Thanks to everyone who read and to Scififan33 and 1983Sarah for reviewing.
"At this point in your sentence it's not something that I can approve," Mr. Marin said with a shake of his head. "If you get a position at the school's writing center next semester that would be acceptable, but the one-on-one situation that you're describing is far too prone to abuse for me to sign off on it."
Barry wanted to argue, but he'd gotten a few sharp lessons in when to keep his mouth shut over the course of the last year, and judging by the expression on Mr. Marin's face this was one of those times. "I understand," he said instead. Which didn't mean that he didn't think that it was stupid because seriously, what crimes did they think he was going to commit while meeting a classmate at a coffeehouse once a week to review writing assignments, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it.
"Is there anything else?" Mr. Marin asked.
"No," Barry said. Up until that disappointment, his meeting with Mr. Marin at the parole offices had been even more boring than the one at his house last week, but he still figured that boring was about the best that he could hope for for this kind of thing.
"Then I'll see you here next month and at your place at some point before then," Mr. Marin said, pushing himself to his feet.
Barry echoed his motion, shaking Mr. Marin's hand and escaping with a thanks that he didn't particularly feel. Jordan hadn't completely rejected the idea of online tutoring, but she had said that she'd prefer to meet in person, and he wasn't sure how she'd feel about the fact that he now officially couldn't.
With a sigh he pulled away from the curb and out into traffic, a car taking the spot he'd vacated almost before he was clear. He swung by a drive-through on the way home to grab some lunch for himself and then spent some time at his weight bench before he felt okay enough to get started on his history paper. Maybe he should have picked up a punching bag too. Maybe he still would.
His history test was about as difficult as he'd expected—which was to say not—and since Dad still wasn't home by the time he'd finished he got some of his calc homework out of the way and then snagged a last-minute community service slot scrubbing graffiti downtown tomorrow morning and another picking up garbage along the highway Friday afternoon. He'd only done the garbage pickup a couple times before, but he much preferred it to graffiti scrubbing given that it involved more movement and way less damage to his knuckles.
Of course, he'd kind of like the chance to try some of the other community service opportunities that were supposed to be available, too. Granted that he probably wouldn't be very much use at a soup kitchen, but there was no good reason that he couldn't haul stuff for the food bank or sort donations or that kind of thing. But those all involved interaction with the quote-unquote general public as opposed to a supervisor from the parole office itself, and apparently he'd only be eligible for that after he'd been out for at least a month and his parole officer signed off on an extension of approved activities.
He frowned. Damn it. He had been out for a month now, and he hadn't even thought to ask Mr. Marin if he'd okay Barry for that stuff when they'd met earlier. Talk about an oversight.
He hesitated for a moment and then went ahead and shot off an email. The worst the guy could say was no; it wasn't like Barry hadn't already gotten that from him once today. But he'd been clear that Barry had been meeting all of his requirements for parole thus far so hopefully he'd be okay with it.
Barry had just set up for a game of pool against himself when he heard a car pulling into the garage, and he didn't feel any reluctance putting his cue back in the stand with the others and heading upstairs to greet Dad. "Hey. How was work?"
"Hey," Dad returned, handing over a bag of what smelled like Indian for dinner. "Not bad, but I've got a court case starting on Thursday so the next few nights are likely to run late. How did your meeting with your parole officer go?"
Barry made a face. "All right. If I want to do any tutoring this semester it has to be virtual, though."
Dad sighed but didn't look particularly surprised. "Do you think your classmate will be okay with that?"
"I don't know. I was going to wait until tomorrow to email her." After he'd had some time to figure out exactly what to say. He hadn't exactly gone into details before when he'd asked her about her preferences for virtual versus in-person meetings.
Dad nodded, pulling down plates, and Barry put the food on the table and grabbed them both sodas before joining him.
"Do you want to watch another movie tonight?" Barry asked as they started in on the meal. One thing about all the superhero movies that had come out over the past few years, there were a lot of them, and if Barry didn't think they'd ever be his favorites, they were entertaining enough. And Dad seemed to agree.
"Sure, I could take a break."
"You've been working a lot more than I remember," Barry said after a few minutes. Not that Dad had ever not worked, reference days off still meaning several hours spent in his office, but it had never been an every day after dinner thing. If nothing else Mom would have put her foot down about that real quick.
Dad started to shake his head and then stopped and turned it into a nod. "I suppose I have been. I...there are some things I've taken on for the other partners at my firm in the name of keeping myself busy, and then I've got a few things that I'm working on for the public defenders' office as well."
Barry felt a surge of guilt. Obviously Dad would have wanted to keep himself busy this past year, especially after Mom had passed, but he must have really wanted to stay busy to start working with the public defenders' office again. Barry vaguely recalled him talking about this or that case back when he was a little kid, sure, but he also remembered his parents arguing about it—he didn't remember any details, but for whatever reason Mom hadn't approved—and shortly afterwards Dad had switched all of his pro bono work to the various charities they'd supported and the only trials he'd mentioned after that had been civil ones through his own office.
Then again, after everything Dad probably wasn't real interested in being involved with those charities anymore either if only because of what they were a reminder of. Another thing to feel bad about because most of them were perfectly legitimate charities focused on historical preservation with nothing whatsoever about them specific to Jagerbars or ancient rituals.
"If you're busy with stuff it's not a big deal," Barry said as the silence started to draw out. "I mean, it's just a movie. We can always watch some other time."
"No, no, I could use a break." He paused. "Tell you what. Give me half an hour or so after dinner to get a few emails written and sent out and then we'll get started."
"Sure," Barry agreed. The kitchen could probably use more clean-up than they usually gave it anyway. "I...what are you working on? I mean, for the public defenders' office." He knew better than to ask too many questions about Dad's private clients, Dad would never answer about those with more than generalities, but he didn't have a clue what rules applied outside of that.
Dad looked a little surprised, but after a minute he answered. "I think you know that they provide attorneys for criminal cases when the defendant in question can't afford one, but they also have an appeals office. There are only certain conditions under which the state will provide counsel for an appeal, but even so the office is rather woefully behind. I've been working to clear some of that backlog."
Barry nodded. He knew a lot more now about how trials and appeals worked than he ever had before he'd gone to prison Dad being a lawyer notwithstanding. And he'd heard plenty about public defenders and how bad they were while he was inside too. It probably had a lot to do with how overworked they were, especially given what Dad was saying, but no one in prison cared much about that. There were even guys who'd taught themselves enough about the law while in prison to file appeals, although Barry didn't think any of them were actually lawyers unless they'd been lawyers before they'd ended up inside. "How long do you think you'll be working with them?" he asked.
"At least until next summer, I think," he said after a moment, "but I'll see what I can do about cutting back on some of the hours. There's no reason that I need to be working every weekend anymore."
The fact that he had been working every weekend while Barry was in prison made Barry's chest hurt again, but there wasn't anything that he could say so he turned his attention back to the food in front of him.
Dad didn't seem inclined to talk too much more either, but while he excused himself back upstairs after the meal was done, he also came back down after the half hour that he'd promised. Barry had searched the cabinets for popcorn before giving it up as a bad job and putting a couple boxes on the grocery list, but there had been a bag of chips, and he dumped them into a bowl and followed Dad downstairs. "Next one in the series?"
"Sounds good to me."