By high school, it was clear Mom wouldn’t change, and so Clint hired an attorney. A hippy lawyer in board shorts and a briefcase held together by tape. The best Clint’s money could buy. Clint petitioned the court for legal guardianship and won. Mom didn’t even put up a fight. Finally, I was his, and he was mine.
I didn’t realize he was basically his dad from age 9 before starting this. Way more taboo than the advertised “Best Friend’s Dad.”
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