Spinning (32 page)

On Thursday, when I arrived early for the 1:00 p.m. hearing, the doors were locked. As a prelude to deciding whether Spring and I would ever be together again, the judge had lunch. No doubt, she ate heartily. This was just another day at the office for her.

I longed for a mac and cheese pizza and a little girl to share it with me.

At two minutes to 1:00, someone unlocked the doors. Amanda hadn’t arrived yet. I carried a briefcase full of filler to remind me how little I knew about Spring and how much I was willing to risk to get her back. As I had done before a hundred scantily-prepared meetings when I felt confident, I had filled Spring’s files with miscellaneous papers, mostly her drawings, some pictures to remind me of what I was after, and one heck of a squished Mr. Jimmy. Realistically, with what I knew about Spring, Mr. Jimmy could have stood in my place.

I opened the door just to see if Amanda had gone through another and was waiting for me. But she wasn’t inside. It was just me, the former D-Man, here to have my insides scraped out in front of a group of strangers. For the hundredth time in the past couple of days, I gave serious thought to what my life would be like if Spring was taken away from me permanently. What would I do tomorrow? A year from now? Was I done with the Magenta Martini and casual relationships and working for the sake of my resume? Or would I in time just fade back to where I was, considering Spring and Diane to be simply diversions. Roads not taken on the path to becoming Mr. Lamborghini.

For some reason, I had been expecting a large, cavernous courtroom where my answers would echo with abandon off ancient slabs of marble. Instead, I entered a boxy room with plaster walls, a couple of tables and a handful of chairs. At the lead table, a thin woman in her early 50’s wearing reading glasses sat next to Mrs. Heins, the woman who had taken Spring, and another woman with big hair and a small keyboard. Spring was not in the room. Although I wanted to see her very badly, I was relieved to see that she wouldn’t be here to watch. I didn’t want her last image of me to be of my humiliating myself in court.

There was no one else in the room until Stephanie Eckleburg slid through the door behind me. She sat as far from me as she could. I wondered if she felt guilty, triumphant, or just efficient.

“Mr. Hunter?” It was the thin woman sitting at the lead table.

“Yes,” I said. Amanda was either not going to show at this point, or she would come when it was too late to make a difference.

“I’m Judge Hildebrand. You’ve met Mrs. Heins, Spring’s case worker?”

I assumed my place at the table and put on my game face. After some basic questions, which didn’t require much thought to answer, I opened my briefcase and removed my heavy file complete with filler, careful not to reveal my surprise witness, Mr. Jimmy. I stuffed his little Teddy Bear, foam-filled arm still wearing his trademark duck costume back inside my briefcase next to my Groucho nose and a picture of Spring. It was time to start spinning.

I stood. “Judge Hildebrand, Mrs. Heins,” I began, “I apologize for not arriving earlier. I was waiting for my attorney. I’m sure she’ll be here shortly.” I sat.

“Mr. Hunter, this isn’t an inquisition. This is a factfinding session. You will not require an attorney present. However, if you would like to wait, we can. But we only have an hour.”

In other words, I could select my own implement of torture. I could wait for Amanda who might or might not show, as the sand from the hourglass covered my head until at last I was asphyxiated, or begin with a dull razor and slit my own throat. At least I had options. I selected the dull razor and agreed to begin.

The judge nodded and began. “Mr. Hunter, I’d like to start by asking you a few questions regarding your custody petition, which I received only this morning in my office, dated… November of last year?”

I stood. “I wasn’t sure which date applied.”

“The date of the petition applies, Mr. Hunter.”

“November.”

“Of last year, Mr. Hunter?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Hunter, this isn’t your check to your cable TV provider. It’s a petition for custody of a child. And I received it in my office this morning. Shouldn’t today’s date suffice?”

“Yes, your Honor, today’s date. Thank you.” I sat, feeling like I just thanked the officer for my speeding ticket. I already felt completely out of control.

“You claim, Mr. Hunter, under the heading of Extraordinary Circumstances,” she read from the petition, “your fiancée was killed in an automobile accident. I am sorry for your loss. And you have taken care of
Spring Sommers, her four-year-old daughter, since then. Correct?”

I stood. “Yes.”

“While this is most admirable…”

“Thank you.”

“… the purpose of this session is to examine who has the legal right to become Spring’s guardian. You’ve listed her relatives as deceased and…”

The door at the back of the room opened. “I apologize for being late, Your Honor. I’m Amanda Vandenberg, Mr. Hunter’s attorney.”

She sat next to me at the table and leaned close to whisper. “I’m so sorry. Traffic. What’s happened so far? Did she accept the date on the petition?”

“That was the first thing she rejected.”

“Has she rejected anything else she hasn’t liked?”

“Not yet.”

I was so glad to see Amanda. Immediately, I felt some of my burden transfer to her narrow shoulders.

“Did the safety deposit box key get you anywhere?” I said.

“Not yet. Billie’s working on it.”

“Billie?”

“Yes. My staff can only do so much in 24 hours. She’s going to call.” She checked her phone. “Damn, no signal.”

“Mr. Hunter?”

I stood. “Yes?”

“May we continue? And, please sit.”

I dropped into my chair.

“As I was saying, Mr. Hunter, and for your attorney’s sake, the purpose of this session is to determine Spring’s best interests, to place her in a healthy and nurturing
environment, and determine who her legal guardian should be. You’ve listed her relatives as deceased.”

“Yes.”

“On the petition,” the judge continued, “the space regarding Spring’s father is blank.”

Amanda put her hand on my knee. “Your Honor, when Ms. Sommers died, she left no information regarding either the father’s identity or his whereabouts, and we haven’t heard from him.”

