“Nothing. Can we just go?”
I knew we couldn’t have a conversation in the pickup line, so I let him get into my truck and did the same. Once we were on the road, I looked at him through the rearview mirror. Herqueles’s head rested on his lap as Keelan stroked the top of his head.
“What happened at school?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, because there’s nothing you can do. Am I going with Dad for the weekend?”
I sighed. “No. He said he’s busy with work.”
“He always says that. I don’t like going with him anyway.”
“Why don’t you like going with your father?”
I glanced in the rearview mirror and caught him shrugging.
“He never acts like he wants me around.”
“Is he mean to you?”
“Sometimes, but he barely talks to me.”
“I always ask you how your visits are with him. Why haven’t you told me he’s mean to you?”
“Because then you and him will argue, and he’ll be mean to you. It’s okay if I don’t go with him again.”
I wasn’t the person who would try to convince my son otherwise. He was very intelligent and could decide for himself whether or not he wanted to spend time with his father. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make the final decision because visiting his father was court-ordered.
“I hope things between you and your dad get better. Unfortunately, Mommy doesn’t control your visits with him, the judge does.”
“Can we go to the judge and tell him I don’t want to go with Dad anymore?”
“Is that what you really want?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see if we can set something up. Is that what was bothering you?”
“No. I don’t want to talk about that. Can we get pizza and watch movies tonight?”
“Sure.”
I’d leave him alone for now, but before the night was over, I wanted to know what was bothering my son. As soon as we pulled into the garage and I cut the engine, I texted my attorney Keelan’s request, including the fact that he’d missed the last few visits.
She responded shortly after, saying the judge would need just cause to change or remove Victor’s visitation rights. She encouraged me to keep anything we might be able to use againsthim in the future. It wasn’t necessarily what Keelan would want to hear, so I kept the information to myself.
“Before we start the movie, let’s take Que for a walk,” I suggested to Keelan.
“Okay. C’mere, boy,” he called out.
Que ran to Keelan, and after a minute or so of playing around, he put his leash on. We left through the garage, and they waited for me at the end of the driveway.
“Did you get some bags for his poop?”
“Yes.” He held them up and waved them in the air.
“You want me to take him?” I asked as we began to walk.
“No. I got it, Mom.”
