Date: Monday, February 18th, 2013
Time: 7:50am
Location: Junior Associate Commons, Grossberg Law Offices, Los Tokyo
I let out a deep sigh as I sat down in my uncomfortable office chair and logged onto my ancient computer. These past four months, I've realized that I'm not as big on the Monday-Friday schedule as I thought I would be. I've worked hard my whole life, but my schedule was never this rigid back when I was in college or living in Kurain Village. Those schedules were intensive but semi-flexible.
In college, I had lots of exams, papers, and studying but I only needed to be in class less than 20 hours a week. If I wanted to, I could have slacked off, although obviously I never did. Having the freedom to do so though made it all seem more bearable. In Kurain Village, chores, schoolwork, and spirit training could be arduous but living there felt more like a way of life than a job. I think it was just hard to wrap my head around the fact that Mondays would be viewed with dread for the rest of my career. I like my job here, I do, but I didn't expect to get so burnt out already.
Realistically, I should have today off to make up for Saturday. While we have a pretty traditional office schedule at Grossberg Law Offices, any time a crime falls on Friday or Saturday, and our firm is asked to represent the defendant, someone must take the case over the weekend. Friday crimes are the worst because potentially both Saturday and Sunday will be taken up by trials, my one-day trial being unusual for a crime so severe and a web so tangled.
When the three-day trial law came into effect a couple of years ago, the courts couldn't risk losing a day of trial over the weekend. You'd think they would have accounted for that fact in the law. Maybe a three-business day clause or something like that? However, I've been told that, while the courts move quickly, government officials move at a glacial pace. I expect them to make some sort of amendment in the next year or two, but only time will tell.
Grossberg is so scattered that it's basically a coin flip if you'll have to ask him for a day off in lieu when you work a weekend. I should have asked him about it on Friday, but I was so focused on the case that it slipped my mind. I didn't want to bother him on the weekend, so I just sucked it up and came in today.
I sipped my coffee as I stared blankly at the loading computer screen. We have a weekly meeting at 8am on Monday every week, much to everyone's chagrin. Mondays were bad enough as it is, but they're made even worse with a mind-numbing two-hour long meeting first thing in the morning. The worst part about it was the pointlessness of the exercise. I guess you could say it served a purpose with coordinating our civil work and legal paperwork, but from a criminal perspective, we couldn't predict when a crime was about to happen.
Normally, Grossberg and the partners would handpick one of the attorneys or a client would specifically request one, Saturday's case being a notable exception. Grossberg had to frantically gather everyone for an impromptu meeting at 5pm on Friday to assign that case. Typically, the senior attorneys would rotate being on-call over the weekends, but this crime happened right before the on-call window started. Come to think of it, that might have been the biggest reason I got the case, not just its insane difficulty level.
I kept staring at my computer. Still loading. Guess I won't have time to review some emails before the meeting. Others stationed in the commons were starting to stroll in one at a time, turning their computers on, dropping off their briefcases and heading to the largest boardroom on level two. I looked at my watch, 7:55am. I really should be heading up there too.
The boardroom was large and handsomely furnished, but they never had enough chairs for all of us in the office. Get there one-two minutes before and you'd have to drag a chair from the second level reception area to the boardroom. Get there late, and, well, you better enjoy standing for two hours. Typical boomer justice. Why put enough chairs in the boardroom when you could just subtly shame the stragglers by making them stand awkwardly for two hours? I was too filled with dread to go up there, a pit forming in my stomach. After the weekend I just had, I wished that I could just hide away in the doc room and be alone. I wasn't in the mood for round tables about everyone's weekend, our workloads, our plans for the week, and our firm's successes and learnings from last week.
All Sunday, I couldn't relax, and I could barely sleep when I made it home early that morning. When I finally slept, I kept dreaming about Terry Fawles' face, his mouth filling with blood, and his body collapsing to the ground. I dreamt about that man assaulting me in the street, except in my nightmares, I don't grab my pepper spray and Diego doesn't call him off. I always wake up before anything else happens, but the nightmares were so vivid that they left me scared to sleep again.
I spent most of the day exhausted and shaky. I tried watching my favorite movies or reading my favorite books, but I couldn't pay attention enough to enjoy them. I got takeout from my favorite Japanese restaurant for dinner, but I was too queasy to eat more than a couple bites. Last night, another bout of anxiety hit me. This time it was dread for today. The sooner I fell asleep, the sooner I'd have to see him. Diego.
