Infinite

Judge Fenway gave us fifteen minutes to decide where and when we would allow Abigail Drewry to visit Arch. While they celebrated and Abigail donned an adoring smile which she aimed at the judge, Ronnie, Lyla, the lawyer, and I stepped into the hall to gather ourselves together and make the decisions. Will and Olivia followed us out and apologized for the unfavorable outcome, saying that they wished there was something more they could do. They left the court house with glum faces and without a word about coming to visit the little boy they'd replaced.

"I don't want her at the house," Ronnie said, standing next to me with his hands held down at his sides, "What if something happens and she begins harassing you and Arch? I'm not going to be there, I just feel worried allowing her access to the house and to our personal information like that." He crossed his arms and looked out across the small circle we'd formed.

"You could bring Arch to our building and Mrs. Drewry and him could spend time together in one of our children's rooms," Lyla Ains suggested, trying to compensate.

"Ronnie, it would make Arch more comfortable if this could happen in place that was familiar to him," I rebutted, agreeing with Ronnie, but trying to see it from the child's point of view. "I think that shoving him into a room like that would make him feel like an experiment."

"Atticus, he's going to feel bad as long as she's around, it doesn't matter where they are," Ronnie spoke frustratedly.

And he was right. Arch would feel so many things that I'd been trying to shield him from despite my efforts. I wanted him to feel safe and in control of the situation when his mother came to visit, but there was no guarantee that there would be no problems if I allowed the selfish woman into Arch's home.

"I don't know what to do," I grumbled, covering my face with my hand, "I don't want her anywhere near him." Ronnie wrapped his arm around my shoulders so he could pull me to his side and put his chin on the top of my head.

"I'm sorry," he murmured softly to me.

I leaned against his chest.

"Atticus, Ronnie, I think what is best is to have Arch in a comfortable and safe environment. I know that brings more risks into this, but I think that it will work out. Abigail isn't going to cause problems that will deter her from having a chance of getting her son back so she'll be on her best behavior and also," she continued, "in your home she will have to respect your rules. That means you have set up places where she's allowed to go and where she is not."

Ronnie nodded as best he could, agreeing with the social worker and Mr. Russo.

"You can make the second floor Arch's personal space," Lyla continued, having been to our home when she did our evaluation with Arch months ago, "If Arch is upset with his mother coming to his home, explain to him that the second floor is his space and his mother will never bother him there."

I ended the eye contact and groaned, checking the old clock across the hall on the wall. We had about six minutes to return with our decision or else it would be made for us. I nodded. "Okay, fine," I agreed, "but if she shows up unannounced just one time, Arch and I are moving back to the apartment and she will never be at our home again."

Lyla Ains didn't point out that the apartment wasn't sanctioned for Arch anymore. She'd let us make our own decisions with him, seeing as we were his last resort before a group home and I'd been grateful for that freedom.

"Alright, lets get back in there," Jackson Russo suggested, herding us back through the double doors. We walked though and caught bits of the conversation between Abigail and the judge. It was obviously an explanation of the steps she would need to take to permanently get Arch back in her custody.

They quieted down and turned solemnly towards us as we took our seats in the same order as before. Abigail Drewry sat across from me and stared expectantly and triumphantly as though she'd won some bitter battle and that it made her the better person. I slid one of the notepads towards me and grabbed a pen, wanting to write everything down exactly how I wanted it so I wouldn't forget in the future.

Mr. Russo grabbed it from me when I was done and cleared his throat, appealing to the judge. "Your honor, Ms. Gurewitz and Mr. Radke have selected a time and place for Abigail's visits with Arch," he said, folding the paper back and turning it over, "Atticus is allowed these visits to happen in the comfort of their own home, but asks that the second floor of the house remain off limits to Mrs. Drewry in order to keep it a controllable environment for the five year old child." He explained it all here, knowing that if that was obliged then Abigail Drewry would have no choice but to listen. "Also, they request that all visits must be planned one week in advance and that Mrs. Drewry refrain from coming over unannounced at any time."

The judge listened respectfully to my requests and rules as Arch's lawyer read them. If she wanted to rebut, Abigail didn't show it. She sat with her back pushed against the chair and her hands in her lap, watching each of us as it was explained.

When Mr. Russo finished, he slid the notepad to the judge for one last look over. Finally the older man nodded, setting his own pen down on top. "These are very reasonable requests and all seem to be in the best interest of the child."

"Yes, your honor. Atticus and Ronnie are only worried for Arch. He means a great deal to them and their goal is to keep him in an environment where he feels in control and secure," Lyla agreed.

Judge Fenway turned his head to Abigail. "Mrs. Drewry, I'm going to honor what they have asked and allow them to make the rules in their own home as well as appeal these visits if they feel they're being harassed at any time."

"Judge, I don't think that it's fair for them to control so much of this process, Arch is my son and I-"

"Mrs. Drewry, they have temporary legal custody of him so they control his day to day activities, food, housing, clothing, and parenting. Because I believe that they have Arch's best interests in mind, I'm also giving them the right to control what day he sees you a week and what you do with the child in their home."

I could practically see the words 'my child' forming on her lips, but she bit them back and nodded at the feel of her lawyer's cautioning hand on her arm.

Judge Fenway continued, "I believe that we need to give Arch time to adjust to this idea, so your first visit will be in two weeks."

