Who Do I Lean On? Read Online Free PDF

the boys out and drive off, wasn’t he?
    I hesitated, but the mirage didn’t disappear, so I pulled the foyer door open partway. “Uh, hi, guys!”
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Mom? Doesn’t the buzzer work? You could’ve just buzzed us in.” P.J. shouldered his way past me.
    â€œUh, yeah, it’s fine. It’s just . . . well, since the apartment is right here on the first floor, it’s almost as easy to—”
    Paul squeezed past me next, so I had to step back and open the door wider. I shot a glance over their heads at their father with a what-are-you-doing-here frown.
    Philip Fairbanks, cool and debonair as always in his aviator sunglasses, held up two mammoth plastic shopping bags. “Got some gear for the boys—belated birthday gifts, you know.”
    My eyes widened in panic. The Sports Authority logo splashed across the bags in big bold script. Double rats! If Philip had preempted my birthday gifts, I’d . . . but I couldn’t go there right now. I had to get rid of Philip.
    â€œUh, I can take those.” I reached for the bags. “Thanks for bringing the boys back on time. We—”
    â€œNo problem. They’re heavy. I’ll take them in.” Philip pushed past me with the bags. “The boys want me to see their ‘new digs’ anyway, as they say.”
    At that exact moment, the front door swung wide open and a chorus of voices from inside yelled, “Surprise!” . . . “Happy birthday!” . . . “Welcome home!”
    The boys looked startled but slowly advanced into the front room, where they were mobbed with handshakes and hugs. Philip stopped just short of the open doorway and looked at me. “What’s this?”
    I stepped in front of him, barring his way. “A surprise birthday party for Paul and P.J. obviously. Now, please—”
    The corners of Philip’s handsome mouth tipped up. “So . . . am I invited?”
    I glared at my estranged husband. What in the world was he thinking?! But before I could tell him to disappear and take his Lexus with him, his quip must have carried into the living room, because Paul suddenly darted between us. “Oh, could Dad stay too? Please, Mom? That’d be great! Please?”
    My mouth hung open as my brain synapses ricocheted inside my skull, searching for the right words that would make Philip leave— now —but not hurt Paul, who was already confused by our separation. But my silence, which couldn’t have lasted more than two seconds, must have been interpreted as permission, because Paul grabbed his father by the arm and dragged him past me into the party.
    My party. My party for my sons.

chapter 3

    As the tall figure of my husband and Paul stepped inside, the jolly living room buzz hiccoughed and disappeared, as if sucked up by an invisible vacuum cleaner. Suppressing the urge to pull out fistfuls of my Orphan Annie hair and scream like a two-year-old, I hustled after them—but did not close the door. “Uh, everyone, this is Philip, the boys’ dad. Paul, uh, wanted him to stay for a few minutes.”
    Get that, Philip? A few minutes!
    Flustered, I tried to make introductions. “P.J. and Paul, you remember my boss, Ms. Turner, the director of Manna House. And this is her nephew, uh . . . Jermaine. He’s starting ninth grade at Lane Tech too, same as you, P.J. Thought you might like to meet a few kids before you start school.”
    The slender black boy gave a hopeful nod, but P.J. didn’t react.
    Estelle’s lips were pressed together as though barely restraining brickbats she’d like to rain down on Philip’s head, so I skipped her for the moment and rushed on. “And you boys remember Mr. Bentley, the doorman at Richmond Towers . . .” I almost added, “. . . where your dad lives,” but wisdom said don’t make a point of it. “And this handsome young man is his grandson,