No matter how much I thought about him and paced about the apartment, I couldn't put together what exactly had upset me so much on Saturday. Being tired didn't help. When we got to the bar, I told myself that I would only stay for one drink and then leave. Without food in my stomach though, the drinks hit me quickly and staying there and talking seemed like a much better idea. By the time I started sobering up, I wanted to stay anyway because I was genuinely enjoying myself.
I was always told how charming he could be, but I never let myself believe it. I didn't want to develop feelings. I also felt a connection with him that I hadn't felt with anyone in a while, maybe ever. When I told him about my family's unusual history and powers, he believed me and listened sympathetically, or it seemed like it anyway. I hadn't talked to anyone about that in years. I got so accustomed to strange looks and snide comments, that I learned to keep that stuff to myself. It felt special that he told me so much about his background too. It seemed like he kept that information close to the chest.
Then when the last call came, and we had to leave, I panicked. I noticed that waitress, Candace I think her name was, wink at him before he went to pay, and I got suspicious. I had noticed them mouthing things and gesturing to each other earlier in the night, but I couldn't make it out. Then the wheels in my head got turning and they couldn't stop. Is this all a ploy? Is this bar where he takes all his conquests, plying them with drinks, telling him his sob story, and taking them home later? His interactions with her seemed so rehearsed or commonplace, like this happened all the time. I got confirmation of what I had suspected, he did like me, but what exactly he meant by that I wasn't sure. Did he want to date me, or did he want to tell all his friends that he slept with the chesty new lawyer he's been eyeing for months?
When it came time for the bill, I insisted on splitting it even though I knew he had offered. I didn't want him to think I owed him anything. However, he insisted more, and I finally gave up. When he went to the bar to pay, I went to the bathroom and tried to calm down quickly before returning to the table to grab my things and leave. I also avoided eye contact as best I could. I kept thinking about my last ex, back in my final year of undergrad, and how he broke my trust in a way I had never expected. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was about to repeat history.
When we started to leave, he insisted on walking me home or calling me a cab. I really didn't want to walk alone but I didn't want him to do anything more for me and I walked away. He insisted again but I won this time, if you could call it winning. If he walked me home, what if he tried to kiss me? What if he tried to do more? I didn't want to find out, and potentially end up a punchline during watercooler talk.
I lived in a bad part of town. It was all I could afford right now with the student loans I have, and with any extra money being saved for my "five-year plan". However, I had walked or bused a similar route many times before and, while there were always interesting characters around, nothing bad had ever happened before. Besides, I had my pepper spray and some martial arts training from Kurain Village that I could fall back on in a dangerous situation.
When that stranger approached me, I knew he couldn't be up to anything good, but I chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. Wishful thinking made me do it. It almost felt like if I believed that, it would be true. If I had taken the threat more seriously, I think I could have handled it myself. I had learned stances in martial arts to make it harder for your opponent to take control of the situation, but I had left myself wide open. He had grabbed my wrists tightly, dropping my briefcase to the ground, and I was trying my best to kick him in the crotch when Diego came over and yelled at him to stop, pushing him to the ground.
I got cross with Diego when he showed up. Was he following me home? Stalking me? I wanted to believe that I had the situation under control all by myself and felt vindicated that I kept my guard up against him. Still, being mad at him like I was didn't sit right with me all yesterday. It wouldn't matter anyway, I told myself. He probably remembered to book today off.
"Mia, you heading upstairs?" Reina asked. She's been at Grossberg Law Offices almost a year longer than I've been there, but she still sits in the commons with me. Not every senior lawyer gets an office right away. Sometimes you have to wait until one of the other, more senior lawyers quits, retires, or dies. Apparently, the latter has already happened twice. She must have arrived some time while I was thinking, but I hadn't noticed.
I blinked my eyes and shook my head out of my daze. "Yeah, sorry. Lost track of time." I looked at my watch again: 7:58. "Crap, let's go!"
Reina laughed. "Crazy weekend, huh?" she asked. We started walking to the stairs. "You can fill me in later."
We made it up to the boardroom with one minute to spare and wandering in at the same time was Diego. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked exhausted too. When the three of us walked in, we surveyed the room and saw that there were only two free chairs left. Without discussion, Reina quickly grabbed one and sat down. "Phew, that was close," she said, relieved. That left one chair for me or Diego.
"Oh," I said, awkwardly.
"I insist," he said tersely before motioning me over to the seat. He was still angry with me, but his chivalry persisted.
"Oh, um, thank you." Before I could sit down, he had already started walking swiftly towards the other side of the boardroom table. He leaned against the wall by the windows, the sun beaming brightly through the semi-shuttered Venetian blinds. He held a coffee mug in hand, as usual, taking small sips, trying to conserve it.
