The holiday, if it could be called that by any stretch, wasn’t until Saturday. On the Friday before, there was no reason for the peacock display of flowers and balloons and stuffed crap that would end up in a landfill only to release methane into the air. Ten seconds of attention at work was certainly worth the price of hitting the gas on climate change.
Grumbling when she dropped her bag in her office and pulled off her suffocating suit jacket, Grace was debating changing into the leggings and tank in her gym bag. Her dress was stiff and her Spanx so tight they felt like a medieval torture device intended to suss out witches.
Grace plopped onto her chair and took a deep breath. She wished for the blessing of un-self-awareness. But her absolute inability to stop analyzing every damn thing, herself included, meant that she knew it wasn’t the stink of funeral home that had her in a mood.
She’d be picking Alix up at the airport tomorrow morning, and they were going to have three amazing days together because every moment with Alix was magic. Three days and then Alix would be gone again. She was tired of every reunion drowning in the icy shadow of goodbye.
Reaching for her phone, she opened Alix’s texts. She’d expected the silence when her Do Not Disturb settings were on in court, but when she turned them off the moment they were adjourned, there was no flood of messages. Alix had been uncharacteristically quiet.
Dread rolled into her gut like the kind of horror movie fog that killed every living thing it touched. Grace couldn’t stop catastrophizing. All she could imagine was Alix having some epiphany in the shower that their entire relationship was a logistical nightmare. That Alix might think they were forcing forever from a fling. That they were too different. Too far. Too effortless for something capable of lasting.
Grace stopped assaulting herself with fears and forced herself to look at the facts. They’d spent so many nights forgoing sleep to make plans for the future. Real plans.
Alix wanted to move, and she would. She just wanted to do it under her own steam. Intellectually, Grace understood that it was important to her. Important, even if it would take so much longer for Alix to save on her own rather than just accepting Grace’s financial help.
Grace didn’t give a shit about money, but a lot of thought had made her see that it wasn’t about that. It was about Alix walking into their new life together as an equal partner. Grace hadenough therapy to know that a misstep in their founding could lead to resentment later, and they both wanted to set themselves up for success.
Patience was just so hard to come by when being with Alix felt so right. When all she wanted to do was start and end every day with her, Alix’s concerns felt more like pride than problems. But what was important to Alix was important to Grace, and she was just going to figure out how to make do.
Grace’s stomach grumbled for lunch when she was debating approaching the partners about partial remote work. She’d pay her own way back for trials without billing clients or the firm. Because of the complex nature of their cases, she’d once gone a full year between trials. Every other appearance could happen over video, and if the court didn’t agree, then she’d fly her ass back.
Even before she’d fully planned her pitch, she imagined the managing partner’s face. He was a luddite who still didn’t understand the cloud and made them keep every single document — printed emails included — in a fireproof file room. She stood, hungry and tired and annoyed and missing Alix.
In the kitchen, Grace scavenged a blueberry bagel but skipped the cream cheese. She hadn’t intentionally gone vegan — she’d never get used to the texture of tofu — but in the most pathetic way possible, every time she didn’t eat an animal product, she felt closer to Alix.
She grabbed a mug, fired up the espresso machine, and stuck the bagel in the toaster. Leaning against the counter while she waited, Grace debated texting Alix but decided against it. It was still morning in LA, and Alix was probably sleeping in ahead of her flight tonight.
The thought of seeing Alix in less than twenty-four hours soothed her. Just one more restless night’s sleep and they’d betogether again. She refused to think about the sad drive back to drop her off.
“Court today?” Julie’s voice forced Grace’s attention from her phone.
Grace looked down at herself as if to sayNo, I just love the torment of court attire.
“Anything interesting?” Julie approached her.
“About as interesting as jury selection can be,” she replied, turning to take her mug from the machine.
Julie looked over her shoulder, and Grace was transported to another lifetime when she’d risk discussing after-work plans in whispers. “You seem… different, Grace. Distracted.”
“I’m fine,” she replied with a furrowed brow. “More than fine, actually. I’m pretty fucking amazing.”
“Are you?” If she lowered her voice any further she’d just be mouthing the words. “Because that’s not what everyone is saying. What the other partners are noticing. You’re lagging behind, Grace. Have you forgotten that everyone is watching all the time? People see you smiling at your phone. Working with your door closed. Coming in later and later. It’s making them talk.”
She still knew Julie well enough to know what she meant. Still remembered their conversations like a recurring nightmare. She meant:You’re drawing attention to yourself.
“Let them talk,” Grace replied, irritation stirring.
“It’s not a joke, Grace.” Julie’s whisper sounded like a hiss. Like the sound a cornered animal made. She looked at the door again, eyes wide. “This is not a place where you want people to wonder what the hell is going on with you or question your commitment. Whatever you think you’re doing, get it under control. People get curious. And when they start looking closely, they start putting things together.”
There was no missing the panicked plea. With absolute clarity, Grace saw that Julie had never been worried about Grace’s career. Only her own. Saw that whatever change Julie sensed in Grace was sending seismic tremors through her own carefully constructed, incredibly closeted life. Julie had built herself a prison, but Grace would rather die than choose voluntary confinement.
The tense silence snapped in half when Harold, the firm’s managing partner, walked in. A walking personification of a good ol’ boy, he entered with the confidence of a person with a country club membership and monogrammed shirts. A person who had never once in his entire life felt out of place.
“Smells good in here,” he said. “I’ll never get tired of the smell of brewing coffee.” He smoothed down his tie and reached for a mug. “And Happy Valentine’s Day to you both. Grace, any big plans with a special fella this weekend?”
The question was laced with so much heteronormative certainty that Grace almost laughed. Suddenly her life felt like anSNLsketch, and she was going to control the punchline.
Julie stared at her silently begging her to lie, to deflect, to stay small. But the image of Alix’s laughing face flashed in her mind, and the cage she’d been living in suddenly felt suffocating. She turned to face Harold, her spine straight.
