she said.
And soon it would be washed away. Just like the marriage I once thought was the best ever.
“How about ice cream?” I said.
“Yes!” Maddie said, pumping her little fist.
We got some at a little snack cart by the public parking lot. We sat on a bench looking out at the blue Pacific. Way off in the distance we could see the outline of one of the Channel Islands.
“Pumpkin?”
Maddie looked at me, her mouth around an Eskimo Pie.
“Can I tell you something?”
She nodded.
“You know your friend Jenna?” Jenna lived in an apartment in our building. Maddie had been to her birthday parties for the last two years.
“Jenna’s six.”
“Yes, she is. Her mommy and daddy are divorced, aren’t they?”
Maddie shrugged.
“You know what divorce means?”
“Where a mommy and daddy don’t live in the same house.”
“Right. That’s what Jenna’s parents are, divorced. But Jenna gets to see them both, just not at the same time.”
“That’s weird.”
I had been rehearsing this little speech in my mind for the last five hours. The words were like heavy chunks of concrete in me.
“But Jenna is pretty happy, isn’t she?”
“She has five Barbies.”
“Yeah.” My own Eskimo Pie was melting on my hand. I took a big bite of the soft ice cream. Half of it fell on the ground.
“Oh, Daddy!” Maddie rebuked. Then she softened. “You can get another one if you want.”
I got up and threw what was left in a trash can. Then I sat down with her again.
“Maddie, if Mommy and I ever got a divorce, you’d be able to see us both, too.”
Her eyes clouded. If I’d thought I could soft-pedal this, I was sorely mistaken.
“Don’t do that, Daddy.”
“But sometimes it happens.”
“Uh-uh.”
“If it happened, is all I’m saying. If it did, you’d be okay. You’d be with both of us.” The irony of my being here to keep her away from Paula was not lost on me. If we were going to share custody, it would be on my terms, not hers. She was the adulterer here, not me.
“No, Daddy. Promise me you won’t do it.”
“You’ve got to be okay if it happens.”
“No.”
How I hated Paula at that moment. For making me have to spoil the innocence of a five-year-old child. How I hated and longed for her at the same time.
I looked out at the ocean then. A pelican was skimming across the water, looking for lunch. When I turned to Maddie again she was starting to cry.
“Baby,” I said, picking her up and setting her on my lap. “Baby.” I held her close.
3 Somebody knocked on the front door. My heart slammed. Who could that possibly be?
It was our third day. Afternoon. Maddie and I had done some beach time, and now she was taking a nap.
I’d been reading a David Morrell thriller, the perfect beach book, allowing myself escape from the nightmare down south.
The knock again, more insistent.
I got up and looked out the window.
A young man in a uniform looked right back at me. He was about twenty-five years old. His hair was short, like a Marine’s.
I unlatched the chain and opened the door.
“Mr. Gillen?”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Deputy Tim Wise of the Ventura County Sheriff’s office. We got a report of a missing child.”
Stay cool. She’s your daughter.
“Nobody’s missing,” I said. “Maddie is right here taking a nap.”
“She’s with you?”
“Of course she’s with me. We came up here to spend some time at the beach. Who sent you?”
He pulled a folded document out of his rear pocket. “I have an order here demanding that you produce Madeleine Erica Gillen at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. In Los Angeles.”
My hands were shaking like leaves in the wind. The document was coldly official looking.
“This,” I said, “is unbelievable.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Gillen.”
“How did she find me?”
Deputy Wise started to turn around.
“I’m her father, ” I said. “She can’t do this.” I threw the order on the ground.
“I’d advise you to cooperate, Mr. Gillen.”
I kicked the document, sending
And soon it would be washed away. Just like the marriage I once thought was the best ever.
“How about ice cream?” I said.
“Yes!” Maddie said, pumping her little fist.
We got some at a little snack cart by the public parking lot. We sat on a bench looking out at the blue Pacific. Way off in the distance we could see the outline of one of the Channel Islands.
“Pumpkin?”
Maddie looked at me, her mouth around an Eskimo Pie.
“Can I tell you something?”
She nodded.
“You know your friend Jenna?” Jenna lived in an apartment in our building. Maddie had been to her birthday parties for the last two years.
“Jenna’s six.”
“Yes, she is. Her mommy and daddy are divorced, aren’t they?”
Maddie shrugged.
“You know what divorce means?”
“Where a mommy and daddy don’t live in the same house.”
“Right. That’s what Jenna’s parents are, divorced. But Jenna gets to see them both, just not at the same time.”
“That’s weird.”
I had been rehearsing this little speech in my mind for the last five hours. The words were like heavy chunks of concrete in me.
“But Jenna is pretty happy, isn’t she?”
“She has five Barbies.”
“Yeah.” My own Eskimo Pie was melting on my hand. I took a big bite of the soft ice cream. Half of it fell on the ground.
“Oh, Daddy!” Maddie rebuked. Then she softened. “You can get another one if you want.”
I got up and threw what was left in a trash can. Then I sat down with her again.
“Maddie, if Mommy and I ever got a divorce, you’d be able to see us both, too.”
Her eyes clouded. If I’d thought I could soft-pedal this, I was sorely mistaken.
“Don’t do that, Daddy.”
“But sometimes it happens.”
“Uh-uh.”
“If it happened, is all I’m saying. If it did, you’d be okay. You’d be with both of us.” The irony of my being here to keep her away from Paula was not lost on me. If we were going to share custody, it would be on my terms, not hers. She was the adulterer here, not me.
“No, Daddy. Promise me you won’t do it.”
“You’ve got to be okay if it happens.”
“No.”
How I hated Paula at that moment. For making me have to spoil the innocence of a five-year-old child. How I hated and longed for her at the same time.
I looked out at the ocean then. A pelican was skimming across the water, looking for lunch. When I turned to Maddie again she was starting to cry.
“Baby,” I said, picking her up and setting her on my lap. “Baby.” I held her close.
3 Somebody knocked on the front door. My heart slammed. Who could that possibly be?
It was our third day. Afternoon. Maddie and I had done some beach time, and now she was taking a nap.
I’d been reading a David Morrell thriller, the perfect beach book, allowing myself escape from the nightmare down south.
The knock again, more insistent.
I got up and looked out the window.
A young man in a uniform looked right back at me. He was about twenty-five years old. His hair was short, like a Marine’s.
I unlatched the chain and opened the door.
“Mr. Gillen?”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Deputy Tim Wise of the Ventura County Sheriff’s office. We got a report of a missing child.”
Stay cool. She’s your daughter.
“Nobody’s missing,” I said. “Maddie is right here taking a nap.”
“She’s with you?”
“Of course she’s with me. We came up here to spend some time at the beach. Who sent you?”
He pulled a folded document out of his rear pocket. “I have an order here demanding that you produce Madeleine Erica Gillen at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. In Los Angeles.”
My hands were shaking like leaves in the wind. The document was coldly official looking.
“This,” I said, “is unbelievable.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Gillen.”
“How did she find me?”
Deputy Wise started to turn around.
“I’m her father, ” I said. “She can’t do this.” I threw the order on the ground.
“I’d advise you to cooperate, Mr. Gillen.”
I kicked the document, sending
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