Judge Hildebrand removed her glasses. “What efforts did you make to locate him?”

The door at the back of the room opened, sending daylight into the fluorescent-lit room.

“Sorry, Your Honor.” It was Mr. Mason with Hank. They slipped inside and sat by our table. Mr. Mason whispered to Amanda, “We found the box at a bank off Canal Street.”

Hank followed Mason’s lead. “We were on the phone all morning.”

“Where is it?” I whispered.

“Dylan, we ran into some legal problems,” Mason said, putting his hand on my shoulder like he did that day in his office. “Billie is working on it.”

“Why is Billie working on legal problems?”

Hank leaned toward us. “She said she had connections.”

Judge Hildebrand cleared her throat and put her glasses back on. “As I was asking, what attempts did you make to locate the father or the family?”

“Diane’s parents are deceased,” I said.

“Did you attempt to verify this information?”

“I contacted Diane’s former employer in Chicago.”

“And?”

“And they confirmed that she listed her family as deceased in her personnel records.”

“And the father? What does the birth certificate say?”

While hoping Amanda would say something profound, she didn’t. I readied my neck for the blade.

Amanda spoke. “We’re in the process of authenticating…”

The door at the rear of the room opened again. It was Billie.

“Did you find it?” I said in a panicked whisper.

“Jim is getting it now. Billie checked her phone for messages. “Shit. No signal.”

The judge cleared her throat again.

“Mr. Hunter, has everyone in your party arrived?”

“I apologize, Your Honor. This has turned out to be considerably more complicated than I would have expected.” I looked at Amanda, who simply shook her head.

The judge regarded us. “Mr. Hunter, Ms. Vandenberg. A birth certificate?”

“We’re searching for it now,” Amanda said. “We believe someone will be here with it shortly.”

With Amanda stalling for a reason I was not yet privy to, I watched Spring’s case worker. Mrs. Heins was hunching over her notebook. I tried to tell myself that what she had done to me was with the best of intentions. Still, I couldn’t help hating her and everything she stood for. I promised myself that if I ever got to be with Spring again, I would attempt to teach her a higher level of tolerance than what I was exhibiting at that moment.

“Do you know Spring’s birthday? Let’s start there, Councilor.”

“April 6th, Your Honor.”

“And the place of birth?”

“Chicago.”

“The hospital?”

“Chicago City Hospital.”

Mrs. Heins nodded and copied the information into her notebook. The judge seemed relieved to be making any progress at all.

“Your Honor,” Amanda started, “even with the birth certificate, Spring’s situation doesn’t change. Her biological father has remained absent from her life. Is it not the intent of the court,” her feet were bouncing and I was sure she wanted to stand, “to determine and accommodate the best interests of the child? And if so, shouldn’t we be assessing psychological and de facto parenthood? Mr. Hunter has assumed the role of the care provider since Ms. Sommers’ death and has remained as the only continuous thread in the young girl’s life.”

“Today, Councilor, the court’s primary objective is to determine who should have legal custody. As I’m sure you’re well aware, a relative would receive primary consideration.”

With a nod, Mrs. Heins agreed. The court’s logic was so simple-minded and so completely stacked against me. For the first time since I’d entered the room, I felt a true surge of anger.

“Can you produce the birth certificate?”

“We are trying, your honor,” Amanda said.

The judge looked down at her papers. “You do realize, of course, that if you can’t provide the birth certificate, the court will make every attempt to locate it itself and then find the father. And while we are doing so, Spring will need to remain a ward of the State.”

I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. I realized that I had imagined this session going badly a hundred times,
but that none of it prepared me for what was happening now.

“Your Honor,” I said to the judge. “If I may address the court…”

The judge nodded patronizingly. I could see she had already grown tired with these proceedings. While she wasn’t being openly dismissive, I could tell that she wasn’t giving me any serious consideration. I needed to do something to change this, even if it meant laying myself out in front of these strangers and friends and leaving myself utterly vulnerable.

“When Diane walked into my life,” I began, standing up, “she had this wonderful little girl with her who I thought was just a kid but she wasn’t. This little girl,” I removed a picture of Spring and me from my file, “showed me what it was like to love something other than myself.”

I handed the picture to the judge, who registered no expression whatsoever.

“I’m such a smart guy, right? Wrong. I never would have figured out what was important without her. I didn’t know where to look. I had been looking to my job, my dates, to colored martinis, to all kinds of things to find out who I was and what mattered. But that little girl in the picture showed me it was her.

“I’ll show you why I didn’t know it was Spring. She was wearing these.” I removed the fake nose and glasses from my briefcase. “Would anybody ever believe fate would be wearing a disguise? It caught me completely off guard.” I grabbed another picture from my file. “Here’s another picture of Spring, my fate, and that lady there,” I said with a smile, “who is my best friend.”

Billie smiled in my direction. I thought I saw tears in her eyes and I had to stop for a moment to catch my breath.

“Spring’s mother, Diane, shared her little girl with me, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me even more so than her mother. Don’t get me wrong, I thought I loved Diane, but I didn’t know her long enough to truly love her. I have to admit that I didn’t really know about love until later. It’s like staring at a word in a paragraph. You can’t see the rest of the page much less know what book you’re reading. Not until you back away from it and compare it with other things in your life. Before Spring, I hadn’t realized I spent my time worrying about the small stuff, the weeds. I didn’t really know about the things that mattered, the important things, like remembering to waddle and what it means to comfort a child after a nightmare. And I think my learning these things would be very helpful to Spring. She’s great for me. But I think I’m good for her, too.”