*Julian*
The girl sitting across from me waits for an answer, one I purposely hold off on giving. She wants to sue her parents, what teenager doesn’t, but she wants to sue for the rights to her own body. The type of case I avoid like the black plague – too much effort and too much babysitting. To get away from her expressive hazel eyes I study my desk, glancing over all the notes Kerri has left for me my eyes freeze on one, and I almost sigh out loud. My father, great just great, just what I needed today. I quickly move my eyes from his name and number and find myself once again under the curious gaze of this girl. She’s what, thirteen? Fourteen at the most? And this time I do sigh “what did you say your name was?”
She sits straighter, “I didn’t, and it’s Abby”
Pretty name for a pretty girl, I can’t help but think as I push my chair back and start towards the door, I open it up, ignoring my intercom in an attempt to kill two birds with one stone “Kerri, can you get the Planned Parenthood number for Miss-” and I stop not knowing the child’s last name, turning back with an unspoken question, she’s now turned in the chair watching me with wide eyes “what?” she asks, looking angry “planned parenthood?”
I shouldn’t have to deal with this crap, if a disgruntled teenager wants to have sex then let her parents deal with it, I didn’t get into law for this “Look, Abby, here’s some free advice. Suing you’re parents because they won’t let you go on birth control or go to the abortion clinic is like using a sledgehammer to kill a mosquito. Save your allowance and go to Planned Parenthood, they are better equipped to deal with your problem, and frankly I don’t have time for this”
In a flash she’s knocked back the chair to stand up, and anger crackles around the kid like electricity, and it’s directed straight at me. All of a sudden I feel intimidated by this child with her mismatched outfit, yes, for the first time I notice her sneakers. It almost makes me chuckle but her eyes still hold that anger, “My brother is dying, and my mom wants to cut me open and give him one of my kidneys, so frankly I somehow find it hard to believe a handful of condoms will solve my problem”
I shut the door in Kerri’s face and walk back to my desk, sitting down I lean forward “no one can make you donate an organ against your will”
She matches me for each move and leans forward, her hazel eyes I now see are a warm pale brown, with flecks of grey through them, I’ve never seen the combination like this before, her tone is harder now “really?” her brow kinks “I was a newborn the first time I gave something to my brother, it was cord blood. Keith has leukaemia – APL – and my cells put him in remission, but he relapsed when I was five, that time it was lymphocytes that were drawn from me but because the doctor never seemed to get enough I had to go through with it three times. When that stopped working there was a bone marrow transplant, and every time Keith gets infections I have to donate granulocytes, the next time he relapsed it was peripheral blood stem cells”
It’s going right over my head, the girl’s medical vocabulary is far beyond normal knowledge and I am no doctor, but I get the picture. So Planned Parenthood isn’t an option I see, I grab out a notebook and about to put pen paper I look at Abby through my lashes “clearly you’ve agreed to do this for your brother before”
She pauses, looking down at her feet before shaking her head slowly “agreeing would mean they bothered to ask, my saying yes was more an implied thing”
“Have you told your parents you don’t want to donate a kidney?”
“They won’t listen to me”
“Maybe they would if you mentioned this” nothing like your daughter suing you to make you sit up and notice them.
Finally Abby looks up again “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Keith being sick. They had me so I could save him, went to a specialist and chose the embryo that would be the perfect genetic match” it reminds me of the old saying an heir and a spare, but the truth is as much as this kid might not like being an afterthought many children are conceived for less than admirable reasons everyday; to save a collapsing marriage, for money, to mould in a parents image, and compared to my father I think having parents that would go to those lengths to save one child might not be all that bad. She must have read my mind because her brow kinks again “do they sound like they’d understand the word no?”
And now I come to the point we’ve both been skirting around, and I hold the pen in my hand tighter, squeezing until it hurts “and what happens if you don’t give your brother the kidney?”
“He’ll die”
“And you’re cool with that?” I ask, the air in the room suddenly thick with tension as her wide thick lips set in a straight line, her eyes flash as she says “I’m here, what does that say?”
“I’m just wondering why now, why are you suddenly saying no?”
Those eyes flash again, covering her emotions as she looks behind me to the bookcase “because-” she whispers “-it never stops”
I can’t pretend to know what this young girl has gone through, but I do know about parents, about having one who doesn’t seem to hear or see you, one where you’re simply a means to an end. And I know about stepping away from the routine and breaking free. Law wasn’t what I dreamt of doing, or planned on doing, it was more like an epiphany in my twenties when I wanted a whole new slate away from my father and my constant failure. I don’t regret the decision, I am good at what I do and I have done more for people in my years as an attorney than I ever did as a musician or movie producer. And when she says those words, almost choking, 'because it never stops' I have the urge to be the one to help her.
