"I have an appointment with Amelia Crowley," I said to the receptionist, who was seated at a desk at the front of the law firm, on Monday morning. She looked kind of like Pink, with short blonde hair. She appeared tough, like she could bend me in half and break me; it was obvious that she spent all of her time at the gym, with those muscles. Her name plate said "Neveah."

"I'll tell Ms. Crowley you are here," she said politely. "Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thank you," I answered, and perched in a chair in the lobby. I was nervous and dreaded being here. It wasn't that it was a bad place. The law firm was nice, very Santa Barbara-ey, with white stucco walls and a red tile roof. But it was like going to the dentist or the doctor; it just was not fun to be here and you wanted to avoid it as much as you could.

The receptionist paged Amelia, and as I sat there, a tall, handsome man in a dark blue business suit briskly walked past the lobby on his way from one part of the office to the other. I recognized him.

"Jake?" I said, astonished.

"Lucy?" He looked taken aback, and walked over to me. His face went from confused to pissed in an instant. He asked, accusingly, "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here."

The fuck? "I'm not stalking you. I have an appointment with my lawyer. What are you doing here?"

"I am a lawyer. I work here."

What? "I thought you were in advertising?"

"No," he said, eyebrows knitting together. "Why would you think that?"

"All of the product samples," I answered.

He shook his handsome head. "No, clients bring me gifts all the time."

So he was a lawyer? Why? That wasn't very artistic. I thought that he used his art skills for designing ads at least. But a lawyer? That did not make sense, given his artistic personality.

I felt the need to justify myself. "Well, it's rude to ask someone what they do for a living."

"Are you serious?" he asked, incredulous.

I nodded.

Shaking his head like he couldn't believe me, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the seat. "We're using a conference room," he said brusquely to Neveah. Well. No manners. He whisked me into a nearby room and shut the door. I leaned up against the table and he stood by the door.

"What are you doing here, Lucy? Why do you need to see a lawyer?"

"My ex is trying to take away Roberto. He filed papers to modify child custody and child support."

He looked pissed. "Fuck. Who are you seeing?"

"Amelia."

He nodded, satisfied. "She's excellent. But listen. There are ethical rules about attorneys seeing clients. Fuck. If I don't work on your case... Fuck." He seemed to be talking to himself. "It shouldn't matter. But listen. You can't tell anyone anything about me or us. You can't... I don't share. I don't... My private life is my business." His voice got harsher. "No you and me, no art class, no weekend, no nothing, you hear me?"

What the fuck? "Jake, what is wrong with you?" I started, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. It opened, and my attorney was standing there in a professional, black skirt suit. Amelia was a dark haired, curvy beauty with brains. She helped me a few years ago when Carlos stopped paying child support for a few months. After a few strongly-worded letters sent by her on letterhead, Carlos paid all of the arrears, with interest.

"Lucy, how are you?" she asked warmly, shaking my hand. Then she looked Jake up and down and looked back at me, confused. "I didn't know you knew Jake."

"He's, uh," I started.

"We're neighbors," he interrupted. "Until I get my remodel done."

"Oh," said Amelia brightly.

"I'll let you be," said Jake, and he hustled out.

What was up with him? After we had such a perfect weekend, why was he being such a jerk?

Amelia sat down at the table and I tried to arrange my thoughts so that I was thinking about the court proceeding, but I was really wondering why on earth Jake acted so badly. She pulled out a file.

"I reviewed the petition that you dropped off last week, and it looks like Mr. Castro is seeking to have greater custody of Roberto. The proportion of time that he is requesting is such that given your incomes, he would not have to pay any child support."

"I just can't believe this," I whispered, indignant. To hear it out loud from another person made it seem real. Before, just reading the words, made it seem like it was a story, not my real life. And then to my horror, tears started welling in my eyes. I never cried. But apparently, I was going to now. And I found myself spilling my guts to Amelia. I think that being served with the papers was the start, but Jake acting so weird was the trigger and I couldn't take it anymore.

"Carlos dated me for three months in high school, until he talked me into having sex with him, and he got me pregnant the first time we did it. In his Toyota Camry. Not very romantic. And then he dumped me for another girl, who was a cheerleader." I wiped at the tears streaming down my face. Amelia handed me a Kleenex.

"I felt like complete shit. He just used me to get off his teenage hormones and then once I said yes, he was on to the next. But I was young and stupid and I didn't use any protection. So a few weeks later, when I started feeling weird and realized that I missed my period, I was like, no. My stomach dropped. I couldn't be pregnant. My parents would kill me.

"So yes, I was pregnant with Roberto, and was Carlos there at all during my pregnancy? No. He had moved on to a girl on the dance team. And was he there when I was in labor? No. He had moved on to 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, all of the old thoughts of the past coming to me now, and I was reliving them.

"I was abandoned. Carlos 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. 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 was trying to get my GED, to finish up my high school degree, and then I was trying to 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. And yet, that was exactly what I am.

"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, and I need Carlos to pay the damn child support and leave us alone. He doesn't want to be around us anyway.

"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 that much, I think that this is just a ploy to get out of paying so much in child support.

"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."

"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 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. "Now you know, this could get ugly. Mr. Castro could try to argue that there is something that you are doing that is not in Rob's best interest."

"That's crazy! I'm his mother. I've cared for him his entire life."

"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. 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?" she asked.

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? 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.

"He's a nice guy," she said, "but he works way too much. I didn't think he had a personality except for working. I'm sure he does, but it's just buried. Around here, he lives and breathes the law. I don't know anything about him other than he's here, all the time."

But then she continued. "Courts pry into your business. 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 wholesome."

I nodded. "Okay." I didn't know what to do with this.

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.

And I was curious about what she said about Jake. Was his public and private selves so different? Why was he so kind to me at home, and treated me like total shit here? He said he was a workaholic, but that was no reason to pretend that you didn't know someone. I couldn't figure it out and it totally pissed me off. I was already upset from all the emotions that were dragged up by reciting my history to Amelia. And then to have Jake treat me so badly felt unbearable.

Amelia walked me out, and we walked by an office where Jake was working. He looked up when I passed by, and came up out of his chair, calling "Lucy."

"I'll talk to you later," said Amelia.

I walked into his office, and he shut the door. There was nothing on his walls except for a few framed diplomas. The room was stark, almost unlived in, except for the fact that there were papers and file boxes everywhere.

No personality.

"Did you tell her?" he asked, accusing.

"I had to," I said.

"No you didn't. I told you not to. My private life is personal."

"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, pained expression on his face. I continued. "How come you're being like this? After we had such a fantastic weekend."

"You don't understand, Lucy. You're so beautiful, but I can't..."

"You're not going to get the chance," I whispered. "If we're together, it would hurt Rob and you just showed your true colors. You are an asshole. I can't believe I wasted my time with you." And I left his office and shut the door as hard as I could. As it closed, I got a glimpse of the anguished expression on his face.

And then I went out to my car and cried.