33. Caleb
Chapter 33
Caleb
I slowly let out the breath it feels like I’ve been holding for five minutes, as it becomes clearer and clearer the first court-appointed witness of the afternoon, a psychiatrist, thinks I’m minimally fit to be Raine’s father. I’m not perfect, the guy makes clear. Not going to win Father of the Year. I’ve got a “short fuse.” Could use some anger management counseling to help me learn some “coping strategies.” But, hey, considering all the shit my sister said about me during her testimony, I feel like the negative stuff the doctor says about me a) doesn’t outweigh his ultimate rubber stamp; and b) most likely doesn’t come as a big surprise to the judge, anyway.
When the psychiatrist gets to talking about Aubrey, however, it’s a totally different story. She’s well adjusted. Caring and kind. “Even-keeled and patient.” In fact, according to him, Aubrey Capshaw’s got a temperament that’s “highly conducive” to being a “loving, rock-solid custodial guardian” for Raine. Of course, every word he says about her matches my own assessment. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told the judge Aubrey’s the best person I know.
The doctor finally gets around to providing his expert opinion regarding Ralph Beaumont, and the second he starts talking, I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders. In fact, on the notepad between Aubrey and me on the table, I scribble the words, Pay dirt .
In summary, the fine doctor testifies that Ralph “appears to check several boxes on the PCL-R”—the test for “all forms of psychopathy;” and therefore, according to the doc, it’s “highly possible” Ralph is a narcissist. “I’d need further time and some more information to form a firm diagnosis about that, however,” the doctor adds, much to my chagrin. “I am, however, willing to testify that Mr. Beaumont most certainly displays antisocial behaviors and a callous lack of concern for others.”
“You’re a quack!” Ralph shouts.
Aubrey begins furiously writing something on the notepad, but she stops when the judge declares, “I warned you, Mr. Beaumont, that another outburst wouldn’t be tolerated.” She motions to a nearby bailiff, a brawny guy with a porn mustache. “Remove him, please, Officer Frank.”
“Yes, your honor.”
Another bailiff joins the first in descending upon Ralph; and a moment later, he’s removed from the courtroom, practically kicking and screaming, while pretty much everyone in the courtroom looks on at the spectacle with brazen satisfaction.
When the three men have disappeared through the big door at the back of the courtroom, and the somber room has fallen silent again, the judge returns calmly to the psychiatrist on the witness stand and prompts him to continue, which he does. I’m not listening closely to rest, though. I’m buzzing way too much about what just happened to concentrate. From what I pick up, here and there, though, it seems like this guy’s remaining testimony is a ringing endorsement of Aubrey and an “I guess so” endorsement of me.
Next up, the court-appointed social worker takes the stand—the woman I’ve been shitting my pants over, ever since I spirited Raine away from that duck pond meetup in violation of the court’s order. But to my intense relief, it quickly becomes clear I’ve got nothing to worry about with this stern woman. That in fact, much to my surprise, she’s very much in my corner.
“Mr. Baumgarten’s bond with the child appeared to me to be warm, loving, and stable,” the social worker says. “Same with Miss Capshaw’s bond with the child. It’s worth noting that, during my alone-time with the child, she expressed love for both of them.”
Aubrey and I exchange a smile, not even trying to hide our mutual affection and excitement about this particular testimony.
“Please provide further details about what happened during your alone-time with the child,” the judge directs.
The social worker checks her notes and says, “I played dolls with her, during which I asked her to place dolls and stuffed animals at a table for a tea party, with each doll representing a family member. And after that, someone she loves.” She looks at the judge. “This was after she said she loves her ‘Dadda’ and her ‘Aubbey.’ She said that, on her own, unprompted, while I was asking her if she likes living in her new home.” As the judge makes a note, the social worker continues, her eyes forward, once again, “In both scenarios—family and people she loves—the child set up the same array of dolls and animals: ones representing her mother, Mr. Baumgarten—‘Dadda;’ Miss Capshaw—‘Aubbey;’ and both Miss Capshaw’s parents—'Grammy and Pop-Pop.’” She shifts in her chair. “After that, I widened the net. Told the child to invite everyone she likes to our tea party, which then included her Auntie Miranda and several cartoon characters. After that, I asked for everyone the child knows. But no matter my prompt, the child never mentioned Mr. Beaumont. I therefore feel confident in concluding the child doesn’t know Mr. Beaumont and is wholly unaware of his existence.”
Boom, I scribble on the notepad between Aubrey and me.
That’s our girl, taking care of biz-nass, Aubrey writes in reply.
Like her kickass Aubbey.
And her kickass Dadda.
We’re not supposed to smile in court, and we know that; but we flash each other beaming smiles, anyway, if only for a moment.
“To be clear, this exchange happened before the court-ordered meetup at the park,” the social worker adds, and our smiles vanish.
Fuck, I write. Here we go.
“Tell me exactly what happened at that meetup,” the judge says. “I have your declaration in the paperwork but tell me the events leading up to Mr. Baumgarten refusing to hand over the child for the evaluation.”
Shit, shit, shit. I hold my breath, as dread overtakes me and the woman sets the stage. But soon, it’s clear I’ve got nothing to worry about on this topic, either.
“Ralph Beaumont became combative during the interaction, your honor, and the child became increasingly hysterical and terrified. Mr. Baumgarten had a difficult decision to make that day, and it’s my opinion he made the one that was in his child’s best interest—the one a loving, fit father would make.”
The social worker looks at me with a neutral poker face; but if I’m not mistaken, her eyes are smiling at me.
