Watching Natalie, I felt a pull to do something I loved, too. But what? Did I have anything in my life that I genuinely, truly loved to do?
No.
When we got to my apartment, I caved and checked my email. A jolt of terror shot through me when I saw John had emailed thirty minutes ago with an attachment containing his comments on the purchase agreement.
John Adler: Here are my comments. Please incorporate and send to the client ASAP.
Natalie noticed the consternation on my face.
“Work? Do you need to handle it now? Because I can head home…”
I thought for a moment. It was already 8:00 p.m., and even if his comments were light, it would still take me several hours to get the full draft polished and ready to go to the client. It was Saturday night, I was with my best friend, and I was inebriated. He said ASAP but I chose to believe he meant ASAP, tomorrow.
“Nope, I’m going to handle it tomorrow morning.” I forced a smile, already partially doubting my decision. But the client asked for the draft by Monday, and at this rate, I would have it to them by Sunday afternoon, well ahead of the deadline. That should be more than fine.
I replied to John:Received, will do!
“Remember that snowstorm party in law school?” Natalie asked. “We all went to Tyler’s house and sang along to music videos on the TV, dancing on the couch, yell-singing into our beer bottles like they were microphones. We were so loud that someone called the cops with a noise complaint.” We were sprawled on my couch and had already finished another bottle of wine since getting back from Mina’s birthday party.
“Probably because it was a Tuesday!” I said.
Natalie giggled. “The cops show up thinking they’re busting an undergrad party, only to find out we’re all in our mid-twenties and we’re just maniacs that sing so loudly someone called the cops on us.”
We devolved into uncontrollable laughter at the memory.
“We were such goofs,” I said.
“We were happy,” Natalie said.
“We were drunk!”
“That’s true, too.”
“Oh, you know what we should do?” I asked.
“Put on theHamiltonsoundtrack?”
“Yes! Mind reader.” I furrowed my brows, feigning concern that she’d read my mind, even though this sort of thing happened with us often.
She laughed as I stood to turn on my speaker. Wewerehappy back then, during school. When was the last time I felt like I did that night? Totally unencumbered, so in the moment. This came close—wine drunk on the couch with my best friend. But it was different. Deep down, I was worried about that stupid email and all the work I had to do tomorrow, likely with a hangover.
I frowned to myself, my body angled away from Natalie as I called up theHamiltonsoundtrack on my phone.
You don’t have to keep doing this,my own voice slurred inside my head as the familiar notes wound their way into my tiny living room.
Don’t I, though?
I’d come this far. What would people think if I gave up now?
4
Iwoke up with a headache and a racing pulse. Natalie had taken a car home just before midnight. I fired up my coffee machine and then immediately started incorporating John’s comments into the purchase agreement. Three cups of coffee and four and a half billable hours later, I sent the draft to our client.
John replied within five minutes:
Thanks for sending it out. Thought you might be able to get it over to them sooner but it’s fine. Please send a calendar invite for first thing tomorrow morning but tell them we can hop on the phone later today if they would like.
I frowned at my computer screen as my body filled with a helpless resignation that made my limbs feel heavy. I wanted to take a nap or go for a walk or call my mom or do literally anything else besides spend my Sunday evening on the phone with the client. But John didn’t ask me what worked for me. It wasn’t acceptable to have personal plans that conflicted with your work at a firm like Peters & Dowling, anyway. I sent the email and prayed the client wouldn’t take us up on the offer to speak today.
