Page 41

IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT

Luke

There have been less than fifty thunderstorms in San Francisco in the last twenty years. Something about the relatively stable air temperature brought on by the Pacific Ocean keeps them away, since thunderstorms are caused by warm air rising and smacking into falling cold air.

I don’t know. I’m not a meteorologist, but I did find myself frantically researching storms this morning while Dean fed the girls pancakes and got them ready to spend the day with friends.

When I woke up to clapping thunder in the middle of a dark and stormy night that turned into a dark and stormy day, I thought a scientific explanation might help me rationalize the rare storm occurring on the day I have to meet my parents in court.

The science didn’t help, mostly because I don’t understand it. So instead, I searched for omens, because if Gigi was here she’d talk my ear off about the spiritual connections all around us to try to calm my racing thoughts. And today of all days, I miss my fucking sister.

As it turns out, thunderstorms are a symbol of rebirth and change, and I’m choosing to see that as a positive sign from Gigi that this will all work out in our favor and soon, I’ll be able to move forward with our family and put our past behind us for good.

The Uber pulls up to the courthouse, which is directly across the street from city hall where Dean and I were married at the beginning of all of this.

Talk about a full circle moment.

I sit in the back of the SUV until Dean rounds the car, opening my door and holding an umbrella out to shield me from the rain.

He looks devastatingly handsome in his grey slacks and suit jacket that’s unbuttoned to show off the crisp white shirt and silk black tie underneath.

I let him help me out of the car and lead me up the stairs and into the large lobby.

Looking out the glass door at the sheets of rain falling from the grey sky, I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from my chest .

“What’s so funny?” Dean asks, shaking out the umbrella and smiling at me.

“It’s not funny. It’s just…the day of Gigi’s funeral, I kept thinking that it should be raining.

Like in the movies and on TV it’s always raining when the characters have to go to a funeral, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky that day.

And now…” I gesture towards the storm outside, just as a bolt of lightning cracks in the distance, lighting up the sky.

“Gigi definitely sent this rain, then. Your sister had a sick sense of humor. I miss the fuck out of her.”

I turn towards the voice to find Kira waddling towards me, her arms outstretched for a hug.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be laying down on a bed of feathers and Egyptian cotton sheets?

” I ask as I try to hug her around her belly.

It feels like Kira has been pregnant for a lifetime.

She’s due any day now, and that’s why Dean didn’t ask her to show up and speak as a character witness with the rest of his family.

She said she’d write a letter for the judge to read, but here she is, anyway.

“As if I’d be anywhere else. Gigi was my bestie and you two are my brothers, of course I’m going to show up for you. I have to do what I can to make sure those nut jobs don’t get their grubby paws on your kids. ”

“And what are you going to do, baby girl? Time your water to break on the opposing counsel’s shoes if they say something negative about your brother?” Both Dean's dads and Tía Camila cross the room, Pops wrapping an arm around Kira’s shoulders as he teases her.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes. Luke and the girls are part McKenna now, and if there is one thing McKennas do, its take care of each other.”

“Damn straight, chiquitina,” Camila says, and I find myself stunned still, unable to form words.

It’s one thing for the four of them to show up to support Dean, but they’re here for me and my girls, too.

Gigi was my only family, and when I lost her I didn’t think I’d ever find that sense of home she gave me again.

But here I am, in the arms of the man I love and surrounded by people who dropped their own shit just to be here for me and my kids.

“I told you,” Dean whispers in my ear, pressing his thumb to my cheek to swipe at a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “My safe people are your safe people, too.”

The courtroom is cold and stifling, straight out of an early, blue-tinted episode of Law & Order.

The wood of the gallery, the judge's bench, and the witness stands is all dark walnut, identical to the room across the street where Dean and I said our vows, but the room itself couldn’t be more different.

The popcorn-texture walls are painted a shade of bright orange that is better left to candy and carnivals, and the flickering fluorescent overhead lights cast a sickening, artificial glow that, mixed with the bubbling nerves in my stomach, has me worried about puking my guts up before the judge even enters the room.

On the right side of the room sits a small crowd of people I know are here to speak in my parents’ favor.

People I vaguely recognize as kids I sat with at Sunday school, a few church parishioners.

Even Dean’s ex Samantha is sitting there in an ill-fitting Gucci dress that shows off her surgically-enhanced chest.

It’s disheartening that a group of strangers is so willing to spend a day in court just to help tear my family apart.

I wonder if they feel the same way about the people sitting on my side, just behind Dean and me. Do the members of my father’s church think that Dean’s family, our friends, the girls’ teachers and my former teammates are sick for sitting here in this room, waiting to sing my praises?

