'Just a little crisis, Rudolph. I'm only thirty-two, too young for the midlife crazies. I figure I'll get mine over with early.'
'Take a month off. Go work with the homeless, get it out of your system, then come back. This is a terrible time to leave, Mike. You know how far behind we are.'
'Won't work, Rudolph. It's no fun if there's a safety net.'
'Fun? You're doing this for fun?'
'Absolutely. Think how much fun it would be to work without looking at a time clock.'
'What about Claire?' he asked, revealing the depths of his desperation. He hardly knew her, and he was the least qualified person in the firm to dispense marital advice.
'She's okay,' I said. 'I'd like to leave Friday.'
He grunted in defeat. He closed his eyes, slowly shook his head. 'I don't believe this.'
'I'm sorry, Rudolph.'
We shook hands and promised to meet for an early breakfast to discuss my unfinished work.
I didn't want Polly to hear it secondhand, so I went to my office and called her. She was at home in Arlington, cooking dinner. It ruined her week.
I picked up Thai food and took it home. I chilled some wine, fixed the table, and began rehearsing my lines.
* * *
If Claire suspected an ambush, it wasn't evident. Over the years we had developed the habit of simply ignoring each other, as opposed to fighting. Therefore, our tactics were unrefined.
But I liked the idea of a blindside, of being thoroughly prepared with the shock, then ready with the quips. I thought it would be nice and unfair, completely acceptable within the confines of a crumbling marriage.
It was almost ten; she had eaten on the run hours earlier, so we went straight to the den with glasses of wine. I stoked the fire and we settled into our favorite chairs. After a few minutes I said, 'We need to talk.'
'What is it?' she asked, completely unworried.
'I'm thinking of leaving Drake and Sweeney.'
'Oh really.' She took a drink. I admired her coolness. She either expected this or wanted to seem unconcerned.
'Yes. I can't go back there.'
'Why not?'
'I'm ready for a change. The corporate work is suddenly boring and unimportant, and I want to do something to help people.'
'That's nice.' She was already thinking about the money, and I was anxious to see how long it would take to get around to it. 'In fact, that's very admirable, Michael.'
'I told you about Mordecai Green. His clinic has offered me a job. I'm starting Monday.'
'Monday?'
'Yes.'
'So you've made your decision already.'
'Yes.'
'Without any discussion with me. I have no say in the matter, is that right?'
'I can't go back to the firm, Claire. I told Rudolph today.'
Another sip, a slight grinding of file teeth, a flash of anger but she let it pass. Her self-control was amazing.
We watched the fire, hypnotized by the orange flames. She spoke next. 'Can I ask what this does for us financially?'
'It changes things.'
'How much is the new salary?'
'Thirty thousand a year.'
'Thirty thousand a year,' she repeated. Then she said it again, somehow making it sound even lower. 'That's less than what I make.'
Her salary was thirty-one thousand, a figure that would increase dramatically in the years to come--serious money was not far away. For purposes of the discussion, I planned to have no sympathy for any whining about money.
'You don't do public interest law for the money,' I said, trying not to sound pious. 'As I recall, you didn't go to med school for the money.'
Like every med student in the country, she had begun her studies vowing that money was not the attraction. She wanted to help humanity. Same for law students. We all lied.
She watched the fire and did the math. I guessed she was probably thinking about the rent. It was a very nice apartment; at twenty-four hundred a month it should've been even nicer. The furnishings were adequate. We were proud of where we lived--right address, beautiful rowhouse, swanky neighborhood--but we spent so little time there. And we seldom entertained. Moving would be an adjustment, but we could endure it.
We had always been open about our finances; nothing was hidden. She knew we had around fifty-one thousand dollars in mutual funds, and twelve thousand in the checking account. I was amazed at how little we'd saved in six years of marriage. When you're on the fast track at a big firm, the money seems endless.
'I guess we'll have to make adjustments, won't we?' she said, staring coldly at me. The word 'adjustments' was dripping with connotations. 'I suppose so.'
'I'm tired,' she said. She drained her glass, and went to the bedroom.
How pathetic, I thought. We couldn't even muster enough rancor to have a decent fight.
Of course, I fully realized my new status in life. I was a wonderful story--ambitious young lawyer transformed into an advocate for the poor; turns back on blue-chip firm to work for nothing. Even though she thought I was losing my mind, Claire had found it hard to criticize a saint.
I put a log on the fire, fixed another drink, and slept on the sofa.
Thirteen
The partners had a private dining room on the eighth floor, and it was supposed to be an honor for an associate to eat there. Rudolph was the sort of klutz who would think that a bowl of Irish oatmeal at 7 A.M. in their special room would help return me to my senses. How could I turn my back on a future filled with power breakfasts?
He had exciting news. He'd spoken with Arthur late the night before and there was in the works a proposal to grant me a twelve-month sabbatical. The firm would supplement whatever salary the clinic paid. It was a worthy cause, they should do more to protect the rights of the poor. I would be treated as the firm's designated pro bono boy for an entire year, and they could all feel good about themselves. I would return with my batteries recharged, my other interests quelled, my talents once again directed to the glory of Drake and Sweeney.
I was impressed and touched by the idea, and I could not simply dismiss it. I promised him I would think about it, and quickly. He cautioned that it would have to be approved by the executive committee since I was not a partner. The firm had never considered such a leave for an associate.
Rudolph was desperate for me to stay, and it had little to do with friendship. Our antitrust division was logjammed with work, and we needed at least two more senior associates with my experience. It was a terrible time for me to leave, but I didn't care. The firm had eight hundred lawyers. They would find the bodies they needed.
The year before I had billed just under seven hundred fifty thousand dollars. That was why I was eating breakfast in their fancy little room, and listening to their urgent plans to keep me. It also made sense to take my annual salary, throw it at the homeless or any charity I wished, for that matter, then entice me back after one year.
