Sandra called on Thursday morning.
I was in the middle of helping Eli with his shoes, the left one specifically which had developed a complicated relationship with its laces, when my phone rang and I saw Sandra's name and felt the particular alertness that came with calls from lawyers.
"Good morning," she said. "I have an update on the papers."
"He signed?" I said.
A pause that told me everything before she spoke.
"He hasn't," she said. "His lawyer contacted my office yesterday afternoon. Daniel is contesting the terms."
I sat on the floor beside Eli's shoe.
"Which terms," I said.
"Custody," she said. "He wants full physical custody of Eli. He's arguing that you removed the child from his home without consent and relocated without informing him of a fixed address."
I stared at the
