The school does have debate and mock trial teams, but I didn’t have the free time required to join them. I chuckle to myself when I hear other students complaining about how busy they are. I’d love to see them walk in my shoes for a week.
I park my car in the student parking lot and walk the three blocks to the law school building. I only have two classes this semester because I took two summer classes last year. It sucked at the time, but only having two classes now has been great. On top of that, both classes are graded by term papers and do not have a final exam. Woo hoo!
I’ve stayed mostly to myself during my three years here at the law school. I say “hi” and exchange pleasantries, but I’ve never hung out socially with any of my classmates. I go to the library and study in between classes because I don’t have time to do it in the evening. Answering questions when called upon in class is probably the only time my classmates have heard me speak.
It’s nothing against them. Really, it’s not. I’m sure if I tried I would have made some good friends here. But my time in the school focused on studying and homework. I wouldn’t have passed my classes if I spent my time in the building socializing.
My single-mindedness helped me avoid the petty drama, but it was lonely. I wish I would have made more of an effort to get to know some people, but that ship has sailed. I’m in the home stretch now.
My Civil Procedure II class is relatively tame today. We discuss our term paper topics to ensure there are no duplicates. I was called on during my Eighth Amendment class, but I knew the answers to the professor’s questions. After an hour in the library, it’s time for me to head to the Rehab Center.
The Cincinnati Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Center is located next to the local hospital. Aside from a small sign announcing its name, you’d never know you are walking into a rehab facility. The Center is a small, two story building made of pale brown brick. The lobby and conference rooms are on the first floor, and the second story houses the twenty patients who stay in the facility 24/7. Patients released from the hospital after drug and alcohol related incidents walk through the front door every day.
When I started volunteering at the Center, I was a housekeeper. I cleaned the patients’ rooms and the common areas. These days, I assist with intake meetings and sit in on the group sessions.
For the most part, I like the volunteer work and marvel at the time and energy the counselors put into each and every patient. But there are times I want to walk away. It’s heartbreaking when a patient checks himself out against the recommendations of the counselors. When we hear stories about a former patient who has fallen off the wagon, or worse – overdosed, we all sit and cry together. Yet, the counselors and volunteers continue showing up every day.
“If we don’t help them, who will?” is the motto we live by.
The sun is shining brightly as I walk to the employee entrance at the back of the building. It’s a beautiful April day, seventy-five degrees and sunny. I’ll take that over snow any time.
I’m putting my purse into my locker in the employee lounge when the Director, Susie Brewer, approaches me. She is wearing her standard jeans and blue Rehab Center t-shirt. Her red hair is pulled back into a bun.
“Hey Susie!”
“Hi Julie.” Susie is perpetually positive and upbeat. But at the moment, she looks concerned.
“What’s up?” I ask, afraid she has bad news about a patient.
“There’s a man in the lobby waiting to see you. He came in first thing this morning. He says he has something important to discuss with you.”
“Really? He wants to talk to me?”
Susie nods. “He gave me his card.” She pulls a business card out of her back pocket and hands it to me.
I read the name: Matthew M. Deer, Esq. According to his card, he is a partner with Town, Manny and Smith. “I’ve never heard of this guy. Or the firm.”
Susie frowns. “I was afraid you’d say that. I looked the firm up online and called the number on the card. It’s legit. The receptionist I spoke with confirmed he works for them and his bio is on the website.”
“Does he look sketchy?”
“He’s dressed in a suit and tie. He hasn’t caused any trouble. He’s been sitting there patiently waiting for you. I told him I would have you call him when you got in, but he wants to meet with you in person.”
My stomach rolls. What could this be about?
Susie and I walk to the lobby and she points the man out to me. I don’t recognize him. My visitor looks like your everyday, run of the mill attorney.
“I’ll go see what he wants,” I tell Susie.
“You sure? Want me to go with you?” she asks.
“No. I’ll be okay.” I don’t know why this man is here and I don’t want Susie overhearing anything.
“Alright. I’ll stay close, just in case.”
I thank Susie and walk toward my visitor. As I get closer, I estimate his age to be around forty-five. His brown hair is fading, with touches of grey here and there, especially near his ears. But his crow’s feet and laugh lines aren’t pronounced. His charcoal suit is well-tailored and his light blue tie looks expensive. He is on his cell phone, but ends the call when he sees me approaching.
The man stands up and extends his hand to me. “Matthew Deer. I’m assuming you’re Ms. Michaels.”
I steady my nerves and return his firm hand shake. “I am. Can you tell me what this is all about?”
Matthew glances around the lobby. “Is there a place we can speak privately?”
“Sure.”
Matthew picks up a black briefcase and follows me out of the lobby. I exchange a glance with Susie as we pass. I know she’ll keep an eye out for me. I lead Matthew to one of our small conference rooms. We use this room for one-on-one sessions. It has a small, round table with four chairs. There isn’t much space for anything else.
I take a seat opposite Matthew once I shut the door. “I don’t mean to be rude Mr. Deer, but I don’t have much time.”
Matthew nods his head. “Understood. This shouldn’t take long.”
Matthew pulls a set of papers out of his briefcase and lays them on the table. “Before I get into the details Ms. Michaels…”
I interrupt him to say, “Please, call me Julie.”
Matthew smiles. “Before I get into the details Julie, let me advise you that I’m here on behalf of Mr. Drew Waters.”
Drew Waters? Now I’m really confused.
“Mr. Waters called me last night,” Matthew continues, “and asked me to locate you. He remembered the notepad you presented to him for an autograph, and that’s how I tracked you down. I gave your description to the receptionist and she was kind enough to give me your name.”
I make a mental note to tell Susie someone gave out my name. She won’t like it, confidentiality is huge here.
Back to the matter at hand. “Why did Drew ask you to find me?”
Matthew slides the paperwork toward me. “In order for me to go any further, I need you to review and execute a Non-Disclosure Agreement.”
“A Non-Disclosure Agreement?”
I read the first paragraph of the document and see Mr. Deer has filled in mine and Drew’s names where applicable. “Wait…is this about Drew’s meltdown in the elevator? He doesn’t need me to sign this. I won’t tell anyone.”