As Harry watched Buddy leave, so many thoughts flooded his mind. His mother hadn't totally abandoned him-she'd sat in on a session. She knew who he was, what he had done with his life. Up until the previous hour he'd been ready to dismiss his mother as unfit, unsteady, a terrible excuse of a person. But now he saw her for who she really was- and she would never know.
Of course, she was dead. That was just his luck in life; as soon as he thought he'd made real progress, then it turned out he'd hit a dead end-literally. Some luck, he mused as he started to pack away his toys for the night.
Luck. What luck. What rotten, shady, terrible luck he'd had. To be abandoned by his mother at such an early age...the thought was enough to make him want to drink, and he wasn't a drinker. Kool-aid sounded pretty good right about now. He opened the mini-fridge to see what he had stocked, but one word kept plaguing him. Luck.
Was it luck that got him as far as he had made in life? And what a life he had. Harry was at the top of his profession, he had colleagues who were more than just coworkers, more than just friends- they were family. In his heart he knew there wasn't a thing any of them wouldn't do for him. If anyone could find a way to bring his mother back to life, he knew without a doubt it was this group of people he called friends.
So luck might have played a bit part in his life- not everyone could call themselves a judge at such a young age. Anyone could have friends, but Harry knew that he wouldn't trade any one of them for all of the money in the world. Maybe Dan. No, not anyone.
What had made him decide to go into the judicial field, anyways? Was it luck, or was there more to it than that. At an early age, he'd been smart enough or aware enough to know that a great injustice had been done to him, by the woman who was supposed to love him forever. But life had a funny way of not being fair, so in a sense, it was her abandonment of him that led him to the pathway of his life.
He took out the souvenir Buddy had left him of his mother. Perhaps, just perhaps, somewhere in the great beyond, if she were here today she would say to him the words that he'd always dreamed of hearing from her- that she was proud of him.
"Your honor?" Christine peeked in on him. "I thought I saw your visitor leave, and I wanted to check in, make sure you were okay."
"What can I say, Christine? It's been a heck of a day."
"You mean about your mother?"
"That, and Bull fell asleep on my briefcase, leaving a Godzilla sized indent on the front of it," he smiled.
"Oh, Harry. I know that we don't know each other very well, but I wanted to let you know that I'm here for you, if you should need anything," Christine returned his smile.
"There is one thing you can do for me."
"You name it!"
"You're a woman, right?"
She looked down and straightened out her skirt. "Last time I checked."
"I know that you don't have any children, yet, but I'm sure you'd make an outstanding mother."
"Thank you. You too."
He looked at her curiously.
"Father. I mean a father."
He laughed. "I knew what you meant."
"What can I do for you?"
"I know you don't know my mother; I can say that because I never even knew her. But tell me, Christine. If she were alive today.."
She took his hand. "I can honestly say that she would be proud of you. I know that I am."
Their eyes met, and then before anything further could happen, she stepped away. He thought about hugging her, but he didn't want to press his luck. So he did the next best thing- he held out his hand, and she readily shook it.
"Good night, Miss Sullivan."
"Good night, your honor."
As Harry shut the door to his office for the evening, he realized now more than ever that he had everything in life that a mother could have wanted for her son. And for that, he knew he would never, ever forget what little he knew about her.