“Hyde, it doesn’t happen this fast. Like, you haven’t done all the classes in order for you to even get a home visit.”
“I have connections.”
“Which means, what?”
“I don’t think you want to know that, GoGo.”
I sighed. “Honey, that’s a major red flag.”
“Jesus, you and your fuckin’ flags.”
“Well, I’m sorry!” I snapped. “You can’t just have someone hack into the foster system records and make yourself suddenly a foster parent. What if you’re a serial killer, a molester or a rapist?”
He reared back like I’d hit him. “Do you really think I’d molest or rape anyone, let alone a child?”
“No, of course not, but that’s not the point.”
“It goddamnisthe point, Indigo. And how the fuck did you know I hacked into anything?”
“Oh my god, I didn’t! I was actually just making a sweeping statement, because I watch way too much TV,” I said. “Did you really hack into their system?”
“No.”
“Hyde,” I challenged.
“Someone else did,” he admitted.
I burst into frustrated tears and Jekyll scowled.
“Why the fuck are you cryin’?”
“Because I can’t kick you out or stomp away!” I cried.
He dragged his hands down his face. “So you’re not willin’ to let me explain?”
His phone rang interrupting any explanation he might give, and before he could swipe it off the coffee table, I saw my dad’s name pop up on the screen.
“Why is my dad calling you?” I asked.
He didn’t answer me as he picked up the phone. “Hey, Hugh.” Jekyll glanced at me. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Give me a second.” He pulled the phone from his ear. “I’m gonna take this outside.”
“Why is my dad calling you, Hyde?”
“Just give me a few, baby.” He stepped out onto my balcony and closed the door behind him, and I was left in my stupid chair with my stupid leg throbbing because I’d waited too long to take my meds.
I also couldn’t stop my tears. I was tired and frustrated and in way too much pain, and I hated myself for allowing it to overwhelm me. I heard my slider open and hurriedly wiped my tears. Jekyll walked over to me, sitting on the edge of my coffee table, and spinning my chair to face him. “I gotta tell you something.”
I shook my head. “Is this ‘something’ the reason you were talking to my dad?”
“Yeah. And I’ll preface this by saying your dad should be talkin’ to you, but he’s... his words... an old chicken shit who can’t handle his daughter being pissed at him.”
I swallowed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Jesus,” he hissed out quietly.
“Just spit it out, Hyde,” I snapped.
“Your dad isn’t in the aluminum siding business.”
