Tina
“I was married,” I tell him. “But then, I guess you figured that.”
“And you’re divorced now,” he says.
“Yes. At the time, I was pregnant with my son. Blake. He’s two months old now.” I fidget uncomfortably in my seat. I shouldn’t be nervous. I can tell this man is trying his best to put me at ease, but somehow, I’m still uncomfortable. Somehow, I’m still terrified.
Why?
Why am I so scared right now?
I’m not scared of Mr. Fee. I’m not scared of being in his office or being alone with him. He’s a big man, to be sure. He must be over six feet tall, and he’s wide. Muscular. He seems really strong. He’s so different from Chester in every way.
Chester is short and lean. He’s not muscular. He’s not big. Looking back, I can’t even say exactly how we ended up together except that we did, and I thought we could make things work. We were so different, but we had a lot of common interests. None of those things was strong enough for our relationship to last, though.
None of those things was enough to make our marriage work.
None of those things was enough to keep him from cheating on me.
And now, there’s a chance that Chester might take my little boy away. I can’t have that. I really, really can’t have that.
“And your husband wants custody of your son.”
“Right.” I dig around in my purse for a second and pull out the papers with all of the information on them. “He’s filed a Motion for Modification.”
Mr. Fee takes the papers from me and looks over them. As he reads, his mouth moves silently. I take this time to look around the office because if I just stare at my new lawyer, I’m going to go crazy. He’s beautiful: too beautiful. No man should be as pretty as he is. It’s simply not fair.
The office is fairly standard as far as offices go: there’s a desk with two chairs for clients and one for Mr. Fee. One side of the office is lined with bookshelves. Some of them are law books, but I also notice a lot of storybooks and science fiction novels.
He likes to read.
Interesting.
The other side of the room is empty. There is no furniture over there, but the wall houses several framed diplomas, certificates, and awards my new attorney has won. So not only is he super sexy and well-read, but he’s smart, too.
I’m in way over my head here.
“May I ask what the cause of your divorce was?” Mr. Fee looks up at me, and for a second, I feel like a deer in the headlights. What’s the simplest way I can say this? What’s the best way to phrase this so that I don’t sound like a complete loser? How can I tell this man, this stranger, that my husband didn’t want me anymore?
How can I tell him I wasn’t good enough?
I knew the question was coming. This is a child custody dispute, after all. The reason we got divorced is obviously going to be essential. For just a second, I think about lying. I can’t explain why. It’s just that admitting out loud what Chester did hurts me.
It hurts my damn soul.
I’m embarrassed and humiliated and alone and I don’t want the world to know what happened between us.
I don’t want the world to know how our relationship failed.
What I want more than anything else, though, is to keep custody of Blake. I can’t let Chester have him. There’s no way. He won’t be a good father. He won’t take care of my little boy. Chester will grow tired of Blake or he’ll let one of his girlfriends watch him and she won’t take good care of my son. Blake deserves the best. He doesn’t deserve a father who doesn’t give a shit.
The only reason Chester wants custody is to hurt me.
He wants to scare me.
He wants to cause me more pain.
And I can’t let that happen.
So I take a deep breath and I look at Mr. Fee, and instead of feeding him the bullshit story I told my mother about the divorce, I tell him the truth.
“Chester cheated on me. I came home one day, while I was pregnant, and found him in bed with another woman. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the last time. I filed for divorce the next day.”
Mr. Fee doesn’t look like he’s judging me. He doesn’t look like he pities me or like he feels sorry for me. He just makes a note on a piece of paper and nods curtly.
“I understand, and I’m sorry this happened to you.” He looks up at me, and I’m surprised at what I see in his eyes. I’m surprised to see anger there, frustration. I’m surprised to see him getting upset on my behalf. He’s angry that Chester hurt me. He’s angry I was treated that way.
Why?
We’re strangers, after all. Mr. Fee has no personal relationship with me. He doesn’t know anything about my life except what I’ve told him, but he actually cares.
And that makes me care.
And that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m worth caring about.
It makes me feel like maybe my worth isn’t completely tied up in whether or not my marriage lasted.
“Thank you,” I say.
Mr. Fee continues reading the paperwork for a moment, and then he sets it down and looks at me.
