“Yes, sir,” I say again, sounding like a parrot.
“And before then? Where were you?”
My throat aches when I swallow. I knew that was coming, but how do you explain that you became an addict because of an unfair system to begin with?
“I, uh—I wasn’t in my son’s life, sir.”
“I realize that,” he says, lowering his glasses to the tip of his nose and looking at me over the top, “but that is not what I asked. I asked where you were.”
“I was living in Sheridan at the time.”
It’s the town where Josephine and I grew up. It’s about an hour from here. I spent every day knowing my son was only an hour away, and I couldn’t see him.
“And did you have a means of transportation?”
I grit my teeth, already seeing where this is going.
“Yes, sir.”
“And yet your contact with your son before last fall was regulated to letters and phone calls. Is that correct?” He’s looking at me as if I’m the scum of the earth, and I don’t blame him. If a father stood before me saying he had no contact with his son, I would probably judge him, too. Shame burns my face, and I find I can’t answer him.
Thankfully, Greg steps in. “Mr. Sylvis’s actions were in accordance with the prior custody agreement, Your Honor.”
The judge grunts but doesn’t say anything as he looks back on his papers. When he looks back up, I know he’s already made his decision. I can see it in the contempt burning in his eyes.
“And what about the alcohol addiction? Was that also in accordance with the custody agreement?” I’m a bug beneath his boot, and he’s effectively crushed me.
“No, sir,” I say, defeated. There’s a sharp inhale from behind me, and it takes everything I have not to turn around and look at Lily. I should’ve told her before we came. She deserved to know who she was defending. She deserved to know our story—mine and Tanner’s—but it’s hard to tell your story when you avoid each other.
While there’s no hard proof of my addiction besides my meetings in AA, there’s also no point in denying it because doing so only hurts the progress I’ve made. One thing they teach you in recovery is to never deny where you came from—doing so will only lead you back there. And that’s a place I never want to go back to. The choices that will be made today are out of my hands, but I can control the type of man I am. When I moved here, I wanted to be the type of man Tanner can look up to—a man who owns up to his mistakes—and by not telling Lily, I’ve already failed at that.
“I see,” Judge Ranker says, and I hope he does. I hope he sees howhard I’m trying to be different—better—for the sake of my son.
He finally takes his attention off of me and turns it toward Josephine, and to his credit, he stares at her with the same contempt he did me.
“And what about you, Mrs. Westbrook, care to explain why my colleague found it prudent to grant emergency custody to your ex-husband?”
Josephine sputters at first, astonished someone would dare speak to her that way, but she recovers quickly. Straightening her shoulders, she flips her blonde hair and adorns a fake smile.
“Your Honor, at the time, my husband and I were doing what we felt was best forourson.” She stops, placing her hand on Eric’s arm as if to drive home the fact that she sees him as more of a father than me.
White, hot rage flashes behind my eyes. He might’ve been the man in Tanner’s life, but he was never a father to him. A dad doesn’t do what he did last year—pushing him until he was stripped of his confidence and almost lost his life. And what makes me angry about all of this is that he got to be in my son’s life. I wanted to be there from the very beginning. I wanted my son, but because someone else had more money than me, I was stripped of those rights.
His life—our life—could have been very different.
“And how did that work out for you, Mrs. Westbrook? From my understanding, Tanner ended up in the hospital because you did not listen to the advice of Dr. Harrison.”
Josephine’s skin flushes. “I admit, Your Honor, we made a mistake, but we recognize that now. We just want our son to come home.”
The judge turns his attention to Tanner. “And what about you, young man? I understand you are seventeen, and in most cases, at this age, it would be your decision. Considering the circumstances regarding the emergency custody, I cannot allow that. However, it is your life, so I would like to know your opinion.”
Tanner’s eyes widen, looking around as if searching for an escape. “I—I—”
He’s scared of voicing his opinion, and whether that’s because of his mom or me—I’m not so sure. He looks at me, and I smile, hoping to ease some of his fear. Our fight from earlier still hangs in the air, and I wish we had had time to talk it out before we got started here.
“It’s okay, kid, just answer the judge,” I say.
He swallows but still doesn’t say anything.
