Chapter 11
After three weeks, with a tremendous effort on Steve’s part, my father is released from County jail and admitted into an alcohol treatment program at a minimum-security prison in the Adirondacks.
And three weeks and four days after meeting Carolyn, I have yet to get so much as a text from Laurel telling me when she’s coming again. After some pushing from my mother, I finally reluctantly pick up the phone and dial her cell. It goes right to voice mail. I don’t bother to leave a message.
After it’s been a full month, I try her again, and once again, the call goes to voice mail. This time I leave a message. “Laurel, it’s Dan. I’ve been waiting to hear from you for a while now. I’d like to see Carolyn before you go back to school. You said you’d be out again. Give me a call, okay?”
I hit End Call and throw the phone on the coffee table and lie back on the couch. Why did I let myself get involved with that girl? This whole situation is nuts. I roll onto my side, letting the weight of the day lull me into sleep. I’ve almost completely nodded off when I hear someone outside my door, feeling around for the key I keep hidden under a planter. I glance out through the shade. It’s Ava. She’s the only one other than my brother who knows where it’s hidden.
I haven’t seen or heard from her in a month either. I sure know how to pick ’em. I don’t bother giving her the satisfaction of surprising me and pull the door open just as she’s about to insert the key.
She smiles her flirty smile when she sees me. “You’re awake.” She’s wearing a tube top and a tight miniskirt that shows off her perfectly round ass. It’s trashy and hot at the same time.
“What are you doing here, Ava?”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “I missed you.” She smells like rum and Coke.
“Bullshit.” I peel them off me.
“I did, baby.” She rubs her hand across my chest in just the right way. I hate to admit how much this girl can turn me on. “How come you haven’t called me?”
“When do I ever call you, Ava?”
She laughs while she moves her hand down to my belt buckle.
“Did you miss me at least?” she says in her I-want-to-fuck-you voice.
I pull her towards me and push the door closed. It takes all of fifteen minutes from start to finish, and when we’re done, she grabs my face between her hands and hums, “We’re a good team, Danny.”
“For fuck buddies, yeah.”
I slide her off me, leaving her on the couch with only her tube top on, wrapped around her waist, and go into the bathroom, turning on the hot water for a shower. I always want her when she shows up, but then feel the need to shower off immediately afterwards. When I’m sufficiently lathered and rinsed, I find her in my kitchen, wearing one of my T-shirts, rummaging through my cabinets.
“You’re still here?” I ask, only half joking.
“I’m making a grilled cheese. Want one?”
“No.” I walk towards my bedroom for some clothes.
“Some girl named Laurel just called you. Hope you don’t mind I answered your phone.”
I turn around. “What did you say?” The hairs on my neck bristle.
“A girl named Laurel called your cell phone.”
“Why did you answer my phone?” I feel my face reddening. I look at the clock. It’s almost midnight. Ava answering my phone this late does not look good. Although why I care what Laurel thinks, I can’t really answer. I grab the phone off the kitchen counter, looking at the recent number on the screen. “What did she say?”
“She said to tell you she called.”
“She didn’t say anything else?”
“No. I told her you were in the shower. It sounded like there was a baby crying in the background.”
I shake my head.
“Who is she?”
I don’t bother answering and walk into my bedroom, slamming the door, and dial Laurel’s number while sitting on the bed, my towel wrapped around me. This time she picks up.
“Hello.” Her voice is soft.
“It’s Danny.”
“Hi.”
“I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”
“Who was that girl that answered the phone?”
“A friend. My brother’s old girlfriend Ava. He went out with her in high school.” Not a lie. He dumped her after he caught her doing it in the back of a limousine with one of his best friends the night of his senior prom.
“Oh.”
“Your dad’s wife have the baby?”
“Yes. A week late. They’re home now.”
“So you planning on coming out now?”
She hesitates a little too long. “I’m back Upstate.”
“What?” I feel my face redden.
“It got to be too much in the city with my father and Sheryl, their baby and Carolyn. We’re all going through a big adjustment. They’ve put their apartment up for sale because Sheryl doesn’t want to live in the city anymore. The lease on the studio my dad was subletting for me is almost up. It just made sense for Carolyn and me to come here, where it’s more…stable.” She pauses. “Besides, my father and Sheryl want to spend a few weeks at the house on Shelter Island. There isn’t enough room for all of us together plus their baby nurse. And I have this huge paper to write.”
I sit in silence while she rambles on.
“The moving truck came two days ago and I followed it up.”
She stops talking finally. I don’t say anything.
“Are you there, Danny?”
I notice my hand is squeezed tightly into a fist and my fingernails are digging into my palm. After another minute passes, I finally say, “You said you’d bring her out again. My mother wants to–”
“I know,” she interrupts. “I’m sorry. Things just didn’t go as planned.”
“So I don’t get to see her again until, like, Thanksgiving?” My voice is shaking and I try to control it, but it’s hard.
“I told you, you can come see her anytime. You don’t have to wait until Thanksgiving. Bring your mother if you want, even. Come for a weekend.”
“When it’s convenient for you?”
