“I do, too,” Alex said.
They got into the car, their things situated, their coffee mugs open and in their respective holders.
“I feel like it’s the first day of school,” Terry said.
“Here we go!”
Although she kept it to herself, anxiety mounted the closer they got to Center City and Rittenhouse Square. A private parking lot behind the old colonial building which housed Vince’s lavish offices awaited Alex’s car.
“Ugh, there’s one of Vince’s research assistants.” Terry murmured. “I’m waiting to get out.”
“He’s not even looking,” Alex said, watching in his rearview mirror. “He’d gone on ahead. I never drive in so he probably doesn’t even know this car.”
“How do you usually get to work?” she asked.
“Crosstown bus or cab,” he said. “It’s a fifteen minute ride.”
“Maybe we’d better take the train from now on,” she said, worried.
“I liked driving in,” he replied. “Trust me, everything is going to be okay. If they question us, let me do the talking. I’m in love with you, Terry.”
Fredericka ran up to the car, scaring them, hugging her body in the cold without a coat on, and tapped on the window even though it was going down. “Vince wants to see you both, ASAP,” she said, frowning.
“Fudge,” Terry said, looking away.
“Let’s go,” Alex said, and to Fredericka. “Thanks. Tell him we are on our way.”
“Great,” Terry said.
“It’ll be fine,” he said. “I promise you.”
Alex got their things out of the back seat while Terry held their partly full coffee cups. “If this isn’t domestic, I’m not sure what is,” he said, laughing.
“I’m about ready to puke,” she replied.
“Here we go,” he said. “I’m going to apply to the County Prosecutor’s Office. They have an ad in the Inquirer for a clerk and it specifically says veterans welcome to apply.”
“Oh, God,” she said, following him. “You’d hate the prosecutor.”
He juggled their briefcases to get the door, letting her go through first. “It’ll be fine. I promise you,” he repeated.
They walked into the overheated and fortunately empty reception area, and back to their offices. “Do we wait for him to call us?” Terry asked. “Or just go back?”
“Let me ring his secretary and tell her we’re here,” he replied. “They’ll tell us what they want.
What they wanted was Terry first. She was the one with seniority, the one who should know better.
“Terry, I have a zero tolerance for this,” Vince said, pointing to the chair across from his desk.
She didn’t reply. What was there to say? I know? She was dying to ask how he knew.
“You work well together. The two cases you’ve tried together resulted in a dismissal in the defendant’s favor and a not-guilty verdict. In the five years you’ve been here, you’ve successfully defended your client in every instant. That’s a track record to be proud of.
“In the light of that, Paul and I would like to offer you a partnership with the provision that you’ll end whatever this is with Alex Hawthorne.”
Bowing her head, Terry couldn’t believe this was the scenario that she was faced with, because although this had been her goal, becoming a partner, Alex might be the love of her life.
“You know that’s been my goal,” she said.
“I know that,” Vince replied, standing up.
“I obviously can’t accept it now.”
“I don’t get it,” he said, shocked, turning to her from the window. “Why?”
“It just happened,” she said. “Just this weekend. There was never even a hint of impropriety. I wouldn’t even have lunch with the man unless you told me to.”
“What made this weekend different? Let me guess; alcohol.”
“Tequila,” she admitted. “I guess Paul and his big mouth…”
“Yes, Paul does like a bit of gossip,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Terry.”
Pushing the chair back, she started to rise. “So am I fired?”
“I don’t see any other way around it. I have fifteen lawyers here, four of them are women, and twelve female secretaries, most of them young and single. If I look the other way now, all I can see is chaos. As soon as word gets out, you’ll have the pick of jobs in Philadelphia.”
“I’ll pack my office up,” she said, devastated, and he didn’t stop her.
Afraid to say more because she was on the verge of tears, she wondered what Vince was going to say to Alex. Added to the worry, she had to pack up her office and the only way she could get her things home was in Alex’s car.
Returning to her office through the empty hallway, she closed the door before anyone had a chance to confront her. Surely everyone knew what Vince was going to say to her. Looking at her watch, she changed her tune; maybe not. It was only eight-forty.
Fredericka had piled file boxes discreetly behind her door. Starting with the mementos on her desk and bookshelves, including her graduation picture from Michigan, her proud mother and father standing on either side of her, and a caricature portrait done of her at an office Christmas party four years go. She’d use it for target practice someday.
Soon, she had five boxes full of books and personal belongings. Phone beeping next, it was a text from Alex. Meet me at the car.
Grabbing her coat and a box of books, she fled the office before anyone came in. Walking along the side of the building to the parking lot, she saw Alex waiting up ahead, not looking happy. He went around to the back of the car and unlocked the trunk before meeting her, taking the box from her.
“Get in,” he said, nodding to her door.
Waiting until he slid in next to her, Terry’s anxiety grew.
“I wish you wouldn’t have made that choice,” he said. “I’m not prepared to deal with the guilt.”
“What guilt? I’m not choosing a dime a dozen partnership over the love of my life,” she said firmly. “Forget it. It’s not even an option.”
