Chapter 16: Hearing

The courtroom was small and beige, with a flag in the corner and a clock that ran two minutes slow.

I sat at the left table in the one suit that still buttoned, with milk leaking through my pump pads.

My lawyer sat beside me with her laptop closed.

Ansel sat in the first row behind me.

My daughter was at home with the charge nurse, who had told me to go win something.

Across the aisle, Otto sat in a navy suit with his hands folded, looking tired and brave.

He had not looked at me once.

The judge was a gray-haired woman with half-glasses and a tired, steady stare.

"Mr. Wodehouse's counsel," she said. "You have the floor."

Otto's lawyer stood and buttoned his jacket.

"Your Honor, this is a sad case, and my client takes no pleasure in it."

"Dr. Coughlan is a physician who has not worked in eight months."

"She suffered a profound loss in January, and in February she stood on a hospital roof."

I kept my hands flat on the table.

"Mr. Wodehouse was there. He stayed with her through her treatment."

"He kept the notes of her therapy, with her consent, so that he could support her recovery."

"With her consent," the judge said, in a flat voice.

"Yes, Your Honor. As her fiancé and emergency contact."

"Go on."

He picked up a page.

"On February twelfth, her therapist recorded this. Patient states she does not want to be here."

"That is the woman who now lives in the home of her supervisor, who has a pending complaint before the state medical board."

He sat down.

My lawyer rose.

"Your Honor, the notes are privileged. Dr. Coughlan never waived that privilege."

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