Raven's Flight

by Chrys Cymri - BooksGoSocial Fantasy P

  We’re sorry, but you don’t fit this profile.

  Then, to add insult to injury, both firms had emailed me the Minority Form to send back to them. Law firms wanted to interview a certain number of minority law students each year so that they could say that they interviewed them, even though they may have no intention of hiring them. The forms asked you to state the minority group to which you belonged.

  There was no way in hell I was going to complete those forms so the law firms could hold them up and say, “Look! We interview diverse candidates!”

  I clicked out of my email account and began packing up my stuff. Now I was a little sad. It looked like the law firm thing wasn’t going to work out.

  I pushed my sunglasses onto my face and left the office. Usually I said goodbye on my way out to the people around me. That was a Spanish thing. In Spain, when you got to the office in the morning you greeted everyone, and on your way out at the end of the day, you said goodbye to everyone. Hardly anyone did that in the US.

  I got on the metro and sat down, dejected and gloomy.

  A couple of minutes later, the train stopped. People got off and on. The lady sitting next to me got up. It wasn’t too crowded since rush hour had barely started. I still had my head bent, looking at my book.

  “Hi, Isabel.”

  I looked up and saw Tarek. I opened my mouth without thinking.

  “Oh my God, you look good!”

  He was wearing a dark suit with a dark red tie. I had never seen him look so good. His hair was perfectly coiffed into tight curls. He must have used an entire bottle of mousse to get his curls to cooperate.

  “Thank you.” He smiled and sat down next to me.

  I forgot my own troubles for a moment. “How did the interview go?”

  “Um, I think it went well,” he said. “I think they’re considering me for the corporate or regulatory practice groups.”

  “That’s what you want, right?”

  “I—I think so.”

  “Well, that’s great. I’m happy for you.” I wouldn’t tell him about the rejection emails I had received that day. I was a little jealous of him, though. I couldn’t help it.

  “Thanks.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. “Well, you look really nice.”

  “Thanks,” he smiled again.

  Then I realized that I had already told him that. I felt incredibly stupid.

  “How was your day?” Tarek asked me then.

  “Um—fine, normal,” I lied. Let’s see. I got worked dumped on me, I had a tiff with my coworkers, I almost lost it at work and then I got rejected by two law firms in the same day. All in all, it was a terrific day!

  We talked mostly about our classes for the rest of the trip.

  As we emerged outside, near the law school, I saw a young kid (I say kid, but he was probably about twenty-one or twenty-two years old), displaying both a clipboard and a goofy grin.

  I scoffed.

  “Jesus Christ,” I blasphemed.

  “What?” Tarek said.

  I tried to avoid the kid by walking around him but he got all up in my curtilage.

  “Miss, aren’t you worried about climate change?”

  That was basically the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was so pissed off. And I was so tired of these people being in my face all the time.

  “Yes, that’s why I’m wearing a jacket. In case the climate changes and it’s cold, I’ll be prepared. If it gets hot, I’ll take off my jacket.”

  “Do you want to sign our petition—”

  “No, unless it’s a petition supporting the idea that advocating for the ‘climate change problem,’ ” I said, holding up air quotes, “is just a way of raising taxes on unsuspecting taxpayers, exploiting naïve kids, kids who have no idea what it’s like to live and work in the real world, and not live on Mommy’s and Daddy’s dime to be able to have money to throw at neoliberal causes, because they think that by firehosing money at the problem it will go away.”

  The kid looked scared, but I wasn’t done.

  “And because they think that by throwing money at these poor people, like immigrants, they are actually helping them, but they’re really being condescending jackasses.” I paused, but the kids said nothing. “In short, I don’t need your help, and you can stick that petition up your—“

  “All right,” Tarek said, “let’s go.” I shot Tarek a hard look. How dare he interrupt my diatribe! Once I started, there was no stopping until I decided to stop.

  He leaned toward me and said, “Is he worth getting worked up about? He’s just naïve.”

  I looked at Tarek, then looked at the kid. I guess I was done. I huffed and turned away.

  Tarek shook his head.

  “What?” I said.

  “You’re incredible.”

  “Excuse me, but he approached me. Are you saying you agreed with his position?”

  “No, I agree with you, but—“

  “Someone has to shake these idiots out of their reverie.”

  “Their what?” We were crossing the street.

  “Reverie. Tu ne parlais pas le français?”

  “Oui, mais—”

  “It’s an English word, too,” I said. “Thank the Norman Conquest for that.” We were back on the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

  “Yes, but,” Tarek began, “everyone is naïve at some point in their lives and, sooner or later, like you said, when they start working and paying bills and having kids, they will get out of their reverie,” he heavily accented reverie and he also used the term incorrectly, but I let it go, “and they will see it wasn’t as easy as they thought, and their priorities will change.”

  “Well, I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m crazy for speaking the truth. I’m also tired of everyone assuming that everyone else in this town has the same beliefs as they do.”

  “Because they’re still naïve and they don’t have the experience that we have. Isabel, even you must’ve been naïve when you were younger—“

  I lost it then. I was like a stick of dynamite and his comment was the match that lit it. Under normal circumstances, I might have laughed it off. But I was in a shitty mood.

