# 53: I SHOULD HAVE PUNCHED HER!

PAGE # 53

Saturday

12/17/11
Approximately 1:35 pm

Kendra had definitely been crying:  Her eyes were red and puffy, and a bunch of crumpled tissues were piled beside an uneaten meal.  She held the baby in her arms.

"How many days does Bobby have to contest the adoption?" 

This was a question for the attorney and it came from Mike, Kendra's father.

"Thirty days from notice of the adoption plan.  We served those papers before the birth, so it's less than that now."

I was trying to calculate the exact date in my head.  The date when we would know for certain whether the baby would stay with us or not.

"Does that mean 30 business days or do weekends and holidays count too?" I asked.  

I couldn't hear the attorney's response because Mike said something to me at the same moment.

"We'll all have to go out and celebrate together when the thirty days are up," he suggested.  "I'm praying that Bobby doesn't mess up this adoption--I can't stand him!"

It occurred to me that I knew nothing positive about the baby's father.  What was I supposed to tell this little girl as she grew up--that her dad was a terrible man?  There had to be something nice to say about him. 

"Kendra," I started, "What should I tell the baby about her father?"

"Just tell her that Johnny [Kendra's husband] is the father," Mike interrupted.  "His name is on the birth certificate and he signed off on the adoption paperwork anyhow."

Kendra sighed and shook her head.  "No, Dad," she said firmly if softly.  

Shelley, the attorney, started in with some other matter of legal business, and it was then that I realized I never heard her answer to my last question.

"What did you say about the thirty days?  Is it just business days or do weekends and holidays count too?"

"Jennifer!" the attorney scolded me yet again.  "Pay attention!  I've already answered that.  You're always doing that--making me repeat what we've already gone over."  She folded her arms.  "Yes, every day counts.  Even Christmas."

Unfortunately, all of my aforementioned superpowers were inaccessible at that moment.  I was emotionally drained.  If only I could order the universe to grant me a corrective experience, I would arrive at the hospital that morning in full combat gear.  And I would aim my super punch right for Shelley's jaw.  And again.  Maybe give her black eyes too.

But that's not what happened.

Instead, my cheeks burned with humiliation.  Shelley's latest assault left me feeling like a small, powerless child.  

To be continued...