Leaving Salt Lake City

by Matthew Timion

  I went over the court documents again and again. I wanted to make sure everything was in order. I just wished Jessica would realize how much her instability affected Manny. Regardless of my attempts to shield Manny from the drama, he knew something was going on, and he was confused about it. Before he fell asleep on the couch he told me, “Dad, Mom says I’m only going to stay here for a while and then I’m going back to live with her.”

  “Honey, I don’t know why your mom told you that. This is your home." My disdain for her changed from being the woman who destroyed my illusion of a family to the person who kept disrupting my son and his stability. It turned out that Protective Daddy Bear version of myself was a lot more motivated and focused than the

  Please Don’t Leave Me, Let’s Make This Work version from years before.

  | FORTY THREE |

  Out of Place

  July 2010

  There was no way I fit in there. Marble floors and giant columns were everywhere. Ornate wood carvings were on each handrail. Oil paintings of prominent figures from Utah’s past were on each wall. I stood there in my grey dress shirt, baggy slacks, and sneakers. I was in the courthouse waiting for my hearing to begin.

  My lawyer gave me simple instructions on how to appear. No suit and no white shirt. I still had my suit from my wedding, but there was no way it would still fit. My only dress shoes had been chewed up by my dog months before.

  “What about shoes? Can I wear sneakers?”

  “If that is what you would normally wear, yes.”

  My pants were from when I had a thirty eight inch waistline. My tie was one I had acquired while on my Mormon mission from 1998-2000. I was a hodgepodge of dress attire. I sat in the hallway waiting for my lawyer to show up and eyed everyone as they walked down the hallway. I was terrified of seeing Jessica. I knew she would be there. My anxiety was through the roof and just seeing that woman was going to push me over the edge.

  “What are you reading?" My lawyer was trying to lighten the mood.

  “It’s a book about a guy who lives the Bible literally for an entire year." It was a gift Courtney had given me for my previous birthday. It wasn’t a religious book, but rather the author’s attempt to understand spirituality by taking the teachings of the Bible to a literal extreme. It was my first attempt at reading in years.

  “Why would anyone do that? Seems like a waste of time." My lawyer was annoying me. I didn’t know why the premise of the book was such a topic worth discussing. I didn’t know why his opinion of it was also worth pointing out to me. I put the book down. I couldn’t focus on the words I was reading anyway. I wished I had a Xanax.

  I was in the courtroom along with twenty other people and their attorneys. We all waited our turn and then got up in front of everyone. Jessica wasn’t there, but her attorney was. For something as important as her son’s safety I assumed she would have shown up. She was, after all, going to see this through “until the end, no matter the costs."

  A woman without a lawyer stood up asking for a time extension on her case. “I’m going into drug rehab tomorrow and won’t be able to respond for another 30 days." The commissioner more or less told this woman “tough luck." I didn’t know if I should have felt bad for that woman crying in front of the judge, proudly admitting she was going into rehab in order to try to keep her children.

  It was our turn. My case number was called.

  Jessica’s attorney stood up and said something to the effect of, “considering all of the observations my client as reported, we see there is a clear case of neglect and request the court to change custody." His words were so insincere. I don’t know if he believed what he was saying, but his lack of emotion told me he didn’t believe it. Perhaps he read all of the counterclaims I wrote as well and knew that there was no way Jessica could win. I hoped so.

  My attorney stood up and before he could speak the Commissioner injected, “I have read everything, and you have a lot to say." She was looking at me. She was acknowledging that the case I made was a strong one. Jessica had no ground to stand on. Regardless of her lack of proof and unfounded claims (I also submitted the report from the dropped DCFS case), the court had a procedure it had to follow. Whenever there is a report of neglect, abuse, etc., the court needs to appoint a Guardian Ad Litem, which essentially acts as an attorney for a minor child. Now I had a lawyer, Jessica had a lawyer, and Manny had a lawyer. The Guardian Ad Litem’s job was to talk on behalf of Manny and advocate for his best interests.

  Jessica’s attorney pushed for me to pay for the Guardian Ad Litem. The commissioner said who paid for the Guardian Ad Litem would be determined by how the case unfolded. The commissioner also began the contempt of court paperwork for Jessica’s failure to pay child support. The state was going to garnish her wages. We submitted a countersuit against Jessica asking to be reimbursed attorney’s fees for this entire charade. My counter suit against Jessica was allowed.

  I was hoping for some sort of closure that day. I thought everything would be dropped and I would win. I did have a small win that day by keeping Manny and getting child support enforced by the court, but the case was not dropped. The next step was to visit the Guardian Ad Litem and come back to court a month later. I felt like the court battle would never end.

  I didn’t belong in that building. The last time I had been in that courthouse was when I witnessed the termination of Manny’s birth parents' parental rights. Court was for losers and deadbeats like Manny’s birth parents. It wasn’t for me. Although with my tennis shoes and baggy pants, perhaps I fit in just fine. No, I was better than that. I concluded that Jessica fit in the courthouse very well, but I did not. Why did my life keep getting worse and worse?

