The order included a date for review.

It wasn’t a declaration that I was a perfect mother or Curtis was the worst father in Ohio.

It was a practical effort to protect a child while the facts were evaluated.

Outside, Curtis caught up to me near the elevator.

“You’ve really done it,” he said.

I kept walking.

“She’s going to grow up without a father because you couldn’t handle a medical bill.”

I stopped, turned, and looked straight at him.