The social worker continues, “I recognize that Mr. Baumgarten violated your order, your honor, and therefore did something wrong; but he also did something very right, in terms of safeguarding his child’s safety and wellbeing. I was honestly impressed by his decision that day, your honor. Also, by the commitment he’s showed to making his child’s new home as happy and welcoming, as possible.”
Aubrey places her hand on my forearm, as I hang my head to hide my tears of relief. Ever since that interview at my house, and then, even more so, after that day at the duck pond, I’ve been losing sleep about what happened. Lying awake, second-guessing my choices on a running loop. And now, it turns out what I did is exactly what a good father would do?
Aubrey scratches on the notepad, and when I glance at it while still stuffing down tears, a massive lump rises in my throat.
I love you so much.
That’s what Aubrey’s note says, so, of course, I quickly scribble the same words back to her. I admitted my feelings for Aubrey on the stand earlier, but she couldn’t say it back to me then. So now, given my precarious mental state, the written exchange causes big, fat tears to well in my eyes through my beaming smile.
As the social worker leaves the stand, I flash her a grateful nod. And to my surprise, she flashes me a small smile. It’s almost imperceptible. Barely there. But I’m definitely not imagining it.
“Let’s take a thirty-minute break,” the judge says with authority. “When we come back, I’ll issue my ruling.”
After the break, Ralph Beaumont is permitted back into the courtroom to hear the court’s ruling. So, the three of us and our lawyers are now seated at our respective tables, intently staring at the judge as she rustles papers and languidly checks her notes.
I know I’m not supposed to touch Aubrey in front of the judge, but I can’t help myself. The hearing’s over, anyway. What harm can come from it now? I grab Aubrey’s hand and squeeze tightly, and Aubrey squeezes right back. She looks every bit as stressed as I feel.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the judge looks up, clears her throat, and states, “My ruling is as follows: this court temporarily grants Aubrey Capshaw legal and physical custody of the child, with full, uninhibited visitation rights granted to Mr. Baumgarten. This court also permanently denies the cross-petition of Ralph Beaumont. As the child’s sole, temporary guardian, Miss Capshaw has full discretion to decide who’s allowed access to the child, except, of course, she may not deny Mr. Baumgarten his visitation rights.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ralph screams, so the brawny bailiff with the porn mustache swiftly escorts him out of the courtroom, once again.
With Ralph gone, the judge continues, “The period of my temporary order shall be six months. During that time, Mr. Baumgarten is hereby ordered to maintain his sobriety, to attend twice-weekly, mandatory sobriety meetings with a qualified rehab provider, and to attend once-weekly anger management classes.” She looks at me sternly. “I’d strongly recommend some parenting classes and personal therapy, too, given all your superhero antics, Mr. Baumgarten, but I’m not making either of those things part of my official ruling at this time.”
“Yes, your honor. Thank you. I’ll do whatever it takes to be the best father possible.”
The judge’s features soften. “ Fit parents aren’t perfect , Mr. Baumgarten. There’s no such thing as a perfect parent or person. Which is why this court also hereby orders the following: if Mr. Baumgarten remains in full compliance with my temporary order for the full six months, legal and physical custody shall transfer to him, with full and unlimited visitation rights then granted to Miss Capshaw. If Mr. Baumgarten has not met all the requirements of my temporary order by the end of the six-month period, however, then Miss Capshaw shall maintain sole legal and physical custody, with supervised visitation rights for Mr. Baumgarten, until he’s able to establish full compliance, at which point the clock will reset for another six-month trial period. Do you understand, Mr. Baumgarten?”
Tears are streaking down my cheeks, but I don’t bother to wipe them. “Yes, your honor,” I squeeze out. “I won’t let you down. I won’t let my daughter down.”
“That’s my firm hope.” She looks at Aubrey with sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss. Wherever Claudia is, I’m sure she feels lucky to have you caring so deeply for her baby in her absence, the same way she would have done herself.”
Aubrey sniffles. “Thank you, your honor.”
The judge nods. “Best of luck to all. This hearing is adjourned.”
With my hand clasped in Aubrey’s, I pull her up and bear hug her; and for the next several minutes, we cry, rejoice, and whisper softly in each other’s arms.
“I love you, baby,” I choke out, thrilled to say the words I’ve been dying to say out loud for so long. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“I love you, too. I’m so happy.”
Aubrey’s parents, my sister, and Amy appear, and we break apart and gratefully accept their warm hugs and congratulations. When all combination of hugs have been administered, we tearfully head out of the courtroom as a group, with Aubrey and I leading the way with our hands firmly joined.
“Let’s go to a restaurant and celebrate,” I suggest, and everyone in our group expresses enthusiasm about the idea.
“Which room is Raine in?” Aubrey asks her mother, since Raine’s apparently been watching Monster’s Inc. with a kind-hearted court clerk for the past hour.
Barbara opens her mouth to respond to her daughter, but before she gets a word out, Ralph appears in front of me, glaring and wagging his finger in my face. “I’d watch my fucking back, if I were you, C-Bomb, ” Ralph hisses. “Nobody disrespects Ralph Beaumont like this and gets away with it.”
I push Aubrey behind me to protect her from whatever’s about to go down. But before I’ve wrapped my hands around the old man’s neck, Ralph is dragged away by that same brawny bailiff from the court room.
“Go get your daughter, C-Bomb!” the officer calls to me, after he puts a chokehold on Ralph. “I’ve got him. Go enjoy your family and forget this piece of shit ever existed.”