Tough Love
Alan was sitting on the couch in his office looking down at the glass of scotch he was holding in his hands. The verdict had not been unexpected; he had warned his client that he didn't feel like the jury was sympathetic though he had argued his client's case to the absolute best of his abilities. He knew it was a long shot going into it; one of those cases Crane Poole and Schmidt seemed to have cornered the market on; in other words, a case no other firm in Boston would touch.
Well, he thought, I did tell her not to expect too much. She was suing for fraud and medical malpractice because she felt her sister's physicians had led her on and they didn't. They really didn't. So, why do I feel like such a failure?
He thought back to the day Jonelle Witherspoon first came into his office. He happened to be walking through the reception area just as the elevator door opened and this incredibly attractive brunette stepped onto the floor. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, he changed direction to intercept her. When she said she needed to speak with an attorney, he introduced himself, escorted her to his office and asked her to tell her story. First, he listened; then, he questioned and then, he thought hard about what he could say to let her down easy.
A soft tap on his door pulled him out of his head. He knew it was Denny before he glanced up. Denny took the slight smile he cast his way as permission to enter. He took in Alan's countenance and decided to sit on the opposite end of the couch so that he could put his back against the arm and look directly at the younger man. "What are you feeling, Alan? You knew your chances of winning were slim to none. Your Ms Witherspoon only heard what she wanted to hear when the doctors told her about her sister's prognosis. She had pancreatic cancer, for Pete's sake! It's not their fault, or yours, that she chose to ignore what was said that she didn't agree with and hang all her hopes on a five percent chance of survival. The doctors told her. You told her. And now, a jury has told her. I just don't understand why you changed your mind and took the case. Was it the money?"
At that, Alan stopped looking down and glared daggers at Denny. He opened his mouth to say something ugly but, fortunately, his mind overtook his anger and got it back under control. Instead, he exhaled loudly and said, "No, it wasn't the money, though I really did think that once I quoted that obscenely inflated hourly rate to her, she would run out the door. I thought that she would forget about it if she thought she couldn't afford it. She just nodded and said okay. She said that her sister had been her last family member and since Lydia was four years younger, she had always assumed that she would have her sister for the rest of her life. She said that without Lydia, she was completely alone. No husband, no children, no other family and no friends. 'All I have is money,' she said, 'and no one to spend it on except me. And now, you and this case.' In some way, I identified with her, Denny. She's completely alone in the world, or thinks she is and, I know what that's like. It hurts. It hurts like hell, Denny. She said she has never had a problem getting money and if she can't have a family, at least she can have more money. I feel like I failed her, Denny."
"Enough, Alan. Here you sit feeling sorry for yourself because you lost a case you had absolutely no chance of winning. A case you never should have taken and never would have taken except for some delusion you insist on maintaining that you are somehow unworthy of friends or family or love. You have to stop this. Really. Seriously. Stop it."
Shocked, Alan slowly placed his drink on the side table. He stood up, buttoned his jacket and replied quietly, "If I'm so delusional, maybe you don't want to be around me."
Denny heaved himself up from the couch and walked past Alan toward the door but, instead of going through it, he reached out to push it shut and then locked it. Leaning against it, he folded his arms in front of his chest and stared at Alan until the younger man averted his eyes. "Alan, I'm going to say something that I intend to only say once so, you need to listen. Are you listening?"
Alan rolled his eyes and snarled, "Yes."
Denny looked at one of his perfectly manicured hands and then dropped it and said, "You've had an emotionally tough life. I get that. I do. And, I also get that there was a time when you might have been in Ms Witherspoon's position. But, that was then, this is now. That pathetic individual doesn't exist anymore. Bury him and get him a tombstone. Have compassion for Ms Witherspoon and anyone like her you come across but, stop thinking you are like them. Otherwise, you might as well be Jerry Espenson dating that object, objecto… "He grunted in frustration, "The broad in love with the radio!"
"Leigh, the objectophiliac."
"Yes, her. He wasn't like her and you're not like Jonelle. You have a life. You're engaged to marry me, Denny Crane! Your best friend and soon, your loving husband who will bequeath to you everything he owns. How much more life do you want? Who's got it better than you?"
Alan had to smile at the total look of earnestness on Denny's face. He's right. I'm beating myself up for not winning an unwinnable case because somehow I thought I could improve her life. The only thing I can do is live my life as best I can. "No one, Denny, no one has it better than I do. I hear the balcony calling. Let's go sit out there."
Denny pushed himself upright and clapped Alan on the shoulder before opening the door and leading the way to his office. As they entered his office, Denny turned to say, "It's a good thing you're marrying me because you definitely need looking after!"
As Alan reached into Denny's humidor to collect two cigars for their evening smoke, he grinned and replied, "Indeed."