Page 116 of Queenslander
37
CUSTODY HEARING
The courthouse in Atherton had twenty-one steps. The atrium floor looked like white marble laced with dark veins. Madonnas arrived wearing the polyester-blend outfits they wore to funerals and weddings. Ronnie hugged them one at a time, absorbing anxiety from concerned upturned faces.
Nev wasn’t coming to the courthouse—something about the bank and visiting a neighbor. Mikey and Jesse had slept over with Ronnie at the purple house on Pademelon Road last night and had carpooled with Reg and Blaise this morning. The stocky mechanic looked handsome in a suit and tie, short brown hair combed to one side. Mikey and Jesse wore matching green bowties. Mikey’s strong, solid energy made Ronnie breathe a little easier, as did having two-year-old Jesse there.
They filed into the courtroom where the judge, a woman Ronnie had never seen before, was presiding over other people’s problems. On a long bench near the back, she sat down between her dad and her lawyer, then dissociated while she waited for her case to be called. Nothing good had ever happened to her in a courtroom. This was the place you went to be slapped in the face in front of a crowd of onlookers; a stage of public humiliation.
She recognized the back of Maude’s auburn hair in the second row. Her ex had arrived early, which she told herself was a good sign.
Rainbow’s little head next to Maude’s shoulder. Dark pigtails.
She couldn’t let herself think about Rainbow now, but couldn’t look at anything else.
So much trouble to get back the best part of her.
Someone in the row behind her flicked her earlobe. Mattie.
Reg put his arm around her and squeezed. Her rock. “Breathe.” They had met all of Maude’s requirements and checked all the boxes on her list. They had done all they could do. Now it was out of their hands. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” So long as the social worker for the state agreed that living with Ronnie was best for Rainbow’s wellbeing, the judge should approve their joint petition.
It was a good sign that Maude had brought Rainbow.
Their lawyer from Mareeba had submitted proof of Ronnie’s income and housing ahead of time. The state had done a safety review of her dad’s house, which he said had gone well. She assumed she had passed the drug test.
When it was their turn, the court officer called their case. “Madonna and Green?” Strangers from the previous hearing filed out. Ronnie and her lawyer walked up the aisle to the front, joining Maude, and followed her through the little gate to the front half of the room with the magistrate.
The judge addressed basic administrative questions to Ronnie’s lawyer first, then to a woman in a suit dress who must represent the state of Queensland.
Ronnie’s stomach burbled and her mind went blank. Her face tingled and her chest felt tight. She hoped she wouldn’t faint.
Her lawyer confirmed the judge’s statements. “Correct, your honor.”
The other lady confirmed similar statements about documentation and approvals that went over Ronnie’s head. Everything sounded mechanical and impersonal. She had no idea what they were talking about. No one looked at her. She couldn’t believe they were talking about her.
It didn’t feel real.
Poor Rainbow sat beside Maude’s parents in the front row, biting her nails, looking worried. Ronnie wanted to go to her, put her arm around her. She felt guilty for subjecting her to this. She never wanted Rainbow to know the stress she had known, didn’t want her daughter to grow up shell-shocked by legal spaces and afraid of sirens.
The grey-haired judge shuffled papers around her desk.
Ronnie cracked her knuckles. Her hands were sweaty. The judge looked at the woman in the navy skirt. “You received the fax from the social worker?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“No problems?”
“No, your honor.”
“Does your office have concerns?”
“No, your honor.”
Ronnie held her breath. That sounded good. Like, ‘game over’ good.
“Any limitations your office would like to add?”
“None, your honor.”
