Chapter 17
Marcus
Levy Park was packed with families on Saturday afternoon, but the members of the Single Dad Society were easy to find. The dads, a mix of different races—but mostly Black—crowded into one area.
Some sat together at the picnic tables while others kept an eye on the kids playing frisbee and kickball. Other kids ran around the playground, playing on the swings and careening down the slide—their screams of joy filling the morning air.
The society had rented the pavilion, so as Noah and I approached, a couple of the fathers were busy working the grill, cooking hot dogs and hamburgers.
“Uncle Marcus, look!” Noah pointed excitedly at the splash fountain where children were running through the water.
“I guess you want to do that, huh?”
“Can I?”
We were here so I could meet other men in my situation, and he could make new friends. “Yeah, go on.”
He raced away without looking back.
I spotted my frat brothers Elijah and Jashaun sitting at a table. They saw me at the same time, and Elijah waved me over.
“About time you showed up, man,” he said.
Elijah, whose line name was Enforcer because of his strict adherence to following the rules, was solidly built with honey-colored eyes and golden brown skin.
Jashaun, whose line name was Ocean because of his ability to go with the flow or make it rough for anyone who pushed him too hard, was of average build.
I gave them both some dap before dropping onto the bench beside Jashaun. “I had to stop at the real estate office before I came.”
“I guess that was Noah?” Elijah asked, nodding his head toward the splash fountain.
“One and the same. I would’ve introduced you guys, but he was eager to get over there and get wet.”
“I hope you came prepared to have your seats soaked,” Jashaun said.
I tapped my temple. “I was thinking ahead. Inside this backpack is an extra change of clothes.” I tapped the bag and then placed it on the grass beside me.
“Look at you, thinking like a parent,” Elijah said.
“Got to. I’ve had a crash course the past couple of months. Where are your kids?”
“Sabrina’s over there doing cartwheels,” Elijah replied, pointing.
I saw a pretty little girl with braids performing impressive moves. She was bigger than the last time I saw her. Kids grew so fast. “You have a gymnast on your hands,” I remarked.
“Yeah. She hasn’t stopped doing cartwheels since she learned how.” Elijah shook his head as we laughed.
“My daughter, Jussica, is over there playing kickball, in the blue shorts and striped shirt,” Jashaun said. He elbowed me. “The bruhs asked about you at The Flight Club. I told them you were busy and would be back once your life calms down.”
The Flight Club was the spot for our monthly graduate chapter networking meetups.
“Thanks, man. I think it’ll be at least another month before I feel comfortable enough leaving Noah with anyone at night. The only person I think could even pull it off is his child advocate, Julia.”
“The one you’ve been sleeping with?” Jashaun asked.
“You don’t have to be so blunt.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not,” I reluctantly grumbled.
“A’ight then.”
He and Elijah had a good laugh at my expense.
For the past couple of weeks, Julia and I had been spending a lot of time together, so I gave her a drawer in my dresser and space in my closet.
It made sense since she was always at the condo.
A couple of nights a week, she came over after work and had dinner with me and Noah, usually something I picked up on the way home.
She spent the weekends with us too, and each Sunday cooked us a delicious home-cooked meal.
My own cooking skills were slowly improving.
Pop-Tarts were no longer on the breakfast menu since fixing a meal was a lot easier than I initially thought.
If you could read a recipe, you could probably cook.
My spaghetti and meatballs were a hit with Noah, but I was concentrating on breakfast meals.
I created my own version of the sausage, egg, and cheese sandwiches I liked to buy on the weekends and had mastered making breakfast burritos, which Noah especially loved.
Yesterday, I made a frittata for the first time—another win.
Noah and I ate the rest of it for breakfast this morning with fruit on the side.
“So Noah’s therapy is going well?” Elijah peered around Jashaun to ask the question.
“Yeah, which is why I think leaving him might be easier in another month or so. Maybe less. That’s the feedback the therapist is giving me concerning his abandonment issues. They’ve spent a lot of time discussing his fears in therapy.”
“What are you going to do about his aunt?” Elijah asked.
I inwardly groaned. With Julia’s help, I had filled out the guardianship paperwork, and she had closed the case on Noah, but the attorney received notice that Zenobia was contesting the legality of my guardianship over Noah.
“She’s become a pain,” I said, rubbing my hand over my face, exhaustion settling in when I thought about what she had done.
“She filed a petition to challenge my guardianship, claiming that as his biological aunt, she has more right to him than I do. Noah should be with ‘blood family.’ Real family.”
“Brandon and Stacey named you as his guardian. That has to mean something,” Jashaun said, sounding appalled.
“I know, and their wishes are documented in the guardianship papers and their will, all filed years ago.” My gaze settled on Noah splashing through the fountain with the other kids, their laughter traveling across the park.