My silence must worry her, she quickly brushes her dark blonde hair away from her face and stares at me, her big eyes begging “I can pay you, I have over four hundred, and I know it’s not enough but I can figure out a way to get more”
“I charge two hundred an hour” she can’t afford me, and she knows that too, her shoulders slump and for a moment it’s like a sparkle enters her eyes as she gives a crooked smile, allowing the smallest of dimples to appear on her right cheek “maybe I could walk your dog or something”
“I’m not really a dog person… we’ll work something out”
Her eyes widen, and she has to pick up her jaw from the floor “so… so, you’ll do it?” and I simply nod, she shakes her head “I can’t let you do this for nothing”
I shrug and point a thumb to the aquarium “you can feed my fish” an empty threat, the aquarium is empty but she doesn’t know that. It’s not that I’m a charitable guy, I like getting paid for my work, but this case is a lock – girl doesn’t want to give up kidney, no court would force girl to give up kidney, simple as that. No effort what’s so ever and it’ll cover my pro bono for the next decade, as well as get rid of the nagging feelings this kid stirs in me. Win, win. “I’m going to file a petition for you in the family court, legal emancipation for medical purposes-”
“And then what?”
“There will be a hearing and the judge will appoint you a guardian ad litem, which is-”
Her eyes roll as she interrupts me “a person trained to work with kids in the family court, who determines what is in the child’s best interest, yeah so, just another adult deciding what happens to me”
“Well, kid, that’s the way the law works and there is no getting around it. But, Abby, this adult would only be looking out for you, not your brother or parents”
After that she doesn’t say anything, and I usher her out to Kerri to fill out forms, “new client?” she asks and I nod, “look after her” before going back to my office.
I spend ten minutes staring at my father’s name, wondering what the man could possibly want after all this time. Family, sometimes they come with strings, and after losing out too many times I have come to the conclusion that I’m just not cut out for a family. I lost my mother and my father is the anti-christ, and every other time I got close to having a family it slipped from between my fingers. I almost had a wife and daughter once, a long time ago, or I wanted them to have that role in my life. Before I get all self pitying I stand back up and return to the others, just in time to see Abby stepping into the elevator and sliding along the back wall. For a girl who is supposedly getting what she wanted Abby doesn’t seem happy.
On instinct I hold out my hand and Kerri hands me the file, “are you sure you want to do this case?” she asks, and I send her my best charming smile “couldn’t say no to the puppy eyes”
“Do her parents know?”
“They will by tomorrow” I reply distracted as I turn back to the office with the folder, stopping when Kerri calls out to me “you’re an idiot Julian”
“What?”
“Where is she meant to live?”
And this time my insides freeze as well, I never considered the ramifications this law suit could have for Abby and her home situation and that neither party may feel particularly comfortable being under the same roof. Kerri sends her best accusatory look straight at me; she’s worked with me for so many years I know I’m in trouble, probably about to get the ‘you’re an insensitive jerk’ lecture. To avoid it I turn back around, instinctively opening the folder and scanning Abby’s details.
And there it is.
Abra Scott. Little Abby’s name is actually Abra Scott, resident of Tree Hill and only twelve years old. It just can’t be, I mean, what are the chances? I slam my office door behind me and throw the folder onto my desk. Of all the luck a Scott walks through my door, years of living right near the town and nothing and then this.
Maybe it’s a mistake, Scott is a common name. However it’s harder to ignore the ringing of familiarity that the name Abra Scott brings me, teasing me at the back of my head. The book is right there, forgotten among a few others, and when I slam the blue novel onto the desk as well and sit down I stare between the folder and the book.
The dedication is on the second page, for my very own miracle, my daughter Abra, a shining star in dark times. The evidence is stacking up against me, but maybe it’s still just a very big coincidence that Lucas has a daughter named Abra and now I have a client with the name Abra Scott. The last time I saw Lucas Scott was nineteen years ago, at the funeral of his late wife Peyton, I have no idea how he ended up with a daughter named Abra, and apparently a very sick son as well. Named Keith, well that is another clue. Still a part of me refuses to believe it, so I open the folder wanting to see it in black and white and there it is, in Abby’s messy scrawl, her claiming Lucas Scott as her father. But the biggest shock of all, the thing I never saw coming was the other name - her mother.
Brooke Scott, which can only be one person, the girl I use to know as Brooke Davis, and also the girl who broke my heart. This entire thing just became very personal.
