Matty said Uncle Mathew spoke to Dad last week on their monthly check-in call. Apparently, Mrs. Collins is still making waves about gaining full custody of Lyra, even though there is a court-mandated protection order against her where we are concerned. While the whole town is trying to ignore her, aware of what happened, that I’ve been disowned, that I’ve left and not returned.
I don’t question whether my name came up during their conversations. I would think not, just as I don’t ask how my parents are doing. They both let me down when I needed them the most, so as childish as it may sound, as far as I’m concerned, I’m an orphan.
The only family I need is Matty and Lyra. I just have to try and get past the survivor's guilt I seem to carry with me, which is stupid considering Adam is the one who deliberately crashed the car after forcing me into the passenger seat.
***
“You survived, Holly. Adam didn’t, and your daughter is the only thing left of him. Please, she deserves to meet her grandchild, and I deserve to meet my niece. It isn’t fair that you’re keeping her away.” She tries, and my jaw ticks as I look at the time.
Kids will be walking in soon.
“The answer is no, I’ve heard about the stuff your mother has been saying, the threats to try and take my daughter from me. Don’t come at me like Adam was some innocent. He assaulted twelve girls that we know of. He would have raped me if I hadn’t said yes when I gave him my virginity. Heck, he cheatedon me, and because I was walking away from him, he beat me, then nearly killed me! Your mother doesn’t deserve to know my daughter after the lies she’s spewed, and you don’t deserve to know her either, especially after years of silence. I’m sorry, but my daughter and her safety come first, don’t contact me again.”
***
I sigh deeply. I feel like I’m being a bitch, like I’m punishing them for Adam’s behavior, which is ridiculous because Mrs. Collins hasn’t exactly kept her head down over the past nearly eight years.
I feel like I can’t outrun my past. The weight of old memories and mistakes clings to me, pressing in no matter how hard I try to move forward. Sometimes it feels suffocating.
The bell rings, and I swallow hard before I clear my throat and stand as I grab the whiteboard marker and begin to write the instructions for our phonics lesson today, and I try my hardest to push thoughts of them out of my head.
If she calls again, I’ll just have to report her.
***
I smile as the kids line up nicely before me, Lyra and Caleb being at the back while Thomas grins widely at me, the gap in between his teeth making me chuckle.
“Have you got your tooth, Thomas?” I confirm, and he nods as he lifts up the plastic baggy with his big tooth inside, and I chuckle again.
The poor boy ran into another child at lunch break, and his tooth fell out.
I could have sworn he was going to cry until my little girl mentioned the tooth fairy, and his little green eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Okay, kiddos, follow me in a single line,” I call, and they all nod as I walk out of the classroom, meeting Mrs. Jones yet again, who curls her lip at me while her children all shout and shove each other.
Again, I’m smug and I don’t care.
Giving her a polite smile, I walk towards the main doors while looking back at the kids to ensure they are all good, and I can’t help but grin seeing Lyra and Caleb both talking quietly, most likely planning a surprise play date again.
Yesterday, they managed to convince me and Ice to allow Lyra to head to Caleb's grandparents' home for the afternoon and have dinner, and I have to admit, the house was quiet, too quiet for my liking.
Matty was on a date and spent the night with some woman he apparently really regrets, because she’s a stage-five clinger – his words, not mine – and I don’t know, it felt weird being on my own.
Shaking my head, I stop before the gates and turn to my kiddos as Mrs. Jones shouts,“Get back in line!” but I don’t look her way, instead, I state, “When I call your name, you can go, okay?”
“Yes, Ms. Robins,” they say in unison, and I bite back a grin at the growl from beside me.
Oh yes, very, very, smug I am.
I turn and like every day, I begin to call each child, beginning with, “Peaches,” because yes, someone actually named their daughter Peaches, and I slowly call my students one by one as I notice their loved ones until I get to Caleb and I frown seeing a new brother, with black hair and blue eyes looking at me with a guarded face and a scowl.
I haven’t met this one before and unease fills me as I look over his chest.
When he sees he has my attention, he gives me a tight smile, and I know he probably thinks I’m checking him out as I eye his cut, but really, I’m just ensuring he’s a Rebels brother.
“I’m here to pick up my nephew,” the man states curtly when I don’t say anything, and Caleb cheers, “Uncle Ace,” and I smile at the boys excitement and relax a little as I look at him to see him waving, but not moving until I’ve told him to.
Shaking my head, I look back at the man, and I say, “I’m sorry, I’ve never met you before, so I was just making sure you were a Rebel. Are you on the pickup list?”
