“Things are always that simple, Shane. Putting each other first, that’s what keeps people together.”
“Leah doesn’t believe me when I tell her I’m ready to put her and the baby first. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to believe me.”
He shrugs again. “Then maybe you need to show her, not tell her.”
“And how do I do that?” I ask, turning my head to face him. “Go to her place and plant myself on her couch?”
“Do you think that will work?” he asks, grinning.
“I don’t think she’d even open the door,” I say. “I think I’m going to need a little more than a sit in.”
“So figure that out. Figure out what she needs to see to believe you,” he says. “When men are desperate enough, inspiration is not too far down the road.”
I laugh a little. “That’s good to know, because I’m pretty desperate. Right now, it feels like I’m at a pretty big fucking bump in the road.”
“A bump in the road is also a boost,” he answers.
I smile, thinking back to who told me that first. “Mom says that.”
“And she’s always right,” he adds.
I nod. “Thanks, Dad.”
He smiles and gets up from his chair, walking back around his desk. He picks up his glasses and puts them on before shuffling through some paper documents. When he notices I’ve yet to get up, he looks down at me with question. “Something else?”
It’s time for the real reason I came. And after this talk with my dad, I feel better about it. I’m done with fighting, rationalizing, arguing that I know better. That I have something to prove by doing this my way. Because the problem with my way is it only works if I’m okay doing things alone. My way only works if being with Leah and building a family with her comes second to everything else. And I don’t want it to come second. I want it to come first. It needs to come first. If Leah won’t listen to me when I tell her all this, then maybe my dad’s right. I need to show her.
“Yeah, there is,” I say, standing from my chair. “I’d like to talk to you about that job offer.”
WHEN I ARRIVE home, I’m feeling a bit better about things. I’ve begun to devise a plan in my mind. A plan to show Leah that she and this baby are my number one priority. A plan to show her that when I picture my future, she and the baby are what I see. And not because I have no choice, but because they are my choice. I also need to remind her that before there was a pregnancy, there was an us. It may have looked different then, but it was there and it was real.
Bryan is sitting at the kitchen counter reading through a stack of papers.
“Hey,” I say, coming around the kitchen counter, grabbing a beer from the fridge.
“What’s up?” he says, cocking his head once.
“Just taking care of some business. You?”
He motions to all the sheets in front of him. “Same.”
My eyes roam around our loft, and I start to mentally remove some objects from it and replace it with others. Configuring in my head a space that’s both welcoming and safe for a baby. I make a mental note to look up baby proofing on the internet. Which leads me to what I need to talk to Bryan about.
“So listen,” I start.
His head rises from whatever he’s been reading, a red pen catching my attention as he moves it back and forth between his fingers.
“I’ve been doing some thinking. Things are about to change for me. In a big way. And I need to start preparing for it. Preparing this place for it.”
He raises his brows and sits straighter on his stool.
“Look—”
Bryan raises his hand in the air, interrupting me.
“Shane, I get it,” he says, smiling. He slides the stack of papers he’s been flipping through towards me, turning them so that I can read what they say. They’re realtor listings. Places to rent in the area.
“You’re not pissed?” I ask, skimming through the sheets.
“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he says, taking the papers out of my hands. “Truth is, I’ve been looking for an excuse to leave you and this sorry place behind. You actually did me a favor knocking Leah up.”
I see the joking glint in his eye, but it’s also mixed with something else. I realize that me having a baby changes things for him too. Because if it weren’t for the baby, we probably would have stayed roommates much longer. Like Burt and Ernie. No wait, bad example. More like Joey and Chandler.
“End of an era,” Bryan says, holding out his fist.
I smile, bumping it. “Thanks for…you know,” I say pointing to the stack of papers.
He shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but we both know it’s not. “So when do you need me out by?”
“Sooner than later,” I tell him truthfully. “And I’m also going to need your help with something else.”
He nods, waiting to hear what I need. I feel bad for what I’m about to ask of him, but like my father said. Desperate men…
I’VE READ AND reread the same sentence over and over. My last hour has been filled with only these eight little words. The first eight words of a document approximately five thousand words long. You’d think that after an hour of staring at these same eight words, I’d have them memorized. Have a true understanding of their meaning, definition, interpretation. That I could repeat the sentence not only by using the words themselves but by streaming the order of the individual letters. But if someone were to come into my office right now and ask me what the first word in the sentence is, I’d be fucked.
This has been my week.
Every day is the same since I left Shane’s. Completely at a loss but trying, pretending to function.
I come to work early, hoping to get my mind thinking about anything else. I stay late because my day’s been wasted thinking about nothing but him. I sit at my desk for hours, staring at a computer screen and accomplish nothing.
I don’t fare much better at home either. My eyelids are continuously weighed down but I hardly sleep. My stomach growls constantly but I can’t eat. I’m lonely even though I’m never alone. I miss Shane so much it hurts. And because it hurts, I get angry. For one thing, two things, all things. I blame him for the way my week has gone. I blame him for not leaving my thoughts or getting out of my head. I blame him for the loneliness. I blame him for how much my heart aches because of it. I blame him that my heart aches at all. I was always capable of doing everything on my own because it’s the way it has always been. I blame him for that the most I think. I blame him for turning me into someone who needs someone else.
