“So this Chris guy—he knows anything and everything about the skate circuit and between rounds he’d prep me about the opponents and he’d critique my form and he made sure I stopped skating so I could be at the right place at the right time. He carried my gear and made sure I was hydrated. He kind of did everything for me today. Just like you used to, Dad.” I focus on my hands so I can avoid focusing on him. “You remember when you’d take me to the comps and we’d wake up early and mom would pack our lunch but we never ate it because we always liked the food there better? You’d always make sure to know what she’d packed so when we got home and she asked how it was we could always lie about it. And you’d carry my gear and set timers because you knew that no matter where I was I wouldn’t stop skating unless I really had to. Then you’d stand at the sidelines with me, waiting for my name to be called and you’d always just say, ‘skate your heart out.’
“So Chris—he did everything you used to do, well, almost everything. He didn’t encourage me and he didn’t remind me that it didn’t matter if I placed or not, as long as I enjoyed it.
“I guess the reason I’m telling you this is because I haven’t been in a good place lately, Dad. It’s been dark, and hard, and lonely.” I sniff once, pushing back my tears. “Hunter called the other day and we joked that I might have postpartum depression. Which is kind of crazy but not really. I don’t know…” I shrug. “…I think maybe I just needed someone to encourage me—someone to tell me that it was okay to not be perfect. I think I just needed my dad.” I take a few calming breaths, still refusing to look at him. Then I reach down, grab the trophy, and set it on his nightstand. “I came second, Dad. I didn’t win, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even care that I placed. I skated my heart out just like you always told me to do. And I just wanted you to know that I get it, and that I forgive you. Because I know now—I know that it’s really, really hard to be perfect all the time. And you were, Dad. Up until that point, you were pretty damn perfect.”
I sit with him for a while, the preverbal weight lifted off my shoulders. When his eyes begin to drift shut and his breaths become steady, I reach into my pocket and pull out Becca’s note—my heart already racing as I unfold it.
I see you, Josh.
35
-Joshua-
“You look nice,” Maggie, the lady in charge at Tommy’s daycare says, brushing down my suit jacket. “We’re all sorry this is happening to you. You’re the last person in the world who deserves this and I just want to commend you for not letting it affect Tommy. The amount of kids we see whose behavior change because of this kind of stuff… well, you can imagine. My family’s been praying for the right outcome. Good luck today, Josh.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
She smiles a pitiful smile that changes the moment she looks down at Tommy. Then she takes his little hand in hers while he waves at me. “Bye, Daddy.”
I start to wave back but my emotions flood me and I drop to my knees and hold him tight for as long as I can, knowing it might be the last time. “I love you,” I whisper.
“You so silly, Daddy! I see you soon,” he says, but he hugs me back anyway because he knows I need it. He just doesn’t know why.
Maggie places her hands on his shoulders. “We got some new toys in the sandpit,” she tells him. “They’re calling your name.”
“Toys don’t talk, silly,” he tells her, and even through all the nerves and anxiety of what’s about to happen, I manage to smile.
I drive to the courthouse, my mind on Tommy sitting in the sandpit in his daycare and I remember the day that started all this—the day with Becca and the stupid sandpit. I remember their matching pouts as they looked up at me because we forgot the sand and in that moment I knew that I’d pretty much do anything to make them happy—both of them. She had her first nightmare that night, and the next day she tried to push me away. But I wanted her; even then I knew how badly I needed her. So I asked her to coast with me. And she did. For a while, we all did. All three of us coasted through life until, figuratively, Monday came along and we had to deal with real life.
And real life—it was a fucking asshole.
Rob and Kim meet me just outside the courthouse. “You look so handsome,” Kim says, kissing my cheek.
“Yeah? I feel like shit.”
“Your mom and dad are inside,” says Robby.
“Dad’s here?”
“Yeah, but he’s pissed at your mom for making him roll around in a wheelchair.”
“Is he okay?”
Robby shrugs. “He’s fine. Your mom’s being dramatic.”
Mom, Chazarae and Mr. Newman stand up as soon as they see me and I can tell by the expressions on their faces that whatever they’ve been discussing isn’t good.
“Everything okay?” My gaze shifts from them to my dad, suited up and sitting in his wheelchair looking down at his lap.
“There’ve been some developments,” Mr. Newman says and my eyes snap to his.
“What do you mean developments?”
He picks up his briefcase and motions his head for me to walk with him. I eye them all, one by one, but the only one who seems to know what’s happening is Mom. My dad might, but I can’t tell because he won’t look at me.
I step up beside Mr. Newman as he leads us down a hallway. “Natalie doesn’t want to go to court—she wants mediation.”
“Can she even do that? We’re supposed to be in there in ten minutes.”
He stops in his tracks and turns to me. “To be honest, Josh, I don’t really know what’s happening but her lawyers contacted me this morning and they don’t sound too happy about Natalie’s decision so I guess this might be a good thing for you. Mediation doesn’t mean we have to agree with anything that she’s asking for. It just means we discuss it. And if we’re not happy—we continue with the original plan.”
