Michael thought for a moment. Then he signed slowly, choosing his words carefully:
“Grandma wants to fix me. Dad used to want to, too. But Vera taught him that I don’t need to be fixed. I just need to be loved. The way I am.”
He looked at his father.
“Dad learned. He plays with me now. He doesn’t make me study all the time. He lets me make things out of mud. Run in the rain. Be a kid.”
Tears streamed down Vera’s face. David gripped the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“Grandma says she loves me,” Michael continued. “But her love… it hurts. Like clothes that are too tight. It suffocates me.”
Eleanor covered her face with her hands.
“And your dad’s love?” the judge asked quietly.
Michael smiled.
“My dad’s love is like the sky. It’s big. Sometimes it’s scary, because he’s still learning how to love right. But I’m not afraid. Because I know he won’t give up on me. Even when it’s hard.”
The judge looked at the boy for a long time. Then she nodded.
“Thank you, Michael. You are very brave. You may return to your seat.”
Michael went to his father. David pulled him into a hug, burying his face in his son’s hair. His shoulders shook.
Judge Samuelson stood up.
“The court will now recess to deliberate. Please remain in the courtroom.”
She left. The twenty-minute wait felt like an eternity.
David held Michael on his lap, stroking his hair. Vera sat beside him, squeezing his hand. Eleanor sat on the opposite side of the room. Upright, motionless, like a statue.
Finally, the door opened. The judge returned and sat at the bench.
“All rise.”
Everyone stood.
“Having heard both parties, reviewed the evidence presented, and considered the testimony of the child, the court rules as follows…” A pause. Agonizing, endless. “The petition is denied. The parental rights of David Solomon shall remain in full. Michael Solomon will continue to reside with his father.”
It took a moment for David to understand. He stared at the judge, unable to believe what he’d heard.
“However,” Judge Samuelson continued, “the court recommends that David Solomon undergo family counseling with his son. And that he ensure the child has regular contact with his grandmother. Provided that this contact occurs in an environment that is comfortable for Michael.”
She looked at Eleanor.
“Mrs. Vance, you love your grandson. That is clear.”
“But love without acceptance is not love, it is control. The child needs a grandmother who will accept him as he is. I urge you to reflect on that.”
She turned to David.
“And to you, Mr. Solomon, I want to say: you are on the right path. Don’t stray from it. Your son needs you. Not a perfect father, but a real one.” She banged the gavel. “This court is adjourned.”
The room erupted. Paul Miller shook David’s hand. Vera hugged Michael. The boy didn’t fully grasp what had happened, but he saw the tears of joy on the adults’ faces and smiled. David looked at Eleanor. She sat motionless, staring into space. He walked over. He sat down beside her.
“Eleanor…”
She looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes. The first in many years.
“I wanted what was best,” she whispered. “I truly did.”
“I know.”
“But I made things worse. Like I always do.”
David took her hand.
“It’s not too late to fix it. Michael needs a grandmother. But one who will love him, not try to cure him.”
Eleanor looked at her grandson. Michael was standing with Vera, holding her hand. He saw his grandmother. And he gave a small, shy wave.
Something broke inside the old woman.
“May I… may I hug him?”
“Ask him yourself.”
Eleanor walked over to Michael. She knelt down. Awkwardly. With difficulty. She signed. Clumsily. With mistakes.
But sincerely:
“Forgive me, Michael.”
Michael looked at her, surprised.
“I was a bad grandmother. I wanted to fix you. But you’re not broken. You’re wonderful. Just the way you are.”
Tears streamed down her face.
“Can I learn? Can I learn to be a good grandmother?”
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