PAPER
He stares down at the form in his hands, watching them shake a little. He can't say why – he keeps trying to convince himself that this is pointless; that this is just another step in a process that's been going on for months – over a year now, even. The kind of bureaucratic fumbling that he hates. Yet somehow it's not working, and he can't force his hands to grip the pen he needs to sign this force. It's almost 7 AM, and Veronica will be up soon, and he can't let her see. Even if she was the one to kick Lianne out, Keith knows his daughter, and she will be fine with him signing her mother away unless she has to watch it.
When he signs this piece of paper – so deceptively simple, so unassuming – then it's over for good. But it's been over for good since Lianne ran out in the middle of the night and told him not to wait for her; he knows that. He loved her and she betrayed him time and time again: the affair, the abandonment, the drinking. He knows this is for the best; that he should cut out this part of his life. It's not fair to Veronica, or Alicia, or anyone else he cares for to cling to a memory like that.
But he drops his head and sighs heavily. He and Lianne had an okay run, didn't they? They had a lot of problems, and the whole thing kind of ended in chaotic despair. But he had loved her – he was a 26 year old deputy, and she was unlike anyone he'd ever met before. Sweet, charming, vivacious. She laughed more than anyone else he ever met, without the slur of drunken amusement that he got to know so well during the later years.
Their life had seemed perfect. Everyone said so – the good, strong Sheriff; his beautiful wife; their angel of a daughter. He wanted to convince himself of that, but it didn't really work. Keith was an intuitive man, and he knew exactly what her meetings and late nights out spelled. He tried not to, but when she came home smelling of cheap hotel rooms and the stink of another man's cologne, that made it harder.
But he still loved her, and wanted to maintain that perfect world for Veronica, so he kept his mouth shut. Poor Veronica; he spent so long trying to convince himself that he was her father, that he must be. He was right in the end, of course. Maybe he became so dedicated to her in part to convince himself he was, or maybe because he had lost her mother already.
Or maybe it was because she was his goddamned daughter.
He supposes, in the end, it doesn't really matter. He has Veronica and Veronica has him, and they love each other, and that's enough for their family. He still has some light burn scars from the fire Aaron set; the one he had to rush through to save her. He wouldn't give them up for the world. He wonders if Lianne would have gone through that fire for her daughter's sake – he tries to convince himself she would; that for all her faults, Lianne still loved their daughter and would do anything to save her life. Somehow, it doesn't work.
Maybe that's because Lianne ran off with the fifty grand Veronica needed for college. Or squandered the money Veronica used to send her to rehab. Or because she left a false-hope note saying she'd be back when she told him she wouldn't be. Or maybe because Veronica hunted her half-way across the country, and it still wasn't enough to make Lianne prize her more than the booze.
It puts a sick taste in Keith's mouth. Lianne has proven time and time again, to be hopeless selfish, a liar, and a drunk to boot. He's better off without her, but the form intimidates him.
It's not that simple – Veronica had tried to make it so; he told her that wasn't really healthy. When Lianne ran out for the second time, now with their money, there was an unspoken agreement between them that she had been right all along. Now, he doesn't really think so; doesn't think Lianne was just some mooch he should never have invited into his life. She was his wife, he loved her and she loved him (as much as she could, he hopes).
This form signs away all that. It signs away their perfect white wedding, surrounded by friends and family; it signs away how he held her hand through the prenatal checkups; it signs away New Years '87, when they watched the fireworks from the ocean; it signs away how she could sing and laugh and dance, dance, dance. It signs away his Lianne.
It signs away the millions of gatherings ruined by her raising a fiftieth glass; it signs away her late nights in cheap hotel rooms with Jake Kane; it signs away how he had to put her to bed after she passed out drunk on so many occasions; it signs away the stealing, and the cheating, and the lying, and the drinking, and everyone he's sort of started to hate about her.
He grasps all his willpower, takes the form and shakily signs it. There. Done. Finished. Over. She's out of his life now.
He's not sure what to feel. Despair? Relief?
He leaves to put it in his desk, just for now. He doesn't want Veronica to see it when she wakes up – she's gone through more than enough in regards to her mother, she doesn't need this.
He waits in the kitchen for her. "Hey pops," she says, grabbing the cereal and sitting across from him. "What's tootin' down in parentalville?"
He shrugs. "Not much. Thought I'd plan how best to sell you to slave traders. I reckon I'd get a reasonable price; what do you think?"
She laughs. "Probably. What can I say? I'm a much desired item," she says. They smile, and they laugh, and he doesn't tell her what he's just done, or that he's not okay.