by M. E. Carter
It takes a second, but I realize I never even asked her name.
“Daniel!” Frederick Maldano, one of our mid-fielders, shouts my name as he races up to the vacant seat next to me. “How you holding up, man? We did good on the field today!”
“That we did.”
We talk shop for a few minutes while he gets his order filled. Before I know it, he digs in his wallet and pulls out a couple small pieces of paper.
“The travel is killer, ya know, and we have one long-ass season. But this is why I do it, man.” He hands me a picture of one of his girls. He has two of them, around four and six years old. You can tell by the look on his face that they are his pride and joy. “I gotta provide for my beauties.”
“You’ve got some good looking girls, man,” I say and pass the pictures back.
“I know. I’m gonna have to chase the boys off with a shotgun once they’re old enough to date. And they will NEVER date a soccer player. Over my dead body will one of these little shits play that game with my girls.”
I smile and glance at the picture he dropped on the counter. The picture of his wife. I pick it up to inspect it further. She’s very pretty. Big, dark eyes and wavy brown hair. She’s obviously of some sort of Latin race, but I won’t insult Frederick by asking about it. However, I do want to ask him other questions.
“Hey Frederick.”
“Yeah, man?” I hand him the picture, and he puts it away.
“Do you ever miss being a bachelor?” I pop a beer nut in my mouth so I’ll be chewing and won’t be tempted to ask dumb questions again. I’m sure he knows where the conversation is leading. Everyone seems to know Quincy has disappeared recently. Thankfully, he has the tact to ignore my embarrassment.
He snaps up a handful of beer nuts and eats them while he contemplates his answer. When the nuts are half gone, he finally speaks. “I don’t miss it at all.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You don’t?”
“Hell no,” he says as a pitcher of beer is set down in front of him. Must be his turn to buy a round for everyone. “Do you know how nice it is to wake up from a restful night’s sleep and not have to make sure all my credit cards are in my wallet and not have to check some chick’s phone for nudie pics she may have taken of me?” I chuckle. “It’s freeing.”
“So you don’t miss the chase? The game?”
“You mean wooing some random fan to play a quick game of hide the salami?” A stack of cups is set before him. “Not one bit.”
“But why?”
He grins. “That’s easy. I married my best friend.” Frederick walks away, leaving me to think about things. I’m as confused as ever, but I know I have to figure my shit out, and soon. Before I lose Chance, Quincy, and maybe even myself in the process.
I lean against the wall in the hallway, hugging a folder to my chest. My thoughts run rampant as I wait for my new attorney, a man I have never met but hired based on a recommendation.
It wasn’t hard finding him. The minute you start asking clients at a salon for resources, people come out of the woodwork to give you names and numbers. Ultimately, my coworker, Nathan, had a client who went through a custody battle last year. From what he says, it was really ugly. But she ended up winning, and she still sees Nathan every six weeks, which means she didn’t go broke fighting for her kids. That’s good news.
Still, all of the “what ifs” mock me. What if the attorney charges more than I expect, and I can’t hire him? What if I hire him, and he’s in cahoots with Erik? What if he ends up bungling the case? What if he doesn’t bungle the case, but we get a shitty judge who’s had a rough day, and I lose custody?
I recognize how ridiculous and irrational I sound, but that doesn’t stop the thoughts. This is my nephew I’m trying to protect. My child. Rational went out the window the minute his alleged sperm donor showed up at my door and told me of his ridiculous plan for Chance.
A door slams down the hall, and I hear heavy footsteps walking toward me. I push away from the wall and watch him saunter my direction.
He’s carrying a soft brown leather briefcase, suit coat thrown over his elbow, tie nowhere to be found. His brown hair is messy, like he’s been running his hand through it. He’s got to be in his forties but he’s aged well. He has a bit of a swagger but not enough to appear cocky. More like he’s confident in a job well done, even if he’s a little tired from a long day.
“Quincy Watson?” he asks as he reaches me. I nod. He puts his hand out to shake mine. “I’m Doug Linus. Thanks for stopping by so late. Long day in court today.”
“It’s no problem,” I say as he unlocks the door to his office and walks in, flipping lights on. “It actually worked out great because my last client was at four-thirty.”
“Good, good.” There’s a tiny entryway with a bench and a small shelf covered in business cards and a sign-in sheet. The office is small. The desk is large and cluttered. Two oversized leather chairs sit next to each other. I quickly understand why he’s affordable. He has almost no overhead. That makes me feel really confident in his abilities. Maybe if he’s the only one who works on our case, we won’t get lost in the shuffle. I need to not get lost in the shuffle. “Would you like something to drink?” he asks.
“No, thanks.” I sit in one of the leather chairs, still clutching the folder to my chest. It almost feels like armor against feeling too many emotions at once. An irrational thought, but unstoppable.
Doug takes a few minutes to turn on his computer and get himself settled before turning to me, resting his arms on the desk and clasping his hands together, giving me his undivided attention. “Now, how can I help you?” The sincerity in his voice practically has me in tears. I’m so afraid of what’s about to happen and yet his tone makes me feel like he will genuinely do his best. If only I can afford him.
