All the Waters of the Earth (Giving You ... #3) (10 page)

“So there I was, pregnant with Roberto, and was Carlos there at all during my pregnancy? Did he go to any doctor’s appointments?  No. He’d moved on to a girl on the dance team. And was he there when I was in labor? No. He was then dating a girl who used to sit next to me in math class. And did Carlos come to see his child? Not until he was a month old. And that was only because I went over to his house and pounded on his door, demanding that he meet him.”

I started sobbing in earnest, all of the old thoughts of the past coming to me now as I relived them.

“I was flat out abandoned and rejected by Carlos.  He left me by myself, all those pregnancy hormones, all those feelings, all those changes. He didn’t care. And I couldn’t make him care. But it scarred me. It fucking scarred me.  That bastard hurt me and now he’s doing it again. He doesn’t care about anyone except himself.

“So was it too early for me to have Roberto? Absolutely. Do I love him with all of my heart? That and more. But he’s
my child
. Carlos didn’t do anything. I had to chase him for child support. 

“I had no money.  When I had Rob, I was trying to get my GED and then go to community college. I lived with my parents. I worked at Taco Bell. I did anything just to get an education and to get money for my kid because there was no way in hell I was going to be another unwed, Hispanic single mother,” I spat.  Amelia reached over and patted my hand as my sobs subsided.  I dabbed my eyes, noticing all of the makeup coming off on the tissue.  I took a deep breath.

“And yet, that was exactly what I was.  What I am.  And I’ve had to accept that, had to accept that I’m a stereotype and I’ve had to fucking pick myself up and do the work to make a wonderful life for me and Roberto.

“I knew that I wanted to be a writer and in between everything, in between school and studying, in between work and trying to make money, and in between taking care of my son, I wrote. I wrote in the middle of the night. I wrote because I had to. And I’ve managed to make a living out of it, but it was through a lot of hard work.  Carlos needs to pay the damn child support to take care of his son and leave us alone. He doesn’t really want to be around us anyway—he doesn’t want to be tied to anyone or anything.  He likes the rush, the good time.  He always goes for the next thing.  He doesn’t have the attention to be a dad.

“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 trusted 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.