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‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen…’
Noah didn’t know what was going on but the entire mood had shifted. He took a risk and placed his flat palm over hers, ‘Ava?’
‘I’m sorry,’ was all she said in reply.
Chapter Twelve
Noah struggled to control his red-hot rage. Trapped in the driver’s seat, he tried to regulate his breathing as he gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. He glanced at the speedometer. Shit. He released his foot from the accelerator. No point killing himself. No point being so angry that he never made it back to Bellethorpe and never saw his daughter again. Thank goodness he was alone so no one could see him like this.
‘Noah, tell us about your experience today.’
The usual three-hour trip back to Bellethorpe had flown by; his angst spurring him forwards, home, to his destination. He’d gone straight to the father support group, fortuitously, their regular meeting was on tonight. Noah needed to talk, tell his story, get the poison out of his system.
‘Today was the first hearing to agree on interim orders. The judge said we should have reached consent before this but the issue is about where Emily lives long-term. This was just the first step, or so my lawyer tells me.’
Noah considered the small circle of men in attendance. They leaned in, interested, ready to offer words of support and encouragement. Their eyes were burning, their hands clasped tight, some hostile expressions. For a split second, Noah relaxed his features, fearful he resembled them—angry and ready to fight, fight for the cause.
‘For the time being, Emily remains living with her mother in Brisbane…’
The men burst out angrily.
‘Unfair.’
‘Unjust.’
‘Ridiculous.’
‘She took your daughter and gets rewarded.’
Noah listened and his anger simmered again.
‘What time were you awarded?’
Noah hung his head. ‘I can see her as often as I want, mid-week, weekends etcetera. I tried to make it clear to the judge that I’m miles away and can’t just drop in. The judge nodded and I thought he understood. But I was still awarded two weekends a month and I’m to pick her up and drop her back.’
The group shouted over each other until the chairman quietened them. ‘Let Noah finish. Tell us how it ended.’
‘I can telephone each evening. We are to see a family report writer who will give their opinion about what are the best arrangements for Emily in the longer term. After those appointments we return to court for a final decision. I do have Easter and the half the next school holidays, so I guess that’s something.’
‘Child support?’
‘Full child support.’
A few men jeered; others sat silently. Noah observed them and his temper dissipated. These fathers all felt they had been vilified, treated unfairly and unjustly by the family court system. Each had sought shared care; some had been successful. That didn’t seem an option for Noah with the distance between homes too great. On the trip home, he had felt screwed over too, but watching these men, the fight suddenly left him. He was tired; it had been a long day. Despite how he might feel right now, he’d never give up on Emily.
Before long the mood settled.
‘What did your lawyer say?’ asked the chairman.
‘It was to be expected. There are processes, he said. The court doesn’t like parents making their own decision about where children live, but in my case, the age of Emily, that she had been cared for by Lisa until she went to school, that they were close, that Lisa’s family lived in Brisbane, they were all important factors. Unfortunately, though, the longer this arrangement continues, the more likely the court will make it permanent. What else can I do?’
The men were generous with their suggestions but some bordered on ridiculous and he shut them out. His heart ached thinking about his daughter far away in Brisbane.
The conversation in the room had moved onto action. What could they do as a collective group to advocate change? Noah didn’t know much but he sure needed his lawyer today. There was no way he’d have been able to eloquently express his position to the judge who had appeared intimidating with his grey wig and black robe.
So, having an empty bank account had been worth it. His savings were extinguished; the money gone quicker than his vacuum cleaner cleared his dirty floor.
For the first time in his life, he felt helpless, out of control and as if the stakes were raised against him.
