“When Roberto turned three, Carlos decided that he wanted to start having a relationship with Rob, so he started with evening visits once every other week, and then the judge gave him every other weekend. I understand that fathers have rights. But I don’t believe that Carlos cares. This is just a ploy to get out of paying so much in child support.”
Amelia nodded, agreeing with me.
“And what’s going to happen to Rob? How is he going to get to school? Do his homework? Get everything taken care of? Carlos doesn’t do that. He’ll probably make his mother take care of Rob. My poor son. This is all about Carlos, this is not about Rob.” I sniffled.
“Well, you are touching on something very important,” said Amelia, handing me another Kleenex from the tissue box. “The legal standard in California is the best interest of the child. That is, the court looks at what is in the child’s best interest to do, not either parent’s. So it is our job to show that it is in Rob’s best interest to stay with you, his mother, and to keep the custody arrangement as it is. It’s very stable for him. He goes to school regularly. And he sees his father every other weekend. We can argue that there is no reason to change it.”
I nodded.
Amelia continued, letting out a breath. “Now you know, this could get ugly. Mr. Castro could try to argue that there is something that you’re doing that is not in Rob’s best interest and he’s going to try to dig up dirt on you. He’s going to argue that he should get even more time with Rob or even that you should pay him to care for Rob.”
“That’s crazy! I’m his mother. I’ve cared for him his entire life.”
“I know, Lucy, I know.” She looked at me seriously, analytically. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask, as your attorney. Don’t keep anything from me because I can’t protect you if I don’t know about it. Is there anything that he could use against you? Anything that wouldn’t look good to a judge?”
God, I hated this. The lack of privacy. The fact that some person who didn’t know me, the judge, had the right to look at my life and determine what would happen with my child. It wasn’t fair. And the thing was, if I took a look at my life objectively, I did have some things to worry about. I didn’t have a steady job with a steady paycheck. Royalties came in when they came in, and on an uneven basis. I modeled nude for money and I’m sure that would look bad.
And Jake. I didn’t know what to do about Jake.
I sighed and told Amelia about my work situation and the modeling. Her eyes got a little wide, but she didn’t say anything.
“Are you seeing anyone right now?”
I stared at her. At this moment, I didn’t know how to answer that. A half hour ago, I would have said, “Yes.” But what had happened with Jake? Why was he so cold and distant and demanding? Why had he rejected me? What had happened to my generous, artistic lover?
I wanted to lie to her. I wanted to tell her no. But I needed to tell her, because I was not going to do anything to jeopardize Rob.
“I’m kind of seeing Jake. I think. I don’t know.”
Amelia looked surprised. “Really?” Then she recovered. “He’s a nice guy, but he works way too much. I’ve never seen his personality except for being totally and utterly a lawyer. Around here, he lives and breathes the law. I don’t know anything about him other than he’s here, all the time, working.”
But then she continued. “Courts pry. It would look bad to a judge if anyone, including Jake, for example, comes over all the time and is around your son. We need to show that your son’s living situation is stable. I don’t want to tell you what to do in your private life, but a new relationship doesn’t scream stability to a court.”
I nodded. “Okay.” I didn’t know what to do with this. I felt like a wrung-out washcloth.
We discussed the next steps that she was going to take and I gave her information for my declaration. But I was not looking forward to having to testify in court. Ugh.
I was also curious about what she said about Jake. Why were his public and private selves so different? Why was he so kind to me at home, but treated me like total shit here? He said that he was a workaholic, but that was no reason to pretend that you weren’t who you really were. I couldn’t figure it out and it totally pissed me off. I was already upset from him and then from all of the emotions that were dragged up by reciting my history to Amelia. I just wanted to go home and hug my son.
Amelia walked me out, and we walked by Jake’s office. He sat at a desk, working on a computer, and looked up when I passed by, calling, “Lucy.”
“I’ll call you later,” said Amelia, shaking my hand.
Jake had gotten up, and when I walked into his office he shut the door. His walls had nothing on them except two framed diplomas. The stark room had no personality, just papers and file boxes everywhere.
“Did you tell her?” he asked, accusing, pacing.
God. Jerk. My anger flashed. “Yes. I had to.”
He closed his eyes and opened them, looking pained and said in an angry hiss, “No you didn’t. I told you not to. My private life is personal.”
No more. No more of this bullshit. I had too much pride to put up with this treatment from this workaholic loser. I walked to the door and put my hand on the doorknob, turning to him. “This is about my son, you jackass. This is not about you. I’m not going to lie to my lawyer.” He got a strange expression on his face. And I couldn’t help but sputter, “How come you’re being like this? After we had such a fantastic weekend.”
He reached for me and then put his hand down. “You don’t understand, Lucy. You’re so . . . but I can’t . . . I want . . . I want you,” he finally finished lamely.
“You’re not going to have me,” I whispered. “If we were together, it would hurt Rob. And me. You just showed your true self. You’re an asshole. I can’t believe I wasted my time with you.” I left his office and shut the door as hard as I could. As it closed, I caught a glimpse of the anguished expression on his face.
I went out to my car and cried harder than I had in twelve years.
