I pulled open the car door and helped Michael from his car seat. "What's wrong with him?" I asked. "Is he hurt?"

"Nothing's wrong with him," David snapped back. "We were just driving back from the beach, and he saw you and your boyfriend arguing back there at the corner of Pier and Monterey. Jesus Christ, Sam, don't you have some pride? Fighting out in the open like that? You didn't even hear Michael screaming for you."

I carried Michael into the house and David followed right behind me. "Now all he wants is his mommy. He wouldn't stop screaming, not even after I got onto PCH. So I figured - what the hell, I might as well give him what he wants. His mommy and her hot date."

"Shut up, David," I said, comforting Michael as he continued to cling to me. I wiped away his tears and took him to his bedroom, hoping his toys might calm him. He climbed down from my arms and settled onto the floor, sitting in the middle of his favorite rug that featured a little town for his toy trains and cars to travel around.

"You could have at least called first," I said, following David as he walked through the living room and then into my bedroom. "We really should do the exchange at a public place next time, David."

"What, so you can screw your new boyfriend?" David's eyes scanned my bedroom, lingering on the unmade bed. "That Erik dude does not waste time, does he?"

"What I do on the weekends is my business," I said, keeping my voice down. "You're supposed to drop him off at six, not at one in the afternoon or even the night before."

Satisfied at what he had seen in the bedroom, David brushed past me like I wasn't there, and entered the bathroom. "Look, he's even got his own toothbrush already," he declared, picking up the new toothbrush sitting next to its packaging and showing it to me. "Why am I not surprised, Sam?"

I didn't want to take the bait. I couldn't, for I knew it was exactly what David wanted. I'd lose my temper, say something I'd regret, and then he'd claim that I had started it. His word against mine.

"Just leave," I said, doing my best to appear confident. David knew how I feared confronting him, for I would never know when he would hit me. But I was too angry from my confrontation with Erik to worry about what David was going to do next. I was tired of being told what to do, how to feel.

"I'll have the attorney contact you about the custody arrangements, in case you need to review it again," I said.

David's face grew dark, the way it often did whenever he didn't get his way. He walked towards me. I took a step backwards and another before my back hit the wall of the bathroom. "Why? So you can fuck your boyfriend anytime you want?"

"This has nothing to do with Erik or whatever else you accuse me of. What I do during my time is my concern, not yours." This time I let my rage fuel me, not letting my fear take over like it always did, leaving me a cowering mess at David's feet. I didn't want Michael to remember me that way.

"Oh yes it is, Sam," he said. "Especially if Mikey is involved. I don't want to find out that you've been having your dearest boyfriend over here while Mikey is home. Should I make a stipulation about that to the judge? No fucking, your honor, while she has little Mikey in her custody - because I just know she would just do it."

"Just get out right now," I said, walking past him towards the front door. 'Or I'm calling the cops and report that you're trespassing private property."

David's eyes narrowed. He was trying to figure out if I was serious or not, I thought, as I held the door wide open, hoping that someone I was visible to anyone who happened to look from the sidewalk. Just then, I saw George stand up, straightening his back. He'd been gardening. He waved as he saw me, though his smile disappeared when he saw David's car in the driveway.

"Would you want George to call the police instead?" I asked. "He's right outside his house and he's waiting for me to tell him to call them for me."

As David's eyes narrowed, I wondered if he was he going to call my bluff. He walked towards the door, a lazy smile on his face as he kept his eyes on me. Was he waiting for my resolve to falter?

I'd never done this before and it scared me to death.

David walked past me and turned to face me, his shoes on the door mat. Suddenly he grabbed my hand. With his back to George, my neighbor wouldn't be able to see what was happening, and my heart pounded inside my chest, memories rushing in. I pulled my hand away, but David's grip was too tight. He spread out my fingers and saw the pigments still caught beneath my nails.

"I thought we agreed on this, Sam," he said, gritting his teeth. "You don't paint a damn thing and I won't make your life a living hell. Payback's a bitch, remember?"

"You can't tell me what I can and can't do, David. Not anymore," I said, pulling the door shut with my other hand. But David was fast, and stronger than me. He stopped the door and I winced at the sound of his hand hitting the door.

"You ruined my career that day in Beverly Hills, Sam, when you lost it in front of my own clients," David hissed. "Because of you, no one will hire me here in LA and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you have your way."

"You can't tell me what to do anymore, David," I said, as a Range Rover stopped right in front of the house. David and I turned to look. It was Erik. He'd stopped the car and was letting it idle in front of the house.

"Let me guess," David drawled. "He's coming back to see you again."

"No, David. He's making you don't hit me anymore," I said as David frowned. "Yes, he knows. Everyone in this neighborhood knows. So if you want to, go ahead. Let them see what you can do. Go ahead. Do it!"

David's expression was of shock as I shut the door and locked it. My hands were shaking. My whole body was trembling. I leaned against the door and listened to the sound of David's car starting, and then driving away. I peered through my blinds and saw that Erik had gone out of his car and was talking to George.

Michael came out of his room and headed to the kitchen. Done with crying, now he was hungry.

As I made him lunch and sat down with him at the table, I searched through the yellow pages for a locksmith who was available to work on Sundays. As I turned on my phone, I saw that Erik had left two messages in my voicemail but I ignored them, my mind set on finding someone to change the locks as soon as possible - before I'd change my mind.

Half an hour later, with Michael finished with his lunch, I did find someone, and he charged me twice as much than if he'd come on a weekday. But I could no longer ignore the fear that I felt coursing through my veins. David knew I was drawing again, and I didn't even deny it. While it was all good and dandy to stand up for myself for a change, from here on, I didn't know what to expect from him.

And that scared me.

I'd break your other hand, Sam. But I can't do that because you need something to clean Mikey with.

The memory of his words two years earlier made me tremble. After he slashed the paintings that were delivered from the Beverly Hills art gallery, he came after me. Michael was only six months old then, and I remembered the shouting, the police officers who came to investigate, the forced smiles telling them we were fine, that I was fine. Then after they left, David struck, and this time he meant business. When I fell to the floor, that's when he stepped on my hand, breaking the bones of my wrist.

To everyone else, even the police detective who returned to check up on me two days later, I simply tripped in the front yard and tried to break my fall. But even Rosie didn't believe me.

I still had the expensive teddy bear camera she gave me, still sitting by the bay window in the living room. It just needed a remote set up but I never got around to do it. The idea that my humiliation at David's hands immortalized on film would only be proof of how far I'd fallen.

It had taken me a year to get my right wrist healed completely, and even more, to get it to work like it used to. That's what the pastel drawings had been for - to practice through the pain, in private, till it either stopped hurting or I'd get used to it, just as I'd gotten used to lying to David and telling myself that one day, I'd start painting again, even if it meant I'd use my left hand to do it. But I never did paint again.

Until I met Erik.

Shortly after the locksmith left, my phone rang again. This time, I answered.

"Sam, are you alright?" Erik asked. "I know David's gone, but I need to hear it from you."

"I'm fine, Erik. Thank you for stopping by."

"I want to do more, Sam," he said. "But you won't let anyone in."

"Because I can't let you, Erik," I said. "You don't need this. You really don't. You've got a perfect life. So live it. Don't hassle yourself with stuff that you can't fix."

"It's not a question of fixing, Sam," Erik said. "It's living a life without being afraid all the time."

"Like I said, Erik, you don't need this."

"Don't tell me what I need or don't need, Sam," he said. A few seconds later, I heard him sigh. "I meant what I said about you, Sam. About us. That hasn't changed."

"If Collin wants to sell those paintings, let him do whatever he needs to do. I'm just glad I got to paint again, and they're yours. So thank you."

"Sam, they're not," Erik protested. "And I won't take them. Don't do this, Sam. Don't run away. Don't shut me out."

"I don't care what you do, Erik. Those painting are yours," I said, refusing to acknowledge what Erik had just said. I didn't want to for if I did, I knew I'd start crying again. And as Michael screamed about some toy not working, I glanced at the clock. It was after three. "I have to go. Michael needs his nap."

I hung up the phone, not waiting for Erik to respond. I knew I was being a coward. But at the same time, I didn't know what else to do. I'd done more than I'd ever thought I could do to stand up for myself that morning against David, and it exhausted me.

I joined Michael in his room and turned on the ceiling fan. I sang his favorite songs as Michael drifted off to sleep, turning off my cell phone so I could sleep as well. I didn't want to think anymore, at least for the next few hours.

But no matter how hard I tried, the only thing that filled my mind then was Erik, and of what we had had. And that whatever it was we did have, it was over.