William Edwards Leaves His Screaming Son on a Friday Afternoon in Hartford
I stood by the railing, holding a mug of black tea that was still steaming in the cool October air.
Below me, the courtyard was filled with dry oak leaves that swirled in the light breeze.
A young woman in a gray coat was walking a small black dog on a red leash, the dog sniffing at the edge of the concrete walkway.
The sound of distant traffic on the interstate was a steady, low murmur, like the sound of the ocean through a conch shell.
It was a Friday, just seven days ago, when I had been sitting in the Oak Motel with thirty-four dollars in my pocket.
Now, the lease was signed, the deposit was paid, and the court order was tucked safely inside my brown leather briefcase in the bedroom.
Karen Gable had called me on Friday afternoon to confirm that the custody papers had been served to Marsha’s attorney.
Marsha and Sue were already packing their bags for Florida, having decided to leave the Hartford area permanently rather than face the scrutiny of a full custody trial.