“So let me get this straight. He slept with you once—”
“Twice.”
“—Twice, and now, while you’d never say this out loud, because you’re a woman, you think he’s in love with you and you’re wondering why he was an asshole when you saw him on his turf when he wasn’t expecting you.”
“Well, if you put it that way—”
“He’s a guy. He’s going to want to sleep with you. Don’t confuse it with emotions. He didn’t. You’re being a romance writer. Knock it off.”
I glared at Georgie, who sat on my couch, munching chips and queso dip and sipping a margarita. Sara had tucked herself elegantly in the arm chair, quiet as usual, nursing a glass of chilled white wine. After dinner, Rob had retreated to his room to do his homework. I’d called my friends after I got back from Amelia’s office, needing to talk and get all of these thoughts out of my head. Too much had happened since I’d last seen them.
“It felt like it was more than a booty call.”
“I know,” said Georgie. "It always does."
Her sympathy wasn’t helping. Jake had opened up to me and then he just shut down. And whatever it was that made him work so much, whatever it was that made him lose himself that way and forget that he was a caring, artistic guy, whatever it was that made him close himself off, well, I guess it wasn’t my job to figure it out.
That sucked, though. I wanted to figure him out. He was a puzzle. A dazzling, generous, complicated puzzle, who’d treated me like shit not eight hours earlier.
But I wasn’t going to do it.
For Rob, I wasn’t going to have anything to do with Jake. I wasn’t going to do anything that put Rob’s status with me in jeopardy, and if that meant no new relationships and stability all the way, then I would. I’d smile pretty for the camera.
Okay, not having anything to do with Jake was for me too. I needed to forget him.
It’d be different if I truste
d Carlos or if I thought that Rob would like spending time with him. But that wasn’t what was going to happen. Carlos would surely leave the job to his mom while he worked. She was nice enough, but she had a lot of medical issues. She wasn’t going to be able to really take care of Rob. This was selfishness on Carlos’s part.
“He told me some things,” I said. “His childhood was bad.”
“Everyone has a bad childhood.”
“No,” I said. “Not everyone. I didn’t. Rob didn’t.”
“Don’t get so defensive, mama,” Sara said in a chillax voice. “But there’s a point where you have to grow up and learn emotional maturity. It doesn’t seem like he has that. I don’t care how old he is.”
“I just don’t think that anyone told him that life was what he made it. It seems like he thinks that life is meant to suck.”
“It does suck sometimes,” said Georgie.
“Not all the time,” said Sara.
“He seems to think that if it feels good, he’s not allowed to do it,” I mused.
“Don’t we all?” asked Georgie.
“What, you mean the guilty pleasure thing? I know all about guilty pleasures. I write them. And you know what? They aren’t guilty. There is no reason to feel guilty about pleasure.”
“Preaching to the choir, mama,” said Georgie. “Calm down.” She looked at my glass. “How many margaritas have you had?”
“Three.”
“Listen, half pint, you’re getting drunk.”
“Wouldn’t you, if you finally met your dream guy, your Mr. Right, and he did what Jake did?”
“I’d be drunker than you.” Sara smirked.
“Is there a chance that you are overreacting?” asked Georgie.
“No!” I said, a little louder than I had intended.
“Oooh-kay,” she responded. “Just asking.”
But was I overreacting? He’d been trying to tell me something.
At this point, who cared? I was going to follow my lawyer’s advice. No new relationships until this court ordeal was over.
Okay, I did care. I liked my neighbor and was upset that he freaked. I found myself explaining myself, yet again, to my friends, not wanting to accept that my fledgling relationship had been terminated.
“He’s just a little sad. I wanted to take care of him. He took care of me. The whole weekend, he was so open. It was a really awesome weekend. I don’t know what happened.”
“You may never find out,” said Georgie.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
A few hours later, my friends had left, I’d cleaned up the dishes and put on my pajamas. Although my friends had not solved anything for me, I felt better having talked it out. And I was so tired.
When they’d left, I’d noticed a man sitting in a car across the street. Totally suspicious. I wonder if Carlos was having me watched. Well, nothing was going to happen.
I’d tucked Rob in bed and went to go turn on the television, when there was a loud pounding at my door.
“Lucy. Open up.” Jake’s voice.
No. I wasn’t going to talk to him.
A thud.
It sounded like his forehead was against the door.
I could ignore him and he’d probably go away, eventually. But I’d learned that it was better to just deal with people than to hide. I opened the door to Jake, still in his blue business suit that I’d seen him in ten hours earlier.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“No.”
He sighed. “We need to talk.”
“No we don’t. I don’t need to talk with you. I don’t want to see you.”
“Give me a chance,” he whispered. Dammit. No. No puppy dog eyes. No lovely face. No. I wasn’t going to fall for it again. I was angry and I didn’t want to hear it.
“No. You had your chance.” I went to close the door.
“I fucked up today.”
“Yeah, you did. And you showed what you’re really like. So no, go away.”
He looked like he was going to reach for me, his hands twitched, but he restrained himself. Those artistic hands. He spoke quietly. “You’re the only one who knows me. The office? That’s not me.”
