Rachel Cantor - Good on Paper

I didn’t say these things, of course. There were places one didn’t go, places I wouldn’t go.

Benny is not my boyfriend, I said. I don’t know how many times I have to say it. Or why I have to say it.

What about understanding? he said. Andi’s unhappy — do you have any idea why?

Unhappy? Andi? Uncertainty surfaced on my face before I could stop it.

You didn’t know, did you? Well, she is, and I have proof, all the proof I need. He looked meaningfully at Andi’s Observations Notebook, in the basket of her new bike.

You didn’t!

How could he? Read her private thoughts? Had he given her the notebook just so he could spy on her, on us?

It’s all there, he said, still affecting detachment. How unhappy she is, what she thinks of you, everything.

You’re sick! I shouted. I’m going to tell her exactly what you did!

You would , wouldn’t you? he said, shaking his head. It doesn’t matter. She knows there’s no room for her in your life. We talked about it this afternoon.

What are you talking about! I screamed. You talked about what?

Connecticut. My lawyer’s working on it. Custody, if you decide not to come with us.

You’re crazy! I shouted. Anger pressed against my chest, a terrible white-heat. She is not going to Connecticut. You can’t have custody! You don’t have any rights!

I asked her this afternoon — she’s made up her mind: she’s coming with me to Connecticut. That’ll be enough for any judge. That and your staying out all night, your inability to support her. You can’t even make it to her parent-teacher conferences! Besides, why would you force her to stay with you if she wants to be with me?

She doesn’t have a say! It’s not up to her. I’m her mother!

Have you got money for lawyers? I didn’t think so.

I rushed at him and pummeled him. Fists high, I attacked him.

You frustrated, cold-hearted, son-of-a-bitch bastard! I shouted as I slapped his arms, his face — and hated him, for turning my daughter against me, for wanting to crush me, for being so good at it. He didn’t move, just collected my blows like trophies. You deserve to lose everything! I shouted. You deserved to lose Roger, and Jonah, and your children; you deserve to lose Andi! You deserve to be alone, you pathetic, horrible, disgusting man!

Mommy! I heard Andi sob. Don’t hit Ahmad!

The energy that had frenzied my limbs evaporated. The shame of what I’d done settled into my body. I left the room, I left my crying child.

Everything Ahmad said about me was true. I was selfish, I did think only about myself. I wanted Benny — he was right. It didn’t matter that I was incapable, it didn’t matter that we would crash and burn, and Andi would get hurt. It didn’t matter because I only thought about myself. Connecticut might be better for Andi — I couldn’t see how, but shouldn’t I have been willing to consider it? I was no better than my mother. My baby knew it now, she knew it; she’d made her choice. I could give up writing, I could give up men, but I couldn’t rid myself of my mother’s taint, which was my taint, which was an inability to love and be loved. There could be no new life for me — no Romei, no Romeo, no deus ex machina could arrive out of the blue to make everything, to make me better.

I pounded my bed with my palm. I wanted to hurt myself, rake an X across my chest, score my skin and scar it; I’d take pleasure in the hemorrhage, nothing could clot my hateful blood. I huddled into myself and sobbed.

Time passed, I didn’t know how much. I couldn’t unball myself. My eyes were “destroyed,” to use Dante’s phrase, my face a sodden wash. I became aware of a calm outside my door. A quiet, like the silence after a child has left a room. I wrapped the silence around me, like a girl on the shore, wrapped in a towel, blue-lipped and reflective. I’d let my daughter see me scream and curse like a she-wolf, I’d let her see me attack Ahmad with my fists. Then she saw me walk away, defeated. I didn’t know which was worse.

Was I willing to give her up without a fight? I was not! Andi was mine, she was mine , the best, the only part of me!

I sat up, felt the chenille under my hand, the rag rug under my feet. Then stood by the door. Nothing.

I needed a plan. We had to go somewhere. I’d been in dreamland, never imagining that Andi and I might actually have to find a place to stay. We needed a place to stay, but where? Jeanette could take us for a day or two, but she had no guest room. Benny? We couldn’t stay with Benny. I could, at least, do my work anywhere, Romei’s money would support us for a while, half a year, even.

Rome! We could go to Rome! If I were there, Romei would have to publish, I’d make sure of it; Andi could go to my old school. For a semester, while I sorted things out. We could even stay, if we had to. I could meet all the new writers, maybe get a teaching gig — anything was possible!

I tiptoed across the living room to the study, scribbled a fax to Romei: Could we come to Rome, could we come now , maybe even today, Andi and I? It was an emergency, he shouldn’t delay, he should reply ASAP — then I went to find my daughter.

But Ahmad had beaten me to it.

I’m taking Andi some place where she’ll be safe. My lawyer will be in touch .

Like a heroine in a romance novel, I fell in a dead faint.

•

When I came to, my cell phone was ringing. I sprang to the phone. I’d do anything! Admit I was selfish. Move to Connecticut. Become a lifelong celibate. Anything!

Yes! I said breathlessly.

Romei seems to think you’re in some distress. May I be of service?

Benny! My fax must have been more incoherent than I’d thought.

Yes, I whispered. Come over. Please.

Two minutes later, he was there.

He’s crazy, I said, my face in my hands. He’s taken my baby!

Does she have a passport? Benny asked. He was sitting stiffly next to me on the couch.

What? I said, lifting my head, then felt my heart try to push its way through my chest. Oh God! I cried, and ran to my room, where I found her passport in my drawer.

Benny took my hand when I returned.

I don’t mean to scare you, but he could have gotten her another. Are you willing to take that risk? Though I’m not sure who can stop a father traveling with his daughter.

He’s not her father. He’s not her real father.

Benny looked surprised, but didn’t ask.

If there’s even a possibility they might disappear, you have to call the police.

The police? I said, withdrawing my hand. You’re kidding, right?

I looked mutely at Benny. He walked some steps away, mumbled into his phone.

I’m talking to a lawyer, he explained to me, his hand over the mouthpiece. He says that we can explain to a judge that Ahmad is not Andi’s natural father and get an injunction preventing him from taking her out of state. It only takes effect after it’s been served, though, so we’d have to find him before he left. Once we got her back, we could get a restraining order. Did I get that right, Marty?

Looking at me, he nodded.

It wasn’t that simple, I thought. Ahmad said his lawyer would be in touch. If he’d spoken to lawyers, he’d know this already. If he wanted her out of the state, they’d be there by now. If he wanted her out of the country, they’d be on a plane. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t!