“You never call early,” I remind her.
“Why do you automatically assume it’s bad?”
“If you were in my shoes, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”
“Oh. Right. I didn’t know you were having a pity party. My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”
Fun fact: everyone in my life thinks they’re a comedian. “Are you trying out new material or something?” I ask her irritably. “Like, to use this in opening arguments to get the jury on your side? If so, you should probably try again. I would vote to put you in jail along with whoever’s on trial.”
“I can see why Tyson wants to live with you,” she says. “You’re so much fun. I can feel your emo-angst through the phone. It feels like tears.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be professional? I could totally fire you, you know.” And I have half a mind to, because she’s obviously dragging this out as long as she can just to fuck with me.
“You could, but you won’t. I’m too good at what I do,” she says breezily. I can hear the clackclackclack of her keyboard through the phone.
She’s probably not even paying attention to anything I’m saying.
“Your ego’s showing.”
“You can’t handle the truth!”
“Is that the only reason you became a lawyer, is so you could say that line?”
“Of course not,” she scoffs. “I became a lawyer to make lots of money and drive a fancy car. But, as it turns out, family law isn’t that big of a moneymaker. I need to be a corporate whore before that will apparently happen. Life is so unfair.”
“Now who’s filled with angst?”
“Enough chitchat,” she says. “You ready?”
Sweat pops out and beads on my forehead. I look down and see come drying on my hand, cold and congealed. Tyson laughs loudly from the kitchen, the sound bringing a smile to my face before it drops back off again.
“You’re starting to breathe heavily,” Miz Erica Sharp says. “If I hadn’t met that pile of sex you call your boyfriend, I’d swear you were flirting with me.”
Wow, if she thinks that’s breathing heavy now, she should have heard me two minutes ago. “Just fucking tell me!”
“Tyson has been assigned a social worker. She’ll be in contact with you later today or tomorrow to set up a first visit.”
I don’t know how to take that. I hear one thing and a billion other things flash through my mind. Of course we knew this was coming, that it was part of the process, but I’d gotten it in my head that it was going to be down the road a bit before this ever happened. I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
“Uh… okay? And what does
that mean?”
She laughs. “It’s a good thing, Bear. That means your petition for custody of Tyson is moving forward a lot quicker than we could have hoped for. Regardless of what people think, the courts like it when families stay together. So the fact that your case is being pushed forward this quickly is a good thing. Stop being all dire all the time.”
She has a point, even though I won’t let her know it. You can only get knocked down so many times before you start shying away from a raised hand, even if it’s extended in kindness. While I know we’re better off than we ever were before, it’s still hard to get our expectations set too high, as we always seem to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s a shitty outlook to have, but it’s a habit the Kid and I have not yet broken. Of course, I should be the one leading by example, but knowing the Kid, he’ll be the one dragging me along. I don’t know what it’s going to take for me to get over myself, but I would do so gladly.
“I just want this to all be over,” I mutter. “I just want the Kid to be mine.”
“He is yours,” she tells me as gently as she knows how. “All that’s going to change is that a piece of paper will agree with you and won’t allow anyone to say otherwise. Try not to forget that, okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you called the therapist’s office yet?”
Uh-oh. “Uh… I was going to do that as soon as we got off the phone.”
She sounds exasperated as she sighs. “Bear, you are taking this seriously, right?”