Page 43 of After Everything
"This is Emma Peterson."
Her voice. Professional, measured, the same voice she'd probably used a thousand times answering calls from other attorneys about other patients.
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
"Hello?" she said. "This is Emma Peterson."
"Emma." I forced myself to speak. "It's... it's David Harrison. I know this is awkward, but I have a client who needs help."
Silence. Long enough that I wondered if she'd hung up.
Then: "What kind of help?"
Straight to business. No pleasantries. I could work with that.
"I'm representing a woman pro bono. Maria Rodriguez. Domestic violence survivor, two kids, fleeing an abusive marriage. She has a restraining order hearing in two weeks, but we need medical documentation. Recent exam, evidence of injuries, professional assessment for the court. She can't afford to pay, and every other clinic I've called is either booked out or can't help on this timeline."
More silence. I could hear her breathing on the other end of the line, could almost see her processing, weighing her options.
"Your clinic has a DV program," I continued. "I saw it on your website. I wouldn't call if I had any other option, but she's desperate. Her husband put her in the hospital twice last year. She's terrified he's going to get custody of the kids if this restraining order doesn't go through."
"What kind of documentation do you need?" Her voice was still neutral. Clinical.
"Physical exam, documentation of current injuries, medical history review, assessment for trauma. A written report I can submit to the court. And potentially testimony if the judge requires it."
"When's the hearing?"
"Two weeks from Thursday."
Another pause. Then: "I can see her Thursday at three PM."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you. Emma, seriously, thank you?—"
"But David." Her voice cut through, sharp now. "This is professional only. You bring her to the appointment, you stay inthe waiting room. I'll do the exam and documentation. You don't come back to the exam room. You don't try to talk to me about anything that isn't directly related to Maria's case. Clear?"
"Crystal clear," I said quickly. "I understand. This is about helping Maria. That's all."
"Good." A pause. "I'm not doing this for you."
"I know."
"I'm doing this because a woman needs help and I have the training and the time to provide it."
"I know," I said again. "And I'm grateful. Maria will be grateful. Thank you."
"Have her bring any medical records she has. Hospital discharge papers, police reports, anything relevant. And if she has photos of injuries, print those out. I'll need to see everything."
"I'll make sure she has it all."
"Thursday at three. Riverview Women's Health on Walnut Street. Don't be late."
"We won't be."
She hung up.
I sat there holding the phone for a long moment, my hand shaking slightly.
Emma had agreed to help. She'd set firm boundaries, ones I absolutely deserved and would respect, but she'd agreed. For Maria's sake, not mine. Because helping someone in danger was more important than whatever personal discomfort my presence caused her.
