Page 42 of Betting Brett

“Ladies and gentlemen, Your Honor, we are here today to address a matter of utmost importance, the well-being of a young child, Isabelle Andrews,” he starts. “We contend that Mr. Brett Andrews, due to his chosen lifestyle, is unfit to properly and safely raise his daughter. We have a statement to that effect here, written and signed by both grandparents. Unfortunately, Jim couldn’t be here today, but Darlene is here to make sure their side of the story is told.”

I feel Brett’s hand tighten hard around mine. It’s almost as painful as hearing the shit this guy was spewing. The lawyer continues, weaving a narrative that paints Brett in a light that’s completely unjust.

“He has chosen to live a life that is not conducive to the wholesome upbringing of a child. A life that exposes young Isabelle to influences and environments that are inappropriate and damaging,” the lawyer asserts, his words sharp as daggers. “We have seen the debates that grip our nation about bathrooms and grown men wearing dresses and reading books to children. It’s an outrage. An absolute misstep in morality. Beyond that, we know that Isabelle’s grandparents have witnessed moments where she has felt uncomfortable with this lifestyle.”

I want to shout to defend the man I love against the slander being thrown at him. They were flat-out lying now. Izzy loved me. She lovedus. There was no doubt in my mind about that.Fucking asshole.But I remain silent. If I say anything, I could ruin it all. I have to keep quiet and let Jen do all the talking.

“That’s what brings us here today, Your Honor. We want to make sure Isabelle is kept on the path toward becoming a respectable and stable young woman.”

As Darlene’s lawyer concludes his arguments, the room is so silent you could hear a pin drop. Jen rises, her poise is sharp. She doesn’t even look at the other side of the room, instead taking her position in front of the judge. In all my years of knowing her, I’d never seen her like this. She truly appeared to be in her element. There wasn’t an ounce of apprehension or nervousness about her, just a steely determination to protect Brett and Izzy.

“Your Honor,” Jen begins, directing her attention at the stuffy-looking old man. “We are not here to debate the morality of a lifestyle because there is no lifestyle here to discuss. Being LGBTQ+ is not as simple as signing up for a gym membership and canceling it when you’re bored with it. It isn’t a choice, it isn’t a box to check on some survey. It is blood and soul. Being gay or bi does nothing to impede someone’s parenting abilities. What does impede parenting abilities is harboring a hatred that manifests itself against your own flesh and blood. Darlene has turned against her own son over the simple matter of who he loves. And let me remind you that the man he loves is a well-established career professional who is an incredible role model for his daughter. But if Darlene can turn so quickly on Brett, then what’s to say she won’t turn on Izzy?”

Mic. Drop.

But there was more. Jen lined up the big shot, going for the head. “Andbeyondall that, I can offer testimony, by James Andrews, that he never signed those papers. He is not in the courtroom at this time, but this notarized document should suffice. You can see his actual signature there and can compare it to the filed motion.”

I can hear the air being sucked out of the room at that bombshell. I feel like I’m in one of those nail-biter TV shows with twists and turns to keep me hooked until the end. The courtroom is silent as Jen concludes her defense and hands the paper to the judge. The stern judge, his face a mask of inscrutability, pores over the notes, looking at the two documents in front of him and examining the signatures. The scratching of his pen against the paper is the only sound that can be heard, aside from some shuffling and coughing. Every eye is fixed on him, every breath held, as if the room itself is suspended in a drop of amber.

Brett’s hand is a vice around mine, his knuckles white, the tension in his grip echoing the storm of emotions raging within us.

“It’s OK, we’re good. Jen did amazing,” I whisper to him.

Darlene sits across the aisle, her face a mix of arrogance and certainty. She believes the law is on her side and that morality and justice will bow to her will. But I know the truth. I know the depth of Brett’s love for Izzy, a love that transcends prejudice. Besides, Jen really did kick ass up there.

The judge clears his throat. Time seems to stand still. The seconds stretch into eternity, each tick of the clock somehow feeling longer than the last.

“I have considered the evidence presented and the testimonies heard,” the judge begins. He’s dragging out every word. I can feel Brett’s breath, ragged and uneven, his body a taut string of anxiety and anticipation. The judge’s gaze sweeps the room, resting on each of us in turn. “Evidence clearly shows that Mr. Andrew’s signatures do not match,” the judge announces, and a collective gasp fills the room, although Darlene is notably stone-faced.

Brett’s grip loosens, yet the battle is not over. The judge’s next words will seal our fate.

“Furthermore,” the judge continues, “it is evident that Isabelle’s welfare and happiness have always been, and continue to be, of paramount concern to her father.”

I feel tears of relief beginning to prickle at the corners of my eyes.

“We are not here to pass moral judgments but to ensure the welfare of a child,” the judge concludes with a sharp look at Darlene and her red-faced lawyer. “The original custody agreement between the parents shall remain intact. Case dismissed.”

As the judge announces the dismissal of the case, affirming Brett’s custody of Izzy, our side of the room breaks into hugs and claps. This was it, the moment we’d been waiting for. All the stress and worries disappeared in an instant. I felt a relief like I’d never felt before, flooding through every inch of my body. It was spectacular.

We’d done it. Jen had done it.

“Congratulations,” I tell Brett, grabbing his face in my hands and pulling him in for a kiss, hoping Darlene could see. I wanted her to feel the love radiating from me and her son. I wanted her to regret ever trying this dumb stunt in the first place. When I break from the kiss, I can see that Darlene isn’t even in the courtroom anymore.

“Let’s go hug our girl,” Brett says, hand going in mine. I can’t wait to tell Izzy, hug her tight, to see Brett and Jen hold her without worrying she’d be unjustly taken away.

We walk back out through the halls, the judges on the walls seeming a little less stern. I could even see some smiles on a few of the paintings.

The courthouse doors swing open, releasing us into the blinding light of day. As our eyes adjust to the light, a shadow emerges from the periphery of my vision. Darlene, Brett’s mother, stands as stone still, her hawk-like eyes pinned on her son.

Brett’s grip on my hand tightens. I wonder if maybe I should move Brett away. Maybe it was better if they didn’t speak…

Darlene’s eyes, cold and unyielding, lock onto Brett’s. She moves toward us, her heels clicking against the stone. No, I can’t interrupt this. Brett needs this moment, this finality to this terrible saga.

“You may have won in there,” Darlene’s icy words cut through the air, “but you’ll never be fit to raise that little girl, not with the values you choose to live by. I never thought you’d be the one to bring this shame onto our family. Never in my life did I think that.”

The words, clearly meant to wound, hang in the air. But Brett, standing tall, the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders, is unphased. His expression remains neutral.

“Darlene,” Brett says, “I’ve spent my life seeking your approval, your love. But today, in that courtroom, I realized something.” He pauses, his gaze unwavering, meeting Darlene’s icy stare with the warmth of his own. Melting her down. “I don’t need your approval to know my worth. I am a good father to Izzy, a good man to my friends, and a good partner to Andy, and I will raise my daughter to know love, acceptance, and kindness - values you’ve somehow forgotten.”

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