First Thing This Morning

8:52 am

Ring Ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi Dale. It's Kelly. How are you this morning?"

"Fine."

"Oh that's good. I'm getting over a bad cold ... blah blah flu blah Tim blah blah, freaking blah."

"How is David?"

"He's home with me now. Poor little thing. He's doing really well, smiling and kicking his little legs. Thank God I got him back from Children's Aid. I've really been looking after him, blah blah, gave him a bath, blah, warm bottle, blah blah. He's such a happy blah blah and all because of me, blah, me, blah, me me me."

"And what about Daniel?"

"Well, I was blah all day yesterday, with the kids and cleaning up and blah, blah, dinner and blah, really nice meal and blah, blah, and Tim --"

"How's Daniel?"

"The Children's Aid said if we wanted David back, we'd have to blah blah, changes around here because I blah blah and Tim can't blah because of his blah blah, so --"

"Where is Daniel?"

"He's not here."

"Where is he, then?"

"Well, the Children's Aid said Dan had to get out or we couldn't get David back --"

"Where is my son, Kelly?"

"In Brampton. In the hospital. Psych ward."

---

Sighhhhhhh. Here we are again, Ms J. Good ol' Dan. Back to his old tricks. Threats of suicide, violence. Horrible, hurtful things spoken, words sharpened and hurled like spears. Attempts to injure himself. Police. Doctors. My son is sick. Or stupid. Or lazy. Or frightened. Or all of the above. Or none of the above. And Kelly has had a hand in all of it. All of it.

And you know what?

I just can't help that boy. Anymore. Ever. I don't plan to see him in hospital. I don't want to see him. He's just too much misery and dysfunction to bear right now. It's all beyond my ken.

Good luck, Dan. 'Cause you're sure as hell going to need it.

And Kelly? I cannot allow myself to be drawn into your vortex of hysteria. There's quite enough drama here in Mimico at the moment to satisfy any need I might have.

Tell me something. Did you actually choose your grandson over your son? Is that the choice you made?

I am numb, Ms Journal. And I'm going to be honest with you. A line of speed would feel pretty good right about now.

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