JACK One Month Later
JACK
One month later
Kennington Park Road
I’m walking home on my own two feet after a full day of rehearsals, and not only am I still standing, I even got off the Tube one stop early just so I could enjoy a quiet stroll through Kennington Park, surrounded by the vivid colours and fresh scents that already hint at the arrival of summer.
Physiotherapy has worked wonders. Rehearsals for Last Dance, the piece Ludo and I are performing under Etienne’s direction for the end-of-year showcase, have been back on for a while now and, despite my injury, we’re almost ready to go on stage.
For now, I’ve had to put my teaching job at the dance school on hold, but I’m hoping to start again in a few months. Everything would be perfect… if it weren’t for the constant threat hanging over Francis and me like the sword of Damocles: the fear that we might have to say goodbye to Adele.
It’s been a month since that call from Mrs. Simmons, the one that announced Kelly Adkins was back. A whole month in which, for Adele’s sake, but also for our own, we’ve tried to live as normal a life as possible.
A month in which we’ve loved each other deeply, more deeply than I ever thought possible. We’ve held on to each other, no words needed, doing our best to savour the life we’ve built, our little girl, our family, and our friends.
Francis and I have talked at length about Adele’s future, and we’ve agreed that if he’s granted permanent custody, we’ll begin the process of extending it to me, as his partner, so that I can also be legally recognised as one of her parents.
In my heart, I already am, and have been for quite some time, but if she’s placed in our care, we both want her to have every protection possible, and for our family to be fully acknowledged as such, even in the eyes of the law.
We’ve obviously told friends and family about the possibility that Adele might go back to her birth mother, and all of them, including the Blackbird boys, who I absolutely count as family, have wrapped themselves around us like a protective circle of warmth and affection, helping us face everyday life with a bit more courage and peace of mind.
At one point, Francis’s lawyer suggested taking a few steps that might’ve increased his chances of getting full custody, but when my lovely doctor realised it would’ve meant dragging Kelly Adkins through the mud in the media, he flat-out refused and fired the man on the spot.
He was right to do it. The idea of throwing our little girl into some revolting media circus absolutely horrified him, and when we talked about it, he told me exactly what I’d already been thinking: our happiness can’t come at someone else’s expense.
Whatever mistakes Kelly Adkins may have made, it’s not our place to judge.
To smear that woman’s name just to win custody would’ve been such a shameful thing to do that, even if it had worked, Francis would’ve never been able to look himself in the mirror again and the same goes for me.
The final decision, for legal reasons, was his to make, but we both agreed it was the right thing to do, wholeheartedly and without hesitation.
Francis believes in the justice system, and like me, he’s hoping that whatever decision is made, it will be the one that truly serves the best interests of the little one.
If the judge were to grant custody back to her mother, Francis is ready to support her, financially and practically, provided, of course, that she’s willing to accept it.
The thought of our little girl being taken out of our lives, permanently and for good, feels so unimaginable it doesn’t even seem real.
But if Adele is placed back with Kelly, and it really could happen, then for her, it would mean yet another trauma, layered on top of the one she already experienced when she was abandoned.
Still, in this last, chaotic month, between all the impossible hurdles we’ve had to face, we’ve also known some of the greatest joys. It’s been an emotional rollercoaster, heart-stopping at times, the kind that would test even the most seasoned adult, let alone two young men like Francis and me.
Ever since that first, incredible, earth-shattering night when we made love, we’ve practically never stopped.
It’s like I’m addicted to Francis’s body, and he’s just as hooked on mine.
Now that we know what we’re capable of giving each other, it’s become impossible to go without it.
I’ve officially moved into Kennington Park Road, and every night, unless he’s on a night shift, the infuriating doctor and I end up making love until we collapse, completely spent, wrapped up in each other’s arms.
Sometimes it’s slow, tender, full of reverence and devotion. Other times, we go at each other with a kind of desperate, frantic hunger that leaves us dazed and wrecked for hours.
And then there are the moments when our bodies come together in that quiet, steady way that only exists between people who truly love each other, and know they’re loved back, just the same.
When I think back to how much we couldn’t stand each other when we first met, it almost makes me laugh. But the truth is, in a lot of ways, we’re not those people anymore. Neither of us.