"Hey Diego, you lose musical chairs today?" Mr. Hammond said teasingly.
Diego's mouth pursed for a moment before he jokingly replied, "Don't you read the news Hammond? They say all that sitting's bad for you."
The group laughed and Mr. Hammond smirked, looking down at his papers. While his mouth was smiling, his eyes were daggers. I never liked that guy. I didn't like him when he used cheat tactics in that case against my mom years ago, and I liked him even less when he made a borderline comment about my outfit a few weeks into working here. I've basically avoided him like the plague ever since. From Diego's pursing, it was clear that he didn't like him either.
At the front of the table, Mr. Grossberg shook his head in disapproval before clearing his throat and speaking. "Yes, well, I think we're still missing two or three people but we'll get started. As usual, let's go around the table and everyone can say one interesting thing that happened this weekend."
I was at the far end of the table and my brain went into overdrive as others talked about their trips to the movies and home renovations. What do I say? I had my first case and my client committed suicide on the stand? Me and Diego went on a date, and then I ran away from him? I almost got assaulted? I was so anxious that I didn't eat or sleep all Sunday? Lie, just lie. Or maybe I can make that takeout trip seem more significant? I didn't end up needing to think of anything.
"And, Mia? Well, actually, I know what Mia got up to this weekend." Mr. Grossberg said. "Everyone, please give a big round of applause to Mia for defending her first criminal client on Saturday." Everyone clapped politely and I looked down at the table, embarrassed at being put on the spot.
"Yes sir, I did. But...I don't know if you heard or..." There was a lump in my throat, and I struggled to get the words out.
Mr. Grossberg looked at me sympathetically. "Yes, I'm sorry. I heard about what happened," he said gently. Realizing this wasn't the ideal venue for discussing this matter, he cleared his throat again. "Ahem, yes, Mia, well we can talk about this later. Privately," he clarified. He beamed on his next words, "I was talking to Diego this morning though and he said that you performed excellently on Saturday. A real natural."
"He did?" I looked over at Diego for confirmation and he glanced at me briefly in acknowledgement before returning his gaze to the view between the slats of the blinds. "It went well, I suppose. Until, you know." My face was hot with embarrassment. Only five minutes into the meeting and it was already the worst one yet.
"Yes, of course. But I see lots more cases in your future if you want them," he said brightly, smiling.
More cases. That's all I had wanted until a man died in front of me. I answered hesitantly, "Sir, I'm not sure if I want to defend another case yet. I think I'd like to stay in contracts and doc review for a while."
Mr. Grossberg looked at me, puzzled, "If, you're sure?" He paused. "Mia, you don't have to decide now. As I said, we can talk privately later." He smiled at me again. While he could be clueless, I found it hard to stay mad at Mr. Grossberg. He was always very kind to me, almost fatherly in a way. I didn't want to disappoint him by losing my resolve.
In an effort to appease him, to assure him of my dedication to criminal law, I suddenly blurted out, "I would like to investigate Dahlia Hawthorne... if I could." That name weighed heavily in my thoughts all yesterday. That and the taunting smile she gave me as she exited the courtroom on Saturday. I didn't know what I was going to say when I opened my mouth just then, but I guess my subconscious had guided me.
Mr. Grossberg was perplexed again. "I don't know if I understand. You want to defend Dahlia Hawthorne?"
"No!" I exclaimed viscerally. Everyone looked at me in surprise. "No," I softened. "I-I want to make sure that justice is served. Dahlia has to pay for her crimes, I have to make sure she does. I'd like to investigate her files and build a case against her."
"Oh, Mia," Mr. Grossberg said kindheartedly. "From what I understand of the case, I'd like that too. But I'm afraid that we have so much work to do already. We don't prosecute here either. I'm not sure what we can do with a case even if we build one."
"Right," I said quietly. He was right, I knew he was right, but I hoped that I could do it anyway. I looked down at the table blankly again, waiting for us to move on. I could hear a few people whispering to each other but couldn't make out what they were saying.
"Sir, if I may?" the voice said deferentially. It was Diego.
"Yes, Diego," Mr. Grossberg replied.
"I think what Ms. Fey is trying to say," he looked over at me briefly before returning his glance to Mr. Grossberg, "is that she'd like to use our resources, and our databases to research Dahlia Hawthorne. After hours, of course. Not on company time."
Mr. Grossberg thought for a moment. "Yes, I don't see why there would be a problem with that." Mr. Grossberg looked at me. "Mia, I'm happy to let you do that if you'd like."
