Chapter 9
Daniel filed the motion the next morning. Patel forwarded it to me while I was eating toast at my kitchen counter, Lexi already on the bus. He wanted unsupervised Saturdays, eight to six, picking up at my apartment. Yates wrote that supervised visits were no longer necessary because there was no finding of abuse, the home evaluation had been remedied, and the father had purchased bedding. He attached a photo of a pink comforter on a twin bed.
Patel called me before noon. "We're opposing. Whitaker will hear it Thursday."
I met her at the courthouse at eight-thirty. Daniel was there with Yates, wearing a gray sweater instead of the navy blazer. He didn't look at me in the hallway. Kelsey wasn't with him.
Judge Whitaker heard the motion in open court but kept it short. She had Dr. Park's preliminary letter in front of her, and Diane Keller stood by the side bench.
"Mr. Carter, I appreciate you bought bedding," Whitaker said, looking at the printed photo. "But Ms. Reeves's testimony yesterday raises concerns about judgment and boundaries in the home, and Lexi's in-camera statements have not been rebutted. I am not moving to unsupervised at this time. You will continue supervised visits at the Family Exchange Center, Saturdays ten to two, with the center's notes to Dr. Park."
Daniel's jaw moved. Yates said, "Understood, Your Honor."
Whitaker looked at me for a second. "Ms. Carter, any issues with the center?"
"No, Your Honor," I said. My voice was steady.
That Saturday I dropped Lexi at the center on Murfreesboro Road. It was a plain brick building with a buzzer and a sign that said CHECK IN HERE. A staff member named Marisol logged us in, gave Lexi a sticker with her first name, and walked her to the playroom. Daniel was already there, signing his sheet. He saw me and gave a small wave that Lexi didn't quite return.
I wasn't allowed to stay and watch. I went to the diner next door and drank decaf and waited. Through the window I could see the parking lot and the door to the center. An hour and a half later Marisol called me. "Mom, you can come for pick-up in ten," she said.
When I went back, Marisol met me in the lobby with her clipboard. Lexi was washing her hands in the little bathroom.
"How did it go?" I asked.
Marisol kept her voice even and professional. "We document what we see. He was attentive at first, brought crayons. After about forty-five minutes he was on his phone a lot. Lexi asked him to play the card game twice and he said in a minute. She ended up sitting by the window and drawing alone."
She handed me the carbon copy of the visit notes. In neat print she had written: Father engaged 10:15-11:00, then distracted by phone 11:00-12:00. Child initiated play 2x without sustained response. Child affect quiet at departure. No safety incident.
Lexi came out holding her drawing. It was a house with three people, me with a big belly, her, and a small baby shape. No fourth figure.
"How was it?" I asked as we walked to the car.
She shrugged, then leaned into my side. "He kept looking at his phone," she said. "I told him I made you a picture and he said that's nice but he didn't look."
I buckled her in and my hands were shaking a little. Not from anger, from that slow, tired feeling I got every time I realized I wasn't imagining the gap between what Daniel said in court and what Lexi felt in a room with him.
In the parking lot, Daniel came out and stood by his truck, watching us. He didn't call out. I lifted my hand once, not a wave, just to let him know I saw him, then I closed Lexi's door and got in.
May you like
That night Patel texted: Center report filed to Park and Keller. Supports supervised continuation. Whitaker will keep it that way until final hearing.
I sat on the couch with Lexi's drawing on the coffee table and felt the baby move low and hard. I thought about Kelsey's beige blouse in the library, Daniel's new pink comforter that no child had slept in, and the envelope still sealed in the judge's file. The doors were still closed, in a way, until Whitaker decided to open them.