“Okay,” I say, because my mind’s too busy trying to work out a scenario where I come out on top if this is something she wants.
Heated whispers sound from behind me and I turn to see the others walking after us—my mom and Robby deep in conversation. I look back at Dad, being wheeled by my mom, and this time, he sees me too.
He nods once, his lips pressed together.
And that’s all he does.
I turn back and keep walking, one foot in front of the other, until I see Natalie’s parents sitting on the chairs just outside a door. Gloria stands up when I approach. Her husband doesn’t. “Hi Josh,” she says, and I stand still in front of her, my hands in my pockets. I can tell she wants to say more but Mr. Newman says, “Let’s go,” as he opens the door for me.
Voices stop when I walk into the room and I lift my gaze. The first thing I see is the back of Natalie; she’s standing in front of the full-length windows and my fists ball at the sight of her. I want to yell at her to look at me, to see what she’s done to me. To see how she’s ruined me. But I know she won’t. She couldn’t face me three years ago, she sure as hell won’t face me now.
Our lawyers shake hands and make their introductions.
Mr. Newman sits down.
I don’t.
I keep my eyes on Natalie.
And I wait.
“Miss Christian,” her lawyers says, “It’s time.”
Moments pass and the air turns so thick I struggle to breathe. Just like I struggle with the scattered thoughts in my head and the silence surrounding me. I hate the silence the most—the sound so loud it’s deafening.
Finally, Natalie turns around, looking exactly the same as the first time I saw her when she came back—tears mixed with mascara streaking down her cheeks. Only this time I’m not shocked to see her. I’m not even shocked that she’s been crying. Because after all the shit she’s pulled—nothing she can do will ever surprise me.
“I’m dropping the case, Josh. I want you to have full custody.”
“What?” I ask, because there’s absolutely no way I heard her right.
She
takes the steps to get to me, her hands bunching the fabric of her skirt. “There are so many things that I want to say right now and I don’t know where to start. I’m sorry, I guess is a good place,” she says, her voice lowering. “I’m sorry that I walked out on you and our son all those years ago. I’m sorry that I never once—”
“I don’t care,” I tell her, and then shake my head. “Not that I don’t care about your apology, I do. I just… are you serious right now? I mean, that’s it? I can keep Tommy?”
She nods. “You’re the best thing for him and I know that. I’ve always known that. That’s why I left in the first place, because I knew that you’d take care of him better than I could have. It’s not what I wanted—to be a mom—and I thought I could do it, but I couldn’t. And to be honest I still don’t know if I’m completely ready. I just know that I’m not ready to walk away again. But I want to try. I want to do better. For him. I still want to be part of his life, Josh. As long as it’s okay with you.”
I nod quickly.
She adds, “My lawyers have drafted up papers and I was hoping we could discuss it today—come up with some kind of agreement.”
“What kind of agreement?”
Natalie clears her throat and steps closer again. “Two hours a week, two times a week. It can be supervised if that’s what you want. And once a month overnight just like you used to do with my parents. I’ll make sure that they’re home when we set dates.”
“That’s it?”
She wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, smearing more mascara all over her face. “There’s one more thing.”
“Okay?”
“I want you to go to therapy,” she rushes out, like I’m going to disagree. “It’s just…” Her gaze flicks to her lawyers quickly before returning. “I know that you’re under a lot of stress and you’ve had a lot going on lately and that’s why you lost it the way you did—”
“Nat—”
“No, Josh,” she says, cutting me off and raising her hand. “You’re completely entitled to feel like that. I don’t know if I would’ve handled it any different. It’s just that I know Becca’s gone and your dad’s not well and I just want to make sure that it all doesn’t get on top of you again because I don’t want Tommy to have to witness what I did… he loves you so much and he looks up to you and he should never have reason to fear you and I’m just worried—”
“Okay,” I interrupt. “I’ll do the therapy. I’ll do anything as long as I get to keep him.”
Mr. Newman clears his throat and I face him, but he’s looking down at the papers on the table in front of him. “You just took a job offer, Miss Christian?” he asks her.
“Yes sir,” she says, taking a seat next to her lawyers.
My legs carry me, as if on their own, and I slump down in the nearest chair.
“I start in a month,” Natalie continues. “For the past couple of years I’ve been working on a cruise liner, so I’m going back to work. It’s all written there, it’s three months on and one month off and so I’d like the opportunity to set up Skype calls with Tommy at times that suit Joshua.”
“Is that okay with you?” Mr. Newman asks.
Air.
That’s all I can feel, filling my lungs, free and easy for the first time since my mother knocked on my door. “That’s fine.” I say, but I’m still in a daze. “Natalie, is this some kind of joke because I feel like—”
“No, Josh,” she says. “I love Tommy, and I want what’s best for him and that’s you. He’s such a beautiful, bright and happy kid and that’s because of you.” She looks over at my lawyer and points down to the papers. “It also states that I’m willing to change his last name to Warden.”
“Why?” I ask, ignoring the numbing ache in my chest. “Why are you giving up like this?”