God, strike me in the heart. But no. No.
“Whatever. I’m not going to find out. I’m not going to be with you because it could hurt my son, one. And I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who has to hide the fact that he’s in a relationship from people he spends most of his time with every day, two. So no. And no. This is now bigger than me and you. I am not going to give my ex any ammunition.”
I went to shut the door in his face, and he put his hand out, stopping it.
“Let me explain—”
“Nothing you say could change anything at this point. So just go.” The look on his face hurt my heart. But no. I couldn’t let him in because it would hurt even worse. “Go home, Jake.”
“I don’t have one,” he said. “But I’ll leave you alone.”
And with that, he turned and left.
Over the work week that followed, two things happened.
First, my writing productivity exploded. Finally. My male character came to life, bringing a set of complex issues to solve and a distraction from my real life and legal problems. If I was going to be honest, the male character was based on Jake, but the Jake of my dreams and fantasies, not the real life Jake who lived next door. Real life Jake didn’t measure up, but in my book, I could make him just right.
By Friday, I’d exceeded my word count goals, getting caught up for the past two weeks, and then some. Satisfied with the quality and quantity of my work, I spent a lot of time swimming while Rob was in school. The downtime for my brain was healthy and it kept my body in shape. While I was in the pool, I concentrated on moving my arms and legs, counting laps, and staying focused on the exercise. Swimming also tired me out so that I didn’t sit around when I wasn’t writing and think about my sexy but sad neighbor, and it made it so that I fell asleep quickly.
There was something incredibly soothing about being in the warm water of our pool. It felt womb-like, comforting. A place of creation where my ideas came to me. I loved the sensation of being suspended, feeling weightless, existing temporarily in a different environment. Feeling relief, pleasure, relaxation. Home.
Second, I began to freak out about going to model for the life drawing class on Saturday. The last class had been like any other assignment—I was an anonymous model, posing for anonymous art students, and I did my job and left.
This week? It was more.
Now I had to disrobe in front of a man who had made love to me. It’d felt like it had meaning, like the start of something big. But then when he wouldn’t acknowledge our fledgling relationship? God, now it hurt to think about him. But I wasn’t going to put up with a guy who was ashamed of me. That didn’t make it any less awkward to think about going to class, however.
Saturday, I left in the morning to get to class early. Georgie watched Roberto for me this time. As I drove away, Jake’s BMW lurked in the parking lot of our complex; I halfway wished that he wouldn’t show up.
Truth be told, though, the other half really wanted to see him. And the real, God’s honest truth be told, I missed him in a way that I didn’t know was possible. I’d been waiting for him all of those evenings. I wanted to see him. As the days of the week dragged on, I thought more and more about what had happened. He’d been so romantic. I hated this. I was starting to think that I had overreacted.
I didn’t know what had been going on with him at the office. I hadn’t let him talk. I wondered if I’d get the chance to let him explain it, or if I’d lost my chance forever.
Maybe I should give him a second chance. I really liked him.
I scolded myself. I’d written a book about a second chance. Some person I was if I wouldn’t do it in real life.
Still, I had processed some emotions with the passage of days. I felt strongly that no one was going to walk all over
me. It mattered that people treated me with respect. I felt like I had proved to myself that I had a backbone and could stand up for myself. I wasn’t going to put up with bad treatment. But something more was going on. There was something below the surface, I could feel it. And I felt like I was now hurting myself—and him—by not talking to him.
Searching down deep, I was still attracted to him. Not just his body, though I was attracted to that too, but him. I wanted him in my life. I wanted to disassemble him, find out what made him tick. He seemed like he needed someone to love—he didn’t have anyone and that made my heart hurt.
I didn’t feel like I could give him a second chance right now, however, because of the court proceeding. It was better for me not to be in a relationship, especially a new one, for Roberto’s sake. So the decision was easy for now. Yet seeing him today was going to be hard.
Walking into the classroom early, I was relieved to see that no one was there. The anteroom was empty, and I went in, undressed, put on my white waffle robe, and waited. After a few minutes, I heard the noises of people arriving, chairs scuffling around, and people taking their seats. The professor knocked on the door and talked with me for a moment. Today, I was to move around, and they were to sketch me in motion, going from pose to pose.
God, what a day to make me parade around naked. I tried to remember to breathe.
Last time I’d come into the classroom, I didn’t look around. Instead, I’d looked down. This time, I wanted to hold my head high and look him straight in the eye.
But I couldn’t.
I strolled to the middle of the class, dropped my robe, and began a series of poses, holding each until the professor said, “Next pose, please.” Each pose had movement, like swinging an arm or turning a head back and forth. Because of this constant movement, this class session, I got a lock on where Jake was seated, at an easel in the back. His eyes were on me, and every time I looked at him they seemed to have a different expression. At first, they were blank, studious, an artist flicking his eyes up from his paper, to the model, then back again. But as I moved and the poses changed, his eyes went to anguished. Then pleading. And then, worst of all, his sexiest stare, intense, unblinking heat, his hands down, not drawing, just watching me naked, moving, for the other art students to draw.
All the Waters of the Earth (Giving You ... #3) Page 7
