Next Year I'll be Perfect

by Laura Kilmartin

  It had been just over a month since Frank dropped the announcement about the Lightship Island assignment, and I had spent that time working like a dog. It had turned out that while secession still occurred in some states, much of the published case law was over a hundred years old, forcing me to conduct most of my research in the oldest of the law library stacks. Many of my afternoons and every Saturday had been spent hunkered down at an old pine table, happily blowing the dust from the older volumes.

  It dawned on me one day while happily scribbling notes into one of my many yellow legal pads that I was a geek when it came to research. I wasn't terribly disturbed by that fact, especially since the project I was working on brought such joy to my boss. Prior to this experience, I thought his happiness scale moved only from “wicked cranky” to “kinda cranky”.

  I was proven wrong, though, within the first few days after the announcement in the conference room. Frank was as happy as I'd ever seen him, running around calling his old cronies and pretending to pick their brains over various municipal law questions. Everyone in the office knew that the true purpose of Frank's calls was to gloat over his new client.

  Given my boss' excitement over the project coupled with the massive amounts of helpful, detailed information and strategy I'd provided him, I knew it was the right time to pitch the idea of “Murphy & Bennett, Attorneys at Law”.

  I had decided to broach the subject of partnership at the diner since it was my turf and Frank couldn't brush me aside or be distracted by the papers and phone calls that surrounded him back at the office. Of most importance to me, a meeting at the diner would be far from Morgan's curious eyes. If things didn't go as planned, the last thing I wanted was to crash and burn in front of him.

  That was why, at seven o'clock on the dot I went downstairs, kissed Uncle Jeremy hello and appropriated a booth, preparing to meet my future.

  “Hey, Frank.” I ushered him to the table marked as occupied by the presence of my coat and briefcase the moment he walked through the door. “What do you want for breakfast?”

  “Just coffee is fine.” He removed his expensive wool top coat and hung it on the wall hook near the table. He nodded in greeting to both Jeremy and David while I got up to pour two cups of coffee. From his vantage point, lying on the counter, David must have seen my hand shake slightly. He snagged my wrist and whispered quietly, “Just remember – he's lucky to have you. Anybody would be.”

  Squaring my shoulders, I returned to my table and handed Frank his coffee. “I appreciate you meeting me here.”

  “I assume Gloria knows what this is about?” He asked, and I confirmed with a nod of my head.

  Gloria would have never approved such a radical departure in Frank's schedule if she hadn't known the reason. One of Gloria's greatest assets was her undivided loyalty to Frank. While she cared about me a great deal and would support me to the end of the earth, in her eyes the earth ended at the exact moment when my interests conflicted with Frank's.

  I had only received Gloria's support for this out of office meeting by informing her of the subject matter, and bought her silence only by promising that I would fully disclose my wishes, plans and concerns without holding anything back.

  “Did I ever tell you the story of how Gloria came to work for me?” Frank asked, apropos of nothing.

  “No.” Thrown by the direction of the conversation, I had to admit I was intrigued. Frank and Gloria finished each other's sentences and I wanted to know how their bond had come into being. Although it would prolong my own presentation, I gestured for Frank to continue.

  “I've known her since I was a kid. She worked as my dad's secretary in his insurance office. When I started my practice, I was so engrossed with the legal issues that I slacked off on the business end.” Frank slurped at his coffee. “I begged Gloria to take a leave of absence and help me out for a month or two. That was twelve years ago.”

  I opened my mouth to ask exactly how two months had turned into twelve years when a thought suddenly occurred to me. “Frank, are you stalling?”

  “Of course I'm stalling. Stalling is an excellent legal tactic. It's almost as good as luring your adversary into meeting you in a location where he's at a disadvantage.” He tried unsuccessfully to hide the slight smile behind his coffee mug. “When the opposing party gets the upper hand, I generally try to shake things up a bit. Throws them off their game.”

  I was both appalled and thoroughly impressed.

  “Frank, I'm not your adversary or the opposing party. I'm your employee and your friend.”