“The attorney says I have a strong case, but her attorney is arguing that blood relation should take precedence, and Zenobia and her husband can provide a ‘traditional family environment.’“
“Bullshit,” Elijah said forcefully. “What the hell does a traditional family environment have to do with anything if the kid is happy and healthy with you?”
I sighed. “Not a damn thing, but I know why she’s really fighting for custody.”
“The money,” Elijah said.
“What money?” Jashaun asked.
I had mentioned the insurance money to Elijah but hadn’t yet told Jashaun. I proceeded to explain about the million-dollar policy payout. “Zenobia even mentioned that I’m not capable of properly managing his inheritance.”
“But she is?”
“Yeah.” My shoulders slumped.
“How confident are you in your attorney’s ability to help you keep Noah?” Jashaun asked.
I shrugged. “He’s an estate attorney, so handling the paperwork was easy. Now that the guardianship is being contested, I’m cautiously hopeful but... worried.”
I couldn’t lose Noah. He was an integral part of my life. He was my kid—legally and in my heart.
“When is your court date?” Jashaun asked.
“In three weeks.”
“Hang on a sec.” He stood and turned to the men at the grill.
“Hey, Eric! Come here for a minute.” He returned his attention to me.
“Eric is one of the state’s top litigators and specializes in contested custody and guardianship cases.
When this goes to trial, you need someone like him who lives in family court. ”
A tall brother in his early forties walked over wearing an apron. His close-cropped hair was graying at the temples, giving him the confident bearing of someone who spent a lot of time in courtrooms.
Jashaun introduced us, and I stood to shake his hand.
Then I gave him the condensed version of my problems with Zenobia and my desire to keep Noah.
“As far as the life insurance payout is concerned,” I said, finishing up, “I’ve already started the paperwork to set up a trust for Noah’s future.
I have a successful career and my own money. I don’t need it.”
Eric had been listening intently, and when I finished, he said, “Sounds like a pretty solid case to me. The biological relationship does give the aunt standing to petition, but it doesn’t automatically override your rights.
The court will look at a number of points: The parents’ clearly expressed wishes to have you as the child’s guardian, Noah’s current well-being and stability in your care, whether moving him to Tennessee is too disruptive, the aunt’s motivation and historical relationship with the child, and your plans for the insurance money.
The fact that you’ve started setting up a trust shows you’re thinking about Noah’s long-term interests. ”
“So you think I can beat her?” I asked.
“You should, but family court is unpredictable. There are no guarantees. You need good representation.”
“That’s why I called you over here. I know you’re the best and can help my man out,” Jashaun said.
“But you already have an attorney,” Eric said.
“I do, but—”
“That don’t mean nothing,” Elijah said from his position on the bench. “You said yourself he needs good representation, and no one’s better than you.”
Eric chuckled. “I’m good, but no one is invincible. I’m ninety-nine percent sure you’ll be able to keep your boy. Which one is he?”
I pointed. Noah had left the fountain area and was playing tag with some of the other kids. “Yellow shirt.”
“He looks happy,” Eric remarked. “Tell you what, take my number and call on Monday to set up a consultation. Tell the receptionist who answers that you’re with the Single Dad Society.
She knows to put those calls through directly to me.
I’ll review your case, no charge for an initial review.
If you decide to work with me, you’ll receive the single dad discount. ”
He rattled off the number, and I plugged the digits into my phone. “Thanks, man.” I shook his hand again.
“No problem. You’re one of us now. We have to look out for each other.” He clapped me on the shoulder and walked away.
Relief washing over me, I sat down.
“He’s being modest,” Jashaun said, reclaiming his seat as well. “I heard he’s never lost a case he took on for any of the single fathers in the organization.”
“I heard the same thing,” Elijah said. “One of the dads in the Austin chapter hired him during a custody battle. Think his name was John. Anyway, John was a dick and cheated on his wife, so she was getting back at him by keeping the kids away and fighting for sole custody. When Eric got finished, John had primary physical custody, and she ended up having to pay him child support.”
“No way,” I said.
“I’m not kidding. The man just wanted time with his kids, but turns out she worked a lot, including travel, and made way more money than John. Eric argued for stability for the kids and said it was better for John to have primary custody.”
“Damn. He’s good,” I murmured.
I didn’t expect Zenobia to back down easily with a million dollars at stake, but as I sat on the bench watching Noah play like the fun-loving seven-year-old he was meant to be, I was hopeful. More than hopeful. I was extremely optimistic.
Brandon had entrusted me with his son if the worst ever happened, and unfortunately, the worst did. Since then, I had truly become Noah’s parent and was no longer stumbling through my new role. I had embraced it and savored it.
Noah was all I had left of my best friend, my brother. I loved him as if he was my own. And I was going to fight like hell to hold onto him.