Amanda Davies sat in the high-back leather chair and stared out the window. She wanted to call Henry, desperately wanted to hear his voice if only for a moment. Several times over the last few hours she'd reached for the phone, felt the plastic beneath her fingers, only to retract like she'd touched a poisonous plant.
The office was empty, dark except for a desk lamp and her computer screen. The minutes seemed to stretch into hours.
She watched the phone. He'd called once. She waited to see if he would call again. He didn't.
She'd told Henry she was coming here to sleep. She knew sleep wouldn't come easy. Not last night and not tonight. Not after what she saw.
Since joining the Legal Aid Society, Amanda had witnessed some horrible things. Mothers and fathers who beat their children within an inch of their life, starved them. Made seven-year-olds wear diapers for days and weeks on end.
Boys and girls who were found caked in their own excrement while their parents were out drinking, stealing or fornicating.
And no matter how hard they worked, how many children they rescued, it was like putting a Band-Aid on a busted dam.
There wasn't enough manpower, not enough funding. As long as society remained this screwed up, as long as there were hedonistic parents who put themselves over their child, there would always be children without homes. Just like her. Until she met Henry.
She thought about Mya Loverne. Hated the fact that she felt even a whisper of sympathy for the girl. But she did. It was tearing her apart, because she could still see Mya's arms wrapped around Henry's waist, their lips touching, Henry seeming to give in.
He should have ended it months ago. He should have severed all ties with Mya Loverne. But he hadn't, and last night showed why. He wasn't ready to give her up. Amanda lost the one person she could turn to, the one who showed her that there were relationships beyond her diaries.
She couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed the phone, nearly spilling a cup of water all over the desk, and dialed
Henry's cell phone. She waited as it rang, hoping that any second he would pick up and she would hear his voice, hoping there was more to the story. Henry was not a bad guy, like so many of the douche bags and deadbeats desperate women seemed to flock to. Guys who smelled like skunk residue and wore enough hair gel to paste King Kong to the
Empire State Building. Henry wasn't like them. She couldn't picture him cheating on her. Being with another woman.
Pressing his lips
(stop it)
Henry's voice mail picked up.
"This is Henry. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
She bit her lip, then spoke.
"Henry, it's me. We need to talk. Call me when you get this."
For a moment, fear gripped Amanda. What if he was with
Mya? Couldn't be. He wasn't like that. He wasn't…
She hung up. Looked out the window again as the sun began to dip below the clouds, casting a golden hue over New York
City. In a city of millions, Amanda had never felt so alone.