A Husband by Appointment

Synopsis

My father was 63 and still driving overnight freight runs for other people. He hadn't been home in three months, all to save up enough for my IVF. Then the fleet owner ran off with the payroll, owing him 80,000 dollars in wages. He couldn't bring himself to pay for a cab, so he rode buses for six hours and climbed 17 flights of stairs to reach my husband's law firm. "Edward, take a look at this for me. Can we still get the money back?" he asked. Inside the office, Edward Bennett was helping the new intern pick out a birthday cake. He was the city's top lawyer. His consultations ran 1,700 dollars an hour, and he'd won 330,000 dollars in damages for a girl from a poor rural town. He heard my father out and gave a short laugh. "Sir, you need an appointment to see me. There's a long line of people waiting, and being family doesn't mean you get to cut it," Edward said. The intern chimed in softly, "That's right. Edward is meeting a client this afternoon on a 3.3-million-dollar case. He's not the kind of man people from the sticks get to see whenever they please." My father froze. His cracked fingers loosened around the document folder, little by little. "My mistake. I thought we were family and didn't need an appointment," he said awkwardly. When he turned to leave, his oil-stained work jacket brushed the doorframe, and he hurried to wipe the spot with his sleeve. I started toward Edward to demand an answer, but my father caught my arm. "Emily, don't make things hard for him," Dad said. "I'll haul a few more loads when I get back, and then we can afford a lawyer." But at the firm's entrance, he braced a hand against the wall and sank into a crouch, as if his legs had finally given out. The tears came then, and I couldn't stop them. I'm done with a husband who needs an appointment.