Ryan tells the judge it was him who was always the stability in our house, and he’s the one who plays with the kids, helps with their schoolwork, and disciplines them. He tells the judge I have depression and anxiety issues, and I’m impossible to reason with. He tells the court that I love the kids when they’re babies but can’t handle them when they get older. He explains how I’d go to bars and leave him at home with the kids.
Finally, Ryan has several parents from his baseball teams come to court for him. They testify that it’s obvious Ryan loves our children and the children love him. He had a great impact on their own kids who look up to Ryan as a father figure. When asked about me, they testify they’ve never talked to me before and don’t even recognize me sitting in the courtroom.
My lawyer turns to me and asks, “Who are these folks?”
“I have no idea,” I say, “For all I know Ryan paid them to be there.”
Both lawyers get one last chance to address the judge. My lawyer argues that I should have custody because I stayed home throughout the whole marriage. I had so many dreams that I put aside for his career. He tells the judge Ryan’s a good father, and a good provider, but his career is his first priority. I’ve been the primary caretaker and that should continue. He tells the judge Ryan has anger issues and his visitation should be supervised for one year until he completes extensive counseling and attends anger management classes. By the time my lawyer sits down, everything seems so clear. I just can’t lose.
Ryan’s lawyer gets his final argument and he’s good - very good. He describes Ryan as a great father and husband, and the evidence proves the problems in the marriage were just as much my fault as his. One year before the divorce, Ryan was the best father and husband but now he’s the worst. I lost all interest in the relationship.
“What changed?” he asks looking directly at me. He answers his own question. “I’ll tell you what changed, your Honor. She started going out to bars with her single friend.”
He tells the judge the case is not about us. It’s about three kids who need stability in their life, and Ryan has always been that stability while I’m emotionally unstable and still don’t have a job after a year. He’s willing and able to put all animosity aside, and make sure the kids have a good relationship with both parents while I’ve been unwilling to even talk with Ryan about the kids throughout the divorce. Yes, I stayed at home but what does that matter now? Now we will both be working. It’s clear the kids are better off with their father.
After Ryan’s lawyer sits down, the case is over. What seemed so clear when my lawyer told the story is now far from clear. Once outside the courtroom, I ask my lawyer what he thinks.
He simply replies, “You never know about these things.”
You never know? What the hell? He’s my lawyer. I’m paying him to know. I’m the mother. Doesn’t the mother always win custody? Didn’t he tell me I’d get custody?
The judge announces he’ll send his order but gives us no idea when. Over the next week, every thought races through my head. Ryan’s lawyer was so good. Surely, he wasn’t able to turn the whole case around. I pray and pray the judge will see through everything, and award me custody.
Every day that passes, I feel even more afraid of losing my kids. Eventually, I come to the realization that Ryan could actually win. I call my lawyer to get an update.
“Have you heard anything from the judge yet?” I ask after waiting on hold for twenty minutes.
“No, nothing yet. Should be here any day now,” he answers.
“Do you think the judge will actually give Ryan custody?” I ask.
“You never know with judges,” he says. “Men are getting custody more and more. When I started practicing law, men went to work and left it to the women to raise the kids. Back then, the decisions were easy. Now mothers are working and fathers are more involved in raising the kids. You even told the judge that Ryan is a good father.”
This is not the response I was looking for. I start shaking like I’m having another panic attack. This cannot be happening. I never would have left if I thought I could lose my kids. I would have stayed and worked things out.
Suddenly, I think of a new plan. If I lose the case, I’ll beg Ryan to take me back. I’ll tell him I love him and made a big mistake.
“One last question,” I ask. “If I lose the case, what happens if we get back together?”
“Get back together?” my lawyer says as if the question caught him off guard. “Are ya’ll talking about getting back together?”
“No, we don’t talk at all except through the lawyers. I’m only wondering what happens if we get back together.”
“If you get back together, the order is gone,” he explains. “But why would Ryan take you back after the trial and everything? Won’t he know your just doing it to get the kids back?”
“Ryan still loves me,” I assure him.
“How do you know?”
“All I ever heard when we did talk is how much he loves me and how this divorce will screw up our kids’ lives. I know Ryan loves me.”
“Won’t he know you’re only doing it to get the kids back?”
“Like I said, he loves me.”
He pauses for a second and asks, “How will you do it?”
I consider his question, and with all the confidence in the world, I tell him, “I’m a woman. I have my ways.”
The very next day, my lawyer calls. He received the judge’s order and wants me to come in. He doesn’t say anything about the outcome. The whole drive to his office I’m terrified. I waited too late. Ryan’s getting custody, and it’s too late to do anything. Once Ryan sees the order he may never take me back.
I wait in my lawyer’s waiting room for almost an hour. He must be waiting to tell me the bad news. The longer I sit the more I worry. Is this my judgment day for my relationship with Paul? Judgment for everything bad I’ve done in my life? My lawyer finally comes to the front holding my life in his left hand. He offers no congratulations, and gives no indication of who won the case. Once inside his office, he asks me to sit down. Why would he ask me to sit down? This sounds bad. I hold my breath and prepare for the worst.
