by Lulu Pratt
“There are two other people who I think need to weigh in on this,” the judge says finally. I sit up, getting ready to do my bit. Ethan and I talked about what we would say, and what we would do to prepare for this court appearance. I’m as ready as I will ever be for what we need to do. She calls me up first and I give Riley a quick kiss before walking to the front of the courtroom, to speak my peace.
“Thank you, Your Honor, for asking me to speak,” I say. My heart is pounding in my chest as I take another quick breath and try to keep my thoughts together.
“Do you agree with your father’s assertion that Riley would be better suited to stay with yourself and him? Or do you agree with her other grandparents that her father should have sole custody?”
I shake my head.
“Neither, Your Honor. I don’t agree with any of Riley’s grandparents on this issue, and I think that my deceased sister’s wishes are in my niece’s best interests,” I say.
“Please explain,” the judge says, though I can see the flicker of a smile on her face. The few people watching the proceedings seem pretty shocked.
“Currently, Riley has no unsupervised days, and we have managed between the two of us, to work out a schedule that allows her to spend plenty of time with each of us, without having to rely on daycare, which we feel she is still too young to attend. We’re both in positions to accommodate her needs for care and support while both of us work full-time,” I explain.
The real, big announcement is still looming in my head, but I know I have to let that come later on, so instead I tell the judge about the ways that Ethan and I have worked together to make sure of Riley’s care, and to give her ample time with both of us. I don’t go into our history together, that’s beside the point.
“Thank you for your testimony,” the judge says when I’m done. “I’d like to hear from Riley’s father as well on this score, just in the interests of getting all the voices needed.”
I sit down and take Riley from Ethan as he goes up to do his part.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ETHAN
I step up to deliver my testimony, looking around the courtroom. Lara’s set me up really well for what I have to say to the judge. Assuming that she’s as receptive as she seems, I think the chances are good for us to get what we want, and, legally at least, settle things once and for all.
“I assume that you agree with Ms. Hampstead on the facts of the case, and in the argument that it’s best to stick with the plans and provisions made by your late wife in her will,” the judge says, once I’m settled in my place.
“Absolutely, Your Honor. Lara and I have talked about this in detail, and we’ve been agreement on this for a long time, since before our parents made their filings,” I say.
“Can you provide me with your input on the arguments made by the grandparents?”
I nod again.
“I can. As much as I love my parents, I have to disagree with them that I should have sole custody of my daughter. If Lara wasn’t around, and hadn’t already proved herself as a capable and loving guardian, I might agree, but that’s not the case,” I say.
“I think the court records can reflect that no one here disputes that Lara has done very well in her capacity as Riley’s guardian,” the judge says, looking at my parents, who I watch. They nod reluctantly, conceding the point.
“Obviously the big issue at hand is that as things stand right now, Riley has to move around a lot. She spends certain days out of the week with me, and certain days with Lara,” I point out.
“That does seem to be one of the main, agreed-upon areas of contention,” the judge agrees.
“But if the court thinks that it’s a problem for who to spend different days in different homes, then joint-custody agreements for divorced couples wouldn’t make sense,” I finish.
“Of course, in those instances, the parents are separating, and it’s been agreed by experts that joint custody is better than sole custody for parents who have equally strong relationships with their children,” my parents’ lawyer pipes up.
“But you would still have to agree, I think, that if it is a problem for kids to spend different days in different locations with their parents, that the whole convention of joint custody is a bad idea, right?”
The judge smiles slightly. “Of course, that is something that the court would have to concede. And in this instance, you are absolutely right that there’s no proof that spending time in separate homes is not, on its own, bad, as long as parents cooperate, and schooling is not disrupted,” the judge says.
“So, the whole theory that both our parents’ arguments relies on is flawed,” I say.
“I sense that you’re not finished with that point,” the judge counters.
I grin. I can’t help myself. “I’m not, you’re right about that,” I say.
“Continue, then,” the judge says.
“Out of an excess of concern for Riley’s scheduling and her lifestyle, Lara and I have come to an agreement that we will move in together, to provide her with a single home to live in with the two of us,” I tell her. In telling her, I’m also telling my parents and Lara’s dad, who we hadn’t even given any warning at all of our idea.
“So, the two of you will be cohabitating? This is interesting indeed,” the judge says, after the silence goes on in the room for a few minutes.
“We have agreed to move in together starting at the first of the year,” I confirm.
“Is this true?” the judge asks, looking at Lara.
“It is, Your Honor. We both have enough income to put into a shared home, separate from where Ethan currently lives. Of course, we have some concerns about moving Riley, but we agreed that it would be better to get a fresh start, all of us together, than for one of us to move in with the other at their home,” she says.
“That seems like a very important, and very significant step,” the judge says slowly. The rest of the courtroom is just short of being silent, and I’m just standing there, waiting for something to happen.
