Calgary, August 2026
I admit it, it was my fault. I drove too fast, hoping to make the green light, but the light turned red. The car in front of me stopped, and to avoid hitting it, I swerved into the left lane. The car behind had to brake hard, but the driver's reaction was something else. As soon as we stopped, he jumped out of his car, ran to me and banged on my side window, yelling some profanities, his face red with rage. By then, the light turned green, the cars behind started to honk, he returned to his driver’s seat, and we continued on our way.
“What an idiot,” I thought, not knowing that this wasn’t the last time I would see him.
Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is John, and I am a divorce lawyer working for a small law firm. I am new to practicing law and work under supervision, but I can legally represent clients in court. Because of my lack of experience, the cases I get are usually simple, and this one was supposed to be simple too.
“A woman is asking for divorce, claiming her husband’s cruelty, and the man is looking for a lawyer. It should be a simple case; they hate each other, and both want the divorce. The only complication is their five-year-old boy, and I expect a custody fight. It will be a good experience for you,” my supervisor told me and gave me the documentation of the case.
The first step was to meet my client, and when I saw him, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the man from the road rage.
“We already met,” I started the conversation.
He also recognized me and appeared embarrassed. “Yes,” he said.
“Your wife claims cruelty as a basis for the divorce, and judging from your behaviour at that junction, she might be right. I am not sure if I can represent you impartially.”
“You are the only one I can afford. All the others are more expensive.”
This was true. I am on the roster of legal aid lawyers, and this man qualified for legal help.
“OK. But why do you want a lawyer in the first place?”
“My wife wants to keep everything for herself. If it were up to her, I would end up with nothing. On top of that, she will demand alimony for our child.”
“You don’t want his custody?”
“No. She can have him.”
He obviously wasn’t a loving father. I promised to call him when I found out more about the case, and our first meeting was over.
The next step was to contact the woman’s lawyer. We compared notes and discussed the usual questions, like who will stay in the apartment, who will keep the car, who gets the household items and similar. Then came the question of the custody of the little boy.
“My client doesn’t want him,” I told my opponent.
“Nor does she,” he responded.
This was a surprise. Parents who are divorcing can hate each other, but to be indifferent to their child is rare.
“It looks like the kid will be put up for adoption,” I said after a long silence.
“Yes. I can recommend it to the judge.”
I met my client a few more times and then came the day of the judgment. Both parents came with the child, and that was the first time I saw him. He looked scared, and I felt sorry for him. Having a violent father and a mother who didn’t want him doesn’t indicate a happy childhood. The court proceeding started; the woman’s lawyer said his part, I said my part, and we both recommended putting the boy up for adoption. The judge declared his decision, and the court session ended. It lasted less than half an hour. The parents of the boy left, the court assistant was pushing the child out of the room, and the boy started to cry. At that moment I felt even more sorry for him. “Where will they take him?” I asked the court assistant. He mentioned one of the foster homes full of abandoned children, and I knew I would have to visit him there. To make sure that he was OK.
My first visit was very timid. “Hello, I am John. What’s your name?” I asked him, but he was just looking down and didn’t say anything. For him, I was another person in the hostile adult world.
“What is your name?” I repeated.
“Alex,” he whispered.
“Hello, Alex. Do you want me to visit you from time to time?”
He moved his head slightly, whispered “yes”, and that was the end of the visit.
When I came the next day, he was a little more talkative. I brought him some toys, and he made a drawing for me. After that, I started to visit him regularly and also became friendly with the management of the foster home. Then, one Saturday morning, I got permission to take Alex out and drove him to the playground in the park. He was running up and sliding down, I pushed him on the swing, bought him an ice-cream and took him to McDonald's for lunch. It was probably the best day of his life. For the first time, somebody was nice to him.
However, one evening I almost lost him. The director of the foster home called me, saying that a married couple got permission to adopt Alex and they came to take him. “Would you like to come and say goodbye to him?” she asked. I rushed there and saw an older couple talking to Alex, who looked scared. When he saw me, he ran and grabbed me, hoping that I would protect him against the hostile world of adults, which he was so afraid of. The couple looked at us, and the woman said, “It looks like Alex already has a father,” and they left. The foster home director smiled. “He is yours,” she said. I knew that the sensible thing would be to go back to the couple and tell them that I cannot have Alex, that I am a single man with a demanding job, that a child doesn’t fit into my life, but I couldn’t do that. I drove Alex home, gave him something to eat and set up a place where he could sleep. The next day I started the procedure of adopting him.
Since then, my life is not the same. I cannot say better or worse, just different. Alex is a normal five-year-old boy who sometimes drives me crazy, and sometimes I am glad to have him. When I am in a romantic mode, I am dreaming of a woman with maternal instincts, with whom I could share the love of Alex. I don’t know if I will ever find her, and I also don’t know if the road rage, which started it all, was a blessing or a curse.