I was never that girl. I never wanted to be that girl. I was stronger than that girl.
Now, I’ve become that girl.
I don’t know if it happened slowly or all at once, but it happened. Shane wasn’t just a part of my life anymore. He completely took it over. And I stupidly let it happen.
I let it happen because he made me feel things I never expected. It happened because as confusing as it was in the beginning, it felt more natural to me than anything else ever did. It happened because I foolishly fell in love with my best friend.
And then, outside of Baoli, something else happened. A hint of truth began to show itself. One I tried to ignore but inevitably reared its ugly head on that sidewalk. It sucked having to come face to face with a woman he slept with while I was peeing on sticks, but she wasn’t the truth I didn’t want to face. Our truth ran much deeper than that. Riding in Shane’s Jeep, the crib still in a box tucked away, his place showing hardly any signs of preparation for things to come, I realized life hadn’t really changed for him. Life wasn’t changing for him. He was still living the same life except for one tiny little detail—the reason that got us to where we are. We didn’t happen naturally like I thought. We were forced together. I forced us together. Compelled him into a lifelong commitment because of a decision I made months ago in a doctor’s office. I didn’t give Shane the chance to fall in love with me. He never had the choice at all. Realizing that made me angry,
mostly at myself but I took it out on him. I didn’t mean for us to have the argument we did, but that doesn’t make the reasons for it any less real.
I have no doubt Shane cares for me deeply. I have no doubt Shane will be a great father to this child once it’s here. But there are more ways to be a family than just the traditional sense. And this baby deserves that family more than a forced traditional one. As hard as it may be, I need to take a step back because this baby and me can’t be Shane’s plan—his future because of circumstance. So I’m keeping my distance for now. Giving us time to figure things out. Giving him time to figure things out. I refuse to trap us inside a traditionally shaped box when there’s a big chance we don’t fit in it. I know I can’t keep blaming Shane for where I—we—are now. I’m the one who brought us here.
I close my eyes just for a moment, telling myself when I reopen them, I will reread these eight words for the last time and understand them for the first. I will give my heart a rest and start using my brain.
My stomach growls, a reminder that once again, I’ve skipped breakfast. Not even a second later, baby throws a few jabs against my ribs, letting me know how unappreciative he or she is of not being fed. I tell myself I should head down to the café, grab something to eat, settle both our hungers, but my legs aren’t cooperating. The wave of exhaustion coming over me too strong to get me to move. So instead, I stay in my chair with my eyes closed, telling myself that I only need another few minutes and then I’ll be able to get up.
But a knock on my office door forces my eyes open. Like always, without waiting for permission to enter, Holly strides in with several folders in her hands.
“Quick question about those files you sent me—” she starts, but stops as soon as we link eyes. “Whoa. You don’t look so good.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly, slightly insulted.
“Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”
“This is what happens when the pregnancy glow goes away. You’re left looking like this,” I say, waving my hand in front of my face.
Holly walks further into my office, standing directly in front of my desk, concern flashing across her face.
“I’m fine. Really,” I reassure her. “I just need to get a little food in me.”
“Let me go get you something,” she offers. “What would you like?”
“Anything,” I answer.
She nods, turning to leave.
“Wait!” I stop her. “You had a question?”
Holly turns back around, remembering the reason she came here in the first place.
“Yes,” she says, indicating the folders in her hands. “I started cross referencing the case files you emailed me but I’m confused. I don’t understand what any of these have to do with—”
She’s doesn’t finish her thought because Cassandra appears at my open door. She gives Holly a brief nod of acknowledgment before turning her attention to me. “Leah, I’m still waiting on those briefs. I’d like to review them before court tomorrow.”
I quickly stand out of my chair, too quick because I’m suddenly light headed. “Yes. Holly and I were just discussing that. We’ll have it ready within the hour,” I promise, resting my hands on my desk for balance. I know that stretch of time is unlikely, but I smile anyway, ignoring my worry over that deadline.
My eyes shift over to Holly’s for a brief moment but long enough to see her concern with that time line as well. There’s obviously an issue I have not been made aware of yet. Now not only do I feel lightheaded, but my neck is beginning to sweat.
“Good,” Cassandra says with a curt nod. “One hour.” She turns to leave.
I look to Holly. Both our eyes follow Cassandra out of my office and down the hallway as I sit back down in my chair, fingers massaging my temples, hoping to alleviate at least one body issue I seem to be having.
“One hour will be tough,” Holly says.
I nod without looking up. “I know. As long as we get it to her within two, it should be fine.”
“That could also be a problem.”
I look up, confused. “Why?”
“That’s why I came to see you. The files you sent me,” she says, holding up the folders in front of her. “I’ve pulled and read through all of them, and I don’t see how any of this is pertinent to the Bakker case.”
