Chapter 7: Liamtext
Liam’s world had to be protected from becoming another exhibit.
Temporary orders adjusted exchanges to neutral sites with documentation. Clara’s parenting time continued under the safety frame the court preferred while the criminal case developed on a parallel track. I learned to wait in parking lots with a bag of crayons and a patience that had nothing to do with gutters or grass. When Liam ran toward Clara, I watched the ordinary miracle of a child who did not need to know why the adults had become more precise about doors.
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Evan’s mother requested a call. I took it once, listened to a defense of her son framed as family loyalty, and ended it when she asked me to “talk sense into Clara about quiet settlements.” Sense, in that usage, meant silence. I had already heard enough silence from a locked office.
Jesse asked, awkwardly, whether he still had a job cutting the lawn when things calmed down. I said yes, and that the next invoice would include a line for the call he had made. He looked embarrassed and proud in equal measure. Young men who do the right awkward thing deserve to be paid for more than the grass.
