“It’s 3:06, Mom.” Jake has both palms on the glass of the storm door, staring out at the street where I know Todd is not going to arrive any time soon. Damn him and his selfish horse s**t. I should never have relied on him for anything.
“I know, babe,” I tell my son. I pick at my shirt, adjusting one of the “capsule” outfits that Lisa and June declared interview appropriate. I don’t actually have an interview, but I plan to go drop my resume in person at FARE and want to look nice. Of course, I can’t go do that if Todd doesn’t come meet his f*****g custody responsibilities.
We both stand there for another five minutes, our breath becoming irregular. I’m sure Jake’s heart is racing as much as mine. “Are you calling him?” My son looks at me so intensely. I have no desire to call Todd, be