“From what I can tell,” he says. “Your ex-husband doesn’t have any grounds on which to demand custody. He certainly doesn’t have any grounds on which to demand you pay him child support.”
I nod, relieved. “He was the primary breadwinner while we were married,” I say. “So I thought it was strange he would suddenly want money from me.” I shake my head. “He was happy to be divorced, Mr. Fee. He was thrilled. He was glad to be rid of me and able to do whatever he wanted with his life. He was so…satisfied.”
“Please call me Landon.”
“Landon.”
“If you don’t mind me saying,” he says. “Your ex-husband is a huge jerk.”
I start laughing. I haven’t laughed in a long time and it feels good.
“My apologies. I know that’s inappropriate,” Landon says, but he doesn’t look sorry at all, and I keep laughing.
“It’s fine,” I tell him, trying to calm myself down. “It’s just that I didn’t expect you to say that. I thought you’d be very stiff and proper.”
“I don’t think anyone who works in this building would use any of those words to describe me.”
“Well, I guess first impressions aren’t everything.”
“They certainly aren’t.”
Landon looks at me and he smiles. He seems hopeful and that makes me feel hopeful. He seems like everything is going to be okay, and that makes me feel like I’m going to get a happy ending. When I arrived at the office, I was nervous and scared, but somehow, he’s managed to put me completely at ease.
“So what happens now?” I ask, ready to pull out my checkbook, or credit card, depending on what his fees are going to be.
Paying for my divorce wiped out what little savings I had. Now I basically live paycheck-to-paycheck. The bulk of my money goes toward the house payment and the rest goes toward things for Blake. Diapers aren’t cheap. Even with coupons, they aren’t what I would call “affordable.”
“What do I owe you for today?”
“Today’s consultation is free of charge,” he says. “And I will be happy to represent you in court. It looks like your court date is in three weeks, which gives us plenty of time to prepare.”
“And we have to go before a judge,” I say.
“Right.”
“And a jury,” I add.
“No,” Landon smiles. “This isn’t a courtroom drama, Tina. We’ll go before the judge and you’ll each say your piece. I assume your ex-husband will bring a lawyer. If he’s smart, he’ll bring a good one. The attorney will argue that he has been denied parenting rights and he’ll ask for custody of your son. I’ll argue oppositely, that your husband was neglectful during your marriage and would behave the same way with your son.”
“And that will work?”
“I’m very good at what I do,” he says, and for some reason, I believe him. I believe him when Mr. Fee says that everything is going to be okay. I believe him when he promises that he’s going to help me. I believe him, and believing in something is a good thing. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time, and I feel relieved.
“Do I pay you now for that?” I ask. “For representing me in court? Or do you bill me?”
“I’ll send you a bill,” he says.
“Is there any chance you can give me an estimate?” I ask, blushing. I hate talking about money, especially with people who have tons of it. I’m not stupid. I know lawyers charge a lot and even though Joyce did me a huge favor by getting me an appointment with this guy, I’m not expecting a free handout. Obviously, this is a nice legal office. Obviously, it’s nice because they charge a lot.
He writes down a number on a piece of paper that is much lower than I anticipated.
“What?” I ask. “This can’t be right. Is this per hour?”
“This is the total cost,” he says.
I look at Landon, confused. “There’s no way this is the total cost. The court appearance fees alone should be twice this.”
“You’re a friend of Joyce’s,” he tells me. “So you get the friends-and-family discount.”
I can’t help feeling completely overwhelmed in this moment. I can’t help feeling like someone out there is watching out for me. I can’t help feeling like everything is going to be okay. I can’t help feeling like my heart is going to break from the kindness I’ve been shown.
“Mr. Fee,” I whisper, and then I start to cry, and I know I shouldn’t. It’s not appropriate behavior for a client to cry in their lawyer’s office. It’s totally unprofessional. It’s totally uncalled for, but I can’t stop. Within seconds, I’m sobbing loudly, covering my face, getting snot everywhere.
And then I feel Mr. Fee pull me to my feet and wrap his big, strong arms around me.
“Tina,” he whispers. “Please don’t cry. Everything is going to be all right.”