The Right Choice (Print)

The Right Choice (Print)
Treva Harte
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Treva Harte
Excerpt from His Best Man

Antigone Ramsey wasn’t exactly what I’d expected. I wasn’t sure what I’d anticipated, but it hadn’t been someone who greeted me with “My father will make you sorry I’m here.”

She had more of an attitude than her dad used to when he was a kid.

I could have dealt with attitude, but then she mixed it up on me when she sniffled and swiped at her nose with the sleeve of her pink shirt. It was difficult to be a hard-ass when someone looked that pitiful.

I’d be sorry? Hell, I was already sorry.

“Do you want to tell me why you are here?” I hunched a little, trying not to loom. She didn’t look like her dad had at eleven. He’d been small and stocky back then until he grew into some height and shed his puppy fat.

She wasn’t small for a kid her age, but she looked… well, oddly delicate. Like she was too skinny for that body, too fragile for her size. Like maybe she hadn’t been eating right for a while.

I’d heard of kids her age on diets, but -- damn… I hoped she wasn’t. The world could screw with a kid’s head way too early. Did she think she needed to be skinny, or was something going on that made her not eat right? Bulimia, anemia, depression…

“I’m here because Miss Dumberson out there made me.” I tried not to snort at the nickname. Sometimes I wasn’t much older than my students. Antigone sniffled again and peeked up at me through her eyelashes, probably deciding what kind of bullshit I’d believe. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Whoa. I’d seen that look on older girls before, and it never meant anything good for the person they directed it at. She sure as hell better not be trying to flirt.

“What wasn’t your fault?”

Her gaze dropped down. “Nothing was.”

I kept quiet and hoped sweat wasn’t dripping down my back. This kid was trouble. Of course Jessica would have singled her out. Because Jessica was a trouble-seeking missile.

And next year both of them would be in my school. Joy. Why did I like this job again?

A sharp, anxious, very familiar voice cut into my thoughts.

“Excuse me. My name is Christian Ramsey, and I was told my daughter would be h --”

He stopped when I looked up at him. I’d been so focused on his daughter that I hadn’t heard his entrance. But here he was, whether or not I was ready. I wasn’t sure what I expected from him either, but it hadn’t been seeing his expression look blank, as if he wasn’t observing what -- or who -- was right in front of him. Then again, Chris had gotten good at not seeing the obvious over the years.

“Hello, Chris.”

He blinked and recovered. He smiled as he focused on me. Held his hand out. “Bill. It’s been a long time.”

I shook his hand and then stepped back. Come to think of it, he didn’t look so good either. He had almost as fragile an air as his little girl. What the hell was going on at their place?

“Dad! They kept me here forever!” Antigone began to cry again.

“We barely had time to put away the rubber hoses before you arrived.” I shut my mouth, wishing I had managed to do it before I let that sentence out. Jokes were for the old Chris and Bill, not the father of Antigone Ramsey and a principal who had her in custody.

Even so, for a minute it looked like Chris might smile.

But he didn’t.

“What’s going on?” He glanced at Antigone and then went back to looking at me.

“That’s what Antigone is about to tell us.” I kept my eyes on his kid.

“Annie. Everyone calls me Annie except -- except --” She nodded toward her father. “And only when I’m in trouble.”

So she didn’t talk to him directly? Interesting. I said, “All right, Annie. Now. Tell us.”

She mumbled something, and all I caught was “war.” I cleared my throat, and she looked up.

“Try it again. I didn’t catch that.”

“That girl called my mother a war and I hit her in the mouth.” Annie spoke up and then folded her hands primly. But she didn’t stop there. “A few times. Hard. She started it. I told her she better not say that word, and she did it again. It’s a bad word, isn’t it? So she should be in more trouble than me.”

I looked at the swollen knuckles and wondered what the school nurse’s aide would have to say about Jessica’s condition. “You need some ice for that?”

“Yes, please. It hurts.”

“I bet it did.” I almost told her how to hit so it wouldn’t hurt that much and caught myself. Sometimes you shouldn’t teach people what they needed to learn.

“Why the he… ck would some stranger call your mother names?” Trust Chris to fasten on that question.

“Because the teachers asked us who would volunteer for stuff like school trips and things, and I had to say no one.” Annie cleared her throat. “And the kids asked if I was an orphan or something, and I explained, and then that girl laughed at me when I said I wasn’t sure where Mom was, and… then I hit her. Really hard. There was blood.”

“We got that part, Annie.” I made a mental note to have the teachers try for a more private way to wangle volunteers for the bake sales.

“She’s a bitch. I’m not sorry I hit her. I won’t say I’m sorry.” Annie’s chin wobbled a little despite the words.

“I think your lawyer here would advise you to keep quiet now.” I put my hand on her shoulder, hoping she wouldn’t make things any worse. “That’s part of those Miranda rights you asked for. The right to keep silent.”

“All right.” Annie swiped at her nose again and sniffled.

Just like Annie, I realized I wasn’t sure if I should call her father Chris or Christian or Mr. Ramsey in this situation. And like Annie, I decided I could avoid the whole problem by not calling him anything at all. Instead I looked over at my former best friend and said, “I need to talk to you privately. Let’s go to my office.”

He nodded and stood up.

I would have been fine, but I made the mistake of opening the door, and as I did, my hand brushed against his elbow.

And God… it all came back in too-vivid detail.