Page 66 of Everywhere You Look

Mr. Dennon:Reverend Connelly, thank you for being here today. I know you’re a busy man.

Joseph Connelly: Never too busy for family.

Mr. Dennon: Can you tell me a little bit about your daily life?

Joseph Connelly: Of course. I wake up at five each morning and pray. I ask the Lord to bless my family and my flock. I read passages from The Bible out loud while my wife prepares breakfast, and then I get to work. Some days I’m outin the potato fields, helping to harvest. Others I spend in the church with God, preparing my sermons and meeting with my people. Of course, there’s always administrative work to be done and meetings to attend. Funds to raise, impromptu worship sessions. I live a very busy life.

Mr. Dennon: And if this court were to grant you custody of the children in question, how do you see them fitting into that daily life?

Joseph Connelly: The children will fit in just fine. There are plenty of children in our community, being raised in the way of The Lord.

Mr. Dennon: And religion would play a big role in how you would raise the children?

Joseph Connelly: Religion is the only way to raise a child. My flaw as a parent was not instilling the fear of God into my son and daughter from the get go. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

Mr. Dennon: So how do you picture the children’s routines in your home?

Joseph Connelly: The children will be at home with my wife. Rebecca will teach them how to be polite, Godly young ladies. How to keep a house, how to serve a husband. How to pray and worship and center God in their hearts and souls. All things I’m sure the children are not getting now.

Mr. Dennon: That sounds quite nice andstructured. I had a very similar upbringing in my own church, though of course, I was taught how to be a husband and the head of a household. Do you think your son is incapable of providing a sound, structured life for the children?

Joseph Connelly: The children are being raised in sin. You want to sit here and tell me that my hot headed son is suddenly cool, calm and collected because he spends his time with another man? I don’t buy it. You saw the video of Levi attacking my wife and me on the street just a few weeks ago. I don’t think the children are safe. I don’t think the children have a chance of growing up halfway decent in the house they’re in now. I think my daughter would be rolling in her grave if she knew who her brother really was. And I definitely think it’s disgusting to expose the children to the perversion of two men claiming to be in love with one another. That is not how God intended a marriage to be, I believe I’m the one to teach the children just that.

{Reporter’s note- Mr. Joseph Connelly’s testimony was interrupted by a member of the witness pool, Judge Martinez called for a recess and private meeting her in chambers with said witness.}

26

THE LONG GOODBYE

Dean

I never expected this to be easy. I heard Judge Martinez loud and clear when she warned us about the ugliness of custody trials. I was ready to hear awful, hateful things about the man I love and have to sit back and bite my tongue because this fight is what’s best for my family.

I didn’t expect it to be this hard.

I didn’t expect the blinding rage I’d feel towards the opposing counsel and his pretentious gray pin-striped suit and shiny black wing-tip shoes. I didn’t expect the fire roaring under my skin, begging me to cross the room, wrap my hands around Joseph Connelly’s neck and squeeze until the life leaves his eyes.

I especially didn’t expect my body to betray me and potentially ruin everything, but here we are. Since the moment this hearing started, I’ve been a powder keg. Right in the middle of Joseph’s testimony, every cell in my body decided it has had enough. Just a second ago, I stood, banging my fist into the heavy wooden table in front of me, causing an echo and the feedback of microphones to pierce the otherwise quiet room.

“Mr. McKenna, I advise that you have a seat and wait until you’re called upon to speak,” Judge Martinez says to me with a warning tone that should have me shivering, but I can’t have a seat. I’ve lost control of myself, and I can’t stop.

“Lemmie, Mellie, and Ollie. Those are their names. Not “the children”. Not “future tradwives of America”. Lemmie, Mellie, and Ollie. And you know nothing about them, do you? All this time, you’ve done nothing but harass Luke and me. You’ve stalked us and ran smear campaigns and dragged us into this ridiculous circus, and for what? For three kids you don’t even know.

“Do you know what level Lemmie and Mellie are at in ballet? Did you know they have a family of racoons that they feed in the backyard or that they asked me to build them a house with a securitycamera so they could keep an eye on them at night? They named them Cupcake, Marbles, and Stinky Pete. We check the app on my phone together every morning to make sure they had a good night's sleep safe from coyotes, and they decorated the shelter with drawings they did at school. Did you know when Ollie got her first tooth or that she babbles directly into the baby monitor every morning until I come to get her? And when I open the door, she stretches her little arms out to me and squeals, like it’s the best part of her day. It’s the best part of mine. And did you know that she won’t drink from her sippy cup unless someone cheers with her first?

“Of course you don’t. Because you don’t know our kids, and they don’t know you. They might share your blood. They might share the same blonde hair as your wife and some of your DNA, but those girls are not your family. They’re mine. They’re Gigi’s and Luke’s and my daughters. We are their parents. We’re the ones who brush their hair and play nail salon and read them bedtime stories. We’re the ones who teach them how to make empanadas and throw a football. We’re the ones they come to when they’re scared or happy or frustrated. The five of us? Luke, Lemmie, Mellie, Ollie and me? We’re a family. And you have no business trying to fuck that up.”

The courtroom goes so quiet, I can hear the labored breaths of my husband in his chair next to me. I can feel the fury of our lawyer and the lasers she’s shooting me with her eyes, even if I’m not looking back. And I see the sick, twisted smirk on Joseph Connelly’s face that tells me I’m the one who has just fucked up. All this time, they’ve been trying to paint Luke as angry, unstable, incapable of providing safety for three children. And I went and proved them right. But it’s not Luke who’s angry and unstable. It’s me.

“Court is adjourned for a twenty minute recess. Mr. McKenna, I’d like to speak with you in my chambers. Privately.”

I don’t look back at Luke as I follow Judge Martinez out of the room. I don’t even spare him a passing glance when he squeezes my hand before letting go.

Instead, I straighten my shoulders and walk with my head held high towards what I’m sure is the beginning of my long goodbye.

Judge Martinez’s chambers are much cozier than the courtroom where we’ve spent the better part of the day. The walls are a cool blue that feels like a balm to my nervous system after the harsh oranges and browns of the rest of the building. There areplants of all varieties in every corner and hanging from the ceiling. The couch is littered with comfy-looking pillows and a fluffy blanket strewn over the back. And on the desk, a digital frame cycles through what I assume are photos of her children and grandchildren.

“Mr. McKenna, I warned you when we began that tensions grow high in a custody hearing,” she says as she rounds her desk, shuffling her long black robe as she sits on the corner in front of me. The velvet high-back chair I’m in has a comfortable seat, but it’s weirdly low to the ground and makes me feel like I’m sitting on one of the child-sized stools in Lemmie and Mellie’s preschool class.