Chapter 6 - THE SUPERVISED VISIT
Jason’s first supervised visit happened at a family-services center in Lakeview.
I was not allowed inside the room.
That was probably good.
The supervisor was named Marisol Vega.
She had worked in child welfare for fourteen years.
She spoke quietly.
Observed everything.
Wrote constantly.
Before the visit, Lily clung to my leg.
“Daddy there?”
“Yes.”
“Grandma there?”
“No.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
I noticed.
So did Marisol.
Jason entered carrying a stuffed elephant almost as large as Lily.
The kind of gift adults buy when they want a child’s immediate forgiveness.
Lily did not take it.
She stared at him.
Jason crouched.
“Hey, Bug.”
That had always been his nickname for her.
Lily hid behind me.
His face crumpled for half a second.
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Marisol gently guided the transition.
I waited downstairs for ninety minutes.
When the visit ended, Lily ran toward me.
Not crying.
Not frightened.
Just relieved.
Jason remained in the doorway.
“Emily.”
I looked at Marisol.
She shook her head slightly.
No conversation.
I picked up Lily.
Jason spoke anyway.
“I miss her.”
I stopped.
He looked exhausted.
“I know you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
That surprised him.
I continued.
“I don’t trust you.”
His eyes dropped.
“That’s worse.”
“Yes.”
The report arrived two days later.
Jason had been affectionate.
Appropriate.
Patient.
But halfway through the visit, he had asked Lily:
“Don’t you miss Grandma?”
Lily had become distressed.
Marisol redirected him.
Jason asked again later.
Then he said:
“Grandma loves you even if Mommy is mad.”
That sentence cost him.
Rachel stared at the report.
“He cannot stop triangulating.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s putting Lily in the middle.”
“He wants her to resolve an adult conflict.”
I felt sick.
“She’s two.”
“I know.”
The next supervised visit was worse.
Jason brought a picture book.
Inside the front cover was a photograph.
Diane holding Lily as a newborn.
Lily saw it.
Closed the book.
And said:
“No Grandma hand.”
Marisol documented those three words.
Three days later, the guardian ad litem met with me.
Her name was Teresa Kim.
She inspected Caroline’s apartment.
Looked at where Lily slept.
Asked about routines.
Food.
Daycare.
Doctors.
Family support.
Then she asked:
“What outcome do you want?”
“Sole custody.”
“That’s the legal answer.”
She closed her notebook.
“What do you actually want?”
I looked at Lily playing across the room.
“I want Jason to become the father Lily deserves.”
Teresa watched me.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then I want him to have only as much access as is safe for her.”
That answer mattered.
I could tell.
Teresa asked:
“Do you want to punish him?”
“No.”
“Do you want to punish Diane?”
A longer pause.
“I want consequences.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“I know.”
She nodded.
Before leaving, Teresa crouched several feet from Lily.
“Can I ask you something?”
Lily looked at me.
I nodded.
Teresa pointed to three dolls.
“Who makes you feel safe?”
Lily picked up the mommy doll.
Then a woman doll she decided was Caroline.
Then she studied the daddy doll.
She held it for several seconds.
Finally, she placed it beside the mommy doll.
My chest tightened.
Then Teresa pointed to the grandmother doll.
Lily backed away.
“No.”
One word.
Clear.
Teresa did not ask again.
That evening, Jason sent me a message through the court-approved parenting app.
Please tell Lily I love her.
I stared at it for a long time.
Then typed:
I will.
That was all.
May you like
Because despite everything, I wanted Lily to know her father loved her.
I just needed Jason to understand that love without protection was not enough.
