“Oh. Okay. I’m glad you clarified, but I don’t care that—“ Ira stopped. That came out sounding worse than he’d thought it would. “I mean, that’s not an issue for me. You’re clean now—“ he gave Staas a confident glance that said and you’ll stay clean –“and that’s what counts.”
And the story continued. So far Ira had taken everything that Staas had said in stride, fiercely sympathetic, if relatively composed throughout the recitation of Staas’ old troubles. But then other man explained how he’d come to adopt Alida, and there was a sickening lurch Ira’s stomach. His face flickered through a myriad of expressions before eventually settling on a frown, as the initial shock of the statement gave way to angry dismay. He was quiet, winding the silken curve of Lady’s tail about his thumb as he waited for the roar of outrage to fade enough for him to think and speak.
For what does one say to something like that? It wasn’t right to automatically condemn any parent who gave up a kid, of course. It was no easy choice, and in most cases only made in the best interests of the child. But Angel had practically sold her daughter away to Staas, and even the hard excuse of an addiction couldn’t justify that in Ira’s eyes. It was, to him, absolutely appalling.
At last, he started to speak. “That’s a —fuck,” Ira broke off, fixing a wide, intense gaze on Staas. “Alida is so lucky to have you for her daddy.”
He paused, as an alarming thought struck him. “You are her permanent guardian, right?” Ira damn sure hoped so.