across from it. “Fine. Whatever. I could use some coffee and a hot shower first so I’ll be a little better at giving you whatever it is you want, but whatever, go ahead.”
Liesel’s teeth clicked down, biting back a sharp retort. “What I want?”
He gave her a weary look. “I’m exhausted, okay? My mouth tastes like shit, I have a headache and my back’s killing me. This is the kind of conversation that ends with us talking about what ‘we’re’ gonna do—” he used air quotes for emphasis “—which really means whatever you are going to do. So let’s just cut to it, okay? I’m a lousy jerk for having a kid and never telling you about her. Okay?”
She knew better than to poke him when he woke up grumpy, but that didn’t stop her from replying, “No, you’re a lousy jerk for having a kid and never knowing about her.”
Christopher stared at her, hard. Then he crumpled. He scrubbed at his eyes again before propping his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands.
“We have to talk about what we’re going to do with them, that’s what I meant, Christopher.”
He shifted to look over at her. “You want to keep them.”
“Don’t you?”
He leaned forward. “They’re not puppies, for Chrissake, Liesel.”
“No! They’re children!”
“She’s not,” he pointed out. “If she’s mine, she has to be at least nineteen years old, probably almost twenty.”
“That’s still practically a child! I was in college when I was twenty, living at home with my parents and working part-time at the grocery store to earn textbook money. Twenty’s barely old enough to be married, much less be a parent.”
“I was married at eighteen.”
“And look how well that worked out,” Liesel retorted. “You were only married for three years.”
Christopher flinched. He looked away from her, a hand scraping through his hair. Her sharpness embarrassed her, made her feel like the sort of sniping, shrewish wife she’d never wanted to be. It made her sound…jealous.
“I’m just saying, it’s not that young,” he said after a moment. “You weren’t much older when we met.”
“I was twenty-five when we met, but I was twenty-seven when we got married,” Liesel said. “We’d both finished school. Had jobs. We didn’t have kids—”
“Apparently,” Christopher said, “I did.”
It was her turn to flinch. “She has three. She’s not even twenty years old and has three kids. Happy’s what, four years old? Which means she started having babies at fifteen? And living in that place… My God, Christopher. Everyone knows they’re crazy over there. You’ve seen them downtown, handing out their pamphlets. Have you ever read one of them?”
Christopher’s lip curled. “No. Have you?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. I felt so bad for the kid who was trying to sell them I gave him a five-dollar bill. He gave me the whole pile.” Liesel frowned. “I think I still have them somewhere.”
“Why would you keep that crap?” Christopher shook his head and tossed the hair from his eyes. Just as seeing him sleeping had reminded her of the photos of his dad, seeing him flip his hair that way took her back to when they’d first met. He’d worn his hair longer then and had flipped it back a lot.
“I don’t know. I put them away in my desk when I got home and just forgot about them. That’s not the point,” she said. “The point is, this is your daughter. And her children. And clearly she’s got no clue, Christopher, about how to take care of them, or herself, outside the confines of those walls.”
“She got them here, didn’t she?”
“Three kids in the middle of winter with almost nothing but the clothes on their backs. And dressed completely inappropriately, for that matter. How’d they get here without a car? Walk? It’s got to be at least ten miles away. God. Did they hitch?”
Christopher smiled faintly. “Sounds like she knows how to take care of herself to
Liesel’s teeth clicked down, biting back a sharp retort. “What I want?”
He gave her a weary look. “I’m exhausted, okay? My mouth tastes like shit, I have a headache and my back’s killing me. This is the kind of conversation that ends with us talking about what ‘we’re’ gonna do—” he used air quotes for emphasis “—which really means whatever you are going to do. So let’s just cut to it, okay? I’m a lousy jerk for having a kid and never telling you about her. Okay?”
She knew better than to poke him when he woke up grumpy, but that didn’t stop her from replying, “No, you’re a lousy jerk for having a kid and never knowing about her.”
Christopher stared at her, hard. Then he crumpled. He scrubbed at his eyes again before propping his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands.
“We have to talk about what we’re going to do with them, that’s what I meant, Christopher.”
He shifted to look over at her. “You want to keep them.”
“Don’t you?”
He leaned forward. “They’re not puppies, for Chrissake, Liesel.”
“No! They’re children!”
“She’s not,” he pointed out. “If she’s mine, she has to be at least nineteen years old, probably almost twenty.”
“That’s still practically a child! I was in college when I was twenty, living at home with my parents and working part-time at the grocery store to earn textbook money. Twenty’s barely old enough to be married, much less be a parent.”
“I was married at eighteen.”
“And look how well that worked out,” Liesel retorted. “You were only married for three years.”
Christopher flinched. He looked away from her, a hand scraping through his hair. Her sharpness embarrassed her, made her feel like the sort of sniping, shrewish wife she’d never wanted to be. It made her sound…jealous.
“I’m just saying, it’s not that young,” he said after a moment. “You weren’t much older when we met.”
“I was twenty-five when we met, but I was twenty-seven when we got married,” Liesel said. “We’d both finished school. Had jobs. We didn’t have kids—”
“Apparently,” Christopher said, “I did.”
It was her turn to flinch. “She has three. She’s not even twenty years old and has three kids. Happy’s what, four years old? Which means she started having babies at fifteen? And living in that place… My God, Christopher. Everyone knows they’re crazy over there. You’ve seen them downtown, handing out their pamphlets. Have you ever read one of them?”
Christopher’s lip curled. “No. Have you?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. I felt so bad for the kid who was trying to sell them I gave him a five-dollar bill. He gave me the whole pile.” Liesel frowned. “I think I still have them somewhere.”
“Why would you keep that crap?” Christopher shook his head and tossed the hair from his eyes. Just as seeing him sleeping had reminded her of the photos of his dad, seeing him flip his hair that way took her back to when they’d first met. He’d worn his hair longer then and had flipped it back a lot.
“I don’t know. I put them away in my desk when I got home and just forgot about them. That’s not the point,” she said. “The point is, this is your daughter. And her children. And clearly she’s got no clue, Christopher, about how to take care of them, or herself, outside the confines of those walls.”
“She got them here, didn’t she?”
“Three kids in the middle of winter with almost nothing but the clothes on their backs. And dressed completely inappropriately, for that matter. How’d they get here without a car? Walk? It’s got to be at least ten miles away. God. Did they hitch?”
Christopher smiled faintly. “Sounds like she knows how to take care of herself to
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