Mary, Mary

Chapter 31

“WHAT'S GOING ON UP THERE?” Nana called from below "Alex? Are you okay?

What happened?"

I looked at the smashed phone on the floor and felt unhinged. “It's all right,” I called back. “I just dropped something. Everything's fine.”

Even the little lie didn't sit well with me, but I couldn't face anyone right now Not even Nana Mama. I pushed back from my desk and put my head down between my knees.

Goddamn Christine. What was wrong with her? It just wasn't right, and she had to know that.

She couldn't have chosen a worse way of going about this, eithet She was the one who decided to leave, who said she was unfit to be Alex's mom. She told me that. She used the word - unfit. And she was the one who kept changing her mind. Nothing had ever changed for me. I wanted Alex from the moment I set eyes on him, and I wanted him even more now I could see his face, his shy little smile, a cute wink he'd developed lately I could hear his voice inside my head. I wanted to give him a big hug that wouldn't stop.

It felt so unfair, so completely wrongheaded. All I had in me was anger and even a little hatred for Christine, which only made me feel worse. I'd give her a fight if that's what she wanted, but it was insane that she did.

Breathe, I told myself.

I was supposed to be good at staying calm in a bad situation. But I couldn't help feeling that I was being punished for doing my job, for being a cop.

I don't know how long I sat up there, but when I finally left the attic, the house was dark and still. Jannie and Damon were asleep in their rooms. I went in and kissed them good night anyway I took Jannie's mouse ears off and put them on the bedside table.

Then I went out to the back porch. I flipped the lid on the piano and sat down to play Therapy for one.

Usually, the music took hold of me, helped me work through or forget whatever was bothering me.

Tonight, the blues just came out angry and all wrong. I switched to Brahms, something more soothing, but it didn't help in the least. My pianissimo sounded forte, and my arpeggios were like boots clomping up and down stairs.

I finally stopped midphrase, hands over the keys.

In the silence, I heard the sharp intake of my own breath, an involuntary gulp of ai What if I lose Little Alex?