  He tapped his finger impatiently on the table. “We'll see. Okay, Bennett, let's get down to it. What is this about? Did you miss a deadline? Lose a case?”

  He leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you finally kill Morgan? Because if you did, I'm still not doing criminal defense work – even for you.”

  “Frank!” I chuckled at his wild speculation. Next to his fears that I had brought shame and disgrace to his firm, my mere request to be his business partner might actually be looked upon favorably.

  “I just want to talk to you about my career.”

  My boss leaned back and nodded. He took a measured sip of coffee before answering, “That sounds ominous.”

  “It doesn't have to be,” I quickly assured him. ‘I want to discuss where I'm going and what your plans are for me. I think I work hard and do a good job.”

  I pulled a folder out of my bag, and flipped it open as I said, “I'd like you to see some of the charts I've prepared that document the various…”

  “Oh Jesus, Bennett, you've got charts?” He pulled back like a Native American who'd just been offered a smallpox infested blanket. “I don't need charts to know you do a good job. Are you angling for a raise? Because I think I was more than generous with your last annual review.”

  “No. This has absolutely nothing to do with money.”

  “Then what does it have to do with?” Frank looked impatiently at his watch. “Cut to the chase, Bennett.”

  Things were drifting widely off course. Frank hadn't even glanced at my charts and I could tell he had already mentally checked out of our conversation. Having nothing to lose, I blurted, “I made a list.”

  Clearly not expecting that answer, I at least got some of Frank's attention back. “You made a list? A list of what?”

  “I made a list of things I want to accomplish before I hit thirty.”

  Frank nodded, mildly interested, but uncomprehending. “What exactly does your wish list have to do with me?”

  “It's not a wish list, Frank. It's a list of serious goals I want to meet in both my personal and professional life.”

  I wisely did not mention Item #6 – boffing George Clooney.

  “One of the items on my list is that I want to be a partner in a law firm and that's what I want to discuss with you today. You say I don't have to convince you of my worth, so I won't try, but I think I've worked hard and deserve being considered for a partnership role.”

  Frank said nothing, his blank facial expression making it impossible for me to decipher what he was thinking. After measuring my words for an uncomfortably long period, he took a long gulp of coffee. “You know I was a cop before I went to law school, right?”

  Not sure why the conversation had taken this turn, but willing to see it through, I nodded. “Of course. That's where you met Uncle Jeremy.”

  “Right. Well, what you may not know is that I loved that job. It was hard – real hard some days – but I came home every night feeling like I accomplished something.”

  “Then why did you quit?”

  “I loved the job, Bennett, but I hated the politics. I had a shift commander to answer to, a sergeant and the chief of police. I was responsible for my partner, had to keep internal affairs out of my hair and not piss off the guys at the union. Every two years a new police chief was voted in and all the players changed, not to mention the fact that you couldn't get a day off or even wipe your ass without seniorit
y. I loved the job,” he repeated, “but I couldn't stand all of the trappings that went with it.”

  Frank leaned in, glint in his eye as if he were about to share a state secret. “I don't know if you're aware of this, Bennett, but I'm not much of a team player. I need a job where I'm the boss and I answer to no one.”

  The police analogy clicked into place and I suddenly saw the handwriting on the wall.

  “I'm sorry, Sarah. I really am. I know I don't say it enough, but you're right. You are a huge asset to my firm and I don't want to lose you.”

  Trying to inject levity I didn't feel, I said, “Why does this seem like the old ‘it's not you, it's me’ speech?”

  My boss attempted a tight lipped smile, but the crinkles around his eyes remained decidedly flat. “If you want to talk about vacation days, more pro bono work, hell, even money, I'm willing to talk. But if you really want to be a partner in a law firm, that is not something I can offer you. I run a solo operation and that's never going to change.”

  I was stunned into silence. The funny part was that I had expected Frank to say no and turn me down. I had expected him to tell me I was inexperienced and flighty and not ready for partnership. I had expected Frank to say, “Not now, Bennett.”