“Am I the love of your life?” he asked.
“Yes. After three days.”
They sat together for a full minute before he spoke again. “He didn’t tell me to leave.”
“He didn’t?” she asked, stunned. “I guess that’s good because at least one of us has a job while I look for one.”
“I don’t know if I should stay there now,” he said. “It seems like such a betrayal.”
“Not of me it’s not. It’s easier to find work when you’re working if you want another job.”
He looked at her, taking her hand. “You’re doing this for me,” he said. “After one weekend together.”
“After one life-changing weekend, finding the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, yes. Anyway, I was getting sick and tired of Vince’s misogynistic rules about skirts and heels. You should have heard what he said about all the single secretaries. He said if he let this slide, there’d be chaos.”
“He said that?”
“Yes, he did. Alex, this is a fine trade off for me! I hope it doesn’t change the way you’re feeling about me. Maybe working together would get to be too much. The question is, are you ready to support me while I job hunt?”
Finally he grabbed her to hug. “Of course,” he said. “Look, I’ll load the car up with your stuff and you take the train home, okay?”
“Are you sure? I was going to come back with my car,” she said.
“Do you really want to do that?”
“No, because now that I’m through, I never want to go inside that office again,” she said. “I’m almost ready to sue that bastard.”
“You probably have grounds,” he said. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Take a cab to the station,” he said, going for his wallet.
“I’ll get it,” she said, laughing. “I’m not destitute yet.”
He b
ent down to kiss her on the lips when they reached the front door. “Call me when you get home.”
Leaving him to go inside, she walked down the sidewalk, and Brenda, Paul and another lawyer approached.
“Where are you headed?” Brenda asked.
“Ask Paul,” Terry answered, waving goodbye as she continued to walk away.
“Wait!” Paul called out, mortified. “Did he fire you?”
“Just announce it to the world,” Brenda said, shoving him. “Wait, Terry!”
“Nope, I’ve had enough bare legs for a lifetime. I’ll call you later,” she said, waving again.
Stunned at the events, the trio watched Terry walk to the corner and hail a cab.
“There goes a class act,” Paul said.
“Why’d you squeal on her then?” Brenda cried.
“I swear to God, I did it hoping he’d offer her the partnership we’ve been talking about for the past year.”
“He must have forgotten that conversation. She was my friend at work! I can’t stand the thought of not having her there,” Brenda said, wiping a tear away.
“Come on, don’t whine on the street,” Paul said, putting his arm around her. “Let’s ask Fredericka what happened.”
“Suburban Station,” Terry told the cabbie.
Briefcase stuffed, weighing at least twenty pounds, she dreaded having to lug it up the hill. But getting home at the end of the torture was her sanctuary. Rarely there during the week, and almost never on a Monday, she’d spend the time recovering from the trauma of being fired by visiting her father for morning coffee, getting his advice, and then shopping at one of the big grocery stores in his neighborhood for dinner ingredients. She was going to cook for Alex; cliché, but too bad. Cooking for him would be healing, and right then, she needed healing big time.
Finally home, pushing the door open with her foot, she went right to the phone to call her father. “Dad, do you want to shop with me today? I feel like cooking a feast.”
“Why aren’t you at work?” he asked, hearing from her on a Monday morning as rare as could be.
“I got fired,” she said, giving him the short version.
“Boy, you sure are your mother’s daughter,” he said. “Celebrating losing your job.”
“It’s not that easy to explain. Can I come by for coffee? Then we can shop if you still want to.”
“Come on over,” he said, doubt echoing across the phone lines.
She hung up from him struggling out of her coat, and got her cell phone out to text Alex. Home safe, on my way to Tacony to shop for special dinner items with my dad.
Seconds later, her phone rang.
“You might reconsider,” he whispered. “Paul is in there now with Vince, reading him the riot act. I bet you get a call before the day is up to come back.”
“Alex, if that’s the case, I’ll come back tomorrow. I’m in nesting mode right now. I want to make my boyfriend an authentic Polish dinner.”
She could hear him cackling over the phone. “I love Polish food,” he said. “See you later.”
“Goodbye,” she said.
“I love you,” he said.
“Love you, too,” she said, smiling.
Quickly striping out of her eggplant suit, she put soft jeans on and a white sweater, comfort clothes for skin that felt tender to the touch. Could losing her job affect her physically that fast?
Remembering Benny was probably trying to sleep in the apartment below, she tiptoed to the kitchen and rinsed out the dishes they’d used that morning. Planning her shopping list, she’d buy enough to feed her housemates, and even Mrs. Dell. It was the way things worked in their neighborhood.
Grabbing her phone and purse, she locked up the apartment and skipped down the steps, light-hearted in spite of what had happened to her, her career basically gone in a blink of an eye. She knew from past disappointments that she’d cycle like that for a while; happy and carefree, to regretful and anguished.
In twenty-five minutes she was at her father’s house, the lack of weekend traffic an oddity and a treat. She loved the old neighborhood, blocks from the river, a sea of tranquil suburbia in the middle of a teeming metropolis. In the years since her mother had died, the house had slowly changed from a homey, out of style mélange of collectibles and maple colonial furniture, to her father’s sleek, contemporary sensibility.
