Hey you, part 2
Learning to Fly:
A Momentary Lapse of Reason: Pink Floyd
Into the distance, a ribbon of black
Stretched to the point of no turning back
A flight of fancy on a windswept field
Standing alone my senses reeled
A fatal attraction holding me fast, how
Can I escape this irresistible grasp?
Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I
Seth paced through the house, phone attached to his ear. "Come on, answer, damm it" He heard the same voice from the last seven calls.
"Law Offices, may I help you?"
"Hello, I need to speak with Sandy Cohen, it's urgent. NO voice mail, no secretary, I need to speak to him in person. Now" By the time he was done with his speech, he once again hears the beep and clicks of his call being transferred to voicemail hell. "Hello, this is Sandy Cohen. I'm in a meeting or out of the office right now. Please leave your name and number. I'll return your call as soon as I can" By the time the message was done, Seth had slammed the phone down. He'd already heard it seven times today. He knew it by heart. Dialing another number, he reached Sandy's cell phone. Same message. Next he tried his mother's cell, only to get an out of area message. Frustrated, he slammed the phone down in the cradle.
"Think, Seth, think. You've left messages for him on office and cell, can't reach Mom. Ryan's due in court in..about 90 minutes. Figure 25 minutes drive time to the courthouse. An hour, max, to work on this. Keys, need car keys, phone. Transportation is set. Still need directions, parking. What else?" A whirlwind of activity reached to all levels of the Cohen house, accompanied by a constant stream of "Think. Gotta think. No way will I let this happen. Why now, what happened?"
Ryan slumped on a bench in the intake center. Locked down, accompanied by other juveniles, surrounded by police, bailiffs and parole officers. Same old people, same old smells, same tenseness as usual. His side of the gate wanted to leave, but the officers wanted to leave just as bad. They just wanted the juveniles to pay for their trouble first. He figured you could go to any courthouse, and the smells and feeling would be the same. Yeah, Orange County Courthouse was just like San Bernardino County Courthouse. Newport Beach and Chino, made no difference. Some people had more, so someone had to have less. That's just the way things worked out. Money, time, pull, whatever- right now- he didn't have any of it. And right now, he really needed it. He could feel himself closing up, setting limits on physical space, eye contact. Pulling in. He'd been more relaxed lately, at the Cohen's. Even with his problems there, he still let people get closer, let himself care for them and allowing them to care about him.
This day was not turning out well. Work, well, he was about to miss his shift. By the time this was done, he might be missing his job. He looked up at the clock on the wall, only three minutes had passed since his last time check. His thoughts turned to Seth. He felt bad that Seth had been there, hell, another 2 minutes and neither of them would have been there. It just might have been easier to be arrested at work instead of in front of Seth. Maybe. But then again, he couldn't think of anyplace easy to be arrested in. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of anything. Keep cool, relax. Sandy will get here. Cool, relax, Sandy. Cool, relax, Sandy. It wasn't working, his pulse still pounded through his veins, he still kept seeing doors slamming behind him, and jail hallways open in front of him. The shocked look on Seth's face, the experience of another ride in the back seat of a cruiser. Behind the cage, handcuffed, arrested.
"Atwood, Ryan Atwood" the bailiff called into the detention area.
"Yeah" Ryan looked up. Thoughts screamed through his mind, yet his body moved slowly, deliberately, minimally. This was not the time to bring any attention to himself, let someone else yell and scream at the bailiffs. Court Officials paid back trouble by delays, lost paperwork, missed calls.
"Your attorney hasn't arrived yet. If he doesn't arrive by three, we'll have to start processing you for juvenile hall. Court closes down at 4."
Seth leapt up the steps into Juvenile Court. A glance at his watch showed only 35 minutes to Ryan's court time. Time was racing and still no call back from his Dad. Sliding into the entry way a la Kramer, he glanced around trying to figure out his next step. In front of him was a line of people heading for a metal detector. Standing in line, Seth's agitation rises, he can't hold still, bouncing on his toes, he peers past the line, trying to decide on his next stop. Finally, Seth is next.
"Turn off all cell phones, remove all keys, wallets, change and metal objects from your person and place them in the tray" the officer drones. Seth piles keys, wallet, change and cell phone in the tray and walks through the detector- bzzzzz. Two officers look up at the annoying sound. "Please check your pockets." Seth removes more objects from his pockets and tries again. Still buzzing, the officers pull him aside and ask him to remove his watch, belt buckle and shoes. Finally clearing the metal detector, the wall clock shows only 15 minutes to Ryan's court time. Grabbing his belongings and stuffing them back into pockets, he forgets to turn his cell phone on.