Probably. There are two sides to every coin, even if one side is shiny and bright and the other is eroded and covered in mold.

An icy prickle of awareness skitters down my spine as I hear the heavy courtroom doors swing open behind me, creating an ominous shadow that dances across the open, quiet space.

My mind suddenly clouds with the murmur of low-sounding voices, and the nausea simmering in my stomach roars to a boil.

I know without having to turn around that Joseph and Rebecca have entered the room.

Even though I’ve had weeks to prepare to face them, to share space with them and fight them, all the meditative breathing techniques in the world couldn’t stop the unease and clamminess settling over my skin.

I feel the rush of cool air as they pass by us on their way to their seats on the opposite side of the room, and while I know I’m imagining the demonic scent of sulfur invading my nostrils, the slur that Joseph mutters under his breath as he passes Dean and I is clear as fucking day.

Rage flares in my belly, my hands tightening into fists as the sermon that haunts my nightmares echoes in my brain.

Their existence goes against the teachings of our Lord and Savior and they should be treated like the criminals they are. They should be convicted—no. They should be lined up against a wall and shot! That’s what God teaches, and that’s what I say to you today!

“Corazón, it’s okay,” Dean whispers in my ear, squeezing my hand in that repetitive motion that instantly brings my heart rate back down. On my other side, Lori leans in to speak.

“They’re looking to get a reaction out of you, and we’re not going to give it to them.

Making you seem like an unstable hot-head is the only card they have to play, Luke.

They’re going to say a lot of shit that’s going to make you angry, but remember what we talked about.

Neutral faces, we keep our mouths shut, and when it’s my turn to speak, you let me bury them, okay? ”

I nod, even though everything in my body is screaming for me to do…

something. Rage. Cry. Run away. But I can’t.

I won’t. I might feel like the terrified little kid listening to his father condemn him to hell from a church pew right now, but I can’t be that person.

I need to be the man that my sister raised me to be.

I need to be strong for her and her daughters.

“You don’t get extra credit for showing up early,” Joseph sneers from across the aisle.

I hear his lawyer shush him, but I don’t turn to look at him.

I don’t think I could stomach it, and I certainly wouldn’t be able to hold back my retort, because wasn’t he the one who always said that timeliness was next to godliness?

Or was that cleanliness? Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

I sit like a good boy with my hands in my lap, leaning on the strength of my husband while we wait for a judge to ring the starting bell on this heavyweight matchup.

“All rise. The Honorable Judge Claudia Martinez presiding.”

I stand on shaky legs, willing myself to take slow, deep breaths until Judge Martinez instructs us to sit. Dean’s presence at my side is my only source of calm, and I fight the urge to lean into him and bury my face in his shirt until this is all over.

“We’re here today to discuss custody modifications of three minors between two parties.

Lemmie Lynn, Mellie May and Ollie Ann Cannon have been placed in the care of their uncle, Luke Daniel Cannon after the death of their mother.

That guardianship is being disputed by Joseph and Rebecca Connelly, the children’s biological grandparents, under the implication that the children are living in an unfit home. Is this correct?”

The lawyers respond to Judge Martinez, and I feel a dull ache in my chest growing into something more prevalent and painful.

“Counsel will call from the witnesses from their pool once, and will have the opportunity to call from opposing counsel’s witness pool as well.

Witnesses, I ask that you remember that this hearing is not a popularity contest. We are all on the same side here—the side of three children who have found themselves without a mother and in need of a stable, loving home environment.

Mr. Cannon, Mr. and Mrs. Connelly, you have chosen against mediation in this case.

Custody hearings are notoriously difficult for all parties involved, the children included.

The things said in this room can be harsh and hurtful, and they cannot be unsaid.

I feel I must ask you once again before we get started.

Are you sure that this is how you would like to proceed? ”

The opposing counsel gives their affirmation, and Lori looks to me.

For a moment, I falter. I think that maybe I’m doing the wrong thing. That mediation is a better plan and I’m stupid to risk everything by sitting here in this courtroom and trying to fight my parents and their legion of church-goers who think I’m the devil.

And then Dean leans in and whispers in my ear.

“They are our kids, Luke. They’re coming home to us tonight, and every night. I promise you.”

His promise fills my lungs, spreading warmth through my body and giving me the strength I need to do what I know needs to be done .

“Mr. Cannon, are you sure this is how you want to proceed?” Judge Martinez asks again.

“It is, Your Honor.”

“Then this court is now in session to determine sole physical custody of Lemmie Lynn, Mellie May, and Ollie Ann Cannon.”