this infuriated Paul, and he tried to contact me daily to harass and try to convince me that everyone (including doctors) is wrong about him and he is perfectly fine, back to his old self. Well, his old self was a “man” who did not contribute towards his family whatsoever, nor did he try to. He could not hold down a job because he would self-sabotage. He no longer helped with his child and was sucking the life and happiness out of me. If that is his argument for coming home and being a “happy family” again the doctors needed to put him on some reality check meds.
Paul was released from the hospital way too early, in my opinion, but it meant we could proceed with our divorce. Like most divorces, ours did not go smoothly. Paul’s parents continued to be awful towards me, and Paul made two more (now half-assed) attempts at killing himself-- slitting his wrist the wrong way and driving off the road into a tree when the road conditions were perfect. After the third attempt on taking his life, the state stepped in and sent Paul to a state facility psychiatric hospital for forty-five days.
During Paul’s time in the state facility, Alison did not ask many questions. She did not ask why he was not around, nor did she ask to see him. The first week of treatment, Paul resisted everything and everyone. He told fellow treatment seekers they were the crazy people and he was only there because I am an evil bitch. Paul would spend his mandatory therapy sessions, staring at the therapist in dead silence and even went on a hunger strike for forty-eight hours. Although he felt I was an evil bitch, he still went out of his way to find a phone and harass me at least five times a day the first week.
The second and third weeks were more intense than the first; bargaining with other patients and staff members and willing himself to become sick. He ended up in the infirmary claiming he was having heart palpitations because I would not talk to him and he couldn’t keep anything down but bottled water. He started opening up in the group therapy sessions during the second week, telling the other patients how involved of a father he is and he is the sole breadwinner for his family, so he needs to be home with us. In the final days of treatment, the staff was confident in determining a diagnosis for Paul and prescribed medication for him to begin while he was still under their roof. Paul was diagnosed with Type-1 Bipolar Disorder.
During Paul’s time in the state facility, I proceeded with the legal aspects of the divorce. I met with an attorney in the first week of Paul’s stay in the facility. After five minutes into the meeting, the attorney stated with confidence I would receive full physical and legal custody of Alison. It took the remainder of the protective order duration to set up a court date once Paul was released. During that time, Paul did try to contact me, but I did not answer any of his attempts. I was confident, but also nervous, about the outcome of the hearing because I was worried I would have a judge that had the motto “A child should always be with their father.”
Paul showed up with his mother and in very unprofessional looking clothes. Acer vs. Acer read second on the roster so we would have to sit uncomfortably in the courtroom for at least thirty minutes waiting to be called. We finally heard our case being called and we both walked up to the stands. I was accompanied by my lawyer, while Paul sat by his lonesome. The judge came in from recess and clarified that we were Mr. and Mrs. Acer. My lawyer did not spare any detail regarding the events that transpired the week Paul was supposed to leave the marital home. Paul, on the other hand, did not have a defense nor did he seem to genuinely want any custody of Alison. After hearing all of the testimony, the judge was ready to make his ruling. He awarded me full legal and physical custody, and Paul earned supervised visitation every other weekend.
The judge asked me if I would like the visits to happen in the court’s family room or would I rather have a trusted friend/family member supervise. I stated I would prefer Paul’s parents supervise so that Alison would not be afraid. After Carole agreed to supervise, the judge signed off on his decision, and we were free to go.
Chapter Two
One week after the custody hearing, Paul was set to have his first visit with Alison. She hadn’t seen him in close to four months, so she was shy when we arrived at Carole and Andrew's house. The visit was for two hours. Paul and Alison were not allowed to leave, so Paul took her into the “kid’s room” and let her play while he sat and watched. The entire visit, I stayed in my car at the top of the driveway out of sight, out of fear that something may happen.
The two hours were finally over, and I saw my beautiful little girl walking my way. I opened my door and gave a courtesy wave goodbye to Paul as I buckled Alison into her seat. At first, she was very quiet as we drove home from her visit. I did not want to pressure her into talking about it, so I was going to wait until she mentioned it. Finally, as we made our final turn into our development, Alison was ready to talk.
“Daddy let me play with all the board games that Grandma has in the playroom,” she said with slight excitement.
“Really? Which did you like playing with the most?” I asked
“Uncle Wiggly because Daddy played too.”
“Didn’t Daddy play the others with you too?”
“I played with Lincoln Logs and Blocks the rest of the time, so I did that by myself. Daddy just watched.”
“Oh, okay. Did you do anything else?”
“No. Just played. Can we have Mac & Cheese for dinner?”
I laughed for a minute about how a child’s mind can switch so spontaneously to a new subject, then replied: “Yes, but we need to have a veggie as well.”
I parked the car and went to unbuckle Alison. She looked at me, lovingly in the eyes, and said: “I want broccoli or corn please.”
We went inside, and I turned on the television for Alison as I prepared dinner. It was relatively late by the time we finished eating, and I needed to start Alison’s night routine, so I made my way upstairs to draw her a double bubble bath. Once all the bubbles were to the rim of the tub, I knew it was time for Alison to hop in and clean the day’s dirt off.
“Okay stinky girl, hop in.” I said as Alison entered the bathroom.
“I’m not stinky, Mama,” Alison replied.
“Tell that to these cruddy feet! Now, hop in the tub before the water gets too cold.”
Alison climbed into the tub and immediately started to play with the bubbles. “Look at my beard! It is as long as my arm!” She said in between giggles.
“You’re silly, do you know that?”
“You’re silly too, Mommy.”
“Thank you, baby. Can you lean back so that I can wet your hair?”
She nodded in agreement, and I poured a small cup of warm water over her thick brown hair while she covered her face with a washcloth because she does not like water in her eyes. Once the water completely coated her hair, she sat back up and said, “Can you wash my hair with these bubbles?”
“I’m sure I could, but let’s stick with your regular shampoo for tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because Ally, it is past your bedtime as it is and I do not need to disrupt your routine even further.”
“Can you wash it with bubbles on my next bath?”
“We will see.”
Once she knew bubble hair was a possibility for next time, she quickly changed subjects, “How many books are you going to read to me tonight?”
“Two, like always. It’s time to dry off now. Can you climb out of the tub?”
I wrapped her up in a towel with Disney characters on it, and tried to dry her off as quickly as possible because her hands and feet looked like prunes and she was shivering like crazy. Once she was dry and in her pajamas, we settled in her bed to complete story time and cuddles. After Alison was asleep, I went to the kitchen and poured a large glass of Moscato and turned on Sex and the City and settled in for a relaxed evening. After a few hours of watching Carrie