  I signed a few papers and walked outside. I wished I still smoked. A cigarette would have done me very well at that moment. I noticed a flock of seagulls all fighting over food. There must have been twenty of them going after the one piece of food that someone discarded. That french fry was so lucky. I wanted to feel like that sometimes. I wanted to have twenty beautiful intelligent women fighting over me. A few feet away a single seagull was eating by itself. It had the rest of the package of french fries.

  A week later we met with the Guardian Ad Litem. I was terrified. Would he be Mormon and assume that I was unfit because of my tattoos? What if Manny said something and cops showed up? Manny had a tendency to make up stories or exaggerate. This behavior was half due to his background and half due to his extremely creative imagination. To this day Manny is still convinced that Jessica and I once locked him in his room for two days and only allowed bathroom breaks. The truth is he once had a timeout for twenty minutes when he was three years old. To Manny the word “day” meant “a long time” until he was eight years old. He still finds understanding time a difficult concept.

  When the Guardian Ad Litem came into the room I stood up and shook his hand. He had one of those limp-wristed handshakes that are not compatible with my family’s long line of big hands originally used to plow fields. I felt like I was crushing his bones. This guy must have hated his job. I would hate talking to kids all day knowing that my words and actions could affect them for the rest of their lives.

  He took Manny into his office and talked. Thirty minutes later he emerged and wanted to talk to me privately. He asked my opinion of everything and why I am concerned about the welfare of Manny. I explained Jessica, Vince, the domestic violence, the constant moving, and military deployments. I explained the alcohol, the lies, etc. He had already read my file and knew these things. I think he just wanted to hear me say them to figure out if I was lying or not. He told me that he found nothing wrong with Manny staying with me at the moment and would advise the court of his opinion.

  Now I had another attorney on my side.

  It was approaching the end of August and Courtney was going to fly out to see me. We were going to try “us” again, but it would be different this time. Courtney was not going to move to Salt Lake City. I would have to leave and move to
be with her. I was okay with that. Things were going to be better. Even with my mind and body consumed with the details of the court case, always being fearful of Jessica sending DCFS over to my house again, I still had a little energy left to devote to my love life with Courtney. It really wasn’t enough energy though.

  | FORTY FOUR |

  Kate Date

  Fall 2010

  Manny’s teacher wanted to talk to me. I have talked to her a few times before, and I was not too impressed. She appeared to be a veteran teacher with at least thirty years experience. From what I could tell she was younger than she looked. She stood there with her sandy blond hair and a body much too old for her age.

  “He has been upset in class. He has been crying because he doesn’t know where he is going to live.”

  “Oh." I knew that this information came from Jessica. It must have been weighing heavily on Manny.

  “He said a judge is going to decide where he will live." Manny felt powerless. Even if the choice could be his choice, he wouldn’t know what to do. As he saw it his entire future was out of his control. I hated Jessica even more that day.

  August 30th, Courtney flew into Salt Lake City to see if we could figure “us” out. We both wanted each other. We had spent months now talking and deciding if it was worth it. It was. I was ready to be the version of myself she deserved. Well, I was ready to try at least. My ability to do anything concerning a relationship was hindered due to the Jessica drama, or rather, my inability to handle the drama properly.

  When Courtney arrived again Manny gave her a big hug. He remembered her and wanted to see her.

  “Okay,” she said, “we have certain rules for this weekend. We do not talk about Jessica and we visit the places my friend Kate says we should.”

  Her friend Kate was her best friend. Kate helped heal Courtney after our relationship ended. Kate was very wary of me because of the past, and the only reason she would ever approve of me was if we spent the weekend doing the things Kate wanted us to do. So we visited a chocolate shop owned by little people that was also the location of a popular reality show for a while. We also went to a restaurant that was featured on another television show. Just like the Mormons baptize each other in proxy for dead relatives, Kate used us as a way to visit places she wanted to see. Her friend Kate clearly loved reality television.

  When Courtney came into my house she said, “Oh, what’s that?”

  “What?" I thought perhaps someone dropped a one hundred dollar bill on the floor, or maybe she was trying to be cute and use this as a way to compliment me.

  “That on the floor." She pointed at a dryer sheet.

  “It’s a dryer sheet.”

  “Are you starting a collection?”

  “No.”

  “Then pick it up." This is how she had always been so I wasn’t surprised. Courtney loved to point out what I didn’t do, especially when it came to cleaning. She was the kind of woman that I could spend days cleaning to prepare for only to be passive-aggressively told that I forgot to dust the picture frames. Rarely would there be a compliment on how clean everything else was. Just the picture frames.

  This criticism, or as she called it helping, extended to my clothes, my hair, my car, my bed, my parenting, my house, my yard, how and when I could touch her, etc. Half of the time I took the “helpful suggestions” in stride and found a way to accommodate her. The rest of the time I took them very personally. She was right though, I did have a dryer sheet on the floor. She was also right that my clothes were old and had holes in them. She was also right that I didn’t always behave or react properly. I hated that she was right. It meant I was doing something wrong.

