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ANNA
IT'S RAINING.
The kind of rain that comes down so heavy it sounds like the shower's ru
Ask any kid who's made it past fourth grade and they can tell you: water never stops moving. Rain falls, and runs down a mountain into a river. The river finds it way to the ocean. It evaporates, like a soul, into the clouds. And then, like everything else, it starts all over again.
BRIAN
IT'S RAINING.
Like the day A
There were no stars that night, what with all the rain clouds. And maybe because of that, when A
"Andromeda?" she said. "Like the sci-fi book?"
"Like the princess," I corrected. I caught her eye over the tiny horizon of our daughter's head. "In the sky," I explained, "she's between her mother and her father."
SARA
IT'S RAINING.
Not an auspicious begi
"Mrs. Fitzgerald?" the judge prompts.
I take a deep breath, stare down at the gibberish in front of me, and grab the whole sheaf of index cards. Standing up, I clear my throat, and start to read aloud. "In this country we have a long legal history of allowing parents to make decisions for their children. It's part of what the courts have always found to be the constitutional right to privacy. And given all the evidence this court has heard—" Suddenly, there is a crash of lightning, and I drop all my notes onto the floor. Kneeling, I scramble to pick them up, but of course now they are out of order. I try to rearrange what I have in front of me, but nothing makes sense.
Oh, hell. It's not what I need to say, anyway.
"Your Honor," I ask, "can I start over?" When he nods, I turn my back on him, and walk toward my daughter, who is sitting beside Campbell.
"A
I take a few steps forward. "I know I jump at every sliver of possibility that might cure Kate, but it's all I know how to do. And even if you don't agree with me, even if Kate doesn't agree with me, I want to be the one who says I told you so. Ten years from now, I want to see your children on your lap and in your arms, because that's when you'll understand. I have a sister, so I know—that relationship, it's all about fairness: you want your sibling to have exactly what you have—the same amount of toys, the same number of meatballs on your spaghetti, the same share of love. But being a mother is completely different. You want your child to have more than you ever did. You want to build a fire underneath her and watch her soar. It's bigger than words." I touch my chest. "And it still all manages to fit very neatly inside here."
I turn to Judge DeSalvo. "I didn't want to come to court, but I had to. The way the law works, if a petitioner takes action—even if that's your own child—you must have a reaction. And so I was forced to explain, eloquently, why I believe that I know better than A
"Even if the court found in my favor today, I couldn't force A
Finally, I face Campbell. "A long time ago I used to be a lawyer. But I'm not one anymore. I am a mother, and what I've done for the past eighteen years in that capacity is harder than anything I ever had to do in a courtroom. At the begi
I take a deep breath. "In my life, though, that building was on fire, one of my children was in it—and the only opportunity to save her was to send in my other child, because she was the only one who knew the way. Did I know I was taking a risk? Of course. Did I realize it meant maybe losing both of them? Yes. Did I understand that maybe it wasn't fair to ask her to do it? Absolutely. But I also knew that it was the only chance I had to keep both of them. Was it legal? Was it moral? Was it crazy or foolish or cruel? I don't know. But I do know it was right."
Finished, I sit down at my table. The rain beats against the windows to my right. I wonder if it will ever let up.
CAMPBELL
I GET TO MY FEET, look at my notecards, and—like Sara—toss them into the trash. "Like Mrs. Fitzgerald just said, this case isn't about A
I walk toward the bench. "We know that the Fitzgeralds were asked to do the impossible—make informed health-care decisions for two of their children, who had opposing medical interests. And if we—like the Fitzgeralds—don't know what the right decision is, then the person who has to have the final say is the person whose body it is… even if that's a thirteen-year-old. And ultimately, that too is what this case is about: the moment when perhaps a child knows better than her parents.
"I know that when A