Page 112 of Original Sin

‘Jack told me about his mother.’

Kevin nodded and looked at Jack. He pulled a crumpled five–dollar bill from his pocket and handed it over. ‘We need bread. Go get some.’

‘Oh I get it,’ said Jack, grinning as he got up. ‘Adult talk.’

Tess waited until she heard the door close, then looked at Kevin seriously. ‘Listen, I know none of this is my business,’ said Tess, cradling her coffee, ‘but Jack told me he wants to stay with you, so I was wondering why does Melissa want him back all of a sudden?’

‘You met Steven,’ sighed Kevin. ‘Apparently it’s serious, and what I hear is he can’t have kids and wants a family. So, Melissa wants Jack in her life full–time again.’

Kevin was trying to be matter–of–fact, but Tess could tell that this was troubling him deeply. ‘Steven’s a rich guy,’ he said. ‘And rich guys always get what they want, don’t they?’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Tess. Once again her inner voice told her to butt out, but she couldn’t help feeling sympathy for Kevin’s plight. Tess had always got the feeling that Melissa only liked spending time with her son when it suited her. In the short time Tess had known the family, there had been at least three weekends when Melissa had stood Jack up. She always called after the fact to offer some unavoidable crisis as explanation, but Tess saw the effect it was having on Jack. He tried to brush it off, but he was just a kid and he took each missed visit as a rejection.

‘I don’t know a great deal about family law in New York,’ said Tess, ‘but I do know you’re the primary carer. Surely they can’t just take him away?’

‘Problem is, I haven’t officially got custody of Jack,’ said Kevin. ‘Melissa and I never

married. Never saw the point, to be honest. And, as it turned out, I was right about that.’

‘Ah, let me guess?’ said Tess. ‘She was having an affair.’

Kevin snorted. ‘Yes, with a so–called friend of mine from Buffalo while I was in Iraq. She left me a few weeks after I’d got home, which was real nice. I said I wanted Jack to stay with me; after all, I came back from Iraq to find I’d lost Melissa. I didn’t want to lose my son as well.’

‘And she agreed to that?’

‘It was the one thing we didn’t really argue over. Can you believe not fighting to keep your child? Man, I cut that woman a lot of slack in my time, but I could never understand that one. Anyway, when his mother moved downstate, I moved too. Not too close to her, of course, but close enough so we could still keep the agreement.’

‘So have you seen a lawyer?’

‘Well, I got legal advice,’ he said slowly, not quite meeting her eye.

‘Which is what?’

Kevin looked sheepish.

‘I’ve been on the Internet looking up the law. There’s this really good site where people reply to your legal problems. Eric from New Jersey says my position would be stronger if Melissa and I had been married.’

Tess was shaking her head. ‘And you trust Eric from New Jersey?’ she said incredulously.

She walked over to the computer. There was a large pile of books on the windowsill behind it and she could see that most were legal texts from the library and, on the desk, pages and pages of notes. She turned back to him.

‘Kevin, you can’t do this on your own. Their lawyers will crucify you.’

Kevin looked defensive.

‘So I guess you know how much lawyers cost in America?’ he said.

‘But he’s your son!’

‘Hey, I would walk into hell for that boy,’ he said angrily, but, but … ’ His voice cracked and he sank down onto the sofa. ‘… I just don’t have the money.’

His hands went to his face and, when he looked back up, Tess saw tears glistening in his eyes.

‘Ah shit, maybe Jack is better off with his mom,’ he said, pinching his eyes with his fingertips. ‘Their relationship is okay, I guess. Now she can give him a good home, you know? A big house and the best schools.’

‘That’s bullshit,’ said Tess fiercely. ‘This has nothing to do with a big house.’

‘But what life can I provide for him?’ he asked miserably. ‘I work shifts, Tess, ninety–hour weeks sometimes. I do the best I can, but for two hours every day Jack is looked after by our sixteen–year–old neighbour when he comes home after school. I’m barely managing this thing.’