“Is there anything else you need from us, Your Honor?” I hope against hope that she isn’t going to question the plan too hard. Lara and I are, actually, planning on moving in together, but we don’t want to talk to anyone really about the other reasons, beyond providing Riley with one unified household.
“No, I believe we’ll take a brief recess, and I’ll see if I can come to a ruling on this,” the judge says, looking at all of us in turn. I go back to my seat and the court officer makes us all stand for the judge’s departure from the room, and then dismisses us for a recess.
“What do you think?” I ask Lara.
Riley is occupied with one of her toys, jabbering to it with a mixture of words and non-words, so I feel like it might be safe to talk to Lara about the case.
“I think we shocked all of them,” she says with a slight smile.
“Do you think it’ll work?” I look over at where my parents are standing around, waiting like we all are.
“I think that we made the best possible case, and I really doubt the judge is going to just agree with either your parents or my dad,” Lara says.
I think about it for a moment or two and I have to admit that if the judge is really looking out for Riley’s best interests, she’s not going to go with either of their ideas.
“Everyone back in the courtroom, the judge is about to deliver her ruling,” the court officer says after maybe fifteen minutes.
We all pile back into the courtroom, and I sit down with my daughter, trying not to feel nervous about the situation. Lara and I have both done everything we could, and I can’t imagine the judge giving me sole custody of my daughter, and even if she did, it isn’t like it would change things, at least that much, between me and Lara. I really can’t imagine her agreeing with Nathan’s argument, which would be the most difficult situation to get through. But I don’t know who this judge is, or how much sense she’s got.
“I would like to say that in fifteen
years of overseeing custodial arguments, I have seen a lot of ridiculousness,” the judge starts out.
I look at Lara and we can’t help but both smile at that kind of an opening. It’s pretty promising.
“I understand why the argument has arisen. There are obviously deep-seated family issues going on in this case that are hard to ignore, and that need a much longer time to resolve than this court has at its present disposal,” the judge continues.
“That doesn’t sound quite as promising,” Lara murmurs to me, and I shrug. The judge isn’t saying anything that’s really untrue about the situation, after all, but I have to think that she’s not going to use the ‘deep-seated issues’ that exist to give Riley to Nathan.
“At the end of the day, it is this court’s decision that the best option of all is to follow the deceased parent’s wishes, particularly when those tasked with carrying them out have been so assiduous in putting aside their own issues, and in cooperating with each other to create the best possible environment for the child, Riley. I would like to warn all three grandparents against the expedient of attempting to get the court to intervene in the future in a similar way. Your arguments against the custodial parents are laughable, and betray both your biases, which no judge in his or her right mind would pay even the slightest attention to. You three will, I hope, not make yourselves nuisances in family court.”
The judge dismisses us all, and for a few moments all we can do is just sit there and appreciate the fact that everything actually worked out in our favor.
“Are you actually going to move in with him, Lara?”
I look up to see Nathan standing at the aisle between the groups of chairs, looking at his daughter.
“I am. And until you’re ready to accept that Ethan is going to continue to be Riley’s father, period, you’re not welcome in any of our lives,” Lara says firmly.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” her dad says, his shoulders sag and he walks away looking sad. My parents barely say anything to us as they walk away, and after a moment or two it’s just the three of us sitting there in the courtroom.
“You’re sure about this?” I look at Lara for a long moment and she nods.
“I’m sure,” she tells me. And I think, I hope, that Alexis, wherever she is, approves.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
LARA
One Year After Alexis’ Death
It’s supposed to be spring. Easter is only a week away, but there’s still a pretty heavy chill in the air as Riley, Ethan and I walk across the cemetery to where my sister’s memorial lies. It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year since Alexis died, and less than six months since Ethan, Riley and I moved in together. It feels somehow like it’s been way longer than that and much shorter.
“Where we going?” Riley’s been asking the same question all morning, and I’ve been trying to find a way to explain to a two-and-a-half-year-old child that we’re visiting the grave of her mother. There’s no good way to do it, but I know I would feel weird if we didn’t, especially if we’d left Riley behind at home with a babysitter.
“We’re going to check on Mommy,” Ethan explains. I look at him sharply, we don’t have a huge amount of disagreements about how Riley should be brought up, but I can’t help but think this isn’t the best way to explain things to a child as young as Riley.
“Where is she?” Riley looks at me in confusion.
“We’re not going to actually see her, but the memorial for her,” I say. Of course, this just confuses her even more, not least of which because she has no idea what a memorial is.
“Remember when Mommy went away a year ago?” We all stop as Ethan starts into his explanation, and I try to think of how I can support both him and Riley.
“Mommy-mommy,” Riley says with a nod.
“Mommy-mommy? What do you mean?” Ethan asks.
We look at Riley in confusion.
“You’re other-mommy,” Riley says to me matter-of-factly.
I look from her to Ethan. This is the first time she’s ever mentioned anything like this before.
