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I go to Isaac’s room and peer in. “I’m going next door to call Mila for dinner.”
“Okay, Dad,” Isaac says without looking up from his puzzle.
I whistle as I walk across the driveway that divides the two homes. These days I don’t think of it as Mike’s house or where my wife carried on her affair. No. Those memories have been wiped off. I think of it as Mila’s studio.
I knock the door out of politeness, but I know once she gets into her work, it’s as if all her other senses shut down. I push the door open and take the stairs; I don’t want to leave Isaac alone in the house for long.
As expected, I find Mila deep in concentration, her hand working magic on the canvas. For a moment, I’m transfixed by the image of Isaac. It’s so real he looks like he can speak up at any moment. I watch as she ever so delicately adds a little more color to his eyes. I whistle, and Mila jumps.
“You frightened me,” she says and tries to cover the painting. “You shouldn’t see this. It’s a surprise.”
“I’m good at keeping secrets,” I tell her while peering through her hand. “Mila, that’s the most beautiful portrait I’ve ever seen.”
She grins. “Could you be a little biased?” She drops her hands to her sides and steps back, looking at the painting appraisingly.
I shake my head. “Not in this case.” I stare at the painting as if mesmerized. I approach closer and marvel at how the brushstrokes perfectly replicate his baby fine hair and the slight pink of his cheeks …
“Is Isaac alone?” she says.
“Yes.” I’m already turning toward the door. “I better go back. I was coming to call you for dinner. It’s ready.”
She follows me out. Her stomach rumbles as we descend the stairs, and we both laugh.
“Perfect timing on my part,” I tell her.
Outside, I notice a familiar car on the street parking. “Fuck.” I increase my pace and pray that I’m wrong.
“What is it?” Mila asks, running to catch up with me.
“The court evaluator,” I told her grimly.
My suspicions are confirmed when we burst into the house. She’s seated in the living room while Isaac plays with his toys on the floor. She looks up when we enter.
“Do you do this often? Leave Isaac alone in the house?”
Sweat drips down my face. I’m well aware of how this looks. We’re careless and irresponsible. Fuck! It couldn’t have come at a worse time.
“It’s my fault,” Mila says and steps forward. “My cell phone was off, and Brad came to call me for dinner.”
She glances away from Mila as if she has not spoken. “Do you want me to list for you the possible dangers of leaving a five-year-old alone in the house?”
I bang the table. “I went next door, dammit! I didn’t even stay for three minutes.”
Her expression doesn’t change. She glances at her watch. “I’ve been looking at the time. It’s definitely more than three minutes.”
“Please,” Mila begs. “Brad is the best father I know. He would not endanger his son in any way.”
The court evaluator stands up and straightens her grey skirt. “Well, that’s not up to us to decide, is it?”
She says goodbye to Isaac and leaves. The moment the door shuts, I sink into the chair. It’s over. After this, there’s no way the judge will let me keep Isaac. I want to shout and punch something. I want to rage against the injustice of it all.
“Let’s go get some dinner into your tummy,” Mila says to Isaac.
I shoot Mila a grateful look. My appetite is gone. I sit hunched on the couch as all sorts of scenarios go through my mind. All of which revolve around losing Isaac. I don’t know how long I sit that way when I become aware of someone staring at me.
It’s Mila. Isaac says something about playing in his room and walks out.
Mila stands with her hands on her waist. “You can’t lose hope now,” she says.
“She’s going to write it down in her report,” I tell Mila. “What judge do you think will give custody to a father who leaves his child alone in the house?”
“Brad, this is not the first time the court evaluator has come here. She knows how you and Isaac relate.” Mila sits down beside me and takes my hand. “You’re a great dad, and that too is in the report. It will be fine, I promise.”
I search her face and completely believe that everything will be just fine. “You think so?”
“I do. I have a feeling about this. Isaac is not going anywhere,” she says emphatically.
The knots in my shoulder muscles begin to loosen. Mila has a point. The judge will not make the decision based on one mistake. He has to see that I’m the best parent for Isaac. Brenda just wants to please her new husband. She’s not interested in Isaac’s welfare. My boy is a pawn in her game, and I cannot allow her to have him. Isaac deserves better than that.