"Juvenile court?" he asks one of his former tormentors. The officer points down the hallway "Through there, turn right at the end. The bailiff there can direct you further."
Racing down the hallway, Seth appears in front of the bailiff, out of breath and very agitated. His never calm appearance is even more frantic. The clock is ticking and still nothing from Sandy, nothing from Kirsten.
Used to agitation, the bailiff quietly looks up at him "Name?"
"Seth Cohen"
The bailiff looks at his list "Not here."
"No wait, I mean my name is Seth. I'm here for Ryan Atwood. He was picked up today."
"He's here. We're waiting to hear from his attorney."
"Can I see him? I have to talk to him. He lives with me. I mean he lives at my house. My Dad's his attorney, but we can't reach him"
Shaking his head, "Only attorneys are allowed in the intake center. Once he's processed you can see him during visiting hours from 2 to 5, starting tomorrow. No visitors today. Juvenile Hall is next door"
Seth turns away, the adrenalin leaving his body in a torrent. Drained, he stumbles to a bench and slumps down. Running through his mind is Ryan's face when he walked in the house and saw the cops, when he was handcuffed, when he was placed in the back of the police car. And Seth did nothing. Couldn't even get a sentence out.
Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I.
Sandy Cohen slams a stack of folders on the desk. "I can't believe that meeting took so long. Rachel, I thought I was going to be the one committing crimes, against both our clients and their clients. That half hour meet and greet turned into five hours of debate" He reaches to his desk for his cell phone, turning it on as he continues "Let me talk to my legal aide, we can research some of it tonight. I thought you promised regular working hours and weekends off?" Looking down, he notices both the cell phone and the desk phone promising new and exciting messages for him. "Hang on, let me just get these and we'll talk strategy." He punches in his message code on the desk phone as he idly flips through folders. As the first message comes through, Sandy straightens up, folders now forgotten. He checks his watch, fumbles through his desk, obviously getting frantic.
Rachel paused by the doorway, the apparent difference in Sandy's attitude holding her attention. What was merely irritation is quickly becoming rage. As he continues to listen through several messages, Sandy gestures to her to wait.
Slamming the phone down, Sandy turns to Rachel. "Why wasn't I given messages by my son? Why weren't his calls forwarded to the conference room?"
Startled by his vehemence, Rachel looks puzzled. "But that's our policy. No family interruptions during meetings. Everyone here follows that, even the partners. "
"And the calls from the probation department? Why didn't those get forwarded? You know I still have clients that count on me."
"But Sandy, those aren't Partridge, Savage and Kahn clients. Not yet at least, we aren't set up yet for them. There are contracts to be done before you can work on them here. It's all about legalities and responsibilities. The court has you under contract, not this company. Once the paperwork is done, they're your pro bono clients. Until then PSK can't touch them." Rachel is still puzzled, Sandy is getting more agitated with her answers.
"Go, Leave. I'm kicking you out now." Sandy turns from her, reaching for the phone. Dialing a number from his recent notes he drums his desk impatiently. "Hello, I'm the attorney for Ryan Atwood. I have a message that he has a court appearance at 3 pm. Yes. No, I can't be there by 3 pm. I'm still at the office, can you hold it off for 30 minutes? No, I haven't seen the warrant yet. Is there a reason for the unreasonable rush on a court date?"
Sandy slumps at his desk, unconsciously mimicking Ryan's posture at the Intake Center. "No, I understand. Yes. I'll be there at 8 am. Will his probation officer be there? Court time of 10 am? Yes, I can make that too." Sandy slowly hangs up the phone. He can only imagine how Seth will feel when he tells him that Ryan has to spend at least the night in Juvenile Hall, maybe months. Violation of Parole and a new Parole Officer. Ryan may end up serving all of the time for his original auto theft. And Ryan, well, he thinks he can figure out how Ryan will feel. Abandoned, hurt, angry. The adjectives continue to roll through his mind. Even if he can spring Ryan in the morning, he's not sure how this will affect him.
Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought I thought of everything
The Bailiff calls into the Intake Center "Atwood, Ryan Atwood"
Ryan turns from his concentration on the wall clock. 3 pm has come and gone, and he's still sitting here. No Sandy, no court time, no chance to explain.
"Up. Time to finish processing you. We finally reached your attorney, he can't make it. You belong to the Juvenile Court System now. Enjoy your stay at Juvenile Hall."
