We drive over to the courthouse in silence. Aunt Eve’s holding the steering wheel too tightly, her knuckles turning white. For the past six weeks, she’s welcomed Ethan and I into her home, voracious in her need to know everything about us. For the first time in seven years, I’ve actually felt cared for.

I glance over my shoulder at Ethan sitting in the back, distracted by playing with a tablet Eve got him. I’m not sure he’s aware of what’s going to happen today, and that’s just the way I want to keep it.

He looks up as we pull up to a stop in front of an imposing stone building. “What’s that?” he asks curiously.

“That’s a courthouse.”

“Like on TV?” he asks, talking about a show he and Eve started watching last week. She’s been really good with him, fielding whatever questions I find myself unable to answer. She’s been caring for him like he was her own son—like we both were.

I nod. “Yes.”

“What are we doing here?”

I pause to think about what to say, but Eve beats me to it. “We just have a few things to take care of. You’ll get to hang out in a room with a bunch of games while your brother and I run a quick errand,” she says.

I look at her and she sees the question in my eyes. “I called the court. He doesn’t have to be in the room so he gets his own for him to play,” she says in a hushed voice.

“Thank you,” I mouth to her. I’m grateful she too understands the importance of shielding Ethan.

“Don’t mention it,” Eve says, resting her hand on mine.

“Do you think you can do that?” the judge asks my mother. I sit next to Eve, who’s nervously playing with her hands. I find myself on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what my mother will say next, hanging on her every word.

“Do you think you can do that, Mrs. Lincoln?” the judge asks once again. Her last name isn’t Lincoln. It’s Robertson. She went back to her maiden name after she and Dad divorced. I think I let my mind hold on to this fact because I’m scared to focus on what’s happening now—on what she will say.

“Ah…” my mother starts. The judge waits for her response impatiently, and so do the rest of us.

“Are you willing to follow the necessary steps to get to see your kids again?” she presses.

My mother looks down, then turns to look towards the back of the room. Her gaze meets her sister’s then travels to me. “I don’t think…” she starts and although I think she’s talking to the judge, her eyes are still fixed on me.

The judge exhales loudly. “Could you speak more loudly and direct your response to me?”

My mom pries her eyes away from mine and turns towards the judge. “I don’t think I’m… I think they’d be better off staying with their aunt,” she answers and the small part of me that held onto the hope that my mother loved us—cared about us—disappears. When she says we’d be better off without her, I know she means she would be. She doesn’t even refer to Eve as her sister—just our aunt.

I stopped looking up to my mother for a very long time now. I just never thought I’d get as far as wishing she wasn’t my mother at all.

“Okay then, it’s final. Mrs. Lincoln—”

“Robertson,” I correct the judge. The court sheriff stares at me and I know it isn’t protocol to speak out of turn. To everyone in the room, I’m just an audience member, but I’m not. I’m waiting for the judge to determine what will happen to my brother and me. I’m waiting for her to determine what happens to the rest of my life.

“Pardon me, Ms. Robertson,” the judge corrects herself and signals for the sheriff to stand down. She continues, unbothered by my interruption. “I’m inclined to agree with the State in that you are not fit to be a parent. I will, therefore, award full custody of Aron Lincoln and Ethan Lincoln to their aunt, Eve Stephens. It is my sincere hope that you acknowledge the importance of family and take the necessary steps to rehabilitate yourself so that hopefully—one day—you can earn their forgiveness. I sentence you to sixty days of rehabilitation as an outpatient at the Butler Facility. I’ll warn you that you should take the program seriously. I don’t want to see you in my courtroom ever again. If I do, I will not be as lenient.”

I stand up, clearing my throat. “Can I have a moment with her?” I ask the judge. “Please?” In my periphery, I see the sheriff walking in my direction, but that doesn’t deter me.

Eve slips her hand into mine, giving it a squeeze. I smile down at her.

“I just want to say a few things to her,” I add.

I’m shocked when she says, “You have five minutes. Sheriff, bring him and the Defendant over to the jury deliberation room.”

I nod my thanks, and as I pass the bench, she says, “Five minutes, son.”

The sheriff ushers me into the deliberation room and another sheriff brings my mother along.

“We’ll be right outside the door,” one of the sheriffs says to me. I nod. This won’t take long.

With the door shut, it’s silent between us. My mom looks at me, her spirit broken.

“I’m—” she starts, but I hold my hand up to stop her. “No. You don’t get to speak now. I have something to say to you, and then we’re done. You…you’ve been playing on the edge for so long and I’ve kept trying to save you from falling. Yet the only one that ended up almost drowning was me.” My eyes are locked on hers, perhaps for the last time. “In an attempt to keep your head above the water, I found myself hitting rock bottom.”

I pause and take a deep breath. “I’m done trying to be your lifeguard. I can’t take on the role of being your parent too.”

A tear slides down her face, but I say what I need to before I lose the strength.

“You were supposed to be the parent. I was supposed to be the child—not the other way around. You had so many chances to change, to seek help. You could’ve turned your life around, for yourself, for us, but you turned each of them down.

“You were given a chance by a judge to get your children back. All you had to do was get clean, attend rehab—stay sober…” I laugh, because it’s the only thing I can do to stop myself from crying. I’m glad Ethan isn’t here to see this, to be scarred by this. “You decided it wasn’t worth it. You decided we weren’t worth it.”

She sobs audibly.

“Today, I’m giving up on you too. I’m choosing to save Ethan and I this time.”

Her shoulders begin to shake as she tries to hold in her tears. I want to comfort her because that’s my instinct, but I won’t. Instead, I straighten my spine, turn away, and walk out of the room.