Page 2 of Keeping Score

Mr. Reilly ran a hand over his baseball cap, and by the faraway look in his eyes, I wondered if he was thinking of his own children.

I cleared my throat.

“So, just to recap our prior conversation, could you tell me a little bit about your situation?”

“Sure,” he nodded, “uh, well, my wife—shit, I mean my ex—well, the divorce isn’t finalized yet, in fact, it’s not even started, but—” He let out an exhale. “I’m sorry, a lot has changed really fast. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all.”

“That’s fine,” I assured him, “but you’re anticipating this separation between the two of you to be… permanent?”

He swallowed. “Looks like it.”

“Tell me about the kids,” I said, typing a few lines onto the document I’d opened for his case. “What’s the custody arrangement now?”

“There isn’t one.” He stared at me with pain in his eyes. “She’s not letting me anywhere near them.”

I nodded, having heard it all before.

“Is there a history of drug use? Criminal charges?”

“Jesus, no,” his eyes widened. “We were fine. We were just a normal family until—” He paused, lowering his eyes to the floor, “until I screwed up.”

“Can you elaborate on that?” I furrowed my brows.

“I’m not proud of it,” he stated, “in fact, it’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I cheated. Just once. But it was enough to get me sitting here in your office.”

I kept my face neutral. I wasn’t here to judge. I was a professional.

“Anyway, my wife—ex-wife- kicked me out as soon as she found out. “Hasn’t let me back home or near the kids since then. That was about three weeks ago, now.”

I typed.

“I know—” He started with a faltering voice, “I know that what I did was unforgivable. But I’m not a bad man. I deserve to lose my wife, I know that. But not my children.” He choked up. “Not my babies.”

He looked away, scratching at his eye as if there were a speck of dirt irritating it, rather than emotion.

I paused, fighting the urge to assure this man that everything would be okay. I knew better than to make promises like that to people.

But I was going to try.

“I understand,” I told him, meeting his tear-filled eyes. “Right now, it’s about showing the court that you’re capable of providing a good life for your children. You’re employed, I assume?”

He nodded. “I work in construction. I’ve been with the Local 223 since I got started working.”

Good job. Consistent pay. Great benefits.

I could tell by the calloused hands he kept wringing that this man was a hard worker. The courts liked that. It was all too easy for them to deny custody to someone on account of being unable to provide for their children.

Besides, this guy seemed like a fighter. Five minutes with him and I could already tell he would go to ends of the earth for his kids.

It caused something in my heart to ache. I wanted to help him. Needed to, even.

Kids shouldn’t have to grow up without their father. No matter what type of relationship their parents might have.

“Okay,” I told him, adding a few more lines to the document before turning my focus back to him. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to file a petition for temporary visitation rights, and in the meantime, I suggest you sign up for parenting classes or enroll in therapy, maybe? The court loves to see that stuff. It proves you’re willing to go above and beyond.”

“I am.” He assured me, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“In regards to the mother,” I said, not wanting to step on his toes by referring to her as his ex, when clearly he hadn’t reconciled himself to that fact yet. “I would keep contact limited. Nothing that could escalate the situation further. You don’t want to give her any ammunition to use against you.”