  But I really hadn't expected Frank to say, “Never.”

  “Sarah?”

  I looked up, but just couldn't form any words. I didn't quite know how to respond.

  “Sarah, you have to say something. You couldn't have really thought you would come to me and demand a partnership because of some wish list.” Frank demanded, his tone gruff, but nothing but concern showing on his face.

  When all else fails, I decided to settle on telling the truth. “No. Of course I didn't expect you to say yes right away, but I guess I did expect you to consider it as a future possibility.”

  Frank remained silent, confirming that I had read him correctly and partnership was indeed not a future possibility.

  “I don't want you to think this is all about a wish list,” I blurted. Suddenly it was very important to me that Frank understand. “That list I made just reminded me of what I want out of life and prompted me to ask for things that I guess I'd forgotten I really, really wanted.”

  “I'm sorry, Sarah.” From the tone in his voice and the rare use of my first name, I knew that he truly was sorry. But that didn't change the answer.

  I was never going to be a partner in Frank's law firm.

  “Come on, let's get to the office.” I grabbed my coat and bag, desperate to get away from the diner and the conversation. I waved a quick goodbye to Jeremy and David who had to have known from our body language exactly how the conversation had ended.

  I walked quietly in step with Frank toward the office, and kept coming back to the question of why never being made a partner was such a big deal. I mean, I made good money and enjoyed my job. I loved working with Frank and Gloria, but still…

  There was such a finality reached that I found it difficult to take a deep breath. This was it. I knew exactly how far my career would go. If I continued to work at Frank's firm, I would probably hold the same job at 55 that I held at 25.

  If I stayed with Frank, I would never make partner, and if I wanted to be a partner, I'd have to leave Frank's firm. Realizing with a shock the answer to my internal struggle, I decided that the first thing I would do upon arriving at the office would be to call my friend Claire and find out if there were any openings at the large law firm where she worked.

  As much as I loved my job, I wasn't willing to close the door on my career at 29 years old.

  “Are you okay, Bennett?” Frank asked, holding the door for me as we entered the building that housed his law office.

  “Yeah, Frank. I'm going to be fine.”

  We smiled at each other and continued walking, both pretending to believe me.

  May

  FOLLOWING MY EMOTIONAL CONVERSATION with Morgan, the outburst with Cory and my devastating conversation with Frank, I somehow made it through the rest of the week on autopilot. I completed my work, kept up my end of conversations, ate and slept at the appropriate times. While my body went through the motions, though, my energy level registered below all units of measurement. I was a walking zombie, getting myself from Point A to Point B, but with very little emotion behind it.

  I was so thrilled when the weekend rolled around that I even begged off an invitation from Eddie to meet him in Boston where he had a four hour layover on his way to Toronto. He ended up catching a cab to a local gallery which was hosting a new Andrew Wyeth exhibit while I spent the day in my pajamas watching my collection of DVDs from old 80s television shows and eating cold Chinese takeout.

  Sunday I was forced to get out of bed and actually shower only because a waitress and prep cook had both called in sick and Jeremy needed help in the diner. I secretly wondered if he'd conspired with Eddie behind my back and given his employees the day off. He knew I wouldn't turn down a plea for help, which would allow him to keep an eye on me.

  Jeremy needn't have worried, though. I wasn't depressed. I was just completely and utterly spent, and needed time alone to regroup. At 3pm the diner closed and I begged off another invitation from Uncle Jeremy, this time to watch the Red Sox. I went back to my apartment, got back in my pj's and – having worked my way up to the early 2000s – pulled out my Gilmore Girls DVD box set. Next to me on the couch was a 2-liter bottle of soda, new package of notebooks and fresh set of pens. Armed and ready, I spent the afternoon scribbling away. I had new plans to make.

