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Chapter 35
Noah
Imakeitthroughthe month of June by the skin of my teeth. Between physical injuries that are still healing and ongoing concussion symptoms, I’ve worked about a quarter of my normal amount this month. The rest of my time is spent at home sleeping or binging terrible reality TV shows when my migraines subside enough to allow it.
Paul assures me my brother isn’t getting out of jail soon. All of his drug and DUI charges, the breaking and entering, and now aggravated assault have accumulated. Kentucky has a “three strikes” law; repeat felons are prosecuted with a sentence of up to ten years in jail. Paul talked to the state prosecutor, and they’re gunning to put Dunbar away for the maximum sentence after he admitted to attacking me. My broken rib came from a kick he fessed up to launching once I was knocked out.
The thought of Dunbar locked up for the next decade of his life haunts me, but I’ve finally realized with the help of my new therapist, it may be the only thing keeping him from hurting someone—or killing himself.
There’s more emotional pain to work through than anything I experienced physically. Meeting with a therapist every week is forcing me to confront all of it. In a moment of desperation in the months following the break-in, I searched for local therapists online and made an appointment. I surprised myself by following through, and we spent the first two hour-long sessions reliving my childhood and how I landed where I am today.
The hearing for the state’s appeal of Rainey’s guardianship is today. After all this time, I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s removed from my home. With my brother in jail for the foreseeable future, Georgia sweet-talked her supervisor into allowing me to keep physical custody of my niece until the hearing.
My doorbell rings before lunch, and I know it’s Maggie and Logan. He’s been around regularly since my hospital release, but I spend half the time he’s visiting reminding him to not hover. I can get up and pour my coffee or fix myself a sandwich. He seems to forget I still feed, bathe, and do all the other necessities for myself when he’s not here. Sort of—Izabeth helps.
My relationship/friendship/whatevership with Logan is a recurring theme in therapy. I’m doing the work to accept that I couldn’t control my brother, and what he did wasn’t my fault, but I get stuck on the coulda, woulda, shouldas. Logan made one request about my brother in the entire time he lived with me. Instead of following through on my promise to keep Dunbar away from Maggie, I’d asked Logan to bend. Eventually he broke.
I help Logan get lunch together for Rainey and Maggie as much as he’ll allow. The girls are eating when he pulls me aside, reaching for my hand, and lacing his fingers through mine.
“How are you feeling?”
“Honestly? I’m afraid I might shit myself before the hearing begins. I’ve never been this nervous.”
Logan spent the last two days texting me and reminding me he’d be happy to drive me to the hearing. I’ve been cleared by my doctor to resume driving as long as I’m not actively experiencing post-concussion symptoms. But, some days—even symptom-free ones—driving is physically painful with a healing rib. I’m working hard to end my refusal of relying on others, but in my soul I know I have to face this hearing alone.
Georgia’s waiting for me on a bench when I find her inside the small courthouse. I’ve spent every day of the week I felt well enough working with Georgia to prepare for today. We’ve made lists and timelines. I’ve collected letters from those who know Rainey and me. Anything that could sway a judge to dismiss the appeal has been completed. In the end, I have to acknowledge my part of the circumstances that led to this courtroom today.
Despite our preparation, the hearing goes rogue within minutes of the judge calling the court to order. “There won’t be an appeal hearing for this case today,” she announces, looking from my table to the State. I want to melt into the floor, believing the State has pushed back the hearing, and it will be God knows how long until it’s rescheduled. The waiting game will start over again.
Georgia stands and reverently addresses the judge. “Your honor, can you elaborate on why the hearing’s being pushed back?”
“It’s not being pushed back, Miss Jessamie. Dunbar met with his attorney yesterday and signed over all parental rights for Rainey. Miss Noah, someone from my office will be in touch soon for your decision about how you wish to proceed.”
I swing my head from side to side, searching for a clue about what just happened. I nudge Georgia, raising my eyebrows and shrugging my shoulders, begging for more information.
“Let’s go,” she whispers. “We’ll talk outside.”
Wails escape my body as Georgia explains what the judge meant when she discussed my decision on how to proceed. My brother’s termination of parental rights means the end of years of an unstable childhood for my niece. Rainey’s now eligible for adoption. Georgia also shares my DVO hearing against my brother, which would ban him from any contact with Rainey or myself, is scheduled for next week.
Still parked at the courthouse, I call Iz from my car, shaking uncontrollably from the unexpected turn of events. Her voice is full of concern, and maybe anger, when she struggles to understand my words through my crying.
“I’m on my way! Where are you?” I hear metal clink as Izabeth grabs her keys.
“Wh-whoa. I’m okay. These are happy tears.” I doubt I’ve ever called my best friend crying from happiness.
“The hearing went well, then?” The confusion is apparent in her voice.
“Yeah, give me a sec.” I take three deep breaths to force back my crying. There’s no way I can tell the story like this. Sifting through my car’s glove box, I find a box of tissues crammed inside and blow my nose loudly. A few more deep breaths.
“Are you there, Noah?”
“I’m here. Are you sitting down?”
“Do I need to be?”
“It might be a good idea.” The news is going to knock her feet from underneath her, just like it has me.
“Dunbar ended his parental rights.” Izabeth’s no more well versed about the ins and outs of social services than I am. “He’s not her parent anymore. He has no legal rights for Rainey.”