“I have custody of my late sister’s son, and I’d like to keep it that away.” My voice shakes, but I am determined not to fall apart. There is no place for fear until this is over.
“Who is trying to take custody?”
“His alleged father.”
“Alleged?” I can practically see the wheels turning in his brain. I always wondered if unusual cases were what attorneys lived for. From the looks of it, I may have been onto something.
I hand him my folder and spend the next several minutes explaining how I obtained custody of Chance—my sister’s unexpected death, the lack of paternity on the birth certificate, the state’s attempt at finding the father, and how Erik finally found me.
“Let me get this straight,” Doug says. “He knew he had a child but chose not to do anything about it until his mother decided she wanted to be a grandmother?”
“I’m not the only one who thinks that sounds ridiculous, right?”
He flips through the paperwork I gave him: a copy of the baby’s birth certificate, a copy of Sarah’s will, naming me his guardian, the custody paperwork from the state, even a copy of Chance’s shots record. Maybe it’ll be used as evidence that I’m doing a decent job of caring for him. I wasn’t sure what an attorney needed so I’d brought it all.
“Yes. Unfortunately, ridiculous doesn’t mean anything when it comes to the law. Frankly, what’s right or wrong doesn’t even make much of a difference. Only what’s legal.”
My heart sinks at his words. I’ve done a lot of research on line. I know full well that non-biological parents don’t usually get custody when fighting against a biological parent. It’s not impossible, but not common.
“First things first, though. Were you served custody papers already?”
“Yesterday at work.”
He makes a note on a pad of paper on his desk. “Do you have the papers with you?”
“Oh!” I exclaim, reaching into my purse. “I didn’t even think to make a copy for the file. Here it is.” I hand him a thick packet of papers. He flips through them, stopping every once in a while to briefly read something of interest. Finally he hands them back to me and leans back in his
chair.
“It’s all standard custody jargon. Nothing of interest that would throw off this case, so I’m not particularly worried at this point.” He waves like the thought of this suit is no less pesky than an insect. “The first thing he’s going to have to do is prove he’s the father.”
“I assumed that’s what you were going to say.” I fold the papers and put them back in my purse.
“When we go to court in a couple of days, we’ll ask the judge to order the paternity test. Unless this alleged father opts to pay for the results to be rushed, that’ll buy us a couple of weeks.”
I swallow hard. “What if he rushes the results?”
“Then it’s likely he’ll want to speed the case up so he can take custody as soon as possible.”
I take a deep breath. “I was afraid you were going to say that. If he is the father, is there any way to fight him on custody? I mean, Chance is ten months old. Erik knew he was out there practically since he was conceived and had no interest in him until now. Surely that counts for something when it comes to the well-being of a child.”
“You would think,” he says sympathetically. “Unfortunately, judges have to distance themselves from the emotions of a case in order to stick to what the law says. Sometimes, they remove themselves a little too much.” I bite my lip. I wanted to come here and have him reassure me this was a cut and dried case. Erik obviously doesn’t really care about being a dad, therefore we’ll win easily. But I’m feeling more discouraged and fearful than before.
“That’s why we have a plan on how to do this the right way.”
“What plan is that?” I ask. I don’t have a lot of confidence in his abilities, but my legs couldn’t carry me out of here if I tried walking, so I humor him.
“First, we ask for the paternity test,” he says. “If it comes back negative, the case is closed, and that’s the end of it.”
“And if it comes back positive?”
“We ask for an attorney ad litem for the child.”
“That’s an attorney whose sole job is to represent the child, correct?” I ask, remembering reading about ad litem attorneys on some website during my research.
“Correct. Typically, the ad litem will visit both parties involved in the case, check the home, ask personal questions, basically get an overall feel for everyone’s ability to care for the child. The ad litem then makes their recommendation to the court. Typically, that recommendation is what makes or breaks a case.”
A spark of hope starts to flare in my chest. It’s small, but it’s there. “I didn’t realize their input had that much impact with the judge.”
“Oh yes. You have to remember, family court is about doing what is in the best interests of the child. Having a set of eyes in the potential homes and on the parents gives the judge a much broader picture of what the best interests might look like.”
I smooth my hands over my hair and look out the window as thoughts race through my head. I’m sure if an ad litem could see how Chance and I live, how bonded we are, how much I have become his mom, they would see I am in the baby’s best interest. “How do we do that? How do we get the judge to assign an ad litem?”
A small smile crosses Doug’s face. “We ask. At the same time, we request that the judge leave the child in question in his current home while the case is pending. The state obviously did a recent home study and typically, if your home is good enough for the state, you’re good enough for the judge.”
“Okay.”
“But there are a couple of things you need to be aware of.”
“Like what?”
“It’s likely, if the judge agrees to leave Chance where he is, he will award visitation to the father, assuming the paternity test comes back positive.”
I scratch my jaw. “Can it be supervised? I don’t think this guy has ever held a baby before, let alone changed a diaper or fed one or tried to use a car seat.”
“We can request it. It’s not unreasonable for the first couple of visits.”
