I love it when a plan comes together.
I left the detectives at the Justice Center and walked over to the
courthouse to review my trial notebook one last time. I had already
outlined the topics I wanted to discuss during jury selection and had
written my opening statement, the direct examinations of the state's
witnesses, and the cross-examination of Derrick Derringer.
I no longer carried the anxiety I'd been shouldering all week about
Lisa Lopez's list of defense witnesses. She was desperate if she was
trying to get Kendra and Andrea's prior arrests into the record. No
wonder she'd been pretty quiet about the case when I'd seen her around
the courthouse lately. I had to admit a certain level of smug
satisfaction. If it hadn't been for her initial bravado, I'd feel
sorry for Lisa. She was going to spend her next two weeks stuck with a
major barker at trial, all for a scumbag sex offender who wanted his
free lawyer to present a preposterous defense that he and his dimwit
brother cooked up. But after Lisa's attempts to get under my skin at
arraignment, I was going to enjoy handing her a solid trouncing at
trial.
I called Chuck around seven to see if he was ready to go. We had
finally gotten around to rescheduling dinner with my dad. He agreed to
meet me at my car; I was uncomfortable letting the other MCT detectives
know that we were spending time together outside of work.
Dad opened the door before we could knock. 'You sure the city can make
it through the night without you guys? I tell you, with the two of you
working together, the bad guys had better watch their backs.' Dad
always found creative and not so subtle ways of letting me know that in
his view Chuck and I belonged together.
Dad was making his specialty, steak on the grill. Dad's like a lot of
men of his generation. Wouldn't think of putting together a full meal
in the kitchen, but sees cooking an entire dinner outside as one of the
great manly traditions, like hunting, fishing, or teaching a kid to
bat.
Dad took Chuck out to the deck to show him his new Weber while I poured
us some wine. Watching them crouched by the grill reminded me of the
summer the two of them built the deck. It was right after our college
graduation,
mine from Harvard, Chuck's from the University of Oregon. Chuck had
decided not to leave the state for college, a decision his parents had
harangued him for until they realized it would be bad form for the
governor and his wife to suggest their son was too good for the state's
best public university. By the time Chuck graduated, the former
Governor Forbes spoke at commencement of the pride he felt when his son
turned down the Ivy Leagues for U of O. That summer was also the summer
I told Chuck he had to fish or cut bait. I had vowed not to bifurcate
my life anymore between him and everything else. At Harvard, I missed
out on things that other kids experience when they go away to school,
because my heart had stayed with Chuck back in Oregon. When other kids
took summer internships on the Hill or in Manhattan, I had faithfully
returned to Portland, four years in a row. I decided law school would
be different.
So I'd begged Chuck during our senior year to live up to his potential
and apply to graduate programs around the country. He was accepted
into Stanford Business School and put down his deposit over Christmas
break when I sent my acceptance to the law school. By spring break, he
was saying that he hadn't gotten used to the idea of himself in
business school, and, by summer, he was thinking of pulling out.
So I told him to choose.
Of course, it wasn't as easy as that. I cried for two hours and told
him that I loved him and wanted to be with him and couldn't picture my
life without him in it. I said that moving to Stanford with him would
make me happier than I'd ever been, and then I told him to choose.
He chose to cut bait. He didn't know what he wanted to do, but he knew
he didn't want to go to California, and he knew he didn't want to go to
business school. He was thinking of becoming a cop.
I didn't handle it well. I laughed at him and asked what it would be
next: astronaut or firefighter. I told him he'd never grow up and
would never amount to anything. I pointed out that he'd been given
every advantage in life privileges other people actually had to work
for and took it all for granted. When my tirade finally ended, he went
outside, finished up the last coat of stain on the deck, and walked
out. I didn't see him again for six years.
I'd heard he'd joined the bureau, of course. I'd actually considered
turning down the job at the DA's office because of it. But I had no
interest in the alternatives I'd been given at the city's big firms,
and Roger knew it. There's no good way to tell your husband that
you're making employment decisions based on an old boyfriend, even if
it is to avoid him. So, instead, I'd played the odds that I could
avoid one of the county's two thousand cops, at least for a while.
When I saw his name on the police reports for my first trial, I tried
to ready myself. I prepared the speech in my head and went over it
again and again in the shower that morning, the way I should have been
rehearsing my opening statement. I was going to apologize for all the
venom that came out of me that day. Then I would laugh as I said it
all worked out for the best in the end, since he'd accomplished what he
wanted, and I was so happy with Roger.
