All I Love and Know by Judith Frank Page B

she was demanding, “How long have you known about this?”
    His father leaned heavily on the desk.
    Where the hell was Matt? The thought of not bringing the children home made Daniel sick; the prospect of caring for them was the only thing that had kept him from going off the deep end. He buried his head in his hands.
    â€œDaniel, I want to know how long you’ve known about this,” Lydia said.
    â€œNot long, Mom,” he lied, his voice muffled through his fingers, “just for about a month.”
    â€œIt was Ilana’s idea, wasn’t it.” She had a difficult relationship with Ilana, whom she perceived as constantly policing the boundaries between them; she’d been furious when Ilana had asked her to wait a month before visiting, after Gal was born. They all spent a lot of energy denying that this was true, but Daniel knew that it was. Still, leaving him the kids hadn’t been Ilana’s idea, not hers alone.
    â€œNo,” Daniel said firmly, looking up. “It was both of them. We had a conversation about it.”
    There was silence. Finally, Lydia said, “I have trouble believing that.”
    â€œWhy?” he demanded. “I find that offensive. You think Joel wouldn’t trust me to raise his children?”
    â€œDaniel,” his father said. “Please don’t escalate this any more than necessary.”
    Lydia began to cry. “I feel so betrayed,” she said. “It’s as though Joel were killed all over again.”
    â€œOh, please!” Daniel said. “His having a desire of his own means he was killed all over again?”
    â€œDaniel,” his father barked.
    â€œI can’t help the way I feel,” his mother said. “Do not tell me how I can and cannot feel.”
    Daniel’s hands were sweating on the knees of his pants. This new legal hitch made him feel desperately undermined, as though his bid to be an adult had failed right in front of them. He knew that, to his father, he’d always been the perplexing twin, given every opportunity but lacking in the kind of ambition Sam understood. He’d always suspected that Sam thought of his homosexuality itself as a form of sloth, something that put him in the disappointing category of people without a work ethic. And now—any cachet he’d had, any way he’d been ennobled by the prospect of rescuing the children, had vanished.
    His father closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he said, “At least in Massachusetts the kids would be closer to us.”
    Lydia looked at him sharply, and he shrugged. “Look,” he said, “we might have to be realistic about this.” He looked steadily at her as her eyes widened with incredulity and outrage, her mascara thickened with tears. “Honey, we’re in third place,” he said. “For whatever reason, Joel and Ilana clearly wanted Daniel to take the kids, and the state is going to lean toward keeping them here, with their other grandparents.”
    â€œThat’s out of the question,” Lydia said. “Malka is mentally disturbed, she can’t even keep her house clean. And how old are they? They must be in their seventies!”
    Sam shrugged again and gestured toward Daniel, as if to suggest that he was a better option, and Lydia’s face, rigid with shock and rage, crumpled. “It’s as though he were killed all over again,” she cried.
    â€œMother, would you stop saying that?”
    â€œHow are you going to raise these children!” she demanded. “And with whom? With Matt ?” She gave an ugly laugh.
    And then, when Daniel couldn’t stand it for one more moment, Matt walked into the room, red-cheeked, bringing in with him the bracing chill of the night wind. “How’s it going?” he asked.
    Daniel looked up. Matt looked like a miracle, handsome and tousled. Daniel wanted to fling himself into his arms. But instead, he