I looked at Diego sheepishly and he returned his gaze to the window. He was always trying to save me, this time from embarrassment. I looked again at Mr. Grossberg. "Thank you, sir," I said graciously.
"Now!" Mr. Grossberg clapped his hands together, as if to finish this conversation. "Moving on to the next person."
The rest of the meeting went on in a blur to me. I could barely pay attention as everyone spoke, preparing only for my times to speak and then zoning out again, lost in my own thoughts. When the meeting ended, everyone poured out hurriedly, to the bathroom, to the breakroom for more coffee, or to gossip with their best work friend about the meeting. I felt Reina squeeze my hand, and I looked up at her. "You okay," she mouthed. I nodded lightly.
We walked out of the room, and as we were heading towards the stairwell, I heard my name. "Mia?" Reina and I turned around to look. It was Diego.
"One second," I said to Reina. She nodded and held back as I walked towards him. "What is it?" I tried my best to look him in the eyes but could only manage it for a second before looking down at my feet.
"Let me know if you need help with Dahlia's case. I also have an interest in bringing her down." He wasn't looking at me either, instead looking off to his side, absentmindedly tossing his empty coffee mug between his hands.
I thought for a moment. I wanted to apologize. To clear the air. I didn't know how to even start. I might have made a mistake about him, but it was hard to admit that I could be wrong. "I-I don't know if that's a good idea," was all that I could muster.
He laughed bitterly. "Right. Well, I'll leave you to it, Nancy Drew. I wouldn't want to cramp your style. See you around." He stormed off towards his office and I just watched him as he left. Why did I say that?
I returned to Reina, and we walked down the stairs in silence. "Bathroom?" she asked. I nodded in agreement. While she went to pee, I stood awkwardly by the paper towels, fidgeting. There was one other person in there, Patty, one of the administrative assistants. When Patty walked out of the bathroom, Reina walked over to the door, her hands still wet and soapy, and locked it, before returning to the sink. The lock on there was only meant for lockdown drills. I looked at her confused. "Okay what happened this weekend?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I replied, trying to play dumb.
She scoffed. "Don't give me that. First you zone out at your desk and almost miss the meeting, then you have a meltdown during the ice breaker, and then you and Diego talk for a minute, and he storms off." She was intrigued. Reina was around my age, only a few years older, and has been my closest friend here since I started. She and I would often talk or gossip about work. I just wasn't used to being the subject.
"I wouldn't say meltdown," I clarified.
"Meltdown is being polite," she joked. "Seriously though?" she asked expectantly.
"Well..." my voice trailed off and I looked at the locked door "...I guess if it's just us." I inhaled deeply. "It was awful. My client, I was so close to getting him off and he...he committed suicide on the stand."
"What?" she exclaimed. Her tone changed to pity, "Oh Mia, I'm sorry. That's- well that's pretty effed up."
"Tell me about it. I've been replaying the image of him dying in my head all weekend. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I'm a mess, really."
"Why are you even here? You worked Saturday. Go home." She clarified, "well, go home after we're done talking. We're not done here," she said, laughing.
"I know, I know. I meant to talk to Mr. Grossberg about it. But you know how he is."
"Yeah, fair. I can talk to him later. You need to sleep." There was a beat and then she asked, "so what's going on with you and Diego? You could practically cut the tension with a knife."
"Oh, that." I thought for a moment. Where to even begin with that conversation topic. "Let me ask you something: when you and Diego defended your first case, did he try to pick you up?"
"What?" she exclaimed loudly.
"Shh, keep it down, just between us, right?" I admonished. "So?"
"Right," her voice softened. "I don't think so. God, I hope not anyway. I'll be kicking myself forever if he hit on me and I missed the signs," she joked.
"Reina," I admonished again. "I'm serious."
"So am I," she laughed. "He's the hottest guy here, it's not even close. Not that there's much competition but I think he'd hold his own in any office. C'mon Mia, even you can admit that?" I was silent. I agreed, but I didn't want to acknowledge it out loud. "So, I take it that he tried to pick you up, if you're asking that."
"Yeah, we went for drinks after the case was over."
"Oh. Well, he always treats a new attorney out after their first case, win or lose. Kind of his thing. Our case ended early, so he took me to lunch before we had to go back to the office. Him and Genji had beer and played darts. I think he took one of the other guys go-karting."
"Go-karting?" I exclaimed. I tried to imagine someone as tall as Diego cramming his legs into a go-kart. I'm getting distracted. "No, this was definitely more romantic."
"How do you know?"
