It will be good to go out tonight, to sit with an intelligent group of people, to have substantive dialogues. Most of all, it will be wonderful to be with her husband, to be a team, an intellectual force.
The long table is beautifully dressed with white linen and sparkling crystal. Gail has on her teal suit, which Jonah had told her looked like a lovely summer breeze.
They are seated near the far end. She reaches for his hand under the table, and he gives her fingers a quick squeeze. As the guests arrive, many of whom are professors from Jonah’s department, she feels his tension and again reaches for his hand. She would like to assure him that he does in fact belong here, that he should never underestimate himself. But he pulls his hand away this time, and she feels a moment of sadness at not being able to give him the comfort he deserves.
Gail chooses the rosemary-braised lamb shanks for her main course. The chatter is animated and vibrant. There is talk about the political climate, the economy, and gay marriage. This is the sort of environment she belongs in. She can’t help but contrast it to last night’s group.
For dessert they eat truffles, and Gail talks to the man seated across from her, Paul Bennett. He is a philosophy professor at Boston University and genuinely interested in the judicial system.
“The human element can never be discounted,” Gail tells him.
“Yes, it is fascinating how the course of a narrative can alter with only the slightest shift in emotion.”
“We try so hard to be objective, to separate facts from feelings. There are times we must try to do that.” She stirs the dainty spoon in her coffee. “But of course it is never truly possible.”
“May I be very bold and ask if I could sit one day in your courtroom and observe a trial?”
“It is always open to the public. And naturally I would be honored.” She feels proud.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your last name earlier.”
“I’m Jonah’s wife. Gail Larson.” She gazes directly, confidently into his light brown eyes.
He grins and tosses his napkin on his plate. “It is a small world. Just yesterday Dr. O’Reilly was speaking of you.”
For a moment, the clatter in the room feels strangely far away, as if some sort of bucket was thrown over her head. Then the noise returns—the tinkling of silverware, the refined laughter, fragments of sentences.
“Are you ill?” Paul asks.
“No.” Gail pushes back her chair. “I’m terribly sorry, but will you excuse me for a moment?” She leaves the table as quickly and unobtrusively as she can.
In the restroom, she walks into the last stall. Her heart thuds. She worries about her blood pressure. The only time she met Dr. O’Reilly was for her initial interview. How could a woman who wanted to be president of a university lack such basic judgment? What else did Dr. O’Reilly say? Not that Gail is about to ask Paul. A perfectly delightful evening is now ruined. Another woman, Gail thinks, might blame her husband; after all, it is because of him she went to see Dr. O’Reilly in the first place. But Gail doesn’t feel angry at Jonah.
* * *
The following morning, Gail calls Dr. O’Reilly, who says she will “clear the decks” and be available immediately. Gail gets off the phone quickly, not wanting to divulge the reason for the meeting.
In Dr. O’Reilly’s office, Gail chooses the chair closest to her adversary. Her years of experience in court will allow her to conduct this deftly.
Dr. O’Reilly wears a confident smile. “It sounded important,” she says. “I’m pleased you felt comfortable enough to call and reach out. How may I assist you?”
“I was at an event last night with some distinguished professors in the Boston community. I sat across from a man named Paul Bennett.” She pauses, watching Dr. O’Reilly’s eyes lower.
“I know Paul,” Dr. O’Reilly says.
“I viewed us as having much in common. We are both women who have risen in our fields. We are expected to be trustworthy, to hold confidences.” Gail sits squarely in her chair as O’Reilly shrinks in hers.
“I did mention to him that I knew you. But I didn’t, and would never, say anything about the circumstances under which we met,” Dr. O’Reilly defends.
Gail shakes her head. “I’m afraid that isn’t the point. You violated boundaries. You have broken my trust, and I don’t think I need to explain to you how devastating that is.”
Dr. O’Reilly tugs at her skirt. “I am so terribly sorry. I never meant to hurt you. And I truly don’t believe anything will come of this. Again, I merely mentioned that I had met you.”
“Do you know what happens when a juror speaks to a friend, when they break confidentiality? A mistrial is declared. We have to begin the entire process again. So many people are hurt by what the juror always claims to be an innocent mistake. I normally understand that the person didn’t have the foresight to see the consequences of their behavior. But I cannot give you that benefit of the doubt. You are in a position to know better.” Gail works at maintaining her courtroom presence.
“Again, I can only express my deepest apologies.” O’Reilly glances up, then shifts her gaze to the desk.
“I am disappointed. You have put a whole group at risk.”
O’Reilly holds up a hand. “I know it was completely unforgivable of me, but I don’t think this needs to affect the group.”
“When I began this process, I did so because you came highly recommended. I wasn’t convinced having a graduate student run a group of this nature would be wise. But I must say that Kathryn has been excellent. Her compassion, her ability to handle conflicts, and her maturity have impressed me. I cannot say the same about you.”
Dr. O’Reilly rubs her hands together. “My only excuse is that I felt proud to know you.”
“But you do not know me. Not really. I do, on the other hand, have a more realistic explanation of why you did what you did. You are too eager to make all the right connections.”
“No. I have nothing to gain from name-dropping.”
“Of course you do.” Gail waves dismissively. “I assume you will be telling Kathryn.”
Dr. O’Reilly nods.
“If this does leak out,” Gail says, “I would like her to know she had nothing to do with it. I am not unwise when it comes to understanding human nature. Kathryn will question herself, wonder if she wasn’t clear about confidentiality. Ultimately, she may blame herself, and I do not believe that would be fair.”
“I understand. But I just don’t see that there is any possible chance of a leak.”
“You already opened the faucet.”
O’Reilly paws at her necklace. “I have an appointment with Kathryn this afternoon. I can assure you I will get all of this cleared up.” She leans forward, her concerned expression bordering on disingenuous. “And allow me to