Page 72 of The Silence Between

As the meeting began, I made notes that had nothing to do with the agenda items being discussed, mentally composing the strongest possible character reference letter for Leo's custody documentation. Whatever shifting terrain existed between us personally, one thing had become abundantly clear: the family he'd built deserved defense against systems designed to dismantle rather than support their hard-won stability.

And I was fully committed to providing that defense, regardless of what it might reveal about my own evolving feelings.

15

MOUNTING PRESSURE

LEO

Iscrubbed at the bathtub grout with a toothbrush, my knuckles raw from an hour of working cleaning solution into stains that refused to budge despite our regular cleaning schedule. The apartment smelled like we'd opened a cleaning supply store during a heat wave, a mix of bleach and lemon that burned my nostrils. I'd cracked the windows despite the morning chill because passing out from fumes wouldn't exactly help our situation.

“Leo,” Mari called from the kitchen. “We're running low on surface cleaner. Should I use vinegar for the rest of the counters?”

“Check under the sink in the bathroom,” I called back. “There should be another bottle.”

Our tiny two-bedroom apartment buzzed with unusual intensity for 6:30 AM on a Tuesday. Mari tackled the kitchen with the determination of someone preparing for a health inspector visit, which wasn't far from the truth. Diego, shockingly compliant for a sixteen-year-old asked to clean before school, wiped down baseboards in the living room. Even Sophie had been drafted, sorting through the pile of books that perpetually multiplied beside the couch, returning them to proper shelves or stacking them neatly.

The home inspection was scheduled for tomorrow morning. Forty-eight hours' notice, the bare minimum required by law. The timing wasn't coincidental. Nothing in our lives ever was.

I sat back on my heels, surveying the bathroom. Clean but obviously worn, like everything else in our lives. The tub had been white once, now permanently off-cream despite enough bleach to sanitize a hospital ward. The linoleum floor was spotless but curled slightly at the corners where moisture had seeped underneath. The sink faucet gleamed but still dripped every third second despite my countless attempts to fix it.

We could clean every surface until it sparkled, but there was no disguising the fundamental reality: four people living in a space designed for two, making do with what we could afford rather than what would impress a social services evaluator expecting middle-class standards from a decidedly not middle-class family.

Behind me, the shower curtain rustled as Mari entered, closing the door softly behind her.

“The kids are fine for a minute,” she said, perching on the closed toilet lid. “You want to tell me what's really going on? This is our third deep clean in five days.”

I rinsed the toothbrush in the sink, buying time before meeting her too-perceptive gaze.

“The custody review has been accelerated,” I admitted finally. “It was supposed to happen after your birthday. Now it's next week.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Why?”

“Townsend. School board president with political ambitions and very specific ideas about what makes a 'proper family.' He's taken an interest in our case.”

Understanding darkened her expression. “And Dad's been making noise around town.”

“You know about that?”

“Sophie mentioned seeing him outside her art class last week. I told her to come to me next time instead of bothering you with it.” Mari's protective instinct toward me still caught me off guard sometimes, the role reversal of her trying to shield me from additional worries when I was supposed to be the protector.

“You should have told me,” I said, though without real heat.

“You're carrying enough.” She studied my face for a moment. “Is that why your phone's been blowing up with texts from Ethan?”

Heat crept up my neck. Great. Just what I needed. Little sister commentary on my complicated not-relationship with my high school ex.

“He's been helping with some of the paperwork for the review. Professional references, documentation of educational stability for the kids.”

“Just professional assistance?” Her tone remained neutral, but her raised eyebrow spoke volumes. The kid could say more with one eyebrow than most people managed in a paragraph.

“That's all it can be right now,” I said firmly. “We've got enough complications without adding that particular variable to the mix.”

As if summoned by our conversation, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to find another text from Ethan:

Ethan

Inspector will focus on safety issues first: smoke detectors, exposed wiring, locks. Then bedroom arrangements, food supply, homework space. Happy to help with preparations if needed. Also, found legal resource specializing in non-traditional custody. Free consultation.

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