She sighs. “This is the best I can do right now. I’m sorry.”
I press end and punch the wall with my clenched fist.
“Everything all right in there?” Ava calls from the kitchen.
Chapter 12
Two weeks into the fall semester at LIU and two months since the last time I saw Carolyn or Laurel, a letter arrives in the mail from the Suffolk County Family Court in Riverhead. I rip it open. Our court date has been set for September 27.
I read the date again. September 27th. Carolyn is almost six months old now. Steve was right; the court did expedite the hearing based on the temporary order he requested.
Despite my best efforts at avoiding getting up in front of a judge, it ended up being inevitable. I tried several times to try to work out something with Laurel that would work given our school schedules and my job, finally getting Steve involved. That led to a conversation between him and Laurel’s father that did not go well. Her father even went as far as to suggest I had no legal right to shared custody because I wasn’t on the birth certificate.
I had to laugh at that one. Maybe if I had known about Carolyn’s birth, I would be on the birth certificate. That ultimately led to me undergoing a paternity test to remove any doubt in the judge’s mind as to whether or not I am the father.
Steve, my mother and I arrive at the courthouse half an hour before the hearing is scheduled. We convene in a conference room he’s reserved.
“You look good.” He nods his approval. And my mother agrees.
Per his insistence, I cut my hair and bought a suit. “A ponytail isn’t going to work in front of a judge,” he’d told me.
I thought it’d be a lot harder to cut off my hair. It had been long for years. But it was actually pretty easy and I like my new look. I went real short and now it takes people a second to recognize me.
&
nbsp; We go over our playbook. Steve went the hardball approach by asking the judge for weekly visitation. Even I thought this unrealistic given the geography. But he said you always ask for more with the hope of getting at least half. I could live with every other week.
We’re shuffled into the courtroom, walking past a lawyer and a man wiping tears from his eyes, waving good-bye to two kids. “I’ll see you at Thanksgiving,” he says.
Why do I feel like this is how it may go for me?
We walk towards the front of the courtroom, which is empty with the exception of a security guard and a woman typing on a keyboard. Steve gestures for me to sit in a chair on the left side of the court, behind a desk with a microphone. He sits next to me and begins unloading the contents of his briefcase. My mother finds a chair behind us.
The door in the back of the court squeaks and I turn to see Laurel’s father. He approaches the front, nodding at Steve and me and taking a seat at a desk on the right side. Another five minutes pass and Laurel appears in the doorway.
She’s wearing her long hair up in a bun and has on a navy skirt, a white blouse and heels. I’ve never seen her dressed in anything other than shorts and sundresses. She cleans up well. Carolyn isn’t with her. I was hoping she would have brought her, but I guess it is unrealistic at a court hearing.
I watch her as she makes her way to where her father is sitting. She looks straight ahead, but I know she can sense my eyes on her. Right before she’s about to take her seat, she glances in my direction, then away, then back again when she sees I’ve cut my hair. I don’t know what else to do, so I wave and then turn my attention to the judge’s stand.
The security officer opens a side door and says, “All rise.”
We do as we’re told and then a woman with wiry gray hair in a black judge’s gown follows him and climbs up to the podium.
“You can be seated,” she says, then puts on purple reading glasses and begins leafing through papers.
After several long, quiet minutes, she looks at Steve and then at Laurel’s father and breaks the silence in the courtroom.
“This is a unique situation,” she says. No one stirs.
She clears her throat. “Mr. Skyler?”
Steve stands.
“Your client is requesting weekly visitation with his child, who lives in Dresden, New York?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And, Mr. Harris.” Laurel’s father remains in his chair. “Your client – daughter – does not want to grant him any custodial rights at all?”
“That is correct, Your Honor.”
“And why is that, Mr. Harris?”
Laurel’s father shuffles some papers in his briefcase.
“Mr. Harris, please stand and talk into the microphone.”
Laurel’s dad closes his briefcase and stands, adjusting the microphone on the desk.
“Your Honor, my daughter found herself pregnant while attending prestigious Colman College last year as a freshman. She and Mr. Santoro were not in a relationship when the indiscretion occurred that led to the pregnancy. It was a misjudgment on both their parts. But she went ahead and did what she felt was best and had the baby. After she did, she felt a moral responsibility to let Mr. Santoro know. But she never intended for him to ask for shared custody of a child he has no other connection to. This is like the equivalent of a sperm donor demanding custody of a child that resulted from the donation–”
“Dad!” Laurel exclaims.
A sperm donor? My jaw gapes open. Steve was right. Laurel’s father plays hardball.
Steve coughs. “Your Honor, if I may?”
The judge nods.
“My client had absolutely no knowledge of the pregnancy or the delivery of the baby because Laurel Harris refused to tell him. He only found out about her existence when she was three months old. As a matter of fact, it’s my understanding very few people were privy to knowledge of the pregnancy, including Mr. Harris.”
Laurel’s father glares at Steve.
“If my client had been made aware of the pregnancy and the birth of the child, given his strong character, he certainly would have made every effort to be as connected and as involved as possible to the baby and even to Laurel. Mr. Harris suggests that his client and Mr. Santoro had no relationship, but the fact is they had a strong friendship that spanned three years. My client cares for Laurel and their daughter. To compare him to a sperm donor is insensitive, not to mention outrageous!”