“I’m not giving up, Josh, I’m giving in, because it’s the right thing to do. And your dad and Becca—they showed me that.”
My heart stops, my eyes lock on hers. “What do you mean? How did they—”
“They came to see me, Josh. Last week. Both of them at the same time.”
“How did—”
“They didn’t want me to tell you,” she interrupts. “Even though they may not show you directly, you have the right to know. The two of them—they love you something fierce.”
36
-Becca-
Fight
fʌɪt/
verb
engage in a war or battle.
Both Nurse Linda and I jump when my phone buzzes on the nightstand of my six by eight foot room. Which, ironically, is the same size as prison cells.
“So?” Linda asks.
I hold up one hand, the other reaching for the phone.
Henry Warden: Win.
I smile—which feels strange. Like my mind knows the emotion but my body forgot the sensation.
“So it worked?” she asks, her eyes wide and her smile matching mine.
I shrug, because I really don’t know if it was our doing or not. When Josh had dropped me off at Grams’ house after SK8F8, Grams came downstairs, tightening her nightgown as she greeted me. “How was it?” she asked. I held up two fingers and she smiled instantly. “So he’s good?”
I nodded.
“Where is he now?”
I shrugged.
“Maybe he’s gone to see his dad,” she mumbled, and my eyes narrowed. “They’ve gotten closer since the whole custody thing.”
“What?” I would’ve yelled if I could’ve but she knew what I meant anyway.
“I didn’t tell you?”
I shook my head frantically.
She proceeded to tell me everything that’d been going on with Josh and Natalie, and I spent the night at her house, tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning. And when the anger had passed and was replaced with worry, I got out of bed, dressed, marched down the hall and pushed opened Grams’ bedroom door so forcefully it hit the dresser behind it. She sat up quickly, her hand to her heart.
“Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” she said. “You could’ve given—”
I didn’t hear much else because I was too busy typing out the message on the text to speech app on my phone.
“Do you know where his parents live?” The mechanical voice sounded.
I call her Cordy.
Grams rolled her eyes. She hates the voice on the app. So do I. But Cordy was the closest thing I had to a friend.
“Becca, what are you—”
I hit the green button on the app. “Do you know where his parents live?” Cordy said again, and this time I raised my eyebrows and put a hand on my hip. I had to double my efforts with physical responses and mannerisms now that I had no other way of getting my point across.
She sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes and nodding at the same time.
“Get dressed,” Cordy said, “You’re taking me to them.”
I gathered all the pictures from Tommy’s birthday as well as all the ones of him and Josh and put them in a box, then waited anxiously for Grams at the front door. She seemed to take forever and when she finally appeared, she looked as nervous as I felt. But my anger had out won the nerves and I’m sure she could see that. Especially considering the way my feet stomped across the driveway as I marched to her car, clutching the box to my chest.
She’d barely come to a stop when I got out of the car and marched to his parent’s front door. Josh’s mother answered. “Becca?” she asked, and my breath caught in surprise. She added, “Joshua’s told me a lot about you.”
I hoped he didn’t tell her everything, and going by the lack of pity in her eyes, I highly doubt he did. I tapped my throat, then started typing a message.
“Is Mr. Warden home?” Cordy asked for me.
She nodded.
“Do you know where that fire trucking Natalie lives?”
She nodded again.
“Go get your husband. I’ll be in the car.”
“But—”
; I tapped the green button. “Go get your husband. I’ll be in the car.”
“Becca—”
“Go get your husband. I’ll be in the car.”
“Why?”
I sighed, frustrated, my fingers skimming across the screen. “Because it’s time for you both to do what you should’ve done three years ago.”
It took two people—one practically on his deathbed—less time to get ready than it did my grandmother.
Josh’s mom sat in the front seat while his dad sat in the back. Mrs. Warden gave my grandmother directions as they chatted between themselves.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Josh’s mom said. “The case is soon and this could ruin Josh’s chances.”
I rolled my eyes, though no one could see me.
“I’m sorry,” Grams said. “I don’t really know what Becca’s plans are.”
“She’s thinking with her heart,” said his mom. “We need to think with our heads.”
I typed out another message. “I’m mute. Not deaf. I can hear you,” Cordy translated for me.
From next to me, Josh’s dad snorted. “Ella, we’re all sitting on our asses while this young lady is taking action and doing something about it. Let’s just see how it goes.”
As soon as Natalie answered the door the first thing I wanted to do was the exact same thing as the last thing I wanted to do. Punch her. Twice. One on her perfect nose and one on her perfect pouty lips. I didn’t, of course, but I was pretty forceful when it came to pushing her aside and sitting down on her living room couch, my arms crossed, ready for war.
Everyone else was slow to follow behind, probably because they were busy calming down Natalie’s screeches of, “What the hell is she doing here?”
I kept my arms crossed and waited for them all to take a seat. Surprisingly, Henry—Josh’s dad—took the seat next to me. Natalie sat opposite us—her stance matching mine and for the first time ever, I loved fear.