Abigail and her lawyer agreed and the hearing was over. Fenway left the room and Lyla Ains led Ronnie and I back out into the hallway with Jackson Russo following behind.

"Thank you for your help," I said to the man, holding my hand out to shake, "I know that you actually care about Arch's future and it means a lot that you really try to help us do what is best for him."

Mr. Russo shook his head and gently pulled me in for a hug as I sucked in a raggedy breath. "It's no problem, really," he said comfortingly, "Arch is a sweet kid and he deserves the best and I believe that you and Ronnie know what is best for him so I'll help you fight for that."

I stepped back and took Ronnie's hand as Abigail and her party stepped out of the double doors into the hall across from us. She peered over at our small group with unfamiliar eyes. She exchanged a few words with the men at her side, turning her gaze from us, so Ronnie and I thanked Jackson Russo again and promised to see him again soon after a couple of Abigail's visitations.

He walked away as she walked over. Abigail pulled one arm across her waist and bit the side of her lip. It wasn't a modest action, but instead a calculating, superior move. I felt Ronnie at my side without even having to look up.

"I'm going to need your address and the date and time you want me there," she stated solemnly, getting straight to business. Her tone made me wonder how she pictured our home, although her reaction to Ronnie said it all.

"We're going to need your phone number," the tattooed man replied, "We'll call you in a couple of days and let you know. We want to speak to Arch about it first."

Her eyes narrowed just slightly. "Alright, fine," she answered, most likely holding back her comment about her being the adult and him being the child. She pulled a small notebook out of her large back and wrote down her number before tearing the page out and handing it across to me rather than Ronnie.

I folded it up. "Thank you," I replied, "Give us a day or two and we'll let you know. We don't want to rush him into anything if he's feeling nervous."

Her ochre hair slid over her shoulder and she pressed her lips together. "I understand," she said, "but I don't see why Arch would be nervous about seeing me. Excited, if anything, but certainly not nervous."

"You were never abandoned," Ronnie replied maliciously, his tone dark and leveled from personal experience.

Abigail didn't say another word about it. She excused herself instead. "I need to be going," she answered after a brief silence, "There are some things I need to get done around the house. My sister and I are preparing Arch's new room. Everything is going to be themed."

"We need to go too," I replied, trying to ignore whatever image of 'Arch's room' she was trying to conjure up, "We have some things to do today. So excuse us." I turned my back on her and offered Lyla a weary smile.

Arch was not going to return to the family who practically forgot about him. From the mother who ditched him at daycare to the aunt who never showed up to claim him, Arch didn't belong with them. Foster Care wasn't the perfect solution, but neglectful relatives would only ever remind him about the day his mother decided she didn't love him anymore.

I didn't know how to give him the family he wanted and deserved. Everyday he and I grew more attached to each other, but even now it wasn't perfect. I couldn't do thirteen more years of sitting at home with the kids while Ronnie toured the world. It was selfish, but I was slowly beginning to accept that and couldn't see a win-win solution on the horizon.

Ronnie drove us back to Arch's school as we listened to something that played from Ronnie's iPod. When we got there, I was slow to get out of the car. Facing Arch would be incredibly hard and I wasn't sure I wanted to be the one to break the news.

We walked hand in hand into the building and to Arch's classroom. He sat at a tiny desk in the middle of the room when we walked up to the doorway. Surrounded by other kids in semi-matching uniforms, he was laughing as he globbed glue onto the construction paper in front of him.

When I opened the thick wooden door and Ronnie and I stepped through, his head, along with others', turned and he grinned brightly, already out of his chair and weaving through the rows of miniature desks. "Ronnie, Atticus, you're here," he said, throwing his arms around my waist, "I missed you. I'm glad you weren't gone all day."

I lifted him up by wrapping my arms around his waist and hugged him to me as he looped his arms around my neck and Ronnie's, pulling us together. "I told you that we'd be back as soon as we could," I answered.

He leaned back in my arms and smiled at us both. "Now we can spend the day together."

Ronnie grinned and lifted him from me. "Definitely. What do you say we grab some lunch and then head home and play some video games in the living room? Atti has been telling me that you've stuck on some level for awhile now."

Arch glared at me from the corner of his clear eyes. "That's because Atti never lets me play," he tattled, complaining in a whiny voice.

I scoffed and shoved Ronnie around by his shoulders, moving him out of the room. "It's a terrible game," I replied, having played enough of it myself on the tour bus, "Arch should not even know that it exists so you're lucky I let you play it at all."

Ronnie and Arch tag-teamed me, coming up with games that were one hundred times more graphic and inappropriate, Ronnie even naming some of the ones that I made him keep upstairs in our bedroom when he didn't have them on the bus.

"Alright, alright," I muttered, "I get it. Not stop whining and pick somewhere to eat."

As we climbed into the car, I wondered how Ronnie didn't picture us as our own, perfect little family. They were my boys and I was completely ruined by them, falling victim to every plea and request with one peak at their practiced puppy-dog looks.

Ronnie buckled Arch in and we headed towards home, the two of them arguing over whether or not to get fast food. Ronnie caved and in gave up his hopes of McDonalds for Arch's hope of a sit-down dinner. And as the singer grinned and steered us towards home, he didn't even realize how he too had become wrapped around Arch's little finger.