The fatherhood mandate, p.6
The Fatherhood Mandate, page 6
Sam looked across the way. A couple slowly walked along the trail leading into the forest reserve, holding hands.
“I guess I’m stuck with Rylee for now, unless she has a miscarriage.”
Lucas leaned forward. “Seems awfully convenient, doesn’t it?” he asked. “I mean, you broke up, she came back, and—”
“We got back together,” Sam responded.
“And just after you broke up the last time, what happened?”
“She got pregnant.”
“Awfully convenient, that,” Lucas said, slowly nodding his head. He looked down at his burger.
Sam thought about how many times they’d had sex in that month before the last break-up. Just remembering the feel of her as he pounded into her luscious body got him going. That hungry look on her face. The urgency. Her demands to have sex in potentially compromising places. On the beach. The church coat room. Robotics’ storage room. It was almost as if the thrill of being discovered drove her.
Unlike other girls, Rylee hated condoms. She was on the Pill, so what difference did it make?
Sam straightened up and looked out into the distance. Wait. She had been on the Pill, right? He vaguely remembered seeing the pill pack in her purse. Plus, her smart watch tracked her cycle because she didn’t like to have sex while she was bleeding.
Her cycle. It seemed very important to her at the time. Sam tried to remember that conversation, but couldn’t quite pull it in. Something about her sister or a family friend using an app to get pregnant. Or to avoid getting pregnant.
Eh. It would come to him eventually. Might be something to talk over with the attorney.
“I asked Rylee to find out if a friend of hers could run down to Illinois to pick up abortion pills for her,” Sam confessed.
Lucas frowned. “Was she able to get them?”
“No,” Sam picked up a few fries, “she’s too scared to try. Apparently, her attorney told her that she’d be investigated for premeditated murder if she miscarries.”
“Day-am.”
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the birds as they settled down for the evening.
“So, what’s your next move, man?” Lucas finally asked.
Sam mentally went over the list of appointments on Rylee’s calendar. “We have an appointment with our case manager coming up and a few in-person parenting classes to sign up for. And then there’s Rylee’s doctor appointments that I have to go to.” Sam sighed. “I know one thing’s for certain. I ain’t driving her around. I don’t even think that baby’s mine!”
“I hear ya,” Lucas said, a telltale smirk on his face. “Want me to ask around? See if there’s a missing baby daddy out there?”
Sam nodded. Maybe Wendy was right, and Rylee had slept with another guy. It wasn’t like they’d spent every waking minute together, so it just made sense that someone else might be responsible for that embryo. He wasn’t willing to play nice in the sandbox if this was just a way for her to keep him around. Nope. Not going to happen.
Chapter Six
Sam looked up from his phone, scanning the packed lobby again. It was as if all of Milwaukee County had an appointment with a social worker today. Kids ran around, shrieking, as they played some form of tag that included tossing small stuffed animals around. Older women, probably their parents, filled out paperwork on identical clipboards while they socialized. The crowd was sprinkled with just a few folks, like him, who looked a bit dazed that they had been called in for a serious talk with social services.
Rylee stirred, her knee brushing his. She leaned forward as if the mere touch of the plastic chair was going to give her a rash. “Didn’t we have a 10:30 appointment?” she asked, almost as if Sam had any control over when they would be called back.
Sam nodded. Of course, they did. It was obvious that the county was understaffed. The woman at the front desk had said as much when they had checked in.
“Maybe we should ask how much longer,” Rylee said, scrunching her nose. “I mean, that’s what you’re supposed to do when your doctor is running late, right?”
Sam shook his head in disgust. Whatever, Rylee, he thought. They’ll get to us when they get to us. He already had a pile of homework to get done. Just because his courses were self-paced did not mean he was going to let himself fall behind.
There wasn’t a lot that he could do about that, so he opened Substack and started scrolling through trending news.
Rylee brushed up against him as she stood, her purse hitting his shoulder. “Fine,” she said with an icy pout. “I’ll go ask.”
Sam ignored her. He didn’t want to be here anymore than Rylee, but throwing a fit wasn’t going to help.
“Rylee Williams and Sam Maxwell?”
Sam looked up. An older woman, her dark hair randomly streaked with warm blond highlights, stood by the reception desk. She held a rather large folder up against her chest with both hands, as if it could protect her from the crowd.
“Finally!” Rylee breathed. She took a few steps, then looked back over her shoulder. “You coming?”
Sam stood up and tucked his phone into his back pocket. Then, he walked past her and approached the caseworker.
“I’m Sam,” he told her.
“Hi,” Rylee said a bit breathlessly as she caught up. “I’m Rylee. And you are . . . ?”
The caseworker smiled, pushing a stray hair back behind her ear. “Beth Hoffman. I’ve been assigned to be your caseworker to help you navigate the Wisconsin Individual Family Education program.” She gestured. “If you’ll follow me to my office, we can get started.”
The hallway echoed with half-heard conversations as they made their way to Beth’s office. The faded linoleum was cracked in places, Sam noticed. He idly wondered just how old this building was.
