Well of course she hired a lawyer, he knew she would. It’s the logical thing to do. She always was a smart one. Two years of community college and suddenly she’s the smartest person on Earth. It’s not like he could convince her to not hire a lawyer. He would have to get his own. But with what money? His kid was worth hiring some greedy lawyer-bastard. Take out a loan? Can they do that? Sell his car? He’d find a way. For now he’ll hire a lawyer and worry about paying him later. What if they ask for the money up front? How screwed is he then? What if he hires a lawyer but he loses the case? That’s the worst case scenario. Best case scenario he wins the case and the lawyer finds the goodness in his heart not to charge him. What time is it? Maybe the lawyer-bastard place was open already. Of course it could be two o’clock in the morning and he would never be able to get back to sleep. He’d forget about it if he didn’t do something right now.

Harrison opened his eyes to the familiar sight of a television and a living room. His eyes were blurred, but the bulge of the TV, its inability to be a nice flat-screen like everyone else had, reminded him of just how in the dumps he was. Propped up on a dresser because he couldn’t even afford a mount for the TV – not that his TV was mountable, it wasn’t a flat-screen— just added to the insult. Nonetheless, the Toshiba kept him company. He didn’t have to worry about it not being there. It wouldn’t go off sleeping with other men and try to take his children away from him.


He pulled himself upright from the recliner. He expected to hear the sound of bottles clinking together, but last night he was careful enough to move his beer before dosing off. He was comfortable in the recliner, and despite his haste to hire a lawyer, he was reluctant to get up and go do it, go do anything. He sat there, staring at the blank TV, not thinking about anything in particular, just staring. He took the risk of looking over at the clock. Eight-thirty. Not bad. He had time. He was comfortable, and besides, he deserved a rest. The lawyer-bastard place probably wasn’t even open yet. What was that placed actually called anyway? He doubted anyone called it anything other than that. Lawyers have to take the bar exam, so do they all hang out at a bar? He liked the thought of that.

After another hour or so of taking a well-deserved rest, he decided he might as well go shower. He tried to stand up from the recliner. The leg rest was out, but he was lazy enough to avoid it rather than simply putting it under the chair. He stepped to the sides of the chair, knocked something over with his foot, and stood up. All of the blood rushed to his head. He became immediately dizzy and disoriented, his eyes could no longer see, everything looked like it did on the Toshiba in the corner. He stood there and waited for the head rush to pass. Ten seconds passed, and when the head rush had not subsided he sat back down. Maybe he’d just go out later.

He looked over the side of the chair to see what he hit with his foot. A Budweiser can lay on its side. Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot. He dodged the foot rest and came to his feet again. He circled around the recliner and rushed to the kitchen. Dodging the clothes on the floor and papers he had knocked over some other night, he took a roll of paper towels and rushed to the knocked over can. He rushed back around the recliner again and began unrolling some paper towels, ready to apply it to the area of the spill.

When he arrived at the knocked over beer can, he was surprised to find that the beer can was empty. Nothing spilled out. Thank God, damn carpet stained too easily. He always wanted hardwood flooring. He began rolling the paper towels back up. He was up now, might as well get on with his day. It was probably God’s ironic way of telling him to get up and go do something.

He walked back to the kitchen and placed the paper towels back on the counter. He didn’t have room to put it on the table; bills and junk mail had claimed that piece of furniture long ago.

Harrison began undressing right in the kitchen (one of the perks of living on your own) in preparation for his shower. He dropped his pants and began walking towards the bathroom.

He stepped into the shower and turned on the water. He let it run through his hair and trickle down his body. The warm water felt especially good, and he again planned out how he would handle the lawyer situation. Maybe he could sweet talk her into not bringing in a lawyer, let them represent themselves. No, probably not, her lawyer would talk her out of it. Of course, she wasn’t exactly rich either, so maybe he was right in that lawyers don’t make him pay up front.

After another ten minutes of thinking and planning, Harrison stepped out of the shower. He forgot to put out the bathroom mat and set foot and cold tile. Where was the thing anyway? Merrissa probably took it when she left. She took everything, after all. He reached for a towel. She probably took that too.
***


Cooper stepped out of the musty, old people-smelling car and onto the pavement. He hated that stupid car. How the air blew right on his feet, which were always cold. How some old guy was complaining about other people over the radio, and how he couldn’t stretch his legs because his grandfather kept his seat so far back.

