CLAIRE FISHER'S APARTMENT
The yawn seems to come from somewhere
deep inside. It pulls at Claire's
face, yanks her mouth wide open, and
clamps her eyes shut tightly. It is so powerful that she needs to stop
and lean against the wall before continuing on into the living room.
"I'll take that as a sign I need
some sleep," she mumbles as she walks back into the living room. Finally,
sleep is an actual possibility. She spent the afternoon and evening working
an excruciating shift at the hospital, and when she got in the car at the
end of it, sleep was the first thing on her mind. But she had to go pick
up Travis
and Samantha
from the Fishers' first. And then she had to chat
a little, and have a bite to eat when she admitted to
Paula
that she hadn't eaten dinner ...
Not that the attention and the concern
aren't comforting. But the whole notion of other people looking out for
her well-being without any distractions or ulterior motives is still a
strange one to her sometimes, and sometimes she finds it stifling. Maybe
it's because she spent so much of her youth and her early adulthood fending
for herself.
Whatever it is, now she can finally
get some sleep. She is about to double-check that the apartment's door
is locked when something catches her eye. A blinking light.
The answering machine, of course.
When she hauled the kids inside, they immediately went into their pre-sleep
burst of wild energy and she had to spend the better part of an hour coaxing
them into going to bed. She totally forgot to check the machine.
Casually she presses the "play" button
and listens to the beep. But as soon as the voice on the tape begins speaking,
she tenses up.
"Hi, Claire, it's Jim Thompson,"
the message says. "I wanted to let you know that we've finally gotten a
preliminary hearing over custody of Samantha scheduled. It'll be held ..."
She thinks to grab a pen and jot
down the details on the small pad of paper kept next to the machine but
the effort seems too great right now. Instead she saves the lawyer's message,
not wanting to listen to it again or think about it anymore right now.
It's too late, though. The formality
of a real hearing, in a courtroom with a judge, where a decision regarding
Samantha could very well be made, has snaked its way into her consciousness
already, and she cannot shake it.
I can't let this happen, she
tells herself as fear courses through her veins. I can't lose Samantha,
too.
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