Fighting For What's Missing

36.

William

In one clean swing, I cut the large and thick piece of wood in half with my ax. "Damn," Robbie breathes, amazed. Growling, I place another block of wood on the tree stump, hold my ax above my head then swing. I feel the vibrations of the ax pressing into the wood spring their way up my arms. It sort of reminds me of the vibrations I get from punching a wall. I've punched a wall so many times, I don't even feel the pain anymore. "What, um, what happened again?" Robbie says.

I shake my head and chop another block of wood in half. "It made me realize that-"

"Will!" Someone barks from across the lot.

I swing my ax through the air just for fun then toss it on the ground. "Let's see what the hell they want now." I light a cigarette as we walk towards the main building. My eyes instantly dart to the gray Toyota Corolla parked by the front. Whoever's car it is, they can't park to save their life.

"You can't smoke inside," Robbie says as I push the left door open. I look back at him, lift my chin and blow a puff of smoke out. I expect him to chuckle like he usually does, but instead, he stops and his eyes widen.

"Where the hell is my daughter?" Falyn snarls behind me.

Shit.

I turn in the direction of her voice. Sitting behind the desk is Charlie, he's looking at me like I've gone insane, and Falyn's standing in front of the desk, her hands curled into trembling fists. How the actual fuck does she keep finding out where we are? Charlie rises to his feet. "Maybe y'all should talk in my office."

"Nah, I'm good right here," I say then take another drag.

"You smoke like that in front of my daughter?"

I feel my rage and hatred pulse through me like a dangerous adrenaline. "Your...daughter?" I step closer, and Robbie whispers my name, probably out of fear of me doing something. The way I'm feeling, I just might. I don't care if Falyn's a woman. She's not Agnes' mother, not her real mother anyway. "You don't understand what you've done-"

"I only wanted her to sleep!" She shouts. "She used to go on for two or three days with only six hours of sleep! I thought if she slept in a bed, she would finally sleep."

"Agnes is suffering from insomnia." There's a burning sensation in my hand. "The doctor thinks it's signs of early depression." Falyn bows her head, but not before I get a glimpse of her face hardening. I was expecting something else as her reaction. If I wasn't so in denial, I probably would've punched everything and everyone I saw with tears pouring out of my eyes. Falyn should've responded...then it hit me. "Holy fuck, you knew."

She lifts her head and looks at me through her lashes. "You curse like that in front of Agnes?"

"You fucking knew!"

"Will!" Robbie yanks me back by my arm and pulls the cigarette-that I forgot about-out of my hand. That explains the burning I felt. I shake my hand, returning my attention to Falyn.

"You need to get the hell out of here."

"Where's my daughter?!"

"She's not your fucking kid anymore!" I snap. "She heard you the first time you paid a fucking visit, but she didn't go with you-"

"You're lying!" She begins to slowly move towards me. I can see the fury in her eyes, and I change it with a grin. In the corner of my eye, Charlie is inching around the desk, his eyes locked on Falyn. "I'm her mother! You're lying!"

"Why would I lie?" I ask calmly. She lunges at me, and I let her. I can easily dodge her, but I want to see how badly she hates me. She pulls her arm back, powering up for the punch she's about to land in my face, but at the last moment, Robbie hooks his arm around hers and pushes her back.

"Don't!" He barks at her.

Falyn doesn't even notice him. "Depression runs in the family. My side anyway," she tells me, "anger is from...his side."

I'm done listening to her and her bullshit excuses. I turn and leave.

********

I must've chopped a thousand pieces of wood. It took almost everything in my power to not smoke. Because I know if I started smoking, I would've went through three packs. Robbie worked quietly by my side, not mentioning anything from before. I'm grateful for that...and honestly him. I knew he was a good kid before, I just didn't realize how amazing he is. He's loyal, understanding, and great with Agnes. "I'm sorry," I tell him abruptly.

He looks puzzled and completely thrown off. I almost laughed. He has no idea what I'm talking about, but he shrugs and says, "you didn't do anything wrong."

"I was a complete ass to you before and I shouldn't have been...I'm sorry."

He smiles, sitting on his tree stump. "Do you think Agnes made you a better man?"

"I wasn't really a man before, but yes. She made me a better person."

He shakes his head. "I always knew you were a good person, Will, Agnes just brought it out of you."

Without thinking, I press the pad of my finger to the blade of my ax. "You really see it that way?"

"Will, despite being utterly tired, you never hesitate to pick me up for work every morning then get me dinner when you drop me off home, and Agnes isn't here."

I feel the pain of my skin breaking and pull my ax away. "I've been losing my mind debating if I'm good enough to raise her. And I know compared to her birth father I'm fucking amazing, but you've met her, she deserves better."

"She called you her father, Will."

"I know!" I groan, running my hand through my hair, gently tugging at my roots.

"No, you don't." He rises to his feet, looking serious. "Whatever the hell you're thinking, stop. After what her parents did to her, you're the only one she feels secure with. If you're doubting yourself, she will crumble and never be able to recover."

"Is...that what happened to you?"

"No, but I've seen it happen before, a few times actually."

I shake my head. "I don't want to mess up with her."

He laughs a real throaty laughter that echoes through the afternoon. "Too bad because you're human and now a father, and even they mess up." He returns to his seat on the tree stump. "You should go to those groups for new fostering parents. Most of the men there are like you; new fathers."

A support group? I used to laugh for a good two minutes just at the thought of therapy. But a support group isn't therapy and this is for Agnes. I nod, cracking my knuckles. "Okay, I'll go."

"Great. I'll see if there's any by..." he gives me a questionable look.

"By Charlie's place."