No navigator to guide my way home
Unladened, empty and turned to stone
Learning to Fly:
A Momentary Lapse of Reason: Pink Floyd
Into the distance, a ribbon of black
Stretched to the point of no turning back
A flight of fancy on a windswept field
Standing alone my senses reeled
A fatal attraction holding me fast, how
Can I escape this irresistible grasp?
Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I
Seth paced through the house, phone attached to his ear. "Come on, answer, damm it" He heard the same voice from the last seven calls.
"Law Offices, may I help you?"
"Hello, I need to speak with Sandy Cohen, it's urgent. NO voice mail, no secretary, I need to speak to him in person. Now" By the time he was done with his speech, he once again hears the beep and clicks of his call being transferred to voicemail hell. "Hello, this is Sandy Cohen. I'm in a meeting or out of the office right now. Please leave your name and number. I'll return your call as soon as I can" By the time the message was done, Seth had slammed the phone down. He'd already heard it seven times today. He knew it by heart. Dialing another number, he reached Sandy's cell phone. Same message. Next he tried his mother's cell, only to get an out of area message. Frustrated, he slammed the phone down in the cradle.
"Think, Seth, think. You've left messages for him on office and cell, can't reach Mom. Ryan's due in court in..about 90 minutes. Figure 25 minutes drive time to the courthouse. An hour, max, to work on this. Keys, need car keys, phone. Transportation is set. Still need directions, parking. What else?" A whirlwind of activity reached to all levels of the Cohen house, accompanied by a constant stream of "Think. Gotta think. No way will I let this happen. Why now, what happened?"
Ryan slumped on a bench in the intake center. Locked down, accompanied by other juveniles, surrounded by police, bailiffs and parole officers. Same old people, same old smells, same tenseness as usual. His side of the gate wanted to leave, but the officers wanted to leave just as bad. They just wanted the juveniles to pay for their trouble first. He figured you could go to any courthouse, and the smells and feeling would be the same. Yeah, Orange County Courthouse was just like San Bernardino County Courthouse. Newport Beach and Chino, made no difference. Some people had more, so someone had to have less. That's just the way things worked out. Money, time, pull, whatever- right now- he didn't have any of it. And right now, he really needed it. He could feel himself closing up, setting limits on physical space, eye contact. Pulling in. He'd been more relaxed lately, at the Cohen's. Even with his problems there, he still let people get closer, let himself care for them and allowing them to care about him.
This day was not turning out well. Work, well, he was about to miss his shift. By the time this was done, he might be missing his job. He looked up at the clock on the wall, only three minutes had passed since his last time check. His thoughts turned to Seth. He felt bad that Seth had been there, hell, another 2 minutes and neither of them would have been there. It just might have been easier to be arrested at work instead of in front of Seth. Maybe. But then again, he couldn't think of anyplace easy to be arrested in. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of anything. Keep cool, relax. Sandy will get here. Cool, relax, Sandy. Cool, relax, Sandy. It wasn't working, his pulse still pounded through his veins, he still kept seeing doors slamming behind him, and jail hallways open in front of him. The shocked look on Seth's face, the experience of another ride in the back seat of a cruiser. Behind the cage, handcuffed, arrested.
"Atwood, Ryan Atwood" the bailiff called into the detention area.
"Yeah" Ryan looked up. Thoughts screamed through his mind, yet his body moved slowly, deliberately, minimally. This was not the time to bring any attention to himself, let someone else yell and scream at the bailiffs. Court Officials paid back trouble by delays, lost paperwork, missed calls.
"Your attorney hasn't arrived yet. If he doesn't arrive by three, we'll have to start processing you for juvenile hall. Court closes down at 4."
Seth leapt up the steps into Juvenile Court. A glance at his watch showed only 35 minutes to Ryan's court time. Time was racing and still no call back from his Dad. Sliding into the entry way a la Kramer, he glanced around trying to figure out his next step. In front of him was a line of people heading for a metal detector. Standing in line, Seth's agitation rises, he can't hold still, bouncing on his toes, he peers past the line, trying to decide on his next stop. Finally, Seth is next.
"Turn off all cell phones, remove all keys, wallets, change and metal objects from your person and place them in the tray" the officer drones. Seth piles keys, wallet, change and cell phone in the tray and walks through the detector- bzzzzz. Two officers look up at the annoying sound. "Please check your pockets." Seth removes more objects from his pockets and tries again. Still buzzing, the officers pull him aside and ask him to remove his watch, belt buckle and shoes. Finally clearing the metal detector, the wall clock shows only 15 minutes to Ryan's court time. Grabbing his belongings and stuffing them back into pockets, he forgets to turn his cell phone on.