"We stayed at the bar until close, he called me "kitten" 30 times during the trial, and when I asked him about it, he said he called me that because he thought I was cute. Oh, and he walked me home afterwards," I added.
"Okay that's definitely a sign." She paused. "But what's the problem? You're hot, he's hot. You two would practically be lawyer Ken and Barbie."
Flattered but wanting to stay on track, I ignored the last part. "I just worry that he's a player. It's hard to explain it. I just get that vibe. I don't want to be some story he tells his friends later."
"Right." She paused thoughtfully. "He hasn't dated anyone in the office, that I know of anyway. The way word spreads around here, I feel like I would have heard something about that."
"Oh," I said, pleasantly surprised.
"Actually..."
"Oh," I said again, disappointed.
"No, not a coworker," she clarified. "He dated a client of his one time."
"What?" I exclaimed. "Isn't that illegal?" I whispered.
"Former client, former client," she corrected. "Andrea Scott. Super pretty, but also certifiably crazy. She basically threw herself at him for a few weeks after the trial and he just went with it, I guess. They went out for two-three months, I think. Something like that."
"What happened?" I asked.
"Well, she was crazy, so I imagine he probably just got tired of it. Then she sued him and the firm for abuse of power after he broke up with her. He was in pretty deep shit for a couple weeks, but they had enough text messages to dismiss the case."
"Oh." I didn't know what to make of this news. "So that's it?"
"That's all I know. We don't exactly talk much, he and I." I nodded to her words for a few seconds, thinking. "What's wrong?"
"I think I might have made a mistake," I said meekly.
"In what way?"
I inhaled deeply. "He didn't exactly walk me home like I said. He offered to."
"Okay...?" she replied, confused.
"He offered to walk me home and I said no. I was worried he was going to try something or whatever. So, I walked home alone. But then he ended up following me."
"He stalked you?" she exclaimed with concern.
"Well..." I was getting winded. It was too hard to explain. "He told me there was this guy he thought was following me, so he followed him."
"And was he? This guy, I mean, following you?"
"No, but then there was this other guy, and he tried to assault me. And then Diego pushed him away from me and gave me time to grab my briefcase and pepper spray him."
She looked at me dumbfounded. "You got attacked on the weekend? I ask again, why are you here right now?"
"Almost. Attempted, I guess. Well, he grabbed me, but he didn't...you know..." I paused. I couldn't get the words out. No, I didn't want to get the words out.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," she comforted. "You don't need to explain further. "Oh my God. So, you got attacked and Diego saved you? I mean, that's pretty romantic, other than the icky rapey part."
I shuddered. Surely it would never have gone that far? "I guess. I got mad at him for following me, and I accidentally got some pepper spray in his eyes. When he came to my place to wash his eyes," Reina's mouth opened in surprise upon hearing he went to my place, but I ignored her and kept talking. "I avoided him until he called a cab and left."
"Wow," she said, stunned.
"Then today, he asked if I needed help on the Dahlia Hawthorne research and I told him I didn't think we should work on it together."
She shook her head in disbelief. "Mia, you sweet summer child. You're lucky you're pretty."
That wasn't a compliment. "What do you mean?"
"You messed that up, like, badly. Like, really, really badly. Are you going to talk to him at all?"
"I don't know. You're probably right. I think it's too late. At least he works all the way upstairs, I won't have to see him much, right?" I asked optimistically.
"Well, if that's what you want to do. I think you owe him an explanation."
"Maybe," I said non-committedly. As much as I like to jump headfirst into things, like a criminal case with a death row inmate, I was too scared to go talk to him. Scared to get hurt. Scared to be honest.
"First, though, you need to go home. I'll talk to Grossberg for you."
I nodded in agreement.
Date: Friday, February 22nd, 2013
Time: 5:05pm
Location: Document Room, Grossberg Law Offices, Los Tokyo
After a hectic Monday morning, I went home, as Reina ordered, and finally got the sleep that I needed. I was so tired that even the fear of nightmares couldn't keep me awake any longer. The rest of the week was as normal and as mundane as usual. Me and Mr. Grossberg finally had our private talk on Tuesday afternoon, and he agreed to keep me out of criminal cases for the time being but assured me that I could be put back on when I was ready. I appreciated his flexibility in light of my recent experience.
Diego, meanwhile, I didn't see him all week. I didn't go talk to him like I knew I should have. I still didn't know where to begin, what to say. He was busy with a three-day trial most of the week anyway.
I didn't see him at all, until Friday that is. I was in the doc room reviewing files, about to pack up and leave for the day, when he walked in with a cardboard filing box overflowing with papers. He sat himself down at another empty table and began sorting through it. I looked at him, perplexed, but when he met my gaze, I averted it quickly.
