Chapter 13 - The Missed Call List
Maya’s office requested discovery.
Nothing theatrical.
No surprise courtroom ambush.
Just records relevant to the claims each parent had made.
The process produced something Derrick had not expected.
A spreadsheet.
Aisha had created it months earlier.
Columns read:
DATE
EVENT
DERRICK PRESENT?
EXPLANATION
The explanation column was often blank.
Derrick stared at row after row.
Parent night — No.
Soccer practice — No.
Dentist — No.
School fundraiser — No.
Birthday breakfast — No.
At first, anger flooded him.
Then Maya said, “Slow down.”
She pointed.
“How many events are listed?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“How many did you attend?”
Derrick counted.
Twenty-nine.
Maya raised an eyebrow.
“So the document she intended to use against you shows you attended seventy-six percent of events she tracked.”
Derrick blinked.
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“People often create evidence to confirm what they already believe.”
They examined the nine absences.
Three were work conflicts.
Two occurred during Aisha’s parenting time and Derrick had not known about the event until afterward.
One was a dentist appointment rescheduled without informing him.
One was Jayden’s friend’s birthday party.
One was a soccer practice.
The last was more painful.
Jayden’s kindergarten graduation.
Derrick had missed it.
There was no excuse.
He and Aisha had been in the worst period of their breakup.
After an argument the previous night, Derrick assumed she did not want him there.
She assumed he would come anyway.
Neither called.
Jayden walked across the stage with one parent watching.
Derrick had regretted it for five years.
Aisha had apparently never stopped counting it.
Maya tapped that row.
“This matters emotionally more than legally.”
“I know.”
“Have you ever apologized?”
“To Jayden.”
“To Aisha?”
Derrick stared.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it was my son I failed.”
Maya closed the spreadsheet.
“You failed both.”
Derrick disliked hearing it.
That was why he needed to hear it.
That evening he sent Aisha a message unrelated to the legal filing.
I saw your list. I’m not going to argue every event right now. But I saw kindergarten graduation. I should have been there. I blamed our argument instead of taking responsibility. I am sorry.
Her response took an hour.
Why are you saying this now?
Derrick wrote:
Because it was true then and it’s true now.
No answer.
Later that night, Aisha sat alone in the bedroom.
Marcus had begun sleeping in the guest room after their diner confrontation.
She read Derrick’s apology repeatedly.
She hated it.
Not because it was cruel.
Because it complicated the version of him she had preserved.
For years, kindergarten graduation had represented everything.
She remembered Jayden in a tiny blue cap looking toward the back of the room.
“Daddy coming?”
She had said yes.
Then no.
Then maybe.
Eventually the ceremony began.
Derrick’s chair remained empty.
Aisha had cried in the car afterward.
That night she told herself she would never again depend on Derrick to complete a family moment.
From then on, every missed event became connected to that chair.
Even when Derrick attended the next twenty.
Even when he rearranged work.
Even when he became reliable.
Part of Aisha remained in that kindergarten auditorium staring at an empty seat.
She opened the spreadsheet.
For the first time, she counted the yes column.
Twenty-nine.
Her breathing changed.
Marcus appeared in the doorway.
“You okay?”
She minimized the file.
“Fine.”
He saw Derrick’s message on her phone.
“He apologized.”
Aisha’s expression hardened.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
Marcus leaned against the frame.
“I was going to say maybe you should let that matter.”
“One apology doesn’t erase years.”
“No.”
He looked at the laptop.
“But maybe years of showing up should count too.”
Aisha’s eyes filled.
“You think I’m a monster.”
“No.”
“Everybody does.”
“I think you’re scared.”
She looked away.
Marcus continued.
“And when you’re scared, you control.”
“That sounds like something a therapist says.”
“Maybe therapists are occasionally right.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then her phone rang.
Her attorney.
Aisha answered.
Marcus watched her expression change.
“What?”
She listened.
Then sat upright.
“Derrick asked for what?”
Marcus waited until she ended the call.
“What happened?”
Aisha stared ahead.
“He is asking the court to enforce joint decision-making.”
“That was expected.”
“And prohibit either of us from representing Marcus as Jayden’s father on official records.”
Marcus nodded.
Aisha’s jaw tightened.
“He wants written correction notices sent to the school, dentist, after-school program, and tax preparer.”
“That also sounds reasonable.”
She glared at him.
“And he wants a finding that I deliberately excluded him.”
Marcus said nothing.
Aisha stood.
“If the judge says that, it follows me.”
“It’s not a criminal conviction.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is?”
“It means he wins.”
Marcus sighed.
“This is exactly why we’re here.”
“What?”
“You still think this is about winning.”
Aisha’s eyes filled again.
Marcus walked away.
Her phone buzzed.
Another email from her attorney.
We need to discuss the document you drafted regarding a future surname petition. Opposing counsel has a copy.
Aisha froze.
She had known Derrick saw it.
She had not fully understood what that meant.
For the first time, fear replaced indignation.
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The private notes were no longer just thoughts.
They were evidence of intent.
