Chapter 4

I was in my truck within five minutes.

Denise had told me not to react emotionally.

Denise was not sitting with a text from her child saying his phone had been taken so he could not contact her.

I called the police non-emergency line on the way.

Then I called Denise.

She answered with, “Please tell me you are not doing something foolish.”

“I’m going to Tasha’s.”

“Marcus.”

“She took his phone and lied in the app.”

Denise went quiet.

Then she said, “Do not enter the house. Do not argue. Park outside. Wait for police if you called.”

“I did.”

“Good. Put me on speaker when you arrive.”

Tasha’s house was lit up when I got there.

Mia and Carter were watching from the front window.

Jordan appeared behind them.

His face looked panicked.

I stayed by my truck.

Every muscle in my body wanted to run to the door.

I did not.

A patrol car arrived ten minutes later.

Officer Bennett stepped out.

I explained the custody schedule.

The court order.

The app message.

Jordan’s text.

Officer Bennett knocked.

Tasha opened the door with Gloria behind her.

“What now?” Tasha snapped.

Officer Bennett stayed calm.

“We’re here for a custody exchange.”

Tasha folded her arms.

“Jordan doesn’t want to go.”

From behind her, Jordan shouted, “Yes, I do!”

The house went silent.

Gloria snapped, “Boy, hush.”

Officer Bennett’s expression changed.

“Ma’am, please ask Jordan to come to the door.”

Tasha looked trapped.

Then Jordan pushed past her with his backpack half-zipped.

He ran down the steps.

I caught him before I could stop myself.

His whole body shook.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No. No sorry.”

Tasha came onto the porch.

“You’re making him choose.”

I looked up at her.

“You lied about what he chose.”

Her eyes filled.

“I needed one weekend without you acting like I’m stealing him.”

Officer Bennett said, “This needs to be handled in court.”

Gloria pointed at me.

“He has money for lawyers and shopping trips, and my babies go without.”

Jordan flinched at “my babies.”

I saw it.

Tasha saw it too.

For one second, shame crossed her face.

Then Gloria kept going.

“You always thought Jordan was better because his daddy has a good job.”

I stood straight.

“This is not about Mia and Carter being less. This is about Jordan not being less.”

The words hung there.

Jordan held onto my jacket.

Officer Bennett documented the exchange interference.

Denise filed an emergency motion Monday morning.

The judge was not pleased.

At the emergency hearing, Tasha cried.

Not fake tears.

Real ones.

“I’m overwhelmed,” she said.

“I have three kids, two fathers who don’t show up, rent going up, my mom in my ear, and Marcus watching every receipt like I’m a criminal.”

Judge Alvarez listened.

Then she asked, “Did you take Jordan’s phone to prevent him from contacting his father?”

Tasha wiped her face.

“Yes.”

“Did you falsely state in the app that Jordan did not want visitation?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Tasha looked at me.

Then at the table.

“Because I wanted him to pick me.”

The courtroom went still.

There it was.

The truth.

Ugly.

Sad.

Human.

Wrong.

Jordan had become proof of love in a war he never started.

Judge Alvarez ordered family counseling.

She also expanded my weekend time temporarily and warned Tasha that further interference could affect custody.

Gloria was ordered not to participate in exchanges.

That last part made Tasha gasp.

“My mother helps me.”

Judge Alvarez looked over her glasses.

“Your mother appears to inflame conflict.”

I nearly exhaled out loud.

After court, Tasha approached me alone.

No Gloria.

For once.

“I messed up,” she said.

I looked at her carefully.

“Yes.”

Her mouth trembled.

“I didn’t think I was hurting him.”

“I believe that.”

Her eyes lifted.

“You do?”

“I believe you convinced yourself you were being fair. But Jordan is paying for it.”

She started crying again.

This time, I did not feel victorious.

I felt tired.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered.

“Then learn,” I said. “Because he needs you too.”

The counseling started two weeks later.

Jordan hated it at first.

So did I.

So did Tasha.

The therapist, Dr. Meyers, asked hard questions in a soft voice.

She asked Jordan what he felt when money came up.

He looked at his shoes.

“Like I cost too much.”

Tasha covered her mouth.

Dr. Meyers asked, “Who taught you that?”

Jordan shrugged.

“Nobody said it.”

Then he looked at Tasha.

“Not exactly.”

Tasha cried.

I stared at the carpet because if I looked at her, I might say something that would make the session about my anger instead of Jordan’s hurt.

Dr. Meyers asked me, “Marcus, what do you want Jordan to know?”

I turned to my son.

“That you are not a bill. Not a burden. Not a receipt. You’re my son.”

His eyes filled.

Then Dr. Meyers asked Tasha the same.

She could barely speak.

“I want him to know I’m sorry I made him feel like loving his siblings meant needing less.”

Jordan cried then.

So did Tasha.

I did too.

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