Instead of simply telling me what happened, he reads the judge’s order. I don’t understand it all. The judge is granting my petition for divorce, and Ryan and I will be named “joint managing conservators.” At this point, my mind goes blank. I hear nothing else he reads. Joint managing conservators? After all Ryan did to me, now we must continue with joint custody? It was difficult enough going back and forth every week over the past months. I was looking forward to it all ending. I sit in my chair and cry. “No way … no way … no way. How can this happen?”
“Hold on,” my lawyer says.
“Hold on?!” I scream. “You said we should go for supervised visits. Now I didn’t even win custody?”
“No, no, no,” my lawyer says. “You got custody. The judge named you joint conservators but you’ll have primary custody. The kids stay with you. They go to their dad’s every other weekend and on Thursday nights. You’ll share holidays.”
“So … so I got custody?” I ask.
“Yes. You have primary possession,” he says. “You won!”
My lawyer hands me the order so I can read it for myself. The judge awarded me primary custody and Ryan will get standard visitation. Ryan has to sell our house, and I get $325,000 for my share of the family property. Ryan must pay all the credit cards and family debts. I get $4,500 per month in child support and another $1,500 per month in spousal support for three years so I can finish my degree.
“What about the supervised visits?” I ask.
“No, the judge didn’t go there.”
“What! Didn’t he hear me testify? I’m the victim!” I tell him.
“Ms. Brunick, you got custody, child support, spousal support, and more than half the family property,” he says. “Ryan has to sell your home.”
“I know,” I say, shaking my head. “B
ut I wanted him to have supervised visits.”
My lawyer looks at me like he can’t believe what I just said. After a minute of silence, he stands up and walks me out of his office. Now I have to deal with Ryan seeing his kids without any supervision whatsoever.
I drive home thinking how losing the kids will devastate Ryan. As soon as I get in my car, the first person I call is Sharon to tell her the good news. We go through everything. Maybe I should feel bad for Ryan but I don’t. I remember the day he threatened me—swore I’d never take the kids from him. Well, look who has the kids now. In the end, he got what he deserves. I stayed home with the kids while he went to work every day. No matter how good a father he is (or how good his lawyer was) nothing can change that. The judge saw through all his tricks and made the right decision. Of course, he made the right decision.
“I wish I could see Ryan’s face when he picks up the kids,” Sharon laughs before hanging up the phone.
PART TWO
__________________
FREEDOM
I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.
—Nelson Mandela
Freedom is always at the beginning and not at the end.
—Jiddu Krishnamurti
– CHAPTER 22 –
The trial is over. I’m finally free. Ryan sold our house and delivers a cashier’s check for $325,000.00 to my lawyer. Every month I get my check for $7,000.00. I can now pursue my own life and my own dreams. I’m in love. and I don’t care who knows—especially Ryan. In fact, a big part of me wants him to find out. It no longer matters to me what he thinks or what he says. I don’t have to answer to Ryan or anyone else anymore. I’ll have my home, and my life, and he’ll have his home, and his life. It’s none of his business what happens at my home, and I don’t care what happens at his.
This is what I want but it isn’t so simple. We still have kids together and “small corn have big ears.” They tell Ryan what happens at my house, and tell me what happens at his house.
A month after our divorce, he picks up the kids and asks, “Who is this guy you keep bringing around the kids.”
I’ve never really “brought” Paul around the kids. Since our divorce, we “accidentally” bump into each other at the store, a park, or a restaurant. I introduce him as my friend but I don’t know if the kids are buying it. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I don’t know what makes Ryan think he can question me about my boyfriend. Several of my girlfriends tell me they’ve seen Ryan with a woman who’s much younger than him, and I don’t question him about that.
“Stop grilling the kids about me,” I snap as I rush the kids to get their stuff together so they can leave.
“I’m not grilling the kids,” he insists.
I don’t believe him for a second. “My private life is none of your business,” I say loud and clear.
“What you do with our kids is my business. Who you bring around our kids is my business.”
“It’s none of your business, but his name is Paul,” I say. “We love each other. We’re going to get married.”
As soon as I say this, I know it was a mistake. “Get married!” he exclaims. “We just got divorced. How long have you been dating him?”
“You just don’t get it, do you? We’re divorced now. I don’t have to listen to you.”
“You’re really something,” he says.
“Whatever,” I say dismissing him with a wave of my hand. “That’s between me and God. My conscience is clear. Take the kids and go.”
The kids have seen these arguments before and want to escape it so they go straight to the car.
“I hate you,” Ryan says as he turns around, walks away, gets in his car, slams the door, and drives off.
When he’s halfway down the street I say, “I hate you too.”
Just as I feared, Colt is not happy with the living arrangements. He complains to his dad that I’m always gone. Ryan lets me know about their conversations when he drops off the kids.
