An Invisible Client

by Victor Methos

Justice will not come until those who are not injured are as outraged as those who are. — Solon, 560

Under the law, a person was valued at exactly how much money that person could earn. Anyone who hadn’t gone to an Ivy League school, pulled in at least six figures, or had a family business waiting for them was what PI lawyers called “an invisible client”—one who lived and breathed but didn’t officially exist.

“Remember one thing above anything else: if you say something confidently enough, people will believe you. Even if you’re wrong.”

“Mama,” he rasped, “Mama, I was worried, but I’m not worried anymore.” Rebecca wiped away her tears with her free hand and held in her sobs. “Worried about what, sweetheart?” “I was worried . . . I was worried how you would find me and Daddy when you get to heaven. I knew there’d be a lot of people, and I didn’t know how you would find us. But I know now, Mama. I’m gonna whistle. So when you get there, I’m gonna whistle for you so you know where I am.”

When you give up, it’s not yourself you hurt the worst. It’s everybody who cares about you.

“My father was a monster, but he was an honest monster. He never hid what he was. But there are worse monsters in the world. There are monsters that hide themselves in broad daylight. Monsters that put on smiles, that might even shake your hand and call you their friend. There are monsters in this world that care nothing about goodness, or people, or the future. We used to search under our beds for monsters when we were young, but that’s not where they were. They were out in the open, pretending to be there to help us.”