"You left her in the park,
babe," she cried. "You left her there all alone,
babe. You drove off and then you couldn't even remember where she was. Jesus fucking Christ, what's the matter with you?"
"What's the matter with
me?"
"What could possibly be the matter? You left a four-year-old all alone in a city park—hey, I'm delighted. She'll learn to be independent, right? Today you taught her that her own father could let her wander off, maybe get kidnapped, get lost. Then you walk away and you call me and say that you can't remember where you left her!"
"I didn't walk away."
"Russell, don't do this. Thank God someone from the preschool saw her there all alone and brought her home."
Copyright © 2001 by Carol Muske-Dukes. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.