Chapter 6 - THE DAY NOAH STOPPED WAITING FOR HIS FATHER
Noah stopped asking when Julian would call.
That was worse than anger.
At first, after the wedding, Julian sent messages.
Tell Noah I love him.
I replied:
You can tell him through counsel-approved communication.
Then:
You’re poisoning him.
I did not reply.
A court temporarily adjusted visitation while investigations proceeded and after reviewing Julian’s hidden custody leverage notes.
Not because financial crimes automatically make someone an unfit parent.
Because using a child as planned legal leverage mattered.
Supervised visits were offered.
Julian attended the first.
Missed the second.
Canceled the third.
Noah noticed.
Of course.
One night he asked:
“Why does Dad always want me when it helps him?”
My chest broke.
“What do you mean?”
“At the wedding he wanted me there so people thought he was a good dad.”
I sat beside him.
“He might have wanted you there for more than one reason.”
“Like what?”
“He’s still your father.”
“That’s not a reason.”
Ten-year-olds.
Brutal.
Correct.
Then:
“He wanted custody in the paper.”
I froze.
He had overheard.
I should have expected it.
“Who told you?”
“No one.”
He looked angry.
“Adults think hallways are soundproof.”
Fair.
“Was he going to take me?”
“No.”
“Did he want me?”
I could not lie.
“I don’t know what he wanted emotionally.”
“That means no.”
“No.”
I took his hand.
“It means I refuse to guess what’s inside someone else’s heart.”
He stared.
“His actions are easier to judge.”
“What actions?”
“He wrote about using custody to pressure me.”
Noah looked down.
“So I was money.”
“No.”
I said it sharply.
“You were never money.”
“To him.”
I closed my eyes.
“He treated custody like leverage.”
“That’s the same thing.”
Maybe.
Then Noah asked:
“Do I have to visit him?”
We were under a court arrangement.
Not entirely his decision.
But his preferences mattered.
“We tell the court how you feel.”
“Can I say no?”
“Yes.”
“Will people be mad?”
“Maybe.”
“Will you?”
“Never for telling the truth.”
That became the line.
He wrote a letter for the guardian ad litem.
Not dramatic.
I want Dad to get help before I see him alone. I don’t like being used to make Mom do things. I still love him but I don’t trust him.
I cried after reading it.
May you like
Love and distrust in the same sentence.
Children understand complexity before adults allow them to.