“Daddy, I really like what you’ve done in here,” she said.
“You don’t miss Mom’s mishmash?”
“I really don’t,” she answered. “I loved it when she was alive, but it felt all wrong after. It was stuff she liked. I like seeing you in what you like.”
“I’m glad you took some of it,” he said. “Packed the rest of it away. If you have kids someday, they might want it. I won’t get rid of it.”
“This is easier on the eyes,” she said.
“And it’s easier to clean,” he said, reaching for his cap.
He put it on his head, checking out his appearance in the mirror next to the door. It was such a part of him that normally Terry wouldn’t give it a second thought. But after what had transpired the night before, the emotional meltdown that Alex had had and ignored, the cap took on new meaning.
Vietnam Veteran, it said in emboldened letters. Gold words on a black fabric cap, across the back, the year 1970. “Were you and mom married yet when you went to Vietnam?” I asked.
“Oh, no,” he said. “I didn’t even meet her until ten years later. We got married in eighty-five, so I was long over it.”
“So you waited until you were almost forty to get married? That’s cool, Dad,” Terry said.
“Why is it cool?” he asked, frowning. “I wish I’d met her long before that.”
“What did you do before you met her?”
“Come on,” he said, “I’ll drive and give you my life story.”
“Okay,” she said, laughing. “I’m being nosey, but if you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”
“That’s true,” he said.
They got into the car and buckled in, and Harry Kovac started up the car. “I was married before I went to Vietnam.”
“You were married!”
“Yep. My high school sweetheart,” he said. “Jeanette. We got married right after high school. It was ridiculous, but we wanted to be together, and back in those days, you didn’t live together like you and Alex are able to do. It was just not acceptable, it labeled girls. So they had two choices; go to school and live in a dorm, or get married. Really three choices, you could always stay home with mom and dad and get a job at Bell Telephone. Men, now men could do whatever they wanted. I got a job at a gas station, but I hated the owner. Since there was no money for college, that left joining the Marines. I did it without checking in with Jeanette and she wasn’t happy. As a matter of fact, she was livid. Truthfully, I blame myself for the end of that marriage.”
“Did she leave you right away?”
“No, it took another couple of years. She tried to hang in there, but between my selfishness and the rigors of war, she was finished with me when I got back from Vietnam. Those were actually her words. ‘I’m finished.’”
“Dad, I don’t know what to say,” Terry said, so sad for Harry. “That must have been terrible.”
“It was pretty bad. It took me the next ten years to pull myself together,” he said. “By the time I met your mother, I was more than ready to settle down.”
Looking out the window, Terry noted her father’s story paralleled Alex’s and it scared her. It had taken Harry ten years to recover and Alex was four months out. Maybe the rebound would be too much for him.
“Dad, I guess I need advice,” she said.
“Anything,” he said.
“Alex’s wife left him, too. I think he has signs of PTSD. Now I’m worried for us.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened at work?” Harry asked.
Roosevelt Boulevard was moving along nicely, and they got to the Pick and Save in record
time. Pulling into a parking spot, he shut the car off and waited, looking at her.
“Vince has a zero tolerance for fraternization. I knew it, but I’m telling you, I also I knew I was in love with Alex this weekend. It’s the love I’ve waited for. I’m almost thirty, Dad. I’ve waited this long for him. I can get another job.”
“How’d your boss find out if it just happened this weekend?”
“Friday night we went out with one of the partners and his wife. I guess everyone must have been able to tell that something was happening between us, because when we got to work this morning, we were summoned. Alex didn’t get fired, either. I was offered a choice; a partnership after giving Alex the ax, or my walking papers. I accepted the termination.”
“Honey, your goal was to make partner! To do it in five years instead of the ten you told me was the usual, that’s a coup.”
“Dad, I love Alex. I’m ready to marry him. I’ll find another job.”
“You’ve made your mind up. You don’ t need my advice. I’m proud of you whatever your decision is. Let’s go get the ingredients for pierogi and fried cabbage.”
“Pierogis sound too hard to make,” she said. “I don’t want to trash the kitchen.”
“Eh, you buy ‘em frozen and doctor ‘em. No one will know.”
“Ha! Okay, that’s more like it.”
They talked nonstop for the next hour, strolling through the store, the older man in his Vietnam Veteran cap, probably handsome at one time, too thin and a little stooped over now, animatedly talking to a beautiful young woman in tight jeans and a fluffy sweater, her coat thrown over the basket, wearing short boots with heels. The heels, a part of her professional wardrobe, would remind her that she had once worked as an attorney, and would again someday soon.
***
Chapter 7
Five-thirty rolled around at last. Alex Hawthorne stayed behind closed doors for most of the day, making excuses when Vince asked him to lunch, angering the senior partner until Paul reminded him that he’d just fired the guy’s girlfriend.
“Give him time to come around,” Paul said. “However, I wouldn’t be surprised if he quits before long.”
Bittersweets_Terry and Alex Page 7