The girl sitting across from me waits for an answer, one I purposely hold off on giving. She wants to sue her parents, what teenager doesn’t, but she wants to sue for the rights to her own body. The type of case I avoid like the black plague – too much effort and too much babysitting. To get away from her expressive hazel eyes I study my desk, glancing over all the notes Kerri has left for me my eyes freeze on one, and I almost sigh out loud. My father, great just great, just what I needed today. I quickly move my eyes from his name and number and find myself once again under the curious gaze of this girl. She’s what, thirteen? Fourteen at the most? And this time I do sigh “what did you say your name was?”
She sits straighter, “I didn’t, and it’s Abby”
Pretty name for a pretty girl, I can’t help but think as I push my chair back and start towards the door, I open it up, ignoring my intercom in an attempt to kill two birds with one stone “Kerri, can you get the Planned Parenthood number for Miss-” and I stop not knowing the child’s last name, turning back with an unspoken question, she’s now turned in the chair watching me with wide eyes “what?” she asks, looking angry “planned parenthood?”
I shouldn’t have to deal with this crap, if a disgruntled teenager wants to have sex then let her parents deal with it, I didn’t get into law for this “Look, Abby, here’s some free advice. Suing you’re parents because they won’t let you go on birth control or go to the abortion clinic is like using a sledgehammer to kill a mosquito. Save your allowance and go to Planned Parenthood, they are better equipped to deal with your problem, and frankly I don’t have time for this”
In a flash she’s knocked back the chair to stand up, and anger crackles around the kid like electricity, and it’s directed straight at me. All of a sudden I feel intimidated by this child with her mismatched outfit, yes, for the first time I notice her sneakers. It almost makes me chuckle but her eyes still hold that anger, “My brother is dying, and my mom wants to cut me open and give him one of my kidneys, so frankly I somehow find it hard to believe a handful of condoms will solve my problem”
I shut the door in Kerri’s face and walk back to my desk, sitting down I lean forward “no one can make you donate an organ against your will”
She matches me for each move and leans forward, her hazel eyes I now see are a warm pale brown, with flecks of grey through them, I’ve never seen the combination like this before, her tone is harder now “really?” her brow kinks “I was a newborn the first time I gave something to my brother, it was cord blood. Keith has leukaemia – APL – and my cells put him in remission, but he relapsed when I was five, that time it was lymphocytes that were drawn from me but because the doctor never seemed to get enough I had to go through with it three times. When that stopped working there was a bone marrow transplant, and every time Keith gets infections I have to donate granulocytes, the next time he relapsed it was peripheral blood stem cells”
It’s going right over my head, the girl’s medical vocabulary is far beyond normal knowledge and I am no doctor, but I get the picture. So Planned Parenthood isn’t an option I see, I grab out a notebook and about to put pen paper I look at Abby through my lashes “clearly you’ve agreed to do this for your brother before”
She pauses, looking down at her feet before shaking her head slowly “agreeing would mean they bothered to ask, my saying yes was more an implied thing”
“Have you told your parents you don’t want to donate a kidney?”
“They won’t listen to me”
“Maybe they would if you mentioned this” nothing like your daughter suing you to make you sit up and notice them.
Finally Abby looks up again “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Keith being sick. They had me so I could save him, went to a specialist and chose the embryo that would be the perfect genetic match” it reminds me of the old saying an heir and a spare, but the truth is as much as this kid might not like being an afterthought many children are conceived for less than admirable reasons everyday; to save a collapsing marriage, for money, to mould in a parents image, and compared to my father I think having parents that would go to those lengths to save one child might not be all that bad. She must have read my mind because her brow kinks again “do they sound like they’d understand the word no?”
And now I come to the point we’ve both been skirting around, and I hold the pen in my hand tighter, squeezing until it hurts “and what happens if you don’t give your brother the kidney?”
“He’ll die”
“And you’re cool with that?” I ask, the air in the room suddenly thick with tension as her wide thick lips set in a straight line, her eyes flash as she says “I’m here, what does that say?”
“I’m just wondering why now, why are you suddenly saying no?”
Those eyes flash again, covering her emotions as she looks behind me to the bookcase “because-” she whispers “-it never stops”
I can’t pretend to know what this young girl has gone through, but I do know about parents, about having one who doesn’t seem to hear or see you, one where you’re simply a means to an end. And I know about stepping away from the routine and breaking free. Law wasn’t what I dreamt of doing, or planned on doing, it was more like an epiphany in my twenties when I wanted a whole new slate away from my father and my constant failure. I don’t regret the decision, I am good at what I do and I have done more for people in my years as an attorney than I ever did as a musician or movie producer. And when she says those words, almost choking, 'because it never stops' I have the urge to be the one to help her.