“What else?”
He steeples his fingers. “The ad litem doesn’t work for free. You’ll have to pay for it.”
My heart drops and my brain immediately starts crunching the numbers in the bank accounts. As it is, I’m probably going to deplete our savings with Doug’s retainer alone. There might be a couple thousand left in Sarah’s education fund that dad left us, but I’d have to double check. I was letting that money sit in the hopes of Chance being able to use it for his education someday, but this is his more immediate need.
I look up, a question running through my mind. “Have you ever had a case like this before? I mean, a non-biological parent fighting for custody?”
He smiles. I like his smile. It’s calming in some strange way. “I have.”
“Did you win?”
“I did.”
“So it’s not impossible.”
“Absolutely not. In fact, I would argue that you have a very good chance of winning this case.”
I wasn’t expecting him to say that. I know the odds. Why in the world would my odds be better than average?”
“You’ve done this before. You raised your sister when your father died, she ended up going to college and was, for all practical purposes, a functioning, successful member of society. You did a good job with her.”
“Well, thanks, I guess.”
“We’re going to play that part of your life up with the judge. You’ve already proven you can parent a child. A teenager at that. That will definitely work in our favor.”
“Sounds like you have a good plan already mapped out.” I take a deep breath and wipe my palms on my pants. “I’m not sure what we’re waiting for. Let’s do this.”
Doug reaches for his computer mouse, pulling up some paperwork on the screen and printing it off. “In order for me to represent you at the hearing on Thursday, you’ll have to fill out these forms. This is our contract and gives me the right to represent you in court.”
I grab a pen when he hands me the papers and start signing wherever he points.
“Your retainer is also due today. As I work on this case, I’ll deduct it off the top of the retainer. Any time you want an itemized printout, let me know and I‘ll print one for you. Otherwise, when the retainer drops below a thousand dollars, I’ll let you know how much I need to replenish it, based on how many court dates are left.”
“Okay.” I steel myself for my next question because I know it’s going to hurt. “How much is the retainer?”
“Five thousand dollars.”
I let out a long slow breath. Just like I thought, it’s going to wipe out our savings and cut into the grocery money, but I also know I can survive on Ramen noodles and pick up a couple extra clients. Hell, I’ll even keep taking on Daniel’s crazy fans. And worst case scenario, Geni will spot me some money if I need it. Chance is worth it to both of us.
“Welp, I won’t be eating steak anytime soon,” I joke. “But I’m trusting you to help me keep my baby.”
“It’ll be my privilege.”
He’s done this before. He’s won before. I know he’s going to do it again, even if the fear strangles me while he does it.
The door makes a snick sound as it closes behind me, and I’m immediately aware of the noise level in the house. It should be comforting. It was always comforting before. But now it’s a reminder of what I didn’t bring with me this time.
It’s been several weeks since I’ve seen or talked to Quincy. She texted me once. I didn’t respond, and that was the end of that. I’m not sure if I was expecting her to keep trying. That’s what most girls do. But Quincy isn’t most girls. If I’m honest with myself, I was never her priority. Her child was. Like it should be.
I keep reminding myself the kid is the reason I need to stay away. He will ultimately get hurt if this relationship, whatever it is, continues. But that doesn’t make this separation any easier. I’m the one who cut all ties. I’m the one who decided this was what was best for everyone.
But I miss her like I’ve never missed anyone or anything before. The six weeks I was out of soccer when I broke my tibia in high school was brutal because I wanted to play so much. That was a cake walk compared to this. This separation is crushing me from the inside out. I’ve even found myself making unnecessary trips to Walmart in the middle of the night, hoping to run into them.
“Hey, Tio,” Nicholas says when I walk through the living room. He’s sitting on the couch with the TV on, holding hands with a pretty blonde girl.
“Hey Nicky. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Tamela. Tamela, this is my Tio Daniel.”
She puts out her hand to shake mine. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” I say. “I didn’t realize you were coming for Sunday dinner. Glad you’re here.”
She looks at Nicky and blushes. “Me, too,” she says quietly. I pat him on the shoulder as I walk by. There’s no reason to stay and chat. I’m sure he doesn’t need me hovering.
As I get closer to the kitchen, I hear chatter and laughter from all the adults who are probably standing over some appetizers and barely pitching in to get dinner ready. It’s the way it goes around here.
As I push through the swinging door, someone says something funny and the room erupts in laughter, so no one really notices my entrance.
“Hi, Mama,” I say in her ear as I come up behind her.
A look of surprise crosses her face when she sees me. “Daniel!” she exclaims and spins in my arms to hug me. “Mijo, I wasn’t expecting you! I’m so happy to see you.”
“I’m happy to see you, too, Mama.” I mean it. She has never apologized for the way she allowed Lalo to treat Quincy, but she’s never been one to say she’s sorry with her words. She apologizes more with her actions. If the length of this hug is any indication, she feels really badly about what happened, and frankly, I’m tired of staying away from my family. They’re not perfect, and I’m sure it won’t be the last time we have a disagreement, but my pride isn’t helping the situation any more than theirs is.