  Like I said, I wasn’t surprised by her comment. I was used to comments like this from her. That night we laughed and danced in the living room after Manny was asleep. We usually danced to 90’s hip hop music that reminded us of high school. We both knew all of the words.

  We had our date at Kate’s restaurant of choice. We also visited the chocolate shop. Courtney was a little on edge and didn’t want their weird deformed hands touching her chocolate. I couldn’t help but laugh. We bought chocolates for her friend Kate instead.

  “I need a drink, let’s go back to the house and have a Bloody Mary." It was Sunday, after all. It was the perfect time for brunch.

  “Sorry, no vodka.”

  “Let’s go buy some.”

  “Sorry, it’s Sunday. No liquor stores are open." In Utah all alcohol sales are run by the state government, unless you want to overpay for a restaurant or don’t mind buying 3.2% beer at the grocery store. Of course these liquor stores are closed on Sunday because Sunday is the Lord’s day. Courtney already knew that you couldn’t buy alcohol on Sundays. She either forgot or wanted to mention it for dramatic effect.

  “Screw it, let’s go to Whole Foods.”

  We took our tomato, basil, and cheese salad to the Great Salt Lake to have lunch. Manny played on the beach and we nibbled on our food. The Great Salt Lake smelled horrible from thousands of years of fish dying in a stagnant pool of water. We walked closer to the lake, avoiding abandoned bonfires from teenagers. Manny took off his shoes and waded. We joined him. I posed my camera towards us and for the first time took a picture of us together. We had never taken a picture all of those months that we dated before. It was like this could be something real again, assuming I could get over the constant voice in my ear that I didn’t dress, groom, clean, and organize correctly.

  My mind that weekend was only partially on Courtney. I realized just how much she had helped me. If she had not given me the money to pay for the attorney Manny might not have been with us that day. He would have been in Alabama making racial slurs directed towards crows. The other part of my mind was focused on my uphill legal battle. Why did it take so much money and time to prove I did nothing wrong? Why was a woman with a clear history of mental illness, reckless behavior, and all around craziness allowed to even be granted an audience on this matter? The court case consumed me. I was not okay with the unknown and I was definitely not okay with the thought of Manny being raised by Jessica and her current husband.

  Courtney left that weekend on a good note. She told me she finally trusted me again. She believed in me and the past wasn’t an issue any more. Like so many times before she boarded her airplane and flew home to Chicago. She landed safely. “Good,” I thought, “now I don’t have to worry about her dying in a plane crash.”

  Worrying about people suddenly dying is something I have done as long as I can remember. My grandfather died when I was five years old. While in kindergarten I drew a picture of a skeleton in the ground. Above the skeleton it said, “Ted Huggins is dead." I even remember telling everyone my grandfather was dead for show and tell. Death has been a part of my life for a long time. When my father died with six other people I knew that year it shaped me even more. I could not let someone die. I had to know that he or she was alive and well. It didn't matter that she told me the bottoms of my pants are fringed because I wore pants that were too big.

  I went back to work getting ready for my next court hearing. Jessica was requesting a custody evaluator, which would cost us $3,000 plus fees for the evaluator to fly out to Alabama. We were to split the costs down the middle. I started to think that she was trying to bankrupt me out of custody. It was working.

  Courtney called the next night. “I am ready Matt. I want a real relationship with you. I want to be your girlfriend. Are you okay with that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I had been reflecting on so many things with her. Her “help” was a part of it. It made me feel horrible as if I wasn’t good enough. I had never spent as much energy criticizing another person’s lifestyle as she had spent doing so to me. I also wanted, deep down, a family. I wanted a woman who had children of her own so they understood what I was going through. She would understand that my picture frames might not be dusted because I didn’t have time. She would understand that the dryer sheet on the floor meant th
at I was doing laundry and folding it, an accomplishment for any man. I wanted to be understood not criticized.

  I didn’t say that to her though. I told her, “Courtney, I love you and I wished you lived here, but I cannot do this long distance thing. When you are here I am motivated to be a better person, but you’re not here. You’re far away. I don’t know if and when that can change. I cannot leave Salt Lake City any time soon because of the custody case." She was upset. She was furious. She went into a defensive mode; she was angry at herself for allowing this to happen. My answer was exactly what she was afraid of.

  “Okay, well then I guess we have nothing more to say to each other.”

  “I guess not." She hung up. The next day she called back.

  “I just feel really sorry for you. Here is someone that loves you and adores you and your son, and you just throw it all away." I was only listening to her because I cared for her and I wanted to be polite. I had too much else on my mind. “I can never date someone with a kid again, I got too attached. That’s making all of this so much more difficult. Matt, you were really good, but what made you great was Manny. Do you understand what I’m saying, Matt?”

  “You’re saying that the person you really loved was Manny.”

  “No, I’m saying that the thing I was most attracted to in you was your relationship with your son.”