"What?" he asked.
"What are you doing here? It's already time to leave for the weekend." Why was he camped out here too, I wondered. He has a beautiful office upstairs.
"I have the Dahlia Hawthorne files here. I was going to review them in my office, but I thought you might need them too."
"You're working on that too? But I thought-" I asked before he cut me off.
"That you wanted to work on it alone? I know. But then I thought, this was my case too, and I can work on it if I want." His voice was firm but not angry.
"No, I guess you're right." I began packing up my other files and putting them away. Then I walked over to his table, hovering over the file box. "So... which files are you working on, right now?"
He looked up at me and then looked at his papers. "It's mostly background documents. School records, birth record, passport, places of address, that kind of thing."
Right. I guess there is no better place to start, logically. "Hmm." I started flipping through the papers, scanning their contents. "I guess I'll cover trial and discovery documents from the first trial five years ago."
"Sounds like a plan," he said plainly, not looking up from his papers. I was still sorting through the other papers, setting anything aside that I saw as relevant when Reina walked by.
"Mia, what are you still doing here?" she said playfully. "Go home. It's Friday." I turned around to look at her and Diego looked up as well.
"Oh." She smiled mischievously. "Diego, what are you doing down here?"
"Getting started on that Dahlia Hawthorne research. I brought the files down here in case Mia needed them."
"Right." She sounded skeptical. "So, you guys are working on this together?"
"No not exactly," I corrected. "He's working on some files and I'm working on...some other files...separately."
"Got it." She smiled. "Well, I'm out of here. You kids have fun!" She winked at me non-discretely. I wanted to reprimand her for that brazen act, but it would have only made things worse.
Diego smirked. "Thanks, Reina. You have a good weekend!"
Reina was already partway down the hallway, when she yelled back, her voice echoing, "you too!"
After she left, I finished sorting through the rest of the papers and took my stack over to the other table. I set them down, sat in my chair, and placed both my palms down on the table before exhaling, overwhelmed. There were hundreds of pages in front of me and I didn't know where to start. It was easy to plan with assigned work, but this was new territory. I haphazardly flipped through the pages, not retaining much of what I read. I wasn't mentally prepared to work late today. Suddenly, I stood up, I wasn't sure why, I just felt the urge, and he looked over at me curiously, wondering what the commotion was. "Uh," I cleared my throat and tried to find an excuse. "Coffee?" I asked, gesturing to him.
He smiled. "Mia, I'll never say no to coffee."
I laughed shyly. "Right, of course. Black?"
"Blacker than my soul," he said with faux seriousness.
I let out of a short shriek of laughter and then cleared my throat again to hide my reaction. I really hope he wasn't serious anyway; what a drama queen. "Coming right up," I said brightly, hooking my arm in a can-do way. What was I doing?
He grinned slightly and then turned his attention back to his papers. "Thanks."
I went to the breakroom, brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and poured some for each of us. Nothing in his cup, and cream and sugar in mine. I returned to the doc room and set his cup next to his stack of papers. Within mere seconds, he grabbed his cup and took a sip. I recoiled. "Isn't that still too hot?" I asked. "There isn't even cream or milk in it."
"When you drink coffee as much as I do, you develop a pretty strong tolerance. It's best when it's hot anyway."
"Right." I carried my cup over to my table, blew on it gently, and brought it close to my lips before setting it down. I don't care what he says, it was still too hot. I looked over my papers again. Okay, no more distractions, time to get to work. I began sorting through the papers, organizing trial pages by witness testimonies, cross-examinations, and expert testimonies and discovery evidence by persons of interest, pieces of physical evidence, timeline, and locations of interest. Then I began reviewing each stack, one at a time, highlighting anything I thought could be important. We sat in relative silence for what felt like forever, making no sound other than the rustling of papers and the sipping of coffee.
Finally, he spoke. "Mia?"
"Yes," I said, preoccupied, still highlighting my pages.
"You said that you have an aunt, right? Another spirit medium?"
This caught my attention, I looked to my right, where he was seated. "Sorry?"
"A..." he looked at his papers for confirmation, "Morgan Fey?"
"Aunt Morgan?" I was perplexed. "Yeah, why do you ask?"
"She has two daughters?" He didn't explain his line of questioning further.
"Three. The twins and then little Pearl. She's only four."
He flipped through his papers. "I don't see Pearl in here."
"Different dad than the twins. Another wonderful 'sperm donor' in the Fey clan," I said sarcastically. I paused. "Wait, why are you asking about all of this?"