Beth stopped at one of the partially open doors and waved them in. It was a small room, with two mismatched guest chairs crammed between the door and a worn desk. A small bookshelf sat directly under the window against the far side of the room, books randomly piled on the shelves.
Sam took the seat closest to the wall, carefully easing the chair as close to the wall as he could. After a short pause, Rylee sat next to him. Beth closed the door and moved around them to sit behind the battered desk.
“Alright,” Beth said as she pulled a pile of documents from the folder. “It looks like you’ve already been assigned a guardian ad litem and had your first court date.” She ignored Rylee’s scoff. “Our next step is to provide an overview of the parenting preparation program, make sure you’ve validated your BadgerCare account with updated contact information, and talk you through the program requirements.”
“Why do we have to go through this?” Rylee asked. “Isn’t it bad enough that I can’t go anywhere without permission? We’re being treated like criminals!” She pointed at her ankle. The GPS anklet peeked out from under her conservatively tailored pants.
“I understand your concern, Ms. Williams, and I share it,” Beth calmly replied. “However, the State of Wisconsin has a vested interest in ensuring that all of our citizens have a right to a fulfilling life, even the unborn.”
Sounds like something you’d say in front of the cameras, Sam noted.
“Then why am I under house arrest?” Rylee demanded. He found himself leaning up against the wall. He did not want to be in the flood zone when the waterworks started.
Beth gave Rylee a tired smile. “Ms. Williams, you are not under house arrest. The state is monitoring your movements because, under current statutes, we are required to ensure that you carry your embryo to term.”
At that, Sam stirred. “What about me?” he asked. “I’m not pregnant!”
Beth looked at him. “No, you’re not, Mr. Maxwell,” she said, with a slight frown. “Unmarried fathers-to-be are considered an automatic flight risk. And, as such, we need to ensure that you fully participate in all aspects of your child’s gestation and birth.” She paused, looking at Rylee for a moment.
“So, that being said, let’s get started, shall we?” she asked brightly. She pulled out two packets from the pile in front of her and pushed a copy to each of them. “Here is an overview of the parenting prep classes you’re required to take,” Beth told them with a smile, almost as if she was a used car salesperson and really needed to close the deal. “The Court provided you a link, but we’ve found this guide to be particularly helpful for our new clients. There are several programs to choose from based on your current home addresses. As you can see, the first trimester has a total of eight courses, four of which can be taken online . . . ”
Sam found himself tuning her out as she walked them through the courses. He still didn’t understand how he was a flight risk. It really bothered him because the judge had said the same thing.
Flight risk. What the hell did that even mean? Of course, he was going to step up if it turned out that he really was the dad. It’s not like he was going to flee the country. He just needed to be allowed to leave the state so that he could get back on campus!
He stirred as Beth started to review the next set of forms with them. “As you can see, the program includes automatic enrollment for BadgerCare medical as well as short-term disability insurance.”
Rylee, of course, objected. “I already have insurance. Why do I need this?”
“BadgerCare is required for all program participants,” Beth told her. “This allows Wisconsin to standardize maternal care across the entire state. But,” she held up a hand to prevent the next outburst, “you can retain your current plan as a form of secondary insurance, if needed. Keep in mind the short-term disability insurance, which is also a part of BadgerCare, will cover time off from work for up to twelve weeks of pay, although some participants receive this coverage through their employer.”
Rylee pouted. “I’m on my gap year. I don’t need a job!”
Beth nodded, pursing her lips as if she wanted to say something biting. “I understand, Ms. Williams.” She turned to Sam. “We also offer BadgerCare for fathers-to-be,” she told him. He nodded, and she handed the form to him. “However, this coverage is optional, as most men already have some sort of insurance coverage through their current job. You must make less than 200 percent of the federal poverty level to qualify.
“Last item. Here is some information about your mandatory support group meetings,” Beth told them as she handed them even more paperwork. “These are scheduled to start the first week of October. You’ll want to sign up as quickly as possible as these groups tend to fill up fast. They’re small, usually less than ten people, and each group is assigned a mentor who can act as a liaison between yourself and social services.”
Sam looked down at the stack of brochures and small flipbooks. “Exactly how much is this going to cost?” he asked suspiciously.
“Good question, Sam,” she said. “Some of the courses are free as they are a part of BadgerCare. Others are means tested and you’ll have to provide information regarding your annual income.”
“Does that apply to my personal income or to my family’s income?” Sam asked. “I’m a college student. I don’t really have an income.”
Rylee snorted, shaking her head. “Neither do I.”
Beth looked at them, blinking a bit. Probably not her usual client, Sam thought ruefully.
“Contact the program sponsors for the courses that you’re interested in. I’m sure that they can advise you as to how they determine annual income,” she finally said. “Make sense?”
She didn’t wait for them to respond. She stood. “Do either of you have any questions?” she asked, already moving to open the door. “If not, I suggest you get started on this paperwork. You can complete them here and turn them in at the front desk. Or, if you’d rather sign up online, there are websites listed at the bottom of each form. Please remember that these are due to be completed one week from today.” And with that, Sam found himself being ushered down the worn hallway and out into the reception area.
