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The meeting took twenty minutes. Twenty torturous, endless minutes, with her hard and angry face across the table and the smirk of her lawyer as he eviscerated the legal claims Malak had thought were so solid. That Malak's lawyer had agreed were solid. And he knows that the lawyer probably presented it in the most negative light possible, that the lawyer wanted to intimidate them, but Malak can't help it: his head is full of visions of losing his girls, and he can't think.
He moves towards the elevator, his lawyer jogging to make it to his elbow. "Hey," she says, "we're still going forward, all right? You still have a good chance."
A good chance. A good chance, as opposed to the sure thing that a custody settlement would be. He gets Brenna three days a week. That's still the offer. And it would be all right -- for him. He tries to explain, every time, and he stammers, gets turned around and tongue-tied, and still he can't express to any officer of the court the sheer disaster it would be to give Brenna so much time with her mother. The girl is becoming a bully. He can feel the sheer feeling trying to flutter out of her, and can see the way she vents it in all the wrong ways. He needs her away from any cruel, manipulative touch. She can't be a bargaining piece.
Malak pushes the elevator button three times, his hands shaking.
"Malak," says his lawyer.
"I'll," says Malak. He swallows. "How about we just meet tomorrow, like we scheduled? I need some time."
"Listen," she says, "I'll fight for you."
Yes, she will. She will, in her J.C. Penney suit and her Bargain Shoe heels with the stitching coming apart at the sole. And Alaina will come in with Gucci and hand-tailored jackets and six experts and she'll demolish them.
"I know." He forces a smile. He still has hope, which is the deadly part. He still thinks that maybe the justice system will see through Alaina's expensive machinations. "I'll see you then."
The elevator dings open, and a dark-skinned, shockingly handsome man emerges. Malak tears his eyes away, and realizes that a weight from his pocket is missing. He touches it -- flat, empty. His phone. "Damn," he says. "I forgot my phone. I'll catch up with you."
"You sure you're all right?"
"I'll see you tomorrow."
He turns back, and as luck has it, he ends up several meters behind the dark-skinned man. He makes a left turn into the conference room, retrieves the phone on the counter.
He moves towards the elevator, his lawyer jogging to make it to his elbow. "Hey," she says, "we're still going forward, all right? You still have a good chance."
A good chance. A good chance, as opposed to the sure thing that a custody settlement would be. He gets Brenna three days a week. That's still the offer. And it would be all right -- for him. He tries to explain, every time, and he stammers, gets turned around and tongue-tied, and still he can't express to any officer of the court the sheer disaster it would be to give Brenna so much time with her mother. The girl is becoming a bully. He can feel the sheer feeling trying to flutter out of her, and can see the way she vents it in all the wrong ways. He needs her away from any cruel, manipulative touch. She can't be a bargaining piece.
Malak pushes the elevator button three times, his hands shaking.
"Malak," says his lawyer.
"I'll," says Malak. He swallows. "How about we just meet tomorrow, like we scheduled? I need some time."
"Listen," she says, "I'll fight for you."
Yes, she will. She will, in her J.C. Penney suit and her Bargain Shoe heels with the stitching coming apart at the sole. And Alaina will come in with Gucci and hand-tailored jackets and six experts and she'll demolish them.
"I know." He forces a smile. He still has hope, which is the deadly part. He still thinks that maybe the justice system will see through Alaina's expensive machinations. "I'll see you then."
The elevator dings open, and a dark-skinned, shockingly handsome man emerges. Malak tears his eyes away, and realizes that a weight from his pocket is missing. He touches it -- flat, empty. His phone. "Damn," he says. "I forgot my phone. I'll catch up with you."
"You sure you're all right?"
"I'll see you tomorrow."
He turns back, and as luck has it, he ends up several meters behind the dark-skinned man. He makes a left turn into the conference room, retrieves the phone on the counter.