Restricted Territory

Three

This is it. The day I've been working so hard to prepare for. Now it doesn't matter, because I'm currently unemployed thanks to a self-righteous idiot who didn't care what happened to me.  I had a shot. My boss was willing to give me a test run that night, let me serve some elite's wine, and I was excited until all hell broke loose.

I wish I could find that guy and beat his ass to a pulp.

He's probably the one person that's going to keep me from my daughter.

"Stop biting your nails."

But I can't.

"I'm going to lose her forever," I sigh.  "That judge will probably term my rights today."

"You have that interview tomorrow," Turner reminds me with a slap on the back and a reassuring smile.  "She'll have to cut you some slack. You can't help what happened at work.  People are unpredictable."

"If I hadn't lost my temper..."

"It was a little extreme, Jace," Turner laughs. "I probably would have done the same thing."

He makes excuses because he's my best friend, but I know the truth. I should have held my tongue, just cleaned up the mess, and gone back to work.  I'd still have a job and good reference for the judge today. 

Now it's like...shit, I'm right back where I started.

It's not fair.  All I want to do is shove a needle in my arm to make this all go away. 

But know I can't turn back to that life.

Ava needs me.

"Jason, they're ready for you."

My social worker smiles as she opens the door for us, and Turner nudges me out of my seat when I don't react. I stand up, staring straight ahead for a few moments.  The empty courtroom lies before me; huge, intimidating.

Waiting to shut me down like it has so many times before.

"Come on, lets get this done." Turner puts his hand on my shoulder and gently guides me forward.

Then I'm in the courtroom, and my social worker instructs me to sit down next to her at the table beyond the courtroom benches. I do it silently, slug down two glasses of water, and look back over my shoulder at Turner, who forces a smile and mouths 'good luck' to me.

I know I'm alone, and it's up to me to convince this judge that I deserve to see my daughter again.

"I tried to clean up as much of that restaurant episode as I could so it would look decent on paper," Tammy, my social worker, whispers while we wait for the judge to come out.

"How clean did you get it?"

"I...did my best."

I sigh, look down at my lap. I know that means things don't look good for me, but I can't blame her. I know she tries hard because she likes me for whatever reason. "Thanks for trying."

"She might give you a break, Jason. Don't lose hope yet."

"She hates me," I laugh. "She's always hated me."

"You're not the same arrogant kid you were a few years ago," she reminds me. "I've seen the change in you, and I made note of it in your case file. She has to take that into account. At this juncture, I don't see why you shouldn't be granted supervised visitation. You're making an effort to change yourself.  You've just had some bad luck, that's all."

"Really bad luck," I empathize with narrowed eyes.

"Whatever the outcome, we'll work on your interview presentation over dinner," Tammy promises.  "Getting that job means one step closer to seeing Ava if the judge won't grant you visitation today."