idea where to go or what to do. Tears are threatening to pour out of my eyes, and the contents of my stomach are stuck somewhere in my esophagus.
"Mr. Ross." I'm beginning to hate my name, the sound of it coming out of that woman's voice makes me wince. "I have authority to take her."
Rather than pacing, or looking at her, I head up Belmont Ave, walking so briskly that I actually break into a jog. The only thing running through my mind is the chant, She's not taking my baby. She's not taking my baby. Every other part of my brain has shut down. It's the fight or flight response, and I just don't have the tools to fight. I know that. I'm a bartender who drinks too much, a bachelor who lives in a one-room apartment, the son of two alcoholics, and the brother of a heroin addict. I know I'll lose this fight, but I can't let her take the one girl I'd give my life for.
So I run.
With nowhere to go.
18
HOLLY
"I'm sorry, Ms. Buchanan, but there is no way to bring up your grade. At this point, I suggest you withdraw from the class to save yourself another F."
The professor stares at my non-responding form. He's right—I should just withdraw.
"May I ask you something?"
He doesn't wait for my permission.
"Why are you studying finance? I've checked your grades. You barely pass your finance classes."
Shrugging, I tell him the truth. "It's what my father wants."
His head snaps back in just the slightest of movement. "You had no say in the matter?"
"Not if I wanted him to fund my education."
Professor Rugby sits down in his chair behind his desk. "Did you tell your father you don't like finance?"
"I did." I nod.
"Hmmm."
"I mean, originally, though I hated it with all my heart, I did enjoy the money my father made on Wall Street, and I really like money. I never really had direction." I think about this for a moment. "I do like playing music, but I don't know what to do with that. I'm not really into performing, so..."
"So you let your father choose your future for you?"
Boy he sounds like Rose. "Yup."
"Ms. Buchanan, I don't want to get in the middle of a family decision, but there are plenty of other ways of making money besides finance. Even in music.”
I sit down in one of the desks in the front row. "How?" I ask, surprised at how eager I am to listen.
"I'm not a music counselor, Ms. Buchanan, I'm strictly business and finance. However, seeing that you're already four years into your education, and you do have some average to above average grades in some of your business classes, you can always switch to Music Business and Management. Or... you could figure out what you're really passionate about and see if there's a way to make a living doing it."
I just nod, not really sure what to say anymore.
"Think about it." He looks at me thoughtfully. "Talk to your father. Maybe he'll listen to reason if you have a plan."
"Thank you, Professor Rugby," I say, standing up and shaking his hand.
"Good luck."
***
Three hours later, Donny's looks like a funeral home. Not one person is smiling, and all that can be heard are whispers. I grab my apron behind the bar, tie it on, and stand behind Donny while he's scrubbing some glasses in the sink.
"Who's the girl?"
"Tina. The new waitress."
"The one that's sharing daytime hours with the other one?"
"Brandy? Yes. She'll also be sharing some nighttime hours with you too," he says with a frown.
"What's with the long face?" I sit down on the bartender's stool behind the bar, since my shift doesn't officially start for another eight minutes.
Donny sighs and looks at me, not just turning his head toward me but his whole body. "They took Kenna."
This takes a moment to register. "What? Who?"
Donny closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, he says, "Child services."
I hop down off the stool. "Oh my gosh, why?"
"How much of the story do you know?"
"Practically nothing. Just that Kenna's his niece, and her mother came in here drunk
"Mr. Ross." I'm beginning to hate my name, the sound of it coming out of that woman's voice makes me wince. "I have authority to take her."
Rather than pacing, or looking at her, I head up Belmont Ave, walking so briskly that I actually break into a jog. The only thing running through my mind is the chant, She's not taking my baby. She's not taking my baby. Every other part of my brain has shut down. It's the fight or flight response, and I just don't have the tools to fight. I know that. I'm a bartender who drinks too much, a bachelor who lives in a one-room apartment, the son of two alcoholics, and the brother of a heroin addict. I know I'll lose this fight, but I can't let her take the one girl I'd give my life for.
So I run.
With nowhere to go.
18
HOLLY
"I'm sorry, Ms. Buchanan, but there is no way to bring up your grade. At this point, I suggest you withdraw from the class to save yourself another F."
The professor stares at my non-responding form. He's right—I should just withdraw.
"May I ask you something?"
He doesn't wait for my permission.
"Why are you studying finance? I've checked your grades. You barely pass your finance classes."
Shrugging, I tell him the truth. "It's what my father wants."
His head snaps back in just the slightest of movement. "You had no say in the matter?"
"Not if I wanted him to fund my education."
Professor Rugby sits down in his chair behind his desk. "Did you tell your father you don't like finance?"
"I did." I nod.
"Hmmm."
"I mean, originally, though I hated it with all my heart, I did enjoy the money my father made on Wall Street, and I really like money. I never really had direction." I think about this for a moment. "I do like playing music, but I don't know what to do with that. I'm not really into performing, so..."
"So you let your father choose your future for you?"
Boy he sounds like Rose. "Yup."
"Ms. Buchanan, I don't want to get in the middle of a family decision, but there are plenty of other ways of making money besides finance. Even in music.”
I sit down in one of the desks in the front row. "How?" I ask, surprised at how eager I am to listen.
"I'm not a music counselor, Ms. Buchanan, I'm strictly business and finance. However, seeing that you're already four years into your education, and you do have some average to above average grades in some of your business classes, you can always switch to Music Business and Management. Or... you could figure out what you're really passionate about and see if there's a way to make a living doing it."
I just nod, not really sure what to say anymore.
"Think about it." He looks at me thoughtfully. "Talk to your father. Maybe he'll listen to reason if you have a plan."
"Thank you, Professor Rugby," I say, standing up and shaking his hand.
"Good luck."
***
Three hours later, Donny's looks like a funeral home. Not one person is smiling, and all that can be heard are whispers. I grab my apron behind the bar, tie it on, and stand behind Donny while he's scrubbing some glasses in the sink.
"Who's the girl?"
"Tina. The new waitress."
"The one that's sharing daytime hours with the other one?"
"Brandy? Yes. She'll also be sharing some nighttime hours with you too," he says with a frown.
"What's with the long face?" I sit down on the bartender's stool behind the bar, since my shift doesn't officially start for another eight minutes.
Donny sighs and looks at me, not just turning his head toward me but his whole body. "They took Kenna."
This takes a moment to register. "What? Who?"
Donny closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, he says, "Child services."
I hop down off the stool. "Oh my gosh, why?"
"How much of the story do you know?"
"Practically nothing. Just that Kenna's his niece, and her mother came in here drunk
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