Page 8 of A Cursed Heart
Freya’s teacher greeted me with a kind smile. “Funeral today?”
“Yeah. My sister is picking Freya up today. She’s on the pick up list already.”
“That’s great. Just make sure the office knows, okay?”
I nodded, kissed Freya goodbye and made my way to the funeral home.
The service was brief. I spoke about my marriage to Jasmine and how we were co-parenting together while working out the issues around her addiction. Because Jas had stolen from or lied to many of her friends, only a few of the people she hung around with in college attended. Lydia, my sister, had a class she couldn’t miss and Mom was out of the country, so neither could attend. We’d lit a candle for her before Mom went away.
So, yeah, hardly the best turnout for the funeral. Like they said they would, her family skipped it.
Really, they were to blame for how Jasmine’s life turned out. We were kids who got pregnant at eighteen. Married before we were nineteen and Freya’s arrival. Two kids working, studying and trying to get by. Then it all fell apart. We were barely twenty when we got divorced. Her parents washed their hands of Jas when she told them she wanted to marry me and keep her baby. An accident at work after our divorce introduced her to opioids. Stressed, broke, with no support system outside of me, her ex-husband, she struggled to break the hold they had on her.
Took some time, and some help from me, my mom and sister, but she did it. I was so proud of her for doing it! She evenfinished college after deferring a semester. Jas had been sober for a couple years which was why I could never understand why she went back to drugs.
Once her casket moved through the curtain, we all filtered out of the building. A few people passed on their sympathies, but no one stuck around to reminisce over old times. Not that I blamed them. Guilt was eating me alive. I just wanted to move on from the situation and raise my daughter in peace.
Waiting outside the building was the social worker assigned to us from CPS. Donna was a no-nonsense woman I’d have liked under any other circumstances. Except, I always got the feeling that she didn’t like me all that much, though I didn’t get why. I was college educated, nothing on my adult record aside from a couple of parking tickets, held a steady, if boring, IT job where I mainly worked from home. My apartment had a small mortgage thanks to the inheritance my grandpa left me. No debt. No addiction. Hell, I barely even drank beer!
I was decent looking, too. Maybe that was it. My looks intimidated her. I bit back a laugh at myself. Okay, I worked out. Usually, some weights after Freya went to bed. I looked after my skin and used more than one product in the shower. I was a catch, dammit, so why couldn’t I charm Donna into liking me?
“Hey,” I greeted her.
“Mr. Mallory, is now a good time to do a check of your home?”
My smile felt forced. “Sure. Do you want to follow me in your car, or would you like a ride?” I tried to be as polite as possible. Thankfully, my mom had warned me that CPS was going to keep an eye on me for a while until they felt convinced I wasn’t harming Freya. Sucked, even though I understood the reasoning.
She opted to drive her own car, which was a blessing. She would have probably found fault with my driving or something.Manners had made me ask. I was constantly walking on eggshells around her.
Donna was waiting for me in the parking lot behind my small apartment block. There were eight units over four floors. Tiny compared to some blocks nearby. The area was decent, with Freya’s school and a park within walking distance.
In the safety of my car, I took a couple of deep breaths, then repeated, “You’ve got this,” until I almost believed it.
We took the elevator to the fourth floor. “Did I tell you about the rooftop garden?”
“You did. Have you decided what you’re going to plant?”
“Freya wants to plant sunflowers this time. Then, try some fruit next year. They’re her favorite flowers.”
“That sounds lovely!” For once, she sounded genuinely happy about something.
I let her enter the apartment first, watching as her assessing eye ran over the dishes from breakfast stacked next to the sink, waiting for me to wash them. She took in the toys in the living room, a basket of clean laundry sitting next to the couch where I’d folded it the other day.
Instead of following her around and explaining every little thing, I tackled the dishes. My nerves were shot while she inspected my home, but shadowing her was worse. I hated seeing her writing her notes with a frown on her face.
“Alright, Mr. Mallory, everything looks good here. How’s Freya doing after losing her mom?”
“About as well as you’d expect. My mom helped me find a great child therapist. We’re doing once a week sessions right now. She’s only five. I don’t think she really understands that her mom has gone.”
“Yes, her age makes the situation more complicated. I’ve been in touch with her school, and they are happy with how she isdealing with the trauma. They said her aunt is picking her up today?”
Clearly, Donna was wondering why I wasn’t taking care of that since I obviously had the time. School let out in an hour, and here I was, at home, with nothing to do. I’d taken PTO for the funeral, and I’d banked plenty of hours already, getting up a few hours before Freya to work before having a break to take her to school.
“I wasn’t sure if there was anything I needed to do after the service or if any of Jasmine’s friends would want to catch up after. Didn’t want to be late for Freya. Besides, she likes hanging out with my sister.”
Satisfied with my answers, Donna left soon after. I didn’t get to relax, though. I went to make a coffee to settle my nerves when I realized we were out of milk.
“Fuck!”