"Twins Iris and Dahlia?"
Dahlia. Was she really the same one? "Dollie. Dollie Fey?"
He examined his papers again. "Dahlia Hawthorne, née Fey."
I leaned back in my chair, completely in shock. Dahlia Hawthorne is my cousin Dollie? I got up and stood next to him. "Can I see that?" I asked, gesturing to his papers. He nodded and handed me the relevant pages. Still looking at the documents, I sat down in the chair next to him. It was her. I couldn't believe it was her. Her natural dark brown hair had been dyed red but comparing a childhood photo to one of her at 14, and one at 19, I could see the resemblance.
"The other night, you mentioned that you hadn't seen the twins in years. Is that right?" He asked, looking at me intensely.
"Yeah. They left a few months before my mom did. They were only six years old at the time. Their dad took them away and they weren't allowed back. Our village is strict. When you leave, you leave for good. I haven't seen them since."
He tilted his head slightly and looked at me sympathetically. "Does that mean you can't go back either, you or your mom?"
"I'm not allowed back. It's what made becoming an attorney such a hard decision for me. Maya can come visit me, but I can't go visit her. Strangers can go there on pilgrimages, but I can't go visit my sister. Everything I've ever owned is now in that crappy little apartment. My mom is an exception though. She never officially abdicated her duties as head of the clan, and no one can channel her, so she's presumed alive and missing. Not only is she exempt, but she could change the rule if she came back." I looked down at the table, my eyes welling with tears, but I kept myself from crying. My parents abandoned me and now I have abandoned my sister.
"Mia," he said softly, before gently placing his hand on my forearm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
I looked at his hand. For someone who was mad at me, he was being awfully nice. I didn't want to move it, so I wiped the tears with my other hand. I swallowed. "It's okay. I-I try not to think about it too much, but I don't have a choice now." I laughed, trying to suppress my tears. "I didn't think that Dollie would turn into such a psycho."
He moved his hand, balling it, before using it to rest his chin. "What was she like as a kid? Did you have any idea?" He asked, talking so calmly that I felt like I was in therapy.
"No." I paused. "I mean, she wasn't as sweet as Iris or as cute as Pearl. But she seemed normal. Just like a normal kid." I paused again. "She is Aunt Morgan's daughter though."
He raised his eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Well, you know how I said that her and mom had a falling out after my mom took over the clan. Things were never the same after that. She technically raised me and Maya after mom left, I owe her a lot, but she was always so bitter. So competitive. So resentful." At this remark he just nodded his head. Then my stomach growled loudly and I could feel my face flushing as it did. "Sorry I-" I began to apologize but he cut me off, laughing.
"God, between Saturday and today, I'm starting to wonder, do they let you eat on the first floor?"
I smiled. "I was running late today so skipped breakfast and then had an early lunch."
He checked his watch. "8:13pm. I think we've done enough. Why don't we pack up and get something to eat?"
"Oh." I feel like I'm always saying that now. "Aren't you mad at me?" I asked hesitantly.
"Does it seem like I'm mad at you?"
"No-o, but, after Saturday and Monday..." my voice trailed off. "I wanted to say that I was sorry. I had a good time with you that night. I didn't mean to run away. I just..." I paused. I wasn't used to being this vulnerable. "I just panicked."
"Why did you panic?" He wasn't teasing as he asked. He was still using his therapist voice.
"I guess," I thought for a moment. How honest did I want to be? That I was scared he would just use me and throw me away. I kept it vague. "It's just been a while since I've dated. I'm out of practice."
"We can take things slow," he said softly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to get to know you better."
I looked at him and smiled shyly, before turning away, my face flushing again. "Thank you, for being understanding."
"It's nothing. We have all the time in the world, right? Why rush things?"
"Why rush things," I repeated. We looked at each other for a moment until a thought came to my head. "What made you decide to try talking to me again? To come down here tonight?"
"Well, some things are just worth trying for, you know?" He paused and then laughed. "And, well, a little birdie may have told me that you'd be willing to give me another chance."
A little birdie? Reina. I shook my head, laughing. "I could shoot that girl. That was supposed to be a secret."
"Really? See, all I want to do is buy her a fruit basket or something." We both laughed. Another beat. "C'mon, let's get out of here." We packed up the box of papers and deposited the empty mugs in the breakroom sink. He ran upstairs to his office with the box of files while I went to my desk to shut down the computer and gather my stuff. He met me at the doorway. "Ready to go?"
"Ready!" I shut the door behind me, and we walked towards the elevators.
