Client Privilege
“Julie was at her desk with the telephone tucked against her neck. She watched them too.
After the door closed behind them, I went back into my office. I sat at my desk and swiveled my chair around to stare out the window. I hadn’t seen the sun in four days. The cityscape was painted in tones of gray. It was sullen and grouchy, just like me.
Julie scratched at the door. Without turning, I said, “Come in. And I hope you brought coffee.”
“I did,” she said.
I turned around. She came and sat in the chair beside my desk. She had had her black hair cut short, which did good things for her fine cheekbones. She wore gold hoops in her ears. Her green eyes tried to smile but fell short. She put the old mug that Joey had made for me three years earlier in eighth-grade ceramics class in front of me. It was steaming. I picked it up and sipped from it. Julie had brought her own mug with her.
“So what the hell is going on?” she said.
I sighed. “I really can’t even talk to you about it.”
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