Under the Influence by Joyce Maynard Read Free Book Online Page B

at the consignment store. Dwight arrived with my former in-laws and half a dozen other relatives whose charades teams I once played on, along with Cheri, heavily pregnant by this time. Greeting me outside the courtroom, my lawyer said he was optimistic. Since this was my first offense, the judge should allow Ollie to continue living with me, with weekend visits to his father.
    The courtroom was hot that day. I could feel the sweat beading up under the jacket of my suit, the panty hose cutting into my waist. I’d purchased the wrong size because I hadn’t bought a pair in years. Each of the lawyers spoke, though I was finding it hard to focus. I tried to pretend I was a courtroom photographer, imagined I was in this room to take pictures of these characters, as if it were just a job that brought me here and not my whole life as a parent that hung in the balance.
    The guardian ad litem spoke first. In the report she presented to the court, she said it appeared to her that though my ex-husband expressed his desire to raise Ollie, she had the strong impression that it was actually his parents, more than he, who were pushing for custody. Oliver indicated that his father yelled at him a lot, and his stepmother apparently let him play video games all day when his dad was playing golf. Oliver’s primary attachment was most definitely his bond with me, the guardian said. She went on to testify that if I made the commitment to attend regular AA meetings and counseling she had no doubt I could be a responsible parent. Her recommendation was that our son remain with me as the primary custodial parent, with regular visitation granted to Oliver’s father.
    Then it was time for the judge to speak, and from the moment he began I knew I was in trouble.
    â€œIt may be true that the mother has good intentions to do right by her son,” he said. “I can only hope that she does. But she has already made it abundantly clear by her actions to date that she is sufficiently controlled by her addiction to alcohol as to remain incapable of acting on her good intentions. She placed her son’s life in jeopardy. And not just the life of her son, but that of any citizen out on the roads.”
    He launched into a speech about drunk drivers then, complete with statistics. Though I was cold sober, of course—I hadn’t had a drink since the night of my arrest—the room seemed to be spinning.
    â€œI will step outside my traditional judicial role in this matter,” the judge said, looking directly at me, “to convey a personal story here. Four years ago my wife of thirty-four years was killed by a drunk driver.”
    I looked at my lawyer. Wasn’t this a moment when he was supposed to stand up and object? Evidently not.
    â€œI considered long and hard,” the judge continued, “whether my own personal loss required me to recuse myself from this case, but ultimately concluded just the opposite. My experience of the consequences of vehicular homicide, and the fact that the mother facing the court today could easily have taken a life, or even several lives, the night she got behind the wheel under the influence, serves to inform me as to where prudent judgment and justice may be found in a case such as this one.”
    There was more, but I had trouble taking it all in. Only the final words.
    â€œI cannot allow a mother who places her son’s life at risk to remain his custodial parent, and therefore award full custody to the father and his new wife, who have shown the ability to provide what the mother has not: a safe and stable home for their son.”
    I could feel the walls of the courtroom pressing in around me then, and my lungs struggling for breath. My lawyer touched my shoulder. Somewhere on the other side of the courtroom, I heard a familiar voice saying “Praise the Lord” and realized it was my former mother-in-law.Neither she nor any of the other members of Dwight’s