Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [111]
“Hi, Ron,” Ellen said, to show that she was a functioning human being. “Please don’t say anything nice or I’ll lose it.”
“Fair enough.” Ron sat down on the bed, his beard grizzled and his crinkly eyes soft.
“Also don’t look at me like that.”
Ron chuckled, sadly. “Okay, I’ll be the lawyer, not the friend. I heard what happened, I read the papers.”
“Papers?”
“The court papers they gave you at the hospital,” Marcelo said, standing behind Ron, his arms folded.
Ellen thought back. Whatever. “So is there anything I can do?”
Ron hesitated. “Nothing.”
Ellen tried to stay in control. “I mean, just about the timing.”
“What about it?”
“It’s so . . . soon. Abrupt. He has clothes at home, and toys, and books, and DVDs, and a cat.” Ellen stopped herself. Will would miss Oreo Figaro. Maybe she could get the cat to him. “Why can’t we ease the transition? And for his benefit, not mine.” She was remembering what they’d said at the hospital.
“It doesn’t work that way, at least not with Braverman. I spoke with Mike Cusack, a big gun at Morgan, Lewis. I gather Mr. Braverman has some dough.”
“Yes.”
“Well, he got out the heavy artillery, and as a legal matter, you can make a transition, as you say, only if they agree, and they’re not agreeing. They don’t trust you or the situation.”
“It’s not about me.”
“I know that, and you should hold on to that thought. It’s not personal.” Ron patted her hand. “Braverman has to go home and bury his wife, and his lawyer says that he wants to start over. Pick up the pieces.”
Ellen’s heart sank. “I can see that, but what if that’s not what’s best for Will? Sending Will into a funeral, his father a grieving widower, right off the bat? He’ll freak.”
“You’re talking best interests again, and remember, that’s not the law. It’s a power notion. Braverman has absolute power and he’s wielding it.” Ron’s gaze rested on hers. “I think you need to pick up the pieces, too. You need to understand that Will will be loved and very well cared for. They already contacted a pediatrician and a therapist specializing in young children.”
Ellen felt tears fighting to surface, but held them back. Will would have medical experts, but no mother. She couldn’t even say the words.
“In time, he’ll be fine.”
“He’s not property, to be delivered. He’s a child, with feelings.”
“Kids are resilient.”
“I hate when people say that,” Ellen shot back, more harshly than she intended. “It’s like we’ll all pretend that the kid’s feelings don’t matter, because they get in the way. But you know what happens, Ron? Kids swallow the hurt, and sooner or later, it comes out. One way or the other, the hurt comes out. And you know who gets hurt then? Not the adults. The kid. Will. Someday he’ll be hurting and he won’t even know why.” Ellen gave a little hiccup and covered her mouth, holding back a sob. “He lost a mother at a year old. Now he’s losing another. Can’t we be a little sensitive? Is it so much to ask?”
“We have no choice, and he will be fine, in the end.” Ron patted her hand, then squeezed it, as Marcelo left the bedroom for a minute, then came back with a glass of water.
“Have another pill,” he said, offering her the tablet in his open palm, and Ellen raised herself, popped the Valium, and drank the water like she lived on the Sahara.
“Ron, can I call Will? Can I talk to him at least?”
“No.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.” Ron shook his head. “They think a clean break is best.”
“For who? Them or him? They accused me of being selfish, but they’re the ones who’re selfish.”
“I hear you, but there’s nothing we can do.”
Ellen hoped the pill worked fast. “Where is he now, do you think?”
“Will? In the city, still. They’ll be in town until the coroner releases Carol Braverman’s body.”
Ellen felt a pang. “When will that be?”
“A couple of days.”
“So knowing