Appeal Denied

2018-NYC-42: Notice of Appeal

June 17, 2018

"My goddaughter loves to drool all over me, don't you, punkin?" I'm making baby talk at the chunky five month old in my arms as her mother rushes to get a burp cloth to cover my clothing. Too little too late.

"I'm sorry, Van," Amber comments as she plops into the chair across from me after handing over the cotton material to clean up the mess.

"Sorry for what, Am?" I reply, bouncing the adorable Lilah on my knee, holding her up as she pretends to stand, preparing for the strength she will need in those leg muscles. "She's adorable, and this is what they do at this age."

"But all over your outfit," the tired mama sighs, "Don't you have a date tonight?"

Shaking my head, I remind her, "I haven't been on a date in ages, and I'm happy that way. Honestly," I state, seeing her doubtful look.

"Real talk, Vanessa," she says, taking Lilah from me. "Have you dated anyone since Karl?"

My smile reaches all the way to my eyes because I've met some wonderful men. "Yes. I have, actually. A total of four lovely gentlemen, all in the months of March, April, and early May."

She scrutinizes me carefully, "But none of them stuck?"

"Oh, I quite enjoyed my time with each of them. But none of them were the right guy for me. Not forever guys, you know?" I wasn't lying. Not exactly anyway. Three of the four had been really nice men who made me laugh and treated me well. The fourth one had been rude when I'd introduced him to Marvin on our third date, and I'd dumped him before the subway ride to his place was even halfway over.

Opening her shirt, she unbuttons her nursing bra and attaches my goddaughter to her breast, settling back in the chair. "So what are you looking for? Do you need me to set you up?"

"No," I wave away her concern, "Thank you, Amber, but I'm content with my life right now. Scout's honor," I promise, making the sign I'd seen others make in the past.

"You're going to make partner before you're 40," she grins at me, "Just like you wanted."

I start clearing the kitchen table, carrying dishes from our shared lunch to the sink and preparing to load the dishwasher.

"I'm no longer sure that's important to me," I calmly report, opening the dishwasher to find it hasn't been emptied yet. Taking out the clean baby bottles, I put them into the cabinet with other baby items.

"Wait. What did you say? Making partner isn't important?" Lilah starts crying at the shrillness of her mother's voice, and I sigh.

"Sometimes being at the top isn't what matters," I tell her as I remove the plates and stack them on the counter in preparation for putting them away. "It's been freeing to turn down a few clients. My plate is full enough, and I'm able to provide high quality service to the ones I have both here and in Los Angeles."

"How many do you have in LA now?" she asks, "I mean, I know you're spending about two weeks out of every month there, so it must be quite a few."

"I've got five solely based in New York, another six solely based in Los Angeles, and eight who travel fluidly between the two cities." Putting away the last of the silverware, I start to load the dirty dishes.

"Damn, Van! That's awesome. When my maternity leave started, I had twelve clients all my own, but now I'm down to nine. And that seems like the perfect amount for someone who works and raises a daughter. Once she's older, I'll get back on the partner track." She's proud of herself. It was quite the challenge for her to go back to work once her maternity leave ended, so she agreed to restrict herself to 30 hours a week.