  I was cogent enough to consider that Tarek might not deserve the oncoming outburst but it didn’t stop me. I stopped and faced him. We were looking at each other, with our faces very close.

  “I have never been naïve. Don’t pretend to know me, Tarek.” I was angry now, and it showed. I got right in his face. “When these kids were in diapers, you know what I was doing? I was doing the family finances and making sure my mother didn’t crack up. I was cooking and cleaning for my sisters and making sure they ate their dinner.” I was raising my voice. “When I was sixteen and got my driver’s license, you know what I did? I carted my sisters around to school and drove them to appointments. I didn’t go partying and messing around like the other lame students I went to high school with. I was old before my time and I know that your life can change in a matter of seconds. These kids know shit about life! Everything I have, I have had to work my ass off for! All these kids do is party on their parents’ dime and brag about their unpaid internships on the Hill!” Then the coup de grâce, “Do not purport to know me, Tarek! You know shit about me, so don’t stand there and pretend that you do!”

  I had not expected him to respond, but he surprised me.

  “You think I judge you?” Tarek asked, almost as worked up as me. I was a little taken aback by his shift of demeanor, though, looking back on it, I shouldn’t have been.

  “Of course you do. Everyone does.”

  “Isabel, you’ve prejudged me since the day we met. You thought I came from a rich oil family. You thought I was Muslim. You thought I was a snobby French elitist. You think that me offering to carry your stuff and hold doors for you somehow treats you as an unequal.”

  “If I prejudged you, it’s only because I know your type!” My face was closer to his now.

  “And what type is
that?!”

  “Arrogant, like showing me up in class!”

  “It was one time, and it was only so you would talk to me, because apparently you’re too intelligent to talk to others who you think are intellectually beneath you!”

  “It was several times, Tarek! It was all week long!”

  “JESUS, WHY DON’T YOU KISS HIM ALREADY?!”

  Tarek and I were both shocked and turned to look at the heckler. It was Eric, who was walking past us on the sidewalk toward the law school.

  I held out my right arm in Eric’s direction, giving him the middle finger, holding it up high for everyone in the world to see. “SCREW . . . YOU!” I shouted. Several people turned and looked at me but, as usual, I didn’t give a shit what other people thought.

  Eric was past us now. “I think you’d rather screw him!” Eric said, not missing a beat.

  I half-smiled. Eric was more right than he knew. “Well, I’d rather screw him than you, that’s for sure!”

  Eric laughed and continued walking. “Well, at least you admit it!”

  I couldn’t think of a retort. I put my hands on my hips and shook my head. A smile was creeping on my lips; I could feel it. I tried my best to stifle it.

  I looked back at Tarek and we smiled at the same time. This time when I spoke I lowered my voice.

  “Look, Tarek,” I began. For all Eric’s faults, he seemed to have unwittingly defused this situation before I said something I would later regret. “Maybe I did prejudge you, and—I think—perhaps somewhat unfairly.”

  Tarek looked at me, but he appeared more relaxed, and a little surprised.

  “And for that, I’m sorry,” I said. “I am. You didn’t turn out like I was expecting.” And I was trying to figure out what to do about that.

  He smiled. “Wow, an apology from Isabel Vilanova.”

  “I rarely apologize. You should feel honored.”

  “And you say I’m arrogant.”

  I love the fact that you’re a little arrogant, I thought, but I wouldn’t tell him.

  “It’s OK,” he said then. “I’m sorry I thought you were ever naïve.”

  I sighed, weighing what to say. I figured telling him a partial truth couldn’t hurt. “You were right, though. I was naïve once. But I stopped being naïve long before most people stop.”

  “Isabel, I understand that. It must’ve been difficult for you.”

  “And I want you to know something.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I’ve never thought you were intellectually beneath me. In fact, I think the opposite.” I smiled. Then I hedged a bit. “Why do you think I tolerate your presence?”

  He smiled. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

  I exhaled. As usual, after an outburst like that I felt bad about it.

  “Look, I’m really sorry for going off on you like that. I—” I felt a little emotional but held it together. “I had a really—crappy day today. It was—a bad day.”

  Tarek looked concerned. “Isabel, I’m sorry.”

  “Not that that’s any excuse,” I added quickly. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” I told him. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “It’s OK.”

  “It’s not OK, but—thanks.”

  There was a pause for a moment.

  “What happened?” Tarek asked gently.

  “I’ll tell you later. It’s kind of a long story.”

  But maybe telling him one other truth wouldn’t hurt, either. I would show one more card. I had a fair amount left. “And by the way,” I said a little playfully, my face even closer to his, so close, in fact, that I could smell his musky scent and even the mousse he used on his hair, “for the record, I love the fact that you carry my books and that you hold doors for me. Honestly, I really do. Any girl who wouldn’t is an idiot.” How’s that for the truth?

  He grinned and touched my arm. It was electrifying in a way that both excited and disturbed me.

  “Come on, we’ll be late,” he said. Then, as if an afterthought, “And give me your books.”