“What do you mean? All the precedent is there. Lloyd, Grimshaw, Fontaine. I spent weeks researching those cases. It’s all there. They all work in our favor,” I tell her.
“Who?” Holly asks, confused.
“What?” I respond, equally confused. “The cases I sent you yesterday.” I point to the folders in her hands.
“Yes, these cases.” She glances down at the folders. “But these aren’t Lloyd, Grimshaw and whoever…these are Benton, Carson and Paulson.”
For a moment we just stare at each other, taking turns shifting our attention from the folders in Holly’s hand, then back up to one another. My heart starts to accelerate, panic edging its way up my spine. The sweat that was beginning to form on the back of my neck now spreading. I know something isn’t adding up here but I still can’t seem to pull my thoughts together fast enough to understand what it is. Until Holly speaks, almost in a whisper.
“Did you…highlight the wrong files?”
Highlight the wrong files? I couldn’t have. Not after spending so much time on this case. Not when we are about to go to trial tomorrow. Not when it was my responsibility to have our argument backed up by the cases I spent months researching. The weeks I spent highlighting subsection after subsection. Subsections that apparently don’t match up to the correct cases.
“I—I couldn’t have,” I start, my voice beginning to shake. “I didn’t…” I say, hoping for more confidence.
My hands quickly move to my computer, my fingers hitting the keys on the keyboard at a furious rate. I open my email, the sent folder, my Holly folder. I quickly find the email I need, clicking it open, barely acknowledging the subject line that reads “URGENT” and look for the attachment. For the first time today, I process the first words of a document immediately. Right there, in bold font at the top of the page, directly above some of the highlighted notes that I merged in with this file, are the words Benton, Carson and Paulson.
The wrong cases.
“Fuck,” I breathe out in a panic, standing abruptly. My hands feel numb but I know they’re shaking. “Fuck.”
I look at Holly and see the wheels in her head start to spin. She’s already trying to come up with a plan, a course of action to figure this out while I’m too busy falling apart. There’s no way to make up for at least a day and a half of work when it’s due in less than two hours. My head begins to spin at an alarming rate, making me incredibly dizzy.
“We can do this,” Holly says, now pacing back and forth. “Re-send me the case names. I’ll grab a few of the interns. No one will have to know.”
I hear her words, but my reply stays the same. “Fuck.”
How could I have made such a monumental error? This case was my chance to prove myself. That I could play in the big leagues. Take on the big cases. Now I’ve fucked all that up. Wasting everyone’s time by having them work on the wrong case! What the hell is wrong with me?
I grip the edge of my desk, needing something to ground me in place because my head won’t stop spinning. I try and slow my breathing, taking deep breaths, but it only seems to increase in speed. Short, fast gasps not filling my lungs enough for me to exhale.
“You’re not fucked. We just need to—” Holly pauses. “Leah?”
I attempt to raise my head, trying to focus on Holly, but all I see are little black spots. I want to ask for some water but my mouth is too dry to utter a word. My eyes begin to roll back and I feel my feet slip from the floor. Right before everything goes dark, I hear Holly yell for someone to call an ambulance.
THE RHYTHMIC STEADY beeping coming from the machines are a far cry from the speed at which my fingers are drumming against the ro
ugh texture of the hospital sheets. For every beep my heart monitor makes, my fingers move doubly as fast. A nurse comes in to check my blood pressure for what feels like the hundredth time, to see if it’s at all changed from the last time she took it five minutes ago.
“This is ridiculous,” I tell her once again. “I’m fine. Like I said, I forgot to eat breakfast and got a little dizzy. There’s no need for all of this.”
“You fainted,” Holly chimes in from the corner of the room where’s she’s sitting. “That’s more than a little dizzy.”
I give her a dirty look. “I can’t believe you called an ambulance,” I mutter, but she seems unfazed.
“Your blood pressure has stabilized,” the nurse says with a smile, unwrapping the medical band off my arm. “The doctor will want to speak to you before he lets you go home. But everything seems normal. And the baby is fine too.”
I nod before looking up at the monitor that is tracking the baby’s heart rate. The nurse’s words cause a small lump in my throat that I can’t seem to swallow down.
And the baby is fine too.
I do my best to hide it but the guilt of being here in the hospital, that I may have done anything to cause harm to my baby, feels like my heart is being stabbed from the inside. My monitors continue to beep normally but my entire body lays stiff, tension building under my skin.
All I wanted to do was prove myself to everyone. Prove that I could do it all. Handle it all. That being pregnant wasn’t going to restrain me in my career or be a hindrance to the firm. I was going to show everyone what I had in me. That nothing was going to slow me down.
After jotting down a few more notes in my chart, the nurse leaves, leaving Holly and me alone in the room.
“I need to get out of here. The case—”
“Will be taken care of,” Holly interrupts. “I’ve already got four associates working on it, and they’re going to send the files over by five. I’ve already spoken to Cassandra. Under the circumstances—”
“Oh God,” I say, covering my eyes. “She knows I’m here?”
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