Introduction
So what do you think? Will Tyler get back with Kristin? Allie, maybe? Hell, is Susan going to show up?
And what about little Ben? Don't forget him.
This is it, the penultimate chapter. Only one more part to go.
Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to read it and comment.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The doctor was right: Mom's recovery at home was far faster and more dramatic than Dad or I could've imagined. After three weeks, she was walking unaided, though still with a limp, and most of the lisp was gone from her voice. Her speech was still halting to the point you wanted to finish every sentence for her, but it was easy to understand every word out of her mouth.
Most of that, I think, was due to Kristin bringing Ben by every afternoon. At first, I'm pretty sure Kristin intended to use that as an excuse to spend time with me. I was busy writing, though, and could only spare an hour or so during the afternoon to play around with Ben on the floor or feed him lunch or just watch him take a nap with Mom. Once he was down for his nap, I returned to my writing and tried to get the second book done. Then I'd go back down and spend another hour before dinner with my son, and back to writing. All told, my sleep was suffering.
Kristin hung around the room a couple days in a row, trying to engage me in conversation. I made it crystal clear that talk was not on the agenda, though, and she quit bothering me.
After the first week of this, Kristin only hung around the first hour or so–the time I was spending with Ben–and came back after dinner to pick him up. She seemed more than content to let Mom and Dad have their time with him, the time she'd robbed us of, and I was spending two or three hours a day with my son while Mom and Dad spent the rest of the afternoon with him.
You may have noticed I called Ben my son just now. Well, that's because the DNA test came back only five days after I submitted my saliva. He was mine, to the exclusion of all men on Planet Earth and even a few other planets thrown in.
That made the rest of my lawsuit against Kristin perfunctory.
And it was all taken care of around James McNally's conference table.
* * * * *
"All right," McNally started, "I've prepared a pretty simple agenda for this little settlement conference."
He passed out a piece of paper to each of us and I read it. He was right: It was simple. One - Custody. Two - Support. Three - Visitation. There was ample space on the nearly empty page to make notes on each subject.
"Jammer," Petrowski said, "we really aren't ready to discuss all of this and you know it. We don't even have Mr. Collins's full financial disclosures. And he's got a book coming out now."
"I know that, Sandy," he said. "But we can at least get the outlines started and then you can tell me what else you need."
"That won't be necessary," Kristin cut in, looking at me.
"Kristin," Petrowski said, her chubby little face reddening.
"No," Kristin said, leaning over the table and stretching her hand across, reaching for me to take it.
Not knowing where this was going, I reached across and took her hand, holding it loosely.
"I wasn't kidding on what I said that day," she said, her voice low, her hand squeezing mine nearly to death. "I'm sorry. I know I had no right to keep him from you. It didn't start out that way–I didn't really know he was your's, or even suspect it, until he was five or six months old–but I have no excuse for not telling you or at least doing something when I found out."
I stared at her, frozen. Her jaw was set, though, like she was trying to hold it all together and not lose it before saying what she needed to say.
"You have every right to seek custody of Ben," she continued. "And I know you have a really good shot at getting that. But I'm asking you not to do that, Tyler. Please. For Ben's sake, don't do it."
"Then what're you offering?" McNally said, his voice soft and encouraging.
"We're thinking– " Petrowski tried to interject before Kristin cut her off.
"If you want custody," Kristin said, "I won't challenge it. Just be generous with visitation. Don't keep my son from me. Our son."
She was fighting to hold back her emotions, but her steely determination told me the offer was genuine. And now I had something to think about, and about ten seconds to make my decision.
It took nearly a minute before I made up my mind, which had Kristin ready to explode.
"Joint custody," I said. "You can be the residential parent, Kristin. I'm not going to take Ben from you. But I want generous visitation."
She nodded, brushing the tears away that were now spilling down her cheeks.
"Okay," Petrowski said, her relief evident, "then what about child support?"
"I don't want any," Kristin said. "Tyler will do what's right."
I shook my head. "Two fifty a week. And I'll pay for health insurance and medical expenses and set up his college fund."
"I don't want your money," Kristin said. "I can– "
"That's not nearly enough," Ms. Petrowski interjected, turning to McNally. "You know that's a fraction of what the courts will give her."
"Not a dime," Kristin said.
"I'm going to have to insist," I said, ignoring the lawyers and smiling at Kristin. "I'm not going to have our son living like a pauper because you feel guilty for being such a shit."
"Okay," Kristin sniffled, half laughing, half crying as her tears subsided. "Thanks."
"Visitation?" McNally said.
"Generous," I said.
"I think what we have going now is working well," Kristin said. "And I want to expand it."
"But I already see him every day," I said. "You've got to see him some time, don't you?"
"I'm starting a job at the semester break," she said. "Teaching at the grade school. One of the teachers is going on maternity leave, and they've offered me a contract. So I'm hoping you and your folks can watch him for me."
"You're going to be working?" I said, more surprised at that than at the visitation proposal.
She nodded, smiling. "I know. Too little too late. But better late than ever, right?"
I was shocked. She was trying. She was walking the walk, not just talking the talk.
"Holidays and weekends?" McNally said.
"We'll work something out," I said. "Just write something up for us to look at, and we can get this done."
"Kristin," Petrowski cut in, terrified as she watched her ship sinking, "you've got to think about this. You're giving up a lot here."
Kristin looked at her, a sad and patient look on her face. "I've already thought about it, Sandy. A lot. I'm doing what's right for Tyler and Ben. I'll get by, and I'm not going to take Tyler to the cleaners to do it. I need to stand on my own two feet."
Kristin turned to look at me, and I was trying to hold back tears of both joy at getting to see Ben every day and sorrow at seeing how much Kristin had changed after the fall of both of her marriages.
"Tyler would never screw me," she said, speaking to Petrowski but looking me dead in the eye. Then her eyes twinkled and she spoke to me. "As much as I may hope otherwise."
I only smiled.
* * * * *
I phoned Marisa that night. It was late, nearly eleven thirty, but she answered awake and alert on the first ring.
"Yes," she said.
"Hello," I said in response.
"Fine. Hello. What're you calling for?"
"I want to take you to lunch," I said. "Tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Because of you, I now have a son that I'm getting to know."
She was silent.
"Well?" I prodded.
"You don't owe me anything," she said, her voice so low I barely heard the words.