Despite his best arguing, he couldn’t talk either of his parents out of making him stay with his grandparents for the weekend. He is 12 years old after all; he can make his own decisions. Cooper wanted to stay with his mom, that was his decision. She would at least pay attention to him and buy him food and stuff, his dad would just tell him to go play the Nintendo 64 and he’d order a pizza in a few minutes. Of course, that pizza would always come a few hours later when he was hungry.

Secretly he hoped that his dad would just give up trying to win him over. Cooper didn’t like him. When everyone in his sixth grade class would talk about how much they loved their dads, he would just keep his mouth shut. When his teacher would ask him what his dad does for a living, he was never quite sure the answer. Nothing would be the truth. At least if his mom won him he could just say he doesn’t have a dad. That would make things a lot simpler.

He didn’t understand why the judge didn’t just ask him where he wanted to go. That would make things a whole lot easier in his mind. Once a classmate told him that the moms always win these things. Cooper was hoping his classmate was right.

His feet in his worn Nikes began to regain heat, and he slowly felt feeling return to them. His grandfather always thought he was lying about how cold it was in the car, but he was actually cold. He wondered if he had frostbite. The air outside was hot and moist. Coupled with the sun beating down, his skin almost singed from the sudden change in temperature. It took him a few minutes of standing and stretching before he had adapted to the temperature.

He walked around to the front of car and attempted to lean on it. His rear end touched the hood of the car, but he quickly sprung up as the black Mercedes burned him with both heat from the engine and heat from the sun. He began walking towards the steps of the house in front of him.

“You know, a man my age shouldn’t have to carry all of your bags in for you,” his grandfather called to him from the car.

He turned back towards his grandfather who was standing behind the car with the trunk open. He trudged back towards the car. The weather outside was so hot that he almost wished he was back in the car freezing. His grandfather was standing behind the trunk, waiting for him to collect his things so he could close it. Cooper cut in front of his grandfather, peered into the trunk, took up his things, and started carrying them towards the house. He heard a thud behind him as the trunk closed.

“You know, back in my day, I would carry everything for my grandfather. I would open doors for him, help him do things around the house, and wouldn’t complain about it once. It seems that your father hasn’t raised you properly.”

Cooper sneered. His father hadn’t raised him, period.
***

Of course she hired a lawyer that was the smart thing to do. Her husband didn’t have the money – or the brains – to hire one. First thing she did when she filed for divorce was look for a lawyer. Not that she would really need one; anyone with half a brain can see that he’s not fit to be a parent.

Cynthia sat down on her boyfriend’s couch and thought about the upcoming custody trial. She imagined her facing the jury in a dramatic speech, wearing her exposing, yet classy, business suit, talking about the menace that was Cooper’s father. She would talk about how he would come home drunk, not knowing who he was. How he would forget to pick up Cooper after baseball and school.

She imagined Harrison’s lawyer talking about her gambling addiction and her willingness to cheat, and how she would convincingly turn to the jury and judge and share a heartwarming story of how she has changed and she’s the best thing for her child. She smiled at the thought.

She kicked back on the couch and closed her eyes. The trial was in a month or so, she had time to map everything out later.

Her boyfriend walked into the room. She did not see or hear him, and he kissed her on the forehead. Upon his lips making contact with her skin, she opened her eyes. Dmitri looked into her sea-green eyes and admired them. He stood over her for another minute or two.

“Are you going to say something, or should I just close my eyes and pretend you’re not there?” She asked sarcastically.

“Sorry he said, just got caught up on how beautiful you are,” he said honestly.

“If I had a dollar for every time you told me that.”

“I just came in here to make sure you’re OK about what’s going on with your husband—“ he paused. “Ex-husband,” he corrected.

“Everything’s fine, the bastard won’t know what hit him.”

“I’ve just been thinking—“

“Well isn’t that a first,” she interjected.

“I’ve just been thinking, this affair we’ve had…how do I know that once your divorce stuff goes through, that you won’t cheat on me?” He asked in a soft tone.

She paused, taken aback by the question. She was initially angered at the question, that he would ask such a thing. Then, as she searched in the back of her mind for a witty response, she realized that she did not have one. He certainly wasn’t her first boyfriend, and there was nothing she could say that he—nor she—would believe. The truth of the matter was that even she didn’t believe that she wouldn’t cheat on him.

“Well?” He asked as she store blankly back at him.

Cynthia blinked. “I’m running late for a meeting with some co-workers, we’ll talk about it later.” She hurried up from the couch and out of the room.

Dmitri sat down on the couch. He knew that they wouldn’t be talking about it later.