Chapter 10: What the Judge Said on a Tuesday
The family court hearing was on a Tuesday in November.
Diana's attorney had reviewed the draft agreement.
There had been two weeks of back-and-forth, adjustments to the visitation language, a dispute about the holiday schedule that took four days to resolve.
But the core of it held.
Primary residence with me.
Structured visitation for Diana.
No contest on the asset division, which my attorney handled with the kind of quiet efficiency that I was grateful for and never wanted to need again.
Diana was already seated when I arrived.
She didn't look at me when I came in.
Her attorney leaned over and said something to her, and she nodded once.
The judge was a woman in her sixties with reading glasses pushed up on her head.
She reviewed the agreement for several minutes without speaking.
The courtroom was very quiet.
"This is a consent order," she said finally.
"Both parties are entering this voluntarily?"
Both attorneys confirmed it.
The judge looked at Diana directly.
"Ms.
Hartwell.
You understand the terms of the primary residence arrangement and the visitation schedule as written?"
"Yes," Diana said.
"And you're satisfied that this agreement reflects your intentions?"
A pause.
"Yes."
The judge looked at me.
"Mr.
Chen.
Same question."
"Yes, Your Honor."
She looked back at the papers.
She made a note.
She signed.
"This order is entered," she said.
"Good luck to both of you."
That was it.
We filed out into the corridor.
Diana and her attorney went one direction.
My attorney and I went the other.
At the end of the corridor, near the elevator, my attorney shook my hand.
"Clean outcome," she said.
"All things considered."
"Thank you."
"How's your daughter?"
"She's good," I said.
"She's really good."
The elevator opened.
My attorney stepped in.
I took the stairs.
Outside, the November air was cold and sharp.
I stood on the courthouse steps for a moment.
A pigeon landed on the railing nearby, looked at me, and left.
I called my mother.
"It's done," I said.
"Come for dinner," she said.
"Maya's already here.
She's helping me make something."
"What is she making?"
"She says it's a surprise.
I've been asked not to look."
I started walking toward the parking garage.
"Tell her I'll be there in forty minutes."
May you like
"I'll tell her thirty," my mother said.
"She's been watching the clock."
