most of this one is fiction, but the clock was my grandmothers, tho not tea pot shaped , it is this amazing pale green. I still have it, and against all odds, I do still believe in happy endings.

CONFESSING

Although she knew it was totally irrational, given the realities of the fifty-plus years she’d been alive, Janine still believed in happy endings. Most of the time she kept this belief sequestered deep within her, feeling slightly embarrassed by it.

As a successful litigator she could logically argue that there was no evidence to support it. But then again there was that persistent little voice inside her that kept insisting, “Someday,” accompanied by Disney overtures and smarmy sunsets.

Janine hadn’t survived an abusive childhood, the rigors of law school, and countless failed relationships by listening to that sentimental crap, or had she? Was it the tough, no-nonsense woman who had kept her going all those years, or the child inside her who kept holding out her cupped hands full of hope. How many pro-bono cases had she taken on in the belief that she could make a difference in some poor schmuks life? And here and there, she had.

A little late to be analyzing that now. She glanced up at the pale green tea-pot shaped wall clock above her sink and realized that she had exactly forty-five minutes to make it to the courthouse for her first case of the day. She shrugged on her jacket, and bent to grab her briefcase. She stole one more look at the clock. It had been her grandmother’s, a woman who’d believed in hope until the day she died.

Janine had fought her siblings for that clock; it was the only thing she’d wanted. The loud tick, tick of it reminded her of her grandmother’s perseverance, and her stubborn belief in the possibilities of happy endings.

Janine didn’t have to tell anybody she’d inherited that belief, she just needed to get down to the courthouse and try to make it happen – one more time.