Sam looked at Rylee. “Now, what?” he asked.
“Lunch, then the program overview course,” Rylee answered, a smug but determined look on her face.
“How did you—” Sam started to sort through the brochures, looking for the class information.
“I signed us up for the first trimester in-person parenting classes over the weekend,” Rylee told him. “It’s in the baby calendar. I thought you knew that.”
Sam looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Of course, Rylee signed them up without checking with him. It’s not like he had a life, or any commitments that he needed to take care of, right?
She put her hand on his arm. “I’d rather get this over with as quickly as possible. It’s the introductory course, and it’s only a few hours.”
“Fine.” Just one less thing that he had to keep track of.
Sam slouched in his seat, wishing that he could pull out his phone and just disappear for a while. But no. All electronic devices had been exchanged for binders packed with worksheets at the classroom door. This ‘parenthood’ class sucked.
He looked around the room. It was a mostly young crowd, almost evenly split between the professionals in their interesting mix of hipster and casual business attire and the service/manufacturing folks.
A few were older and looked completely out of place with their ‘I’m already a parent’ vibe. Sam vaguely remembered that parents going through a divorce had to go through the program, but that didn’t really make any sense. They already knew how to handle kids, right?
The instructor had the group sit in a large circle that spanned the small room. She reminded him of his first-grade teacher with her frizzy gray hair and randomized glare. The chairs, probably leftovers from some ancient company’s closure, were incredibly uncomfortable and designed for one purpose: to keep you awake.
Despite the chairs, Sam had problems staying focused, and he knew that he was not alone. Everyone seemed to be struggling this afternoon. The woman’s voice droned on, rising and falling at random intervals as she read the worksheets to them, word-for-word. She reminded him of a chubby dog yapping at a squirrel.
The instructor held up the next worksheet. “Next, we’re going to review updates to the State of Wisconsin FMLA statute,” she told them.
The guy across from him groaned, juggling the binder on his knees. “Why do we need to know this? Federal FMLA supersedes anything that the state has put out there,” he asked. A few people nodded.
“Not true,” the instructor barked, brushing uneven bangs out of her eyes. “State and Federal FMLA may run concurrently, but our state has several ‘buckets’ of FMLA coverage, and eligibility criteria is completely different. If you’ll turn to page three of the FMLA section . . . ”
There was some paper rustling amid scattered groans and sighs. “As you can see, the State of Wisconsin recently updated state FMLA law so that both parents are allowed up to eight weeks for unpaid family leave time. This includes the birth of a newborn,” she intoned. “Please note that there is an important difference between federal and state FMLA. Serious health conditions now include prenatal care appointments for both parents in the state of Wisconsin.”
“Which is fine, if I really wanted to go,” the guy next to Sam breathed.
“I know,” Sam responded, lips barely moving as he tried to keep his voice low. It’s a fucking doctor’s visit, he thought. Why should I care?
The trainer glared in their direction. “It’s important to remember that, in order to qualify for state FMLA, you must have worked for the same employer for more than fifty-two consecutive weeks and been on payroll for at least one thousand hours in the rolling fifty-two-week period.”
One of the women across from Sam nervously raised her hand. “What about pay?” she asked in a quiet voice. “My boss told me that I can take off as much time as I need, but he doesn’t have to pay me for time not worked.”
“That’s correct,” the instructor said, her lips pursed with disapproval. “However, BadgerCare does include short-term disability insurance to help defray some of your lost wages. You should have received a copy from your social worker, but I’ve included a copy of the form in the back of your binder. You only have a few days left to sign up.”
“Yo!” another guy called out. “What if I can’t afford to take all of this time off? How the hell am I supposed to have money to eat and a place to live?”
The guy next to Sam muttered, “Sounds like this is just pro-birth, not pro-life!”
There was a muted gasp, and several of the girls glared in their direction. Sam held up a hand in protest. Wasn’t me, he thought. Besides, the guy had a point. It sounded like each couple was on their own.
The instructor frowned. She pawed through the binder, looking for a specific page to show them. “I believe that there’s information about financial support in the appendix,” she said as she looked. “Ah. Here we are.” She shifted the binder so that it sat open on her lap for them to see. “In addition to community-based assistance and means-tested grants, each set of grandparents may provide up to $15,000 per year to support their child as they transition into parenthood.”
He glanced over at Rylee, and she shook her head. Looked like that was news to her, too. The social worker hadn’t mentioned that!
“My parents can’t afford to give me $15, let alone $15,000!” one girl blurted out.
“Yeah!” said the guy across from her. “I can’t afford this!”
The instructor glared around the room, mouth pursed, as she tried to make eye contact with the offenders. Slowly, the room quieted down.
“Parenthood is costly,” she told them. “No ifs, ands, or buts about it.” Her expression softened as she looked down, almost sad. “You should have all met with your caseworker prior to this class to get an overview of what the state can do to help you with your next steps. The good news is that this program includes an appointment with a financial adviser, who will help you assess your financial resources in the next few weeks. By the end of October, you will have a good start on creating an individual plan to support your child.”