“Faith, this is too difficult on Colt. He wants to come live with me.”
“You’re brainwashing him,” I say.
“I’m not brainwashing him. Think about it. He and I have always been together. Now, all the constant back and forth is just too much – school, the practices, the games - he just wants to come live with me.”
“I’m sick of hearing this from you. I’m sick of him asking me. I won’t do it.”
“Stop thinking about yourself for once!” he says still talking to me like I’m his child or something.
“He’ll get used to it,” I say. “Give him some time and he’ll be fine.”
“Faith, I want to end this battle between us. Please just let him live with me. That’s all I’m asking.”
Before he can say anything more, I walk inside and slam the door.
– CHAPTER 23 –
Things with Paul have been going really good. It’s very different than my relationship with Ryan. It feels great to love someone as much as you’re loved. I shower him with cards, notes, gifts, and little surprises. I’ve found my prince charming—not just some character in a child’s book but the real deal. Cinderella has nothing on me.
We don’t need to go out to enjoy our time together. We watch movies, football, baseball, and basketball games on television, take trips on his motorcycle, and live pretty carefree. He has a friend who has a house in the hill country. We spend time there barbequing, drinking, and singing songs by a fire. He’s not fixated on wealth and material things.
“Life is about what you do, not what you have,” he says.
I love how he’s so straightforward and honest. He doesn’t need to talk about everything.
About a year and a half after we first met, Paul and I have our first real argument. It’s over nothing really. He’s been separated from his wife for two years but he still hasn’t filed for divorce, which really bothers me. Every time I ask him about it, he says he’s trying to avoid the kind of fight Ryan and I went through.
“I’m not a rich lawyer,” he says. “I don’t want to lose my daughter.”
We’re at a restaurant eating dinner when he leaves his phone on the table to go to the bathroom. I hear an incoming text message so I pick it up and take a look. It’s from his daughter who thanks him for spending the night with her. This is the same house where his wife lives! He comes back to the table, looks at the text, and sits his phone back like it’s absolutely nothing. I sit there waiting for him to explain. The longer we sit, the angrier I get. Finally, I can’t hold it in any longer. “How was your night?” I ask.
“It was okay,” he says.
“Are you sure?”
“Faith, what are you getting at?” he says as if I’m the one who’s done something wrong. “Did you look at my text?”
“I didn’t have to pick it up. It was sitting on the table. I just glanced over at it. When were you going to tell me?” I ask.
“Faith, I left my phone face down on the table. You had to pick it up.”
I don’t appreciate his tone. “Why are you trying to change the subject?” I ask dismissively. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what? What do I have to tell?”
“You stay at your wife’s house, and you don’t think you should tell me?”
“Faith, it’s not what you’re making it out to be. My daughter asked me to stay so I laid in her bed. I was going to leave but I was so tired that I fell asleep. It was completely innocent.”
“Innocent? If it’s so innocent then let me see your phone,” I demand.
“See my phone?” he repeats. “I’m not going to give you my phone.
“I didn’t think so,” I smirk.
“This is insane,” he says shaking his head and putting his hands over his face.
“If its so innocent, then why did
n’t you tell me about it?” I ask.
He looks back up and says, “I didn’t think I needed to.”
“Didn’t need to? I’m your girlfriend!”
“Look at you. Look how upset you get. Why would I tell you things if you’re going to fly off the handle?”
“You’re blaming me for what you’re doing?” I say, raising my voice even higher. “I wouldn’t have been mad if you would have just been honest about it.”
He winces and looks over at the people sitting next to us. He then leans over the table and whispers, “Calm down.”
This takes me back to Jake when I found our phone bill. “You’re sleeping with your ex-wife … Oh, I mean your wife,” I continue, “and you expect me to calm down?”
Everyone around us looks at our table.
In a firm tone, he says, “Please keep it down. I’m not sleeping with her.”
“I’m not stupid. I was a fool one time, and I won’t be the fool again.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snaps.
This strikes a chord in me. I throw my napkin down and get up from the table. “I’m not ridiculous,” I say to him and the people at the table on each side of us.
Everyone watches as I walk out of the restaurant and sit on the bench outside. I put my head down in my hands and wait for him to follow—which he doesn’t. He knows I don’t have my car because he drove to the restaurant. What the hell is he doing? He just doesn’t care how much he hurts me.
After waiting fifteen minutes, I call a taxi and get a ride home. Once I’m home, I lie on my bed and wait for his call. The call never comes. Now I’m angrier than I was at the restaurant. Ryan would never leave me outside all by myself with no way home.
I hear nothing from him for a week. I go to his apartment and knock until he opens the door. I’ve thought about the things I want to say. He has to know staying at his wife’s house isn’t right and would cause an argument. He owes me an apology.
The Killing of Faith: A Suspense Thriller You Won't Soon Forget. (The Killing of Faith Series Book 1) Page 12