  When the next morning rolled around, I got out of bed, worked eight hours and dutifully made small talk with my co-workers. I certainly wasn't rude, but neither could I have been considered engaged. While my co-workers may have thought my behavior was odd, there was no mention of it to my face. I did catch a few concerned glances behind my back, but those I pointedly ignored, having no energy left for confrontation. Morgan even invited me to go to the courthouse with him to drop off a pleading. If I hadn't known better, I might have thought he was genuinely disappointed when I turned him down.

  By Tuesday night I was halfway through Season Two of Gilmore Girls – the Rory and Dean years – and well into my second loose-leaf notebook when I heard a pounding at my apartment door.

  “Bennett!” I leapt from the couch and looked down at my attire. I was wearing my rattiest pajamas – the ones with pictures of cocktails next to their respective recipes.

  Luckily, I recognized the voice behind the insistent knocking. Knowing Livvie had seen me a lot worse, I got up off the couch and opened the door. “How did you get up here?” I asked, throwing the latch.

  “Nice greeting. Your uncle's downstairs and he let me up.” My friend looked around the messy living room. Papers were littered everywhere along with books, soda cans and a few empty take-out containers. “I love what you've done with the place.”

  “Funny.” I picked up one of the piles of papers I'd been working on and shifted it to find a few empty places for us to sit. “I've been working through some things during the last few days. For instance, do you know we haven't been exercising in almost three weeks?”

  I picked up another pile of papers and glanced at the sheet on top. “Also, last week I made that corned beef hash everyone liked, but according to my calorie count book, it had more than 800 calories per serving.”

  Livvie didn't even glance at my work. She just shook her head at me. “You've lost your mind. How sad.”

  “I haven't lost my mind. I've regained my focus. My perspective. I just needed a few days alone.”

  I grabbed my food plan and showed her. “Look, according to this chart, I can still fit into a size eight by my birthday. I just need to get back on track.”

  “Okay, crazy lady. Put down the charts and back away slowly. Let's talk about your real life. When I left on my uber-vacation with Mom and Dad, you were going to talk to Morgan about your breakdown at the Grizzly Beer. Did you?”

  “Yes.”

&
nbsp; Livvie rolled her eyes. “Don't make me pull out the bamboo strips. How did it go?”

  “About as well as you'd expect. He thinks I'm crazy, but he's willing to overlook that fact so we can work together. We've actually been getting along pretty well together since we talked.”

  “And speaking of working at Frank's office…”

  “Speaking of working at Frank's office,” I dutifully continued. “We met and he told me in no uncertain terms that I will never be his partner. Never going to happen. So I called Claire, and believe it or not, they're understaffed at her place. I have a meeting with the senior partner in her firm a week from Wednesday.”

  “That sounds serious.” Livvie sat up straighter on the couch, surprised by my announcement.

  “It is.”

  “I'm sorry it went so badly with Frank, but that wasn't entirely unexpected. Just because he won't make you partner doesn't mean you have to actually leave the firm, though.”

  “I disagree. I'm hoping Claire's boss will be open to the idea of offering me a partnership a few years down the road. I may not make it by age thirty, but at least I'll be in a place where partnership is possible.”

  “Wow. That's hard core.” It wasn't very often that I could impress Livvie. “It sounds like you had a very, very busy week.”

  “I did.”

  “And are you, uh, leaving anything out by chance?”

  “Let's see, I squared things with Morgan, met with Frank, talked with Claire and set up a job interview.” I considered the past week, ticked off on my fingers all of the activities that had kept me busy, finally remembering the one item my friend and I hadn't yet discussed. “Oh, I know. I had an interesting phone call with Cory Latham.”

  “You don't say.” Livvie commented in a soft, sing-song voice that indicated she already knew all about our interesting conversation.

  Uh oh.

  Stretching her arms across the back of the love seat, settling into her storytelling mode she began. “Since you haven't asked, let me tell you about my day. I got back to work this morning only to find that my trial was moved up from three o'clock to ten a.m., and no one knew where my witnesses were. Then, if that wasn't bad enough, I was called into a meeting in the human resources office this afternoon.”