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“I rejected my training.”
“He was partner in a very successful firm. He had good investments. He had better life insurance.”
“If you're so rich, what are you doing wasting your time as a sellout divorce attorney?”
“I don't know,” he says. “I used to have nobler intentions. I wanted to be a prosecutor and put away criminals. I watched too much Law and Order, I think. But I actually like family law.”
“But all you do is watch marriages fall apart.”
“I don't think of it like that. I help my clients get out of a relationship that no longer works for them. Sure, sometimes it's tragic, and some couple that used to be in love hates each other’s guts for a decade of tiny arguments, but it's usually easier than that. People don't want to fight or argue or go through all that suffering. They just want out of the relationship that's sucking all their time and energy.”
“So, you're very romantic about divorce?”
“I guess I'm jealous. I'm still stuck with a toxic partner.”
“Don't start,” I say.
“I know, I know. We aren't talking about the person we aren't talking about.”
“You could go out on your own,” I say.
“It's complicated. I doubt he'll…Well, you were right. We talk about him too much. We should talk about something interesting. Like you. How was your week?”
“Don't stay or leave over me, okay?” I say.
“Don't worry about me,” he says.
“Does it work when I tell you not to worry about me?”
“No, but I still don't want you to worry. Now, how was your week?”
And I tell him all about my 12 hour days of waiting and working and finally finding my footing again. He keeps asking for more and more detail, so I tell him about the episode, about Marie Jane, about all my coworkers—the other actors, the woman who does my hair and makeup, Laurie and her endearing desperation. He starts to smile as I divulge into rambling, and I tell him more and more about how well everything is going and how much I want it all to work out. It is hard—the long days, the waiting, the actual work of acting—but it feels so good to end up at home knowing I accomplished something. It feels good to be back in the world, meeting people and doing things, instead of hiding in my glass cage.
“I've never seen you this excited,” he says. “Not while you were clothed anyway.”
“Pervert,” I say.
“I can't believe he wanted to keep you from this.”
“Luke!”
“Okay, okay, I know. No talking about him. Which means there isn't much to say about my work. Not that it would entertain you to know I got my client twice the alimony she asked for.”
“It wouldn't,” I say.
“Then I bet you don't want to hear about the awful, vindictive man I wouldn't agree to represent. And how little my business partner liked that decision.”
“Luke!”
“Okay, okay. Why don't we watch a movie? Or some TV.”
“Do you have any movies here?”
“I can always download something. Maybe Mahogany. I hear this really hot actress gets naked in it.”
“Fuck no,” I say. “Besides, you can't see anything. The lighting is too dark.” I smile and dig through his collection. He has at least 300 films and a dozen box sets of TV series. A lot of it is pretentious. Probably all the films his mother loved. Did he watch them with her when he was a kid? Did he sit next to her, utterly confused, as she tried to explain the subtler nuances of the plot? Did he enjoy any of the most pretentious crap ever put on screen, as he so eloquently put it, or did he watch it just to spend time with her?
It must have killed him losing her. Then to almost lose Samantha…I shake my head. I've dealt with enough crap tonight. I can't dive into Luke's issues, too.
