Chapter 2 - Manufactured Instability
Aisha did not sleep.
Loretta’s sentence followed her from Derrick’s porch to her apartment, into the shower, through two unanswered cups of tea, and finally into the darkness of her bedroom.
He created some of the instability.
At six twelve the next morning, Aisha sat at her kitchen counter staring at the old custody order on her tablet.
She had kept every document.
Not because she enjoyed remembering.
Because for eight months she had been trying to understand how eleven years of motherhood had been reduced to twelve pages of accusations.
The court had not declared her abusive or dangerous. There had been no finding of neglect.
But Derrick had won sole residential custody and final decision-making authority after convincing the court that his home offered significantly greater consistency while Aisha’s circumstances were “transitional.”
Transitional.
That word had cost her weekday breakfasts, homework nights, school drop-offs, and the ordinary pieces of motherhood no visitation schedule could replace.
She scrolled.
Mother resided at three addresses within four months.
True.
Technically.
The first address had been their marital house.
The second had been an extended-stay apartment after Derrick transferred almost all the money from their joint savings account six days after their separation.
The third was the apartment she had eventually leased.
At the time, Aisha had believed the money transfer was just another financial cruelty in an ugly divorce.
She had never connected it to custody.
Her phone buzzed.
Loretta.
Can we talk somewhere private?
Aisha stared at the message before typing:
7:30. Morrison Park café.
Loretta arrived five minutes early.
She looked as though she had not slept either.
Aisha did not offer a hug.
Loretta did not attempt one.
They sat in the quietest corner.
“Tell me exactly what you meant.”
Loretta wrapped both hands around her coffee.
“After you and Derrick separated, he called me almost every night.”
“I know.”
“He was angry.”
“I know that too.”
“No.” Loretta shook her head. “I don’t think you do.”
Aisha waited.
Loretta looked toward the window.
“He believed you were going to make him a visitor in his children’s lives.”
“I offered equal custody before anyone filed anything.”
“I know that now.”
Aisha’s face changed.
“Now?”
Loretta nodded miserably.
“Derrick told me you wanted primary custody and every other weekend for him.”
“That is a lie.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“I saw your original email last month.”
Aisha leaned back.
“What original email?”
“The one you sent after mediation.”
Aisha remembered immediately.
A detailed proposal.
Alternating weeks during summer.
A 2-2-5-5 schedule during school.
Shared holidays.
Joint educational and medical decisions.
She had written: Neither of us should become a visitor.
Derrick had rejected it.
“What did he show you?”
Loretta reached into her purse.
“A screenshot.”
She placed a printed page on the table.
Aisha stared.
It was part of her email.
But only three lines appeared.
Because of your travel schedule, I believe the children should remain with me on school nights until we establish something more predictable.
The sentences before and after had been removed.
The missing paragraph explained that the arrangement was temporary for six weeks because Derrick had accepted an out-of-state commercial project.
“He showed you this?”
“And said you were trying to take his children.”
Aisha’s stomach tightened.
“What else?”
Loretta hesitated.
“After he moved the money…”
“You knew?”
“He said his attorney told him to protect half the marital assets.”
“He moved twenty-four thousand dollars, Loretta. He left twelve hundred.”
“I know.”
“No. Apparently everybody knew things except me.”
Loretta flinched.
“He told me he would give you your portion once the lawyers calculated everything.”
“Four months later.”
“Yes.”
“After the custody hearing.”
Loretta lowered her gaze.
Aisha understood.
The extended-stay hotel.
The rejected apartment applications.
The frantic weeks trying to secure a deposit while still paying attorney fees.
Derrick had stood in court and described those weeks as evidence that she could not provide stable housing.
“You’re telling me he drained the account…”
“Aisha—”
“…then used the housing problem that caused against me.”
“I didn’t understand it that way then.”
“But he did.”
Loretta was silent.
Aisha looked around the café.
People were buying muffins.
Checking emails.
Starting ordinary mornings.
Her own life had changed because one man had understood that court did not need a dramatic lie if smaller truths could be rearranged correctly.
“What did you testify?”
Loretta closed her eyes briefly.
“That Derrick had maintained the same home. That you had moved multiple times. That I believed the children needed consistency.”
“You knew why I moved.”
“I knew some of it.”
“You knew he took the money.”
“Yes.”
“Then you knew enough.”
Loretta’s eyes filled.
“I was protecting my son.”
Aisha’s expression became colder.
“No.”
She pushed the coffee away.
“You were helping your son hurt the mother of your grandchildren.”
Loretta did not defend herself.
For the first time, Aisha saw something in her that had been absent during court.
Shame.
“There’s more,” Loretta said.
Aisha laughed without humor.
“Of course there is.”
“Remember when Derrick’s lawyer said you repeatedly gave up parenting time?”
Aisha froze.
Three incidents had been emphasized in the hearing.
Two Friday overnights.
One entire weekend.
Derrick’s attorney called them voluntary relinquishments.
Aisha had explained that Derrick requested those schedule changes.
His attorney said there was no proof.
“I remember.”
Loretta pulled out her phone.
“I found my old messages with Derrick.”
She opened a thread.
Aisha read.
Friday, 4:16 p.m.
DERRICK: I need to make it look like she can’t keep a consistent schedule.
Loretta’s heartbeat seemed to become audible in the silence.
The next message appeared beneath it.
LORETTA: Don’t play games with those children.
DERRICK: I’m not. I’m proving a pattern.
Aisha’s hand went cold.
She looked up.
“What pattern?”
Loretta swallowed.
“He asked you to switch weekends.”
Aisha’s voice almost disappeared.
“He asked me.”
“Yes.”
“Then he told the court I gave them up voluntarily.”
Loretta nodded.
Aisha stood.
Her chair scraped hard across the floor.
Several people turned.
She did not notice.
“Send me everything.”
“Aisha—”
“Everything.”
Loretta looked frightened.
“What are you going to do?”
Aisha buttoned her camel coat.
“For eight months, everybody has been asking whether I can prove I’m a good mother.”
She picked up the printed screenshot.
“Now Derrick can prove he told the truth.”
Her phone rang before she reached the door.
The caller ID displayed Derrick.
She almost ignored it.
Then she answered.
“What?”
His voice came tense and immediate.
“My mother called you, didn’t she?”
Aisha stopped walking.
“How would you know?”
Silence.
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Then Derrick said:
“Because she just told me she gave you the messages.”