As we waited for the elevator to arrive to the 21st floor, I looked down at his left hand, my right hand clasping my briefcase and just inches away from his. I transferred my briefcase to my left hand and grabbed his hand with my right. He looked down at them, then at me before smiling. He gave my hand a squeeze and then looked ahead to the elevator doors as they opened for us. We walked inside, hand in hand.
As we walked the streets outside, we talked and laughed about the week's events. About how crazy things had been last week and about the case he had this week. He had lost but he told me that he didn't mind. He was pretty sure his client was guilty anyway. We were so invested in conversation that we forgot about our primary objective: to get something to eat, probably passing about two dozen restaurants as we walked aimlessly down the street. We passed by the city's event grounds and finally something caught my eye. "Wow, the circus is in town," I said. "I had no idea." There was a large tent that said Berry Big Circus on it.
"I didn't peg you for a circus girl," he teased.
"Maya is. I took her, gosh probably five or six years ago now. Can't believe it's been that long. It was surprisingly fun though. The performers were incredible."
"I've never been." He pointed to the sign on the chain link fence. "It looks like the show ended a half hour ago, but the carnival grounds are open. Want to check it out?" I nodded yes.
We walked through the fairgrounds, completely aglow in neon lights. There were fried food stands, popcorn, cotton candy, carnival games and a few rides: the tilt-a-whirl, Ferris wheel, scrambler, bumper cars, and the like.
"Looks like the food options are mostly fried here, is that okay?" he asked.
I was in a daze, taking in my surroundings. "Yeah, that's fine. I haven't had a churro in forever. One of those sounds really good right now."
He looked at me seriously. "Are you only suggesting that because I'm Latino?" he asked.
"What?" I exclaimed frantically. "No not at all. I'm not trying to stereotype you or any-"
He started laughing. "I'm just teasing. You make it too easy sometimes. Who doesn't like churros?"
I playfully slapped him on the arm. "You jerk."
"I'll buy you a churro to make up for it." We walked to the stand, he bought us each a churro, and we continued walking around the grounds. We passed by a coconut shy carnival game: knock down three coconuts and win one of the stuffed animals hanging from the top of the tent. There was a little yellow bear there, and it reminded me of one I had as a kid.
I pointed at it, "Look at that one! I had a bear just like that when I was little before I lost him at the park. Colonel Bear."
"Oh yeah?" he asked rhetorically. He finished the last bite of his churro and discarded the foil wrapper. "Let's see if we can win him back." He walked up to the man at the booth and handed him a $5 bill. Diego was unsuccessful in his first attempt, making shots number one and three but missing number two. You needed to land all three to win. He produced another bill from his briefcase, handed it to the man, and tried again. He only made one shot this time.
"Diego," I laughed. "It's okay, I don't need it. It just reminded me is all."
He was determined. "Third time's the charm." He handed another bill to the man at the booth. He made shots one and two but just missed shot three. "Shit. I really thought I had it this time. These games are probably rigged anyway."
I smiled. "Can I try?"
"Sure." He went to grab another bill, but I waved him away.
"I got it." I pulled a $5 bill from my briefcase and handed it to the man before stepping up to the plate, dropping the case at my feet. I landed my first shot and Diego congratulated me. When I landed my second, he looked surprised. When I landed the third, he looked astonished.
"Winner!" the man declared. "Pick your prize." I pointed to the yellow bear, and he pulled it down with a pole and handed it to me. I giddily walked over to Diego, waving it in the air.
"Look what I won for you!" I handed it to him, and he looked at it, smiling halfheartedly. "What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said shortly.
"You seem...annoyed."
"It's stupid." He paused. "I wanted to win you that bear." He handed it back to me.
"Aw, don't worry about it. Me and Maya used to play catch for hours in the village courtyard." I laughed. "We even knocked down our founder's sacred vase one time. Maya was so upset; she wouldn't stop crying. We tried to super glue it back together before my mom noticed."
"I guess I'm not as practiced as you." His tone had softened slightly but he still seemed irritated with himself. I knew he was competitive but didn't think that streak extended to silly carnival games.
"Hey," I stopped and turned to face him. "You'll get it next time." Impulsively, I gave him a small peck on the lips. "Does that make you feel any better?" I said teasingly. He didn't answer at first, instead dropping his briefcase, and pulling me in for a passionate kiss, his hands grasping my face. Still holding the bear, I wrapped my arms around him.
We stopped kissing and he smiled, still holding my face. "Yeah, I feel a lot better now." I giggled.
We continued walking through the grounds, me leaning my head on his arm, as we walked. I'm in deep now, I thought, but I don't really care.