Hal sighed before saying, “I googled the cost of fighting a custody battle in court. It says a contested case may cost tens of thousands of dollars. Forty grand and up isn’t unheard of.”
“Shit, I wonder if Lucky knows that. He said he was going to hire a lawyer, and I’m planning to pay him back, but that’s probably going to be a lot of money up front for him.”
“We can all chip in. I have about two grand in savings, and you have some money left from your tuition refund, don’t you?”
“Yeah, a little.”
“So, that’s a start. We can do a Go Fund Me, and I can also sell my shit,” Hal said. “I have some designer clothes from my modeling days, they’ve got to be worth something. And my car’s a piece of junk, but I could probably get a thousand bucks for it.”
I whispered, “You’re such an amazing friend, Hal. Thank you. I won’t let you sell your car though, because you need it. You take three freeways to get to school.”
“Well, either way that fucking dentist doesn’t stand a chance, not if we all pool our resources. Have you talked to Lark and Dylan yet? You know they’ll want to help, too. They’d never let their nephew get taken away by some homophobic asshole.”
“I haven’t yet, but I will.”
He swore under his breath before saying, “My boss just pulled up out front, so I’d better get off the phone. I’ll call you when I get home, and in the meantime please don’t worry yourself sick. Everything’s going to be fine, I promise!”
After we said goodbye and ended the call, I curled up again and watched the baby while he slept. “There’s no way I’m letting anyone take you away from me,” I whispered.
A few minutes later, I got a text from Kathy, which said: I’m so sorry about my parents. I never told them about the baby, but they found out when they ran into a friend of mine who I’d kept in touch with since high school.
Please fight them for custody, Logan. I wanted you to have the baby, not them, because they’re terrible people. They’re cruel and racist and homophobic, and I didn’t want Owen to grow up with that shit.
I replied: I’m definitely fighting them, no worries there. I’m not doing it alone, either. I have wonderful people on Owen’s and my side, and we’re going to make sure he stays with me.
She didn’t reply, so after a pause, I wrote: Owen’s doing great, by the way. He’s walking and talking and is a very happy toddler. If you ever want to come see him, we’re living in San Francisco now with a wonderful group of people, including my brother.
A minute ticked by, and I started to think she wasn’t going to respond. But then she wrote: I’m glad he’s doing okay. I knew you’d take good care of him, and it’s great that you’re not living at home anymore. I can’t come see him, though. To me, this is the same as if I gave him up for adoption. It had to be a clean break, for the baby’s sake as much as mine.
I replied: I understand.
After another pause, she wrote: Sorry I didn’t answer your other texts about his medical care and stuff. I was ashamed to admit I hadn’t taken him for any shots or checkups. I was just really overwhelmed, all the time, and I didn’t know what to do. Just shows how right I was in thinking he’d be much better off with you.
I told her: It’s okay, I found him a great doctor and got him all caught up with his immunizations. He’s very healthy.
I waited for another text, but none came. That had felt important though, and a lot like closure.
* * *
Lark worked part-time at Kel’s pet daycare business, and even though I really didn’t expect him to have any answers, I just really wanted to talk to my brother. So, after the baby woke up from his nap, I asked him, “Want to go visit your Uncle Lark at the doggie place?”
Owen’s face lit up with a big smile, and he said, clear as could be, “Dog.”
I kissed the top of his head and told him, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
After I changed his diaper, I managed to get him into a cute red and yellow shorts set and sandals. I’d already changed too, into my nicest T-shirt and shorts. Not that it should matter, but I hated the fact that the Wilsons had come by when the baby and I weren’t looking our best. It probably just reinforced their belief that I wasn’t capable of taking care of him.
I found my baseball cap and sunglasses and picked up the baby before heading downstairs. Since I felt like I was about to explode with nervous energy, I decided to walk and checked the stroller’s on-board diaper bag to make sure we had what we needed.
We made a quick stop in the kitchen to pack up some snacks and drinks, and then I carried Owen and the stroller out to the sidewalk and said, “Okay, kiddo, here we go. Off to see Uncle Lark and Kel and the doggies.” He looked delighted as I put him in the seat and fastened the straps. I pulled the hood over the top of the stroller to keep the sun off of him, and then I took off at a brisk pace.
Kel’s business was a solid twenty minute walk. Normally, that was no problem, but the temperature had to be in the nineties. By the time we arrived, I was bright red and sweating buckets.
Kel was behind the counter, and when I pushed the stroller into the air conditioned lobby, he exclaimed, “Hey, roomie and mini roomie! Good to see you guys! Did you come to look at the dogs, or did Owen want to see the boys?”
My housemate gestured at a large enclosure right behind him, which held his two pet chinchillas. He adored them so much that he’d built them a spacious habitat, just so they didn’t have to be home alone during his twelve-hour work days. Owen found the rodents endlessly fascinating, but on previous visits to the daycare, the dogs were what truly captured his attention.
I took the baby from his stroller, then gave him a sippy cup out of the insulated cooler as I said, “Owen would love to see everything, and I need to talk to Lark. Is he here?”