She gave me custody. I can’t believe it. She just handed him over, no strings attached. I finally have what I’d come to Texas to get. But is it really all I wanted?
It is the day my fifteen-year-old son, the son I didn’t even know I had until a few months ago, is supposed to go before the judge and tell him which of us he wants to live with: me or his adopted sister, Penelope. But she apparently sat him down and actually asked him what he wanted, the one thing I failed to do. And he told her. He wants to live with me.