This past year has changed our lives completely. We’ve both grown, in ways we never expected. Our journey together is just beginning, and I’m excited, buzzing, honestly, to see where it might take us.
But no matter the destination, one thing’s for sure: we’ll get there together.
I’m just a few steps away from the house when I notice a girl leaning against the lamppost right outside our gate. Red hair pulled back in a ponytail, black hoodie, jeans, she’s really pretty, and by the looks of it, probably around my age.
I’m certain I don’t know her, but there’s something vaguely familiar about her face, like I’ve seen her somewhere before.
Even stranger, I catch her watching me with interest before her gaze drops quickly to her brand-new trainers.
Something about it feels… off.
A strange sensation crawls up the back of my neck, discomfort, maybe, but I try to shake it off.
She doesn’t look like someone from the Academy, I know most of the students by now, but who knows? Maybe she took part in one of the open classes.
I’m just about to slide the key into the lock when a sudden flash of awareness comes out of nowhere.
I remember exactly where I’ve seen her before.
I’ve never actually met her before, but the red hair, the brown eyes, the round face, they’re exactly the same as Adele’s.
My keys slip from my hand, and even though I’m shaking from the shock, I bend down to pick them up, but Kelly Adkins is quicker.
She beats me to it, scoops up my keys, and hands them back to me.
We’re face to face now, and up close, the resemblance is so striking I can’t believe I didn’t notice it straight away.
I’m so thrown that, once I’m standing again, I stay silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out what she wants from me.
Kelly looks at me with a timid expression, maybe even a little sad. I don’t think she’s dangerous, or that she means any harm, but she’s not supposed to have contact with us. Not with me, not with the baby. Not until the court has made a final decision.
If Adele had been with me right now, she’d probably be traumatised. And it’s that very thought that finally pushes me to speak.
“Why are you here?” I ask, doing my best to keep the rising anxiety out of my voice.
“They must’ve told you you’re not allowed to see us…” I add, when she doesn’t say anything.
She keeps stubbornly silent, and that only makes me more uneasy. Why show up like this if you’re not even going to speak? Has something changed? Some kind of ruling from the court we haven’t been told about yet.
Just when my thoughts are about to spiral into full-blown panic, Adele’s mother finally speaks.
Though what she says isn’t at all what I was expecting.
“You… you’re the dancer, Jack… right?”
I stare at her, speechless. I’m definitely not famous enough to have a fanbase, otherwise I might think I’d just met an overly enthusiastic follower.
But she quickly clears up any doubts.
She’s not interested in my artistic skills, clearly. What she’s interested in is the role I play in her daughter’s life.
When I don’t reply, she adds, “You’re the dancer, right? The doctor’s boyfriend.”
“Yeah…” I sigh, still not sure where she’s going with this. “I guess you could call me that… But you haven’t answered my question, what are you doing here?”
She doesn’t even bother introducing herself, she knows it’s not necessary.
“Can I come in for a minute?” she asks, glancing around, visibly uncomfortable. Then she adds, “Please…”
I know I shouldn’t let her in, but there’s something about her, something so broken, so fragile, I just can’t bring myself to say no.
But only on one condition.
“You’ve got an hour, max. No more than that. I can’t risk Adele seeing you, it would be too much of a shock. If and when she does, it’ll be in a safe environment, with a psychologist and under court supervision. Those are the rules.”
“All right…” she agrees without argument.
After unlocking the front door, I step aside to let her in and then gesture toward one of the chairs around the dining table. I place a bottle of still water and two glasses on the smooth wooden surface, then sit down opposite her.
“I came at this hour on purpose because I knew Adele wouldn’t be home and… if I’d seen her, even from a distance, I wouldn’t have come any closer, I swear.”
“How… how did you know the baby wouldn’t be here?” I ask, beginning to feel a flicker of unease.
But Kelly Adkins seems surprisingly composed as she explains, “When I… when I came back to London, I only wanted one thing: to see my daughter again and make sure she was all right. I applied to the family court to regain custody, but I quickly realised it was going to take time, so…”
She lowers her gaze again and falls silent, rocking uncomfortably in her chair.
“So, what, Kelly?” I press, already dreading the answer.