THREE WEEKS AGO
NYC CIVIL COURT, QUEENS, NY
"Considering the welfare and safety of a child, I cannot permit you to have custody of your daughter." Santiago Alcarez, the civil court judge declared.
He was a petite, middle-aged man with a copper complexion. His eyes, brunneous and firm, contrasting with the silver wisps of hair and wrinkles developing in his features.
Rachel protested, "Your Honor, my ex-husband is a fraud, and abuses substances. I lost my job as a treasurer as a Narcotics Officer because of his arrest record!"
The judge laughed, "Apple don't fall too far from the tree, don't it, sweetheart?"
Rachel's ex-husband, Jermaine Washington, and his attorney sneered quietly. Jermaine was a deep brown man with a tidy flattop, down-turned, almond eyes, and a cunning smirk. Deceit was as plain as day on his face.
Rachel gives the men a sharp side-eye. She inhales and exhales softly, refusing to feed into the temptation of cursing out every man in her proximity.
"He's been pulled in and busted, but he's made arrangements with the authorities."
"Your Honor, being an informant for the City of Brooklyn Vice Squad does not make him equipped to raise a six-year old child!"
The judge doesn't miss a beat. "And a mother without a job will be just as capable?"
Rachel's ears tingle to another rude snicker in the bench area.
"I lost the job because of him!"
"You will see your daughter on the holidays and every two weekends. My decision is final. Next case."
The mallet slams the gavel.
CURRENTLY
SEVENTH AVENUE, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK
"A baconeggncheese onnaroll." Jermaine ordered dinner for his daughter, Raelynn, at the deli (or what some New Yorkers would call bodega).
"Dadda, may I please have some Trolli?" Raelynn's clean manners were inherited from mother.
The father pinched her nose softly, ordering her request. "Princess, you got such a sweet tooth."
Jermaine adds a pack of Marlboro to the transaction. Raelynn rejoices happily as she opens her bag of candy.
Jermaine puts Raelynn on his back. "C'mon, darlin. We gotta catch the train and move to our new home."
The city is condensed with tourists and native residents. The tourists, walking too slowly to observe the arteries of light against the slate-grey sky— and the native residents too impatient to walk behind the newcomers. Rap music and sirens blur the world with a series of Doppler Effects. The city never slept, so it would never die.
Raelynn asks through chews of candy, "Can we call Momma?"
"Last time I spoke ya Motha said she doesn't have time to talk to you." Jermaine lies through his teeth and quickens his steps to the subway.
The subway was a realm of its own. The doors breathed people in and out. There was always a spirited instrument or impenetrable vocals flowing through the walls of the station.
(And it was summer, so whatever temperature it was in New York City, the Subway was that, times two.)
Chromatic arts of expression were inscribed on some of the walls. Silver railings and colored circles with letters and numbers. A rat and its crew, and down and outs with a cup to collect money, and the homes they've made for themselves along the way. There were even strewn wrappers and abandoned bottles that were an indelible trace of human life; often lasting underground for years.
"Over we go, c'mon, babygirl." Raelynn laughs as her father lifts her over the stile, then he hops over himself.
Metrocards or fare of any kind was something Jermaine never invested in. Two dollars and seventy five cents could be spent better for something else much better than a turbulent, crowded ride on metal seats. Skipping out on fare was harmless in the eyes of an innocent child; another plus.
Jermaine and his daughter catch the D train between 53rd Street and 7th Avenue to Union Street and 4th Avenue.
After the ride, Jermaine opened his phone when he reached above ground. Twenty four notifications from Rachel.
"Jesus Christ." He mutters under his breath, tugging his tired child beside him.
The man answers the phone with a grunt, "What."
"I've called you fourteen times and sent you ten messages, and that's how you answer the phone?" Rachel's tongue is hot with rage.
"I pay for this phone, and I'm gonna answer it however the hell I want."
Rachel hissed, "Where are you?"
"You don't know where I am for a reason, baby." Jermaine huffs a cloud of smoke into the hot, dark air.
Club music and chatter lingered behind Rachel's sharp words. "Don't get smart with me. You know I'm supposed to see Raelynn every two weeks, it's in the ruling! Just because you have some janky position with the feds doesn't mean you can twist the law by your own means, Jermaine."
"I don't do anything to the law, I am the law. 'Sides, all you gotta do is sit tight for another two weeks and you'll see her again. Lynn and I are on the run, doing some crime. Get me some singles in the meantime."
Rachel blows a sigh through the line.
"You illicit piece of God knows what. I better see her on time, for the full duration, two weeks from now. If not, you're getting the express to Hell." Rachel hung up the phone.
"Was that Momma?" Raelynn yawned, dragging her feet against the sidewalk.
"Yeah, telling me how much she hates me again." Jermaine chuckles, turning the corner.
Jermaine had rented an AirBnB for a few days. He entered the gate of a property, located a lockbox, and punched in the code the host gave him. He opened the door successfully and entered the house.
"Home, sweet home." He turned on the lights, getting a feel for the place. The setting was a theme of black, grey, and rusty reds. The interior was lined with brick walls, which had maps of Brooklyn and vintage on them. The windows were at the far end of the room. Everything was in one place: The sofa, center wooden table, flat-screen cable TV, full kitchen, and a queen sized bed were all in proximity. The bathroom was right off the entrance.
Jermaine picked up a small pamphlet on the kitchen counter. "Spiffy. Free Wifi, AC, and a no smoking rule…" He scoffed, "but I'mma smoke anyway."
He looks in the kitchen and bathroom cabinets, searching diligently for some form of substance left behind by any predecessors. Not having any findings, Jermaine went back out to the main room.
"Hey, Lynn, if you want, I can put on some Danny Phantom. Lynn?"
Raelynn was fast asleep on the sofa. She still held her bag of candy in her hand. Her shoes traced her footsteps from the door to the sofa.
"My precious," He lifts up his daughter, and puts her in the bed. Jermaine kisses Raelynn on the forehead, smiling softly. "We can't get too comfortable here."