“Other-mommy?” Ethan echoes his daughter as he is just as confused as I am, apparently.
“Yes. Mommy left, now I have other-mommy,” Riley explains.
“Anyway, when Mommy left last year, Daddy and I had a memorial put up to her here,” I say, still trying to digest Riley’s logical conclusion and the nonchalant way she delivered it.
“But why?”
I look at Ethan again.
“So we can come here and remember her,” he says.
We get to Alexis’ memorial finally and stand there a few moments together. Riley gets bored first and starts walking around the little plot in circles, running her fingers over the little sculpture that Ethan had erected. I’m still trying to work my mind around being “other-mommy.”
“Where do you think she got that from?” Ethan reaches out and takes my hand in his, and shrugs.
“I have no idea,” he says.
“You haven’t said anything to her, have you?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve always just called you Lara or Aunt Lara or whatever, even in private,” he says.
“And I haven’t said anything about being her mother in any way,” I agree.
“She does talk to other kids. Maybe she got it from one of them, somehow?” I consider that for a moment as Riley starts to wander a bit. She’s a bit of a flight risk when we’re out like this, but no one else seems to be in the cemetery, and it’s fairly flat ground with nowhere to hide.
“I’m not sure how philosophical toddlers get,” I say after a moment’s thought.
“Well, they might ask about mommies and stuff,” Ethan points out. I have to concede that he’s right about that.
“In any case, it’s going to get interesting when she goes into daycare,” I say, smiling wryly. We finally agreed a few months ago that we’d start Riley in daycare after she turned three. As much as we both love spending so much time with her, it will be a real relief for my bosses for me to be able to come into work instead of spending half of the week working from home.
It’s been a complicated year since I started taking care of my niece as her guardian, but especially after moving in together things have been easier. We haven’t discussed the development of our relationship with Riley. We’ve barely talked about it between ourselves, but there’s something good about living in a house together, about not having to transport Riley back and forth.
“It’s going to be really interesting explaining things, you’re definitely right about that. And we can’t count on Riley not to drop hints that we’re going to have to explain,” Ethan says.
“Riley! Don’t wander off, sweetie,” I call out when I see her starting to wander to another grave, a few markers down.
“Kay!” Riley heads back in our direction and I look down at Alexis’ memorial, thinking about the sister I lost and all that I gained in losing her. I don’t know for sure if Alexis had any idea at all that things would end up with me and Ethan seeing each other again when she made that request in her will. I have to assume that it wasn’t what she intended, for sure. I think she just thought that it would bring the family as a whole back together. But I also have to think that on balance, she would, if not approve, then at least understand.
“We should head back home in a bit. I don’t think Riley really gets the point of this,” Ethan says.
I nod my agreement.
We’d made a pact to bring Riley to Alexis’ memorial every year on the date of Alexis’ death, as part of what we hoped would be her continued memory in her daughter’s life. Even if Riley views me as “other-mommy,” I want her to have something of Alexis in her life, even if it’s just stories and pictures.
I think about my sister, who I spent so much time being so resentful of. I can’t blame her completely anymore for what happened with Ethan, and I can’t fully blame Ethan either. Whatever their wrongs to me just in getting together in the first pla
ce, they did what people do every day — get married and have a child.
We get Riley back to the car and head back to our new house. We’d decided that a house would be better than an apartment and found a rent-to-own option that was close enough to both Ethan’s job and mine that it was manageable for both of us to get to work throughout the week. We might have to make changes later, but for the time being, we’re in a solid place, and Riley doesn’t have to spend a bunch of time traveling from one place to another for care and supervision.
I get started on dinner, a pot roast and potatoes, while Ethan sets Riley up to play in the living room. It’s late in the afternoon, and after dinner, it’ll be time to get Riley ready for bed. I look over at Ethan playing with Riley. It’s some kind of memory and matching game with pictures on cards, something to get her ready for daycare that she also just genuinely likes, at least for a few minutes at a time.
After a while Riley starts playing a solo game and Ethan comes into the kitchen to check on me. He wraps his arms around my waist and presses a kiss to the nape of my neck.
“Long day already, maybe it’s a good opportunity to go to bed early?” His hands wander a bit and I giggle as quietly as I can.
Riley doesn’t know about us yet. Of course, there’s no real way to explain it to her. But we’ve long since abandoned the idea of keeping things platonic between us, and the bedroom we share is as comfortable as it can be.
“Right after we get Riley to bed, I think I’d like to go to bed, too,” I reply.
At two-and-a-half, Riley manages to stay asleep for about a good five or six hours before waking up and wanting attention. That’s more than enough time to get some action in. Ethan’s hands drift down the front of my body, reminding me of the fact that it’s been a few days since we had enough energy to play between the sheets, and we’re both more than a little eager.
“Maybe she’ll do us a favor and sleep in, and we’ll have a chance in the morning, too,” Ethan suggests. I laugh at that a little louder.
