He had been bracing for a new challenge from the board or a new crisis in one of the properties or any of the dozen different ways reality had historically chosen to arrive at the wrong moment. What actually arrived was a phone call from Diane herself, not her attorney, Diane. She called on a Saturday afternoon while Ava was at soccer and Malcolm was sitting in his car outside to the field watching through the chain-link fence. He almost didn't answer. Then he did.
"I want to talk," Diane said. "Not through the lawyers. Just talk." He was quiet for a moment. "Okay.
I want to tell you something and I need you to actually hear it. Her voice was not combative. It was something he hadn't heard from her in several years. Something that sounded like exhaustion. Not strategic exhaustion, but the real kind.
I know you think I filed the modification petition to hurt you. I think you filed it because Marcus' transfer was real and you were trying to find a solution that worked for you. A pause. "Both things can be true." I know that.
But I she stopped, started again. I talked to the evaluator, Malcolm, when she called to do the background interviews, and she asked me questions that I had to sit with for a while before I knew how to answer. Another pause. She asked me whether I had concerns about Ava's well-being in your home. And the honest answer is no.
I've never had concerns about that. My concerns have always been about the logistics of geography and my own my own feelings about some of it. Malcolm watched Ava receive a pass on the field and pivot cleanly. "Why are you telling me this?" He said, ""Because I'm going to withdraw the petition."" She said it plainly.
I talked to my attorney Thursday. We're filing the withdrawal Monday. He sat very still. "Diane, don't." Her voice was firm, but not unkind.
"Don't thank me. I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because the evaluator made me think clearly about what I was actually asking a judge to do to our daughter's life for the sake of my convenience. A pause. And because I can see from three states away that Ava is not being damaged by her situation.
She's being raised by someone who is doing it well. Even if you make me crazy sometimes. He sat with that for a moment. "She's a remarkable kid," he said she's your kid. Diane said, ""That's not nothing."" He looked through the fence at his daughter, who had just scored and was doing a celebration that involved both fists.