“It’s different this time, Connor.”
“What’s different? The fact that you’re fostering the woman’s kid? The entire legal system should change because of this?”
David’s voice was low but quivering with anger. “Fuck you, Stevens.”
Connor’s mouth went slack with shock. “I don’t believe this. I just don’t believe it. What the . . .”
Out of the corner of his eye, David could see people glancing in their direction. He was making a scene, and that was the last thing he wanted. He looked around for Anton and Bradley, but the boys were safely out of earshot. He felt a pang of remorse when he saw the stunned look on his friend’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I truly am.” He swallowed. “I’m just tired. Very tired.” He put his hand on Connor’s shoulder and then turned away before his friend could respond. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
As he walked back toward the house, he struggled to regain his composure. Delores was right. Coming to the party had been a mistake. He should’ve kept his distance from Connor until the whole legal matter had been resolved. Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a foster parent after all. During the training sessions, the caseworkers had repeatedly stressed the importance of not getting too attached to their wards, had reminded them that the majority of foster children were returned to their parents. Less than a month in and he had already forgotten this. Which was why Connor’s words had affected him so. Sure, it was a screwed-up legal system that valued parental rights over the welfare of the child. But then who was he to know what was best for Anton? His track record as a father wasn’t exactly great—he had not even been able to keep his only child from being killed.
Stop it, he said to himself. Get a grip. Find Delores. She’ll know what to do.
He entered Don’s living room and spotted Delores immediately. She was sitting on the couch with Connor’s wife, Jan, who looked up as he walked in. “Hey, handsome,” she said, grinning. “We were just talking about you. Seen my husband yet?”
David had no choice but to go up to them and dutifully kiss Jan on the cheek. “Yeah, he’s outside.”
“So what’re you doing in here?” Jan seemed to notice something was amiss. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just been in the sun too long,” he lied. He glanced at Delores, who was shooting him a skeptical look. “Can I talk to you for a second, honey?”
Delores rose to her feet immediately. “Sure.”
They found a relatively quiet spot in one of the bedrooms. “What’s the matter?” Delores asked. “You look awful.”
He shook his head and found himself on the verge of tears. “I don’t know.” He stared out the window for a second. “I just had a nasty exchange with Connor. I was rude to him, I’m afraid.”
“About Anton?” she asked sharply.
“Yes.”
She sighed. But she was too much of a class act to say “I told you so.”
“The mother wants to plea-bargain. She’ll be out in about six months.”
“So?”
“So . . .” But what could he say to Delores? That he loved having a young boy in the house again? That he’d wanted Anton to stay with them a little while longer? That he was irrationally, unreasonably angry with his friend the county prosecutor for following the law?
“David.” Delores took a step forward and touched him lightly on the arm. “Honey. He’s not our child. We’re just . . . his temporary custodians. We knew that going in. And you know how much he misses his mom.”
“But—”
“It doesn’t matter what she did. She’s his mom. Don’t you get that? It’s . . . it’s biology.”
She was right. She was right. They would have to give him up soon. If they were lucky, Anton would maybe finish one semester of school here before returning home. And if that was the case, David didn’t want to waste another moment at this party, didn’t want to share Anton with people like Connor, who hadn’t even wanted to meet him in the first place. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to Delores. “You were right. We shouldn’t have come.”
“Oh, David. Don’t be like this. Go make up with Connor. I don’t want to leave yet.”
“No, it’s better if he and I don’t talk until this whole business is sorted out.” He bent to kiss the top of Delores’s head. “Let’s stay for another half hour and then go, okay?”
They walked out of the room and Delores was nabbed by Patti Schik, who lived two streets down from them and whose husband was president of the local chamber of commerce. David headed to a corner of the lawn where a group of kids were playing cornhole. “Uncle David,” Bradley said excitedly as he approached. “We’re winning.”
“Who’s we?”
“Anton and me.” Bradley grinned. “He’s pretty good.”
And as if to prove his new friend right, Anton landed the bag in the hole. He glanced up and smiled shyly at David, who beamed back.
“Hey, let’s switch teams,” said Joshua, one of the other players.
“No way,” Bradley cried.
“But that’s not fair. You guys will just keep winning if—”
“Boys, boys,” Anton said in the pseudo-serious tone of a teacher while flapping his hands like a bird. “No fighting. There’s enough of Anton to go around.”
David stared at the boy incredulously for a moment and then guffawed. Anton was a ham. Who would’ve known it?
As the other boys tittered appreciatively at Anton’s performance, David glanced at his watch, rethinking his earlier plan to leave early. Anton was so obviously blossoming in the company of the other children. David felt a rush of affection for Bradley, who had effortlessly included the new boy in his circle of friends. Much as Bradley’s father had included him in a different time and place, he reminded himself, and felt another twinge of remorse for making Connor an easy target for his frustration and fear.
Don came up to him again and thrust a beer into his hand. They stood silently watching the boys play, and then, without warning, Don grabbed one of the beanbags from Joshua and began tossing it himself. “Come on, David,” he yelled. “Best of ten.”
David was aware of Anton’s gaze on him as he played. His heart swelled when he heard the boy’s “Yay, David” each time he scored. He knew that it would behoove him to let the older man win, both for his obligations as a guest and because of the promise that Smithie had dangled before him, but found that he couldn’t. Anton’s pride in him carried the day, and it was the sound of Anton’s victory whoops that rang in his ears rather than Don’s hearty “Good job, David. I’ll whup your ass next time.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” David said. Good humor restored, he decided they didn’t need to rush home after all. “You hungry, bud?” he asked Anton, who nodded. “Good. Let’s go get you some food.”