Jason pulls a chair up right next to mine. “That’s okay. I’m here. Do you want me to open it?”
I take a deep breath, and shake my head. “No, I can do it.” My fingers are still trembling, but I slide my pointer finger under the seal of the envelope. It slides open easily, and I reach in, pulling the thin packet of paperwork out.
Skimming the first few lines, which mainly contains Brad, Presley, and my full legal names, I take in more of the information. It is an official legal petition for shared custody.
He has it all laid out. He wants to have custody of her the entire summer break, and every school break, including alternating holidays. There is also an addendum that he can request a long weekend or time with her for special events.
Reading it makes me want to be sick. It makes it seem like she’s not a person, but a toy they can cart around and show off. That’s all I really ever was to Brad, anyway. It makes sense that’s what he’d want of our daughter, too.
When I’ve read through all the legalese a few times, I take in a few shuddering breaths. I can’t believe this is really happening. When he signed the form, I thought I would never have to worry about this. It hurt like a bitch knowing he was so willing to give up our family at the drop of the hat, but now it’s like he’s using us to turn me into the bad guy.
Jason’s practically shaking with anger next to me. “In other words, he wants to be the fun parent.” He swears under his breath. “He wants to be the one that gets all the ‘fun time’. Summer breaks, any time she has off school. He wants that to be associated with him, so he can try to reverse her perspective.”
When he puts it like that, it clicks. Initially, I thought itwas because of location, and him being in Boston, but this makes sense. He never wanted to do the tough stuff of parenting. I was always the one getting up at night, doing the feeds. The one who took care of her when she was sick, or potty training, or taking her to doctor’s appointments. God, it all makes sense now. He never wanted to be a real parent. He wanted the glory of being a “Dad”.
“You’re right,” I murmur. I think I’m numb. I should be raging. I should be coming up with a plan to fight this, but right now, all I can do is be numb. Try to process.
“We’ll figure a way around this, Fallon,” Jason says, his voice firm and promising.
I nod, my eyes unseeing, only focusing on Presley’s name written on the form.
43
JASON
Fallon’s lawyer sits in front of us, her hands folded on her desk. A hearing date is officially set, so we are meeting with her to go over everything and file a response to his petition. “I really do think we have a strong case. He legally waived his right to custody and visitation three years ago, and has made no effort until now to be a dad. He also hasn’t paid child support in those three years, nor has he ever called to check in on Presley’s wellbeing. I think we could win the case and have him walk away with no rights at all, if that’s what you want.”
Fallon’s attention is focused on her hands in her lap. She’s been picking at the skin around her nails all week, and they’re practically raw. “I don’t know what I want,” she whispers. “I don’t want him to take her from me every holiday or all summer.”
Her lawyer, Haley, is a badass. She’s been extremely helpful so far, and I know this whole thing is stressful for Fallon, but I really think her lawyer will help ease our minds.
“Brad is going to have to jump through a lot of hoopsbefore he can even get visitation with Presley. They aren’t going to decide one day that he’s fit to parent and drop her off at his doorstep. He’ll have to move back to Minnesota more than likely, pay back child support, and go through parent education,” Haley explains, surely trying to ease some of Fallon’s anxiety.
“Okay.” Fallon takes a deep breath. Reaching over, I tug her fingers from her hand, hoping to save some of the skin around her fingers from more pain.
“What are his chances even if he does all that?” Fallon needs to hear it out loud to believe it, so I ask the question she’s too scared to ask.
“Even if he meets the minimum requirements, the judge will still first and foremost take into account the best interests of the child. Placing her with an almost complete stranger who abandoned her and went zero contact when she was barely five-years-old would most certainly not be in her best interest. The probability of his motion tricking an investigator into thinking Brad actually wants to parent is low.” Haley’s conviction has Fallon straightening in her chair.
“So, what do we do now?”
“For now, we need to file the response and be ready to argue our position in court. I’ll get the response drafted and send it over to you to review. I’ll be in touch plenty before the hearing, too. If you have any questions, please contact me anytime.”
“Thank you, Haley,” I say, dropping Fallon’s hand to reach across the desk and shake hers. My mind is whirring with all of the information she gave us today.
We leave the meeting, Fallon still eerily quiet. The girls are hanging out with Fallon’s mom today, and we have anhour or so before we go pick them up. “Should we get some lunch before we head to pick the girls up?”
When I glance over to the passenger seat, Fallon nods. “Sure, that’s fine.”
“Where would you like to go?”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”
Reaching across the center console, I take her palm in mine. “Hey,” I murmur. “I know this is a lot, but like Haley said, it’s going to be a slow-moving process. That will help give you time to process everything. Nothing will happen at the drop of a hat, remember?”
She nods, but I don’t fully think she’s convinced. “What would you do if Talia came back and asked for shared custody of Lennie?”
I lean into my seat as I do my best to rationally think about what I would do. “I—I don’t know. To be honest, it’s not something I ever thought about. Realistically, I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead.”