  We made it to International Law class on time. Today the professor was discussing territorial sovereignty and the right to self-determination.

  The question came up as to whether the U.S. interventions in Iraq and Afghanistan were justified under international law. The class was made up of American students plus several foreign students, some LLM candidates. It was mostly the American students who spoke up in class. One of them was speaking now.

  He said, “The U.S. was wrong to invade those countries because it violated their national sovereignty.”

  I sighed a long sigh. I could see where this discussion was going. Tarek noticed because he glanced at me and smiled.

  “Isabel, what do you think?”

  This was typical. The professor always asked me my opinion at least once every class. I assumed it was because I almost always had different opinions from everyone else, and he wanted to stimulate the discussion. I wasn’t really in the mood today but didn’t have any choice.

  “I think the argument goes like this,” I began. “The U.S. is attacked and has evidence to believe that the terrorists are living in a foreign country, but the country harboring them won’t help the U.S. find them. So the U.S. acts to protect in own citizens. It may be a violation of national sovereignty, but it is arguably justified under international law through self-defense.”

  The guy who spoke first countered me. “But the U.S. shouldn’t have violated the national sovereignty of another nation in protecting itself.”

  I was frustrated but I kept my calm. “So what should the U.S. have done instead?” I asked him.

  “Well, I don’t know, but not that.”

  “So, you basically got nothing. You would have had the U.S. as a sitting duck, and terrorists could kill people on U.S. soil and run and hide in other countries.”

  “Well, uh—” the guy stammered. Of course he has nothing to say.

  Tarek raised his hand then, and the professor called on him. This was interesting, since Tarek rarely volunteered to speak in this class.

  “The thing is also that all national governments act in their own self-interest, as they logically should, and even if the U.S. action is a violation of another nation’s sovereignty, there is nothing that the international community could do about that. Also, it likely would be considered an action in self-defense under international law.”

  “OK, thank you.” The professor moved on to another topic.

  I looked at Tarek and caught his eye. I smiled without meaning to. He winked at me.

  Later, we walked into Property class together with our caffeinated drinks. I had been dying for coffee since I had left the office, and we had gotten drinks right after International Law. Tarek wouldn’t let me pay. When we got to Property, Josh and Eric were talking animatedly.

  “Saturday night, right, Isabel?” Eric asked me excitedly as I sat down.

  “Sure thing,” I answered.

  “What’s going on Saturday night?” Tarek asked me.

  Josh answered before I could.

  “We’re going out dancing,” he told Tarek. Then he smiled a bit conspiratorially. I wasn’t sure if that smile was meant for me or not. “You should come, Tarek. It’s worth it to see Isabel dance.”

  “Oh, come on,” I said, suddenly feeling a little shy.

  “She’s a great dancer,” Eric agreed. “And it’s the only time she’s ever really in a good mood.”

  I smiled in spite of myself, then looked at Tarek. “You should come—if you want.”

  He smiled back and his eyes were sparkling and alive. “I wouldn’t miss seeing you in a good mood.”

  I could feel myself blushing.

  Josh, Dinesh, Tarek and I were on the metro. Tarek and I were sitting together and Josh and Dinesh were sitting across from us, chatting about patent stuff, as usual.

  “So do you want to talk about what happened today?” Tarek asked me.

  “No, it would t
ake too long,” I said, looking at him. God, he looked good in that suit. And his hair was gorgeous. If he invited me to his house tonight for “coffee,” I would totally go. Then I was startled at my own thought.

  “If you want to talk, call me when you get home,” he said then.

  “OK, thanks. How late are you up?”

  “Late.”

  “Oh that’s right. You don’t have a job to go to tomorrow,” I said sarcastically.

  “That’s right, I can do what I want.”

  What do you want? He kept his cards fairly close to his vest, and I felt like I was using mine up.

  I got home and closed my apartment door behind me, locking it. What a day. Thank God I didn’t have class after work tomorrow. I would sleep in a little and get to work around 9 a.m.

  I glanced at my watch. It was only about 9:30, still early.

  After nuking some leftovers, I grabbed a glass of water and sat down on the couch.

  I opened my laptop and checked my email account. I had an email from Ariel. She was going to try to call me this weekend, she said. Other than emails, we hadn’t talked for a while. She was incredibly busy at work. I really wanted to talk to her. She and her boyfriend had only been living together for a few months. I wanted to know if things were still going well. I had no doubt that they were. Ariel’s boyfriend was a real gentleman and it was obvious that he loved her.

  Thinking about that got me thinking of Tarek. He had been so nice to me tonight. And I really wanted to talk to someone about what had happened today. I needed to unload. I didn’t want to bother my sisters midweek. It would be too selfish of me.

  I rationalized that Tarek didn’t have a job so he could stay up later. I smiled to myself at how I could use logic to justify almost anything that I did.

  I took out my phone and sent him a text message.

  Are you awake?

  I brushed my teeth and put on my pajamas. Then I went and sat on my comfy couch. I lay my head back against the soft pillows.

  My phone showed a message.

  Of course. You think I’m asleep this early?