The judge nods her head. “Mr. Harris, why doesn’t your client want Mr. Santoro to be involved with the care and upbringing of their daughter? Are there concerns that go beyond the realm of geography?”
I watch Laurel shift uncomfortably in her chair.
“Yes, Your Honor.” Mr. Harris ignores the way Laurel stares at him. “Although Mr. Skyler points to Mr. Santoro’s strong moral character, the fact is the environment with which he lives is not favorable for raising a child. He lives next door to a home that has been raided six times in the past two years for suspected drug trafficking. His mother resides in a small apartment over a garage that belongs to Mr. Skyler, and his father is a well-reputed alcoholic, who is up to his ears in gambling debt and is currently serving a prison sentence for stealing a car and driving with a suspended license from repeated DUIs. There is a lien on his house from the Mashantucket Pequot Tribe for defaulting on a loan. The list goes on.”
A lien on the house? Gambling debt? What is he talking about?
“What is the Mashantucket Pequot Tribe?” I whisper to Steve.
“They own Foxwoods Casino in Connecticut,” Steve replies.
I don’t look back at my mother because I know she has got to be infuriated. A house they owned outright, and now he could lose it?
Steve clears his throat. “If I may respond, Your Honor?”
“Yes.”
“My client lives in a rental apartment in Greenport, which is a village known for its upscale restaurants and boutiques, vibrant tourism and overall excellent quality of life. There is hardly a better place to raise a family. As for Mr. Santoro’s father, I can’t speak for the debt or a lien on the house. Of course the jail time is upsetting, but Danny and all of us are confident he’ll get the addiction treatment he needs while he is serving his sentence.
“But really, Mitchell Santoro’s behavior has little to do with my client, who is an independent twenty-two-year-old man. He not only has a full-time job but also attends Long Island University, where he was offered a full scholarship in their well-reputed homeland security master’s program. And as for his mother.” He gestures behind him. “She is a caregiver in our home and my wife’s cousin. I can say there is hardly a finer person. So much so we entrust her with the care of our twins. She has a strong sense of family, is close to her children and her grandchildren, and is a pleasure to have around.”
“Your Honor,” Laurel’s father interjects, “the fact of the matter is my daughter and Mr. Santoro live three hundred seventy-five miles away from one another. They are both students. How can anyone reasonably expect regular visitation to be possible?”
“You’re correct, Mr. Harris. It is a unique situation, as I said before.” She takes off her glasses. “I’d like to speak with Laurel and Daniel in my chambers, without council present.”
Steve nods his approval, but Mr. Harris speaks up. “May I ask for what purpose?”
“I’d like to speak with them in a less formal manner. It won’t take long.”
“Can I at least have some time first with my daughter – client?”
“No.” She stands. “Mr. Santoro and Ms. Harris, follow me.”
We do as we’re told as the security guard says, “All rise.”
Chapter 13
Laurel and I face each other at a round table in Judge Mattheson’s office. She’s taken off her robe and gone down the hall to make herself a cup of tea in a kitchenette, leaving her chamber door open, and we see her filling a kettle with water.
It is strange
sitting so close to Laurel, and I can tell by the way she shifts in her chair and hardly makes eye contact that she finds it just as awkward.
“Your haircut looks good,” she offers, eyes downcast.
I’m quick to shun the compliment. “A sperm donor?” I snip.
Laurel lays her palms flat on the table. “I had no idea he was going to say that. And I didn’t want him to bring up that stuff about your dad, either. But he didn’t listen.”
I lean forward so she has no choice but to look me in the face. “Your whole life you’ve had a shitty relationship with that guy, but still you let him manipulate you. We probably wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for him pushing back so hard. He and Steve could have worked something out outside of a courtroom!”
“It’s not his fault, Danny. It’s mine.”
“Okay then. Why are you being so stubborn?”
Laurel looks in the direction of the kitchenette. The judge isn’t visible now. “It’s hard for me to explain.”
“Try,” I say. “I need to know why I’ve become the enemy in all this before being given a chance.”
She swallows. “I’ve been protective of Carolyn for so long. She was my secret all freshman year. Then she arrived a month early, and seeing her in the NICU was terrifying. When she finally got through the woods, I felt like, okay, I can do this. On my own. Then I went to see you and I never expected you’d want to have such a big part of her and that I’d have to share her with you and your mom and your whole family. It’s hard to let go.” She sighs. “But, still, some of the things he said weren’t fair.”
“It’s not fair of you to expect me to sit on the sidelines. My father has been an absentee dad my whole life. You’ve had a crap relationship with your father. And yet here you’ve got someone right in front of you who wants to be a good father to his kid and you’re steamrolling me…”
The judge clears her throat as she returns through the door. She sits down across from us, and after taking a sip from an oversized mug with Don’t Judge Me written on it in red letters, she says, “So, you two have an interesting history.”
Yours and Mine (Freshman Forty #2) Page 5