Page 39 of Proof

“Hey, Wanda? Did you ever drop anything?” Carter asked with an innocent face.

“Are you kidding? One time I decorated a couple with two orders of spaghetti, including the meatballs!” She cackled. “They put up such a fuss. The lady was hollerin’ about just getting her hair done, her new dress, and all that.” She finished placing the cholesterol buffet in front of them. “Boss took the dry-cleanin’ money out of my paycheck.” She tsk-tsked. “I’ve been pretty good since.”

“Wanda, with your memory and your balancing act, you are truly one of a kind.” Chris grinned and ripped one of the ribs off the rack.

“You’re gonna need some extra napkins.” Wanda reached in her pocket, pulled out a wad, and plunked it on the table. “I’ll get you some of those wipes before you leave.”

Chris muttered a “thank you” as he gnawed on the juicy rib.

“So, Dad. If you’re going to file for full custody, will I still get to see Mom?”

“We’re going to have to work that out. It’s going to be a little rough getting used to, but I think keeping you here is in your best interest, wouldn’t you say?”

Carter nodded his approval as he stuck his fingers in the onion rings.

“I have to ask you this.” Chris thought he knew the answer, but just in case. “If you could choose who to live with, who would you pick?”

“You mean here or Chicago?”

“Yes.”

“Here. For real.” Carter confirmed his father’s hopes.

“Good. I don’t know if the judge will let you decide, but there is going to be a lot of stuff he’s going to want to hear about.”

“Like what?” Carter was licking his fingers.

“Like, does Bruce help you with homework?”

Carter made a face. “You can’t be serious, Dad. Bruce barely knows I sorta live there.”

“I don’t remember the last time he went to one of your games.” Chris squinted.

Carter shrugged. “Me either.”

“Does it bother you?”

“No biggie. Dad, I don’t hate the guy or anything, but he’s just one big annoyance.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno. He’ll ask me if I did my homework, but he’s never asked me if I need help with it. Heck, he hardly talks to me. Ya know, things like, ‘How was your day?’” Carter said it in a deep voice, trying to mimic Bruce.

“Does he ever refer to you as son?” Chris had to ask.

“As if. And even if he did, I wouldn’t pay attention. He’s not my dad. I’m not his son.”

Chris was impressed with the strong stance Carter took.

“What about your mom? Does she help with homework?”

“Nope. Only asks if I did it.”

“Very engaged parenting,” Chris muttered.

“Listen, Dad. I’d rather live with you all the time and just visit her. She’s not mean or anything, she’s just not there.” Carter pointed to his temple.

“Are you saying your mother is a little off?” Chris leaned in.

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