My silence must worry her, she quickly brushes her dark blonde hair away from her face and stares at me, her big eyes begging “I can pay you, I have over four hundred, and I know it’s not enough but I can figure out a way to get more”
“I charge two hundred an hour” she can’t afford me, and she knows that too, her shoulders slump and for a moment it’s like a sparkle enters her eyes as she gives a crooked smile, allowing the smallest of dimples to appear on her right cheek “maybe I could walk your dog or something”
“I’m not really a dog person… we’ll work something out”
Her eyes widen, and she has to pick up her jaw from the floor “so… so, you’ll do it?” and I simply nod, she shakes her head “I can’t let you do this for nothing”
I shrug and point a thumb to the aquarium “you can feed my fish” an empty threat, the aquarium is empty but she doesn’t know that. It’s not that I’m a charitable guy, I like getting paid for my work, but this case is a lock – girl doesn’t want to give up kidney, no court would force girl to give up kidney, simple as that. No effort what’s so ever and it’ll cover my pro bono for the next decade, as well as get rid of the nagging feelings this kid stirs in me. Win, win. “I’m going to file a petition for you in the family court, legal emancipation for medical purposes-”
“And then what?”
“There will be a hearing and the judge will appoint you a guardian ad litem, which is-”
Her eyes roll as she interrupts me “a person trained to work with kids in the family court, who determines what is in the child’s best interest, yeah so, just another adult deciding what happens to me”
“Well, kid, that’s the way the law works and there is no getting around it. But, Abby, this adult would only be looking out for you, not your brother or parents”
After that she doesn’t say anything, and I usher her out to Kerri to fill out forms, “new client?” she asks and I nod, “look after her” before going back to my office.
I spend ten minutes staring at my father’s name, wondering what the man could possibly want after all this time. Family, sometimes they come with strings, and after losing out too many times I have come to the conclusion that I’m just not cut out for a family. I lost my mother and my father is the anti-christ, and every other time I got close to having a family it slipped from between my fingers. I almost had a wife and daughter once, a long time ago, or I wanted them to have that role in my life. Before I get all self pitying I stand back up and return to the others, just in time to see Abby stepping into the elevator and sliding along the back wall. For a girl who is supposedly getting what she wanted Abby doesn’t seem happy.
On instinct I hold out my hand and Kerri hands me the file, “are you sure you want to do this case?” she asks, and I send her my best charming smile “couldn’t say no to the puppy eyes”
“Do her parents know?”
“They will by tomorrow” I reply distracted as I turn back to the office with the folder, stopping when Kerri calls out to me “you’re an idiot Julian”
“What?”
“Where is she meant to live?”
And this time my insides freeze as well, I never considered the ramifications this law suit could have for Abby and her home situation and that neither party may feel particularly comfortable being under the same roof. Kerri sends her best accusatory look straight at me; she’s worked with me for so many years I know I’m in trouble, probably about to get the ‘you’re an insensitive jerk’ lecture. To avoid it I turn back around, instinctively opening the folder and scanning Abby’s details.
And there it is.
Abra Scott. Little Abby’s name is actually Abra Scott, resident of Tree Hill and only twelve years old. It just can’t be, I mean, what are the chances? I slam my office door behind me and throw the folder onto my desk. Of all the luck a Scott walks through my door, years of living right near the town and nothing and then this.
Maybe it’s a mistake, Scott is a common name. However it’s harder to ignore the ringing of familiarity that the name Abra Scott brings me, teasing me at the back of my head. The book is right there, forgotten among a few others, and when I slam the blue novel onto the desk as well and sit down I stare between the folder and the book.
The dedication is on the second page, for my very own miracle, my daughter Abra, a shining star in dark times. The evidence is stacking up against me, but maybe it’s still just a very big coincidence that Lucas has a daughter named Abra and now I have a client with the name Abra Scott. The last time I saw Lucas Scott was nineteen years ago, at the funeral of his late wife Peyton, I have no idea how he ended up with a daughter named Abra, and apparently a very sick son as well. Named Keith, well that is another clue. Still a part of me refuses to believe it, so I open the folder wanting to see it in black and white and there it is, in Abby’s messy scrawl, her claiming Lucas Scott as her father. But the biggest shock of all, the thing I never saw coming was the other name - her mother.
Brooke Scott, which can only be one person, the girl I use to know as Brooke Davis, and also the girl who broke my heart. This entire thing just became very personal.