love,” if you poke and prod them, sometimes they will stand up for themselves. I really thought I was doing the right thing. I hope to God I did not make things worse.”
“You did the best you could. I would have handled things the same way,” Mollie said.
“Yeah, and you would feel as guilty as I do. You knock yourself out for your clients, yet you never feel you have done enough. You should give yourself more credit and stop setting the bar so high no one could ever reach it.”
Mollie shook her head. “But there is always more that can be done, one more question to ask, one more argument to make for my client.”
“And you don’t charge your clients for half the time you put in on their cases. Not that they appreciate it. Why do we do this, Mollie? Is this what you had in mind when you decided to become a lawyer? It sure as hell isn’t what I had in mind. I can barely remember what I thought it would be like, but I know it wasn’t this. Are we really going to spend the rest of our careers doing this? I’m not sure I want to have peoples’ lives in my hands and to agonize over whether my actions saved or ended their lives. We’re smart. We’re creative and well-educated. There has to be something else we can do. Something less intense. And something that pays better.”
Mollie smiled at her. “You know I never had a burning passion to be a lawyer. I just kind of fell into it, like you did. But I do like it now that I am doing it.”
“Maybe we should move to Key West and open a bar. We’ll call it Two Chicks & a Bar.”
“I’m in,” Mollie smiled.
“Well, I have to get back to this stack of work. You know what they say, ‘So many people to sue, so little time.’”
After calling the officer about Rose’s phone message, Theia stared out the window, wondering if Rose was still alive. She kept seeing Donald’s face in her head, then Foster’s face. Snippets from Rose’s order of protection hearing would flash into her mind, spliced with scenes from Theia’s nightmare. Donald and Foster danced a waltz of torment on her psyche until she held her head in her hands and tried to force them out of her head. Wiping a tear, Theia sighed and picked up a file. She had to overcome this PTSD if she was ever going to have a normal life. People with normal lives were able to sit at their desks and get work done without crying and without having psychotic images taunting them. They did not jump when a small child at a courthouse spoke to them. Theia forced herself to slowly read a document aloud until she was able to turn her attention back to her work. She was drafting settlement documents in another case when Darcy buzzed her.
“Are you expecting someone named Colleen?”
“No, I don’t have any appointments this morning. I’m trying to get caught up on work I had planned to do yesterday, before my client asked me to go to court with her.”
“There’s a lady named Colleen here to see you. She won’t tell me her last name, but she said it is very important that she speak with you.”
“Is she a sales rep?” Sales reps frequently did cold calls at her office, hawking everything from referral services to insurance to online legal research plans.
“Don’t think so,” Darcy responded.
“Fine, I’ll come out. Thanks.”
Theia closed the file, stood and tugged at her jacket. She ran her fingers through her unruly hair then walked out to the reception area. A distraught woman in her forties stood there, pacing and jangling her keys. Her skin had suffered years of tanning beds. The cleavage police would have written her up for a felony, and her jeans looked as though they would weep with relief when she took them off.
“May I help you?” she asked the woman. “Mrs. …?” She paused, waiting for the woman to tell her last name, which she did not.
“Colleen. My name is Colleen. You’ve got to
“You did the best you could. I would have handled things the same way,” Mollie said.
“Yeah, and you would feel as guilty as I do. You knock yourself out for your clients, yet you never feel you have done enough. You should give yourself more credit and stop setting the bar so high no one could ever reach it.”
Mollie shook her head. “But there is always more that can be done, one more question to ask, one more argument to make for my client.”
“And you don’t charge your clients for half the time you put in on their cases. Not that they appreciate it. Why do we do this, Mollie? Is this what you had in mind when you decided to become a lawyer? It sure as hell isn’t what I had in mind. I can barely remember what I thought it would be like, but I know it wasn’t this. Are we really going to spend the rest of our careers doing this? I’m not sure I want to have peoples’ lives in my hands and to agonize over whether my actions saved or ended their lives. We’re smart. We’re creative and well-educated. There has to be something else we can do. Something less intense. And something that pays better.”
Mollie smiled at her. “You know I never had a burning passion to be a lawyer. I just kind of fell into it, like you did. But I do like it now that I am doing it.”
“Maybe we should move to Key West and open a bar. We’ll call it Two Chicks & a Bar.”
“I’m in,” Mollie smiled.
“Well, I have to get back to this stack of work. You know what they say, ‘So many people to sue, so little time.’”
After calling the officer about Rose’s phone message, Theia stared out the window, wondering if Rose was still alive. She kept seeing Donald’s face in her head, then Foster’s face. Snippets from Rose’s order of protection hearing would flash into her mind, spliced with scenes from Theia’s nightmare. Donald and Foster danced a waltz of torment on her psyche until she held her head in her hands and tried to force them out of her head. Wiping a tear, Theia sighed and picked up a file. She had to overcome this PTSD if she was ever going to have a normal life. People with normal lives were able to sit at their desks and get work done without crying and without having psychotic images taunting them. They did not jump when a small child at a courthouse spoke to them. Theia forced herself to slowly read a document aloud until she was able to turn her attention back to her work. She was drafting settlement documents in another case when Darcy buzzed her.
“Are you expecting someone named Colleen?”
“No, I don’t have any appointments this morning. I’m trying to get caught up on work I had planned to do yesterday, before my client asked me to go to court with her.”
“There’s a lady named Colleen here to see you. She won’t tell me her last name, but she said it is very important that she speak with you.”
“Is she a sales rep?” Sales reps frequently did cold calls at her office, hawking everything from referral services to insurance to online legal research plans.
“Don’t think so,” Darcy responded.
“Fine, I’ll come out. Thanks.”
Theia closed the file, stood and tugged at her jacket. She ran her fingers through her unruly hair then walked out to the reception area. A distraught woman in her forties stood there, pacing and jangling her keys. Her skin had suffered years of tanning beds. The cleavage police would have written her up for a felony, and her jeans looked as though they would weep with relief when she took them off.
“May I help you?” she asked the woman. “Mrs. …?” She paused, waiting for the woman to tell her last name, which she did not.
“Colleen. My name is Colleen. You’ve got to
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