"Juvenile court?" he asks one of his former tormentors. The officer points down the hallway "Through there, turn right at the end. The bailiff there can direct you further."
Racing down the hallway, Seth appears in front of the bailiff, out of breath and very agitated. His never calm appearance is even more frantic. The clock is ticking and still nothing from Sandy, nothing from Kirsten.
Used to agitation, the bailiff quietly looks up at him "Name?"
"Seth Cohen"
The bailiff looks at his list "Not here."
"No wait, I mean my name is Seth. I'm here for Ryan Atwood. He was picked up today."
"He's here. We're waiting to hear from his attorney."
"Can I see him? I have to talk to him. He lives with me. I mean he lives at my house. My Dad's his attorney, but we can't reach him"
Shaking his head, "Only attorneys are allowed in the intake center. Once he's processed you can see him during visiting hours from 2 to 5, starting tomorrow. No visitors today. Juvenile Hall is next door"
Seth turns away, the adrenalin leaving his body in a torrent. Drained, he stumbles to a bench and slumps down. Running through his mind is Ryan's face when he walked in the house and saw the cops, when he was handcuffed, when he was placed in the back of the police car. And Seth did nothing. Couldn't even get a sentence out.
Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I.
Sandy Cohen slams a stack of folders on the desk. "I can't believe that meeting took so long. Rachel, I thought I was going to be the one committing crimes, against both our clients and their clients. That half hour meet and greet turned into five hours of debate" He reaches to his desk for his cell phone, turning it on as he continues "Let me talk to my legal aide, we can research some of it tonight. I thought you promised regular working hours and weekends off?" Looking down, he notices both the cell phone and the desk phone promising new and exciting messages for him. "Hang on, let me just get these and we'll talk strategy." He punches in his message code on the desk phone as he idly flips through folders. As the first message comes through, Sandy straightens up, folders now forgotten. He checks his watch, fumbles through his desk, obviously getting frantic.
Rachel paused by the doorway, the apparent difference in Sandy's attitude holding her attention. What was merely irritation is quickly becoming rage. As he continues to listen through several messages, Sandy gestures to her to wait.
Slamming the phone down, Sandy turns to Rachel. "Why wasn't I given messages by my son? Why weren't his calls forwarded to the conference room?"
Startled by his vehemence, Rachel looks puzzled. "But that's our policy. No family interruptions during meetings. Everyone here follows that, even the partners. "
"And the calls from the probation department? Why didn't those get forwarded? You know I still have clients that count on me."
"But Sandy, those aren't Partridge, Savage and Kahn clients. Not yet at least, we aren't set up yet for them. There are contracts to be done before you can work on them here. It's all about legalities and responsibilities. The court has you under contract, not this company. Once the paperwork is done, they're your pro bono clients. Until then PSK can't touch them." Rachel is still puzzled, Sandy is getting more agitated with her answers.
"Go, Leave. I'm kicking you out now." Sandy turns from her, reaching for the phone. Dialing a number from his recent notes he drums his desk impatiently. "Hello, I'm the attorney for Ryan Atwood. I have a message that he has a court appearance at 3 pm. Yes. No, I can't be there by 3 pm. I'm still at the office, can you hold it off for 30 minutes? No, I haven't seen the warrant yet. Is there a reason for the unreasonable rush on a court date?"
Sandy slumps at his desk, unconsciously mimicking Ryan's posture at the Intake Center. "No, I understand. Yes. I'll be there at 8 am. Will his probation officer be there? Court time of 10 am? Yes, I can make that too." Sandy slowly hangs up the phone. He can only imagine how Seth will feel when he tells him that Ryan has to spend at least the night in Juvenile Hall, maybe months. Violation of Parole and a new Parole Officer. Ryan may end up serving all of the time for his original auto theft. And Ryan, well, he thinks he can figure out how Ryan will feel. Abandoned, hurt, angry. The adjectives continue to roll through his mind. Even if he can spring Ryan in the morning, he's not sure how this will affect him.
Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought I thought of everything
The Bailiff calls into the Intake Center "Atwood, Ryan Atwood"
Ryan turns from his concentration on the wall clock. 3 pm has come and gone, and he's still sitting here. No Sandy, no court time, no chance to explain.
"Up. Time to finish processing you. We finally reached your attorney, he can't make it. You belong to the Juvenile Court System now. Enjoy your stay at Juvenile Hall."
No navigator to guide my way home
Unladened, empty and turned to stone