I opened the folder I had been gripping all morning.
The same folder that had seemed embarrassingly thin beside Mr.
Brackley’s leather case.
Inside were my pay stubs from Millard’s Market, copies of Crew’s school notices, pediatric appointment cards, grocery receipts, pharmacy receipts, and the handwritten schedule I used to keep track of everything.
I carried it to the clerk’s table and set it down.
Mr.
Brackley stood immediately.
“Much of this material has not been formally authenticated.”
Judge Elwood glanced at him.
“You spent the last twenty minutes asking this court to draw conclusions from a photograph of a shirt.”
The attorney sat down.
For the first time all morning, I heard someone in the gallery shift as if the balance in the room had moved.
Judge Elwood began with the pay stubs.
He looked at the dates.
Then the hours.
Then the overnight premiums.
“You regularly work nights?” he asked.
“When I can get them.
They pay a little more.”
“And childcare?”
“I arrange my schedule around school and the hours Crew is with his father.
When that changes, I trade shifts.”
Mr.
Brackley rose again.
“Which is exactly our concern, Your Honor.
Constant shift changes indicate instability.”
I felt the old panic return.
One sentence from him and suddenly every sacrifice became another accusation.
But Judge Elwood was still looking at the papers.
“These pediatric appointments,” he said.
“Who attended them?”
“I did.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
He turned several cards over.
“And these school conferences?”
“I did.”
Logan’s chair creaked.
Mr.
Brackley leaned toward him and whispered something.
Judge Elwood noticed.
“Mr.
Carter,” he said, “how many of these medical appointments did you attend?”
Logan sat straighter.
“I work too, Your Honor.”
“That was not my question.”
Logan glanced at his attorney.
“I don’t remember every appointment.”
“How many do you remember?”
A pause.
“One or two.”
I looked down at Crew.
His eyes were on the floor.
Judge Elwood moved to the school papers.
Several had signature lines.
Mine appeared again and again.
