The Lawyer

October 21, 1982: We finally got to see a lawyer. In the afternoon, we got on the colectivo #60 and the driver let us off at the San Tomas train station. We walked 6 blocks to the Law School building. It was late, around 4:30, so we didn't have any problem getting someone to speak with us. The lawyer, a handsome man in his 30's, seemed very polite and interested in what my Tia had to say. But he told her that it was the landlady's house and that she could do what she wanted with it. My aunt trembled and I thought she was going to faint. I had never seen her like this, so discouraged and worn out.
Then the lawyer asked me some questions. I told him I was her sister's eldest daughter and that I had just arrived from San Francisco. That made him notice my accent. I know I don't sound Argentinian anymore. I don't like people telling me that. It's an uncomfortable feeling.
When my aunt and I left the Law School, I helped her put on her light sweater before hurrying back home.