Restricted Territory

Six

It's been a long time since I've shown compassion to a biological parent. Maybe it's because I've been in the child welfare system for so long that it's given me a warped perception of the people I get into custody battles with.  While I hate to say it, ninety percent of them are losers who will never change their ways. It took me all of five minutes after I dropped Jason off to realize that he wasn't the washed-up loser I'd made him out to be.  Something hit me hard while watching him play with his daughter.  

There was something about Jason Houser that stuck with me.  It was something I liked.  Those feelings made me want to go easy on him if I could.

Sure he's a little vulgar, very rough around the edges, but that's to be expected. He was on drugs, and in prison for a couple of years. That can change a person, make them hardened, feel alienated by the rest of the world the moment they're released. He doesn't have a lot of people on his side right now, and it makes him bitter. I'm sure I haven't been helping things, but I'm brutally honest when it comes to taking care of the kids. It's my job and--I suppose Ava is more special to me than the rest.

I hope Jason can get his act together before his six-month ultimatum draws to a close. Ava deserves her father back in her life, if at all possible, and I guess I feel bad about underestimating her feelings for him.

I underestimate a lot of things, so it seems.

He's not such a bad guy after all.

"So, we've booked the reception at the Beverly Hills Hotel for the third weekend of July," my future mother in law smiles and pushes an agenda at me.  "They want you to come for a tour next week, and the wedding coordinator will meet with us there, so you can meet her then. How does that sound?

Eloping sounds better. Now I'm going to be stuck in a fancy ballroom, with high heels from hell, surrounded by six hundred of my fiancee's nauseating family and friends. Since they've offered to foot the whole bill to "save my parents some hardship," I guess I don't have a say in anything. They offered to help with the wedding too, my parents, but the venue options I showed Sandra last week, gave her this 'not over my dead body' expression. A few days later she called my mother and told her that she and Eli wanted to pay for the reception, and that was that.

I smile at Sandra and take a delicate bite of my salad. "That sounds wonderful, Sandra. Thank you."

"Have you started your guest list at all?"

"Well, my mom and I started it over the phone, but she and my father want to take a long weekend, come out here, and get some more things done, and of course see you and Eli."

"Oh, how wonderful! We'll set up the guest house, make a real occasion out of it, right darling?"

"Mm." Eli grunts and clears his throat, but doesn't look up from his Wall Street Journal as he takes another gulp of his coffee.

I've never had a real sit down conversation with the man. Every time I've been around him, he's always been in the middle of a call, or reading the paper. When Preston sat both his parents down to tell them about the engagement, the only thing Eli wanted to know was if we could schedule the wedding date around his court dates.

I try to like him but it's so hard.  I pray to God that my fiance doesn't turn out like him in ten or fifteen years. I don't know how Sandra puts up with it, but considering she's always dressed head to toe in the latest fashions, I don't think she cares how busy her husband is. She's materialistic, loves to host luncheons and benefits with her gaggle of girlfriends, and is content that way. Eli doesn't seem like the type of man who would put up with a nagging wife for very long.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." Preston rushes out to the veranda where we've been sitting having brunch, and kisses me quickly as he takes a seat next to me. "James was on the phone."