing my face. “Oh, baby, don’t you ever do that to me again.” He gave me one more kiss before setting me down. “I couldn’t live without you, Penny. I’d rather be dead.”

“Don’t talk that way,” I said as my heart fluttered. I was so glad to be home—to be a family again.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed me so hard I thought he might fracture one of my ribs. His lips were cold against my mouth, but as soft as they’d ever felt. He tried to pull me toward the bedroom, but I stopped him, digging my heels into the carpet. “Doctor says not for six weeks.”

He frowned as he let me loose. “Six weeks might as well be forever. What if—?”

“No means no, Trent.” I braced myself for his fury. The front door was unlocked. The car keys were sitting on top of
the TV, and your swing was right next to it. In a matter of seconds, I could grab you and the keys and be gone.

He wasn’t mad, though. He kissed my hand. “I missed you. Oh, baby, you don’t know how I missed you.”

I did know because I missed him the same way. “Would you like to meet your son?”

He glanced at you. “In a minute.” He ran his hand through my hair, staring into my eyes like we were in some romance novel. “The police told me you backed my story up. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Well, at least one person thought so. “I told them the truth. That you didn’t mean to hurt Fatimah.”

He nodded. “I knew I could count on you to have my back, babe.”

“It was the truth,” I repeated.
Just not all of it.

The smell of meatloaf wafted past us, and I decided it had probably been in the oven long enough. I motioned toward the kitchen. “I need to check that.”

“Penny, thank you. You saved my bacon.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it.

I walked to the kitchen and pulled open the oven. Heat escaped, along with the smell of beef and onion. The ketchup on top of the loaf was browning, and the drippings were turning black around the edges of the meat. I closed the oven and turned it off.

His arms wrapped around the back of my waist. “This time it’s going to be different. You’ll see. You’ve shown me the meaning of true love. You’re a loyal woman, and I’m going
to be the most loyal husband and father in the entire world. This time I’m going to deserve you.”

I swallowed down my fear and turned around. We were nose to nose, and I could feel his hot breath on me. I wondered if I should put more distance between us before saying what I needed to. “You know, you can’t be hitting me now that we have Manny in the house.”

“I didn’t mean to— You know I don’t never really mean to hurt you. I just lose my temper sometimes. It’s hard loving a woman as much as I love you. Sometimes it makes me crazy.”

I left his arms to reach in the cabinet and pull out a box of instant potatoes. “Well, you can’t get crazy anymore. I can’t have my son living the way I’ve been living. I won’t have it.”

When the crease formed between his eyebrows, I was terrified. But this had to be said. “I mean it. If you put your hands on me again, it’s over.”

He walked over and pinned me against the cabinets with the full weight of his body. He put a hand behind my head and kissed me too forcefully to be pleasant. I tried to turn away from him, but he had a handful of my hair in his fist. He tried to give me that macho look of his that was meant to melt me. “It’s never going to be over for us, Penny. You know that as well as I do. You belong to me. You always will.”