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“It’s my fault. She begged me to spend more time with her and the kids, but I was too stubborn. I drank beer with friends instead of taking care of them until she kicked me out. I’ll never forgive myself.”
He sits back in the chair and brushes his hands across reddened cheeks. I wholeheartedly understand his first instinct is to blame himself. Twenty pounds dropped from my muscular frame in the months following Syd's funeral.
"Had I been home, I could've called 911 or run to my neighbor's house for help. Instead, I spent another hour with the construction crew. One more beer, my macho ego said."
“I can state from experience that the days will pass, and the emptiness will dissipate. My girlfriend died last New Year’s Eve. Sometimes we aren’t meant to understand why God takes them away. All we can do is honor loved ones by helping others.”
“Is that why you don’t charge for your services?”
“Yes. The pain feels unbearable. I know. Remember that given time, you’ll find a reason to continue living. The children need a father who can comfort them and express vulnerability. It’s never too late to change, Mr. Martinez.”
He wipes tears on his dirty shirt sleeve and looks into my eyes.
“You’re a good man, Mr. Barton. I thought all lawyers were apathetic assholes.”
Not this one. At least not anymore.
“The community center offers grief counseling. I’ve known the director, Mrs. Conner, for several years. She can provide additional resources for the kids. Accept help instead of closing down, like I did. Life is too precious to waste.”
He reaches to shake my hand and we stand. My heart’s wide open to embrace a second chance at love. If Penelope will speak to me.
7
Penelope
The apartment door slams shut as I arrive home. My hands rub together to warm my fingers; the temperature’s a cool forty-five degrees. Mrs. Rogers offered one last Grinch-worthy demand as I walked out the office.
“Leave Mr. Barton’s coat. And don’t bother asking for a referral.”
I pick up a cotton throw pillow and scream. He had me fooled, with his heart-wrenching story of losing his girlfriend and his Pro Bono service. But he proved himself to be a spineless bastard, just like the rest of them.
He was already in the elevator when I opened the manilla file folder. Instead of the Martinez client he mentioned, the name Peterman was typed onto the tab. That Peterman.
It’s true lawyers have each other’s back. Bentley was forming a case against one of my ex-boss’s secretaries who accused her former employer of nonconsensual sex. I could believe Bentley handed me the wrong folder, but I can't condone his willingness to overlook potential rape.
My heels unbuckle and remove. I felt confident and beautiful when he left for court. Now I’m just another miscellaneous expense on Barton’s balance sheet.
After changing into red flannel pajamas, I dial Mom and boil water for chamomile tea.
“How’s Dad?”
“We’re waiting for EKG results, but the doctor suspects his overload of sugar caused the symptoms. He suffered an insulin reaction. He wants to say hi.”
“Sorry to worry you, Penny. I’m fine. Your Mom’s overprotective.”
“Two slices? I suppose you had ice cream, too.”
“We’re supposed to celebrate and overindulge this time of year. I hate that you’re spending the holidays alone.”
I’ve already scoured the internet for cheap flights to no avail. Five hundred bucks only covers a one-way ticket.
“I’ll visit in March once Minneapolis thaws. Get used to sugar free, Dad, and low-fat everything.”
“I hear anger in your voice. I didn’t mean to scare you or your mother.”
“They cut my temp job short. I hoped to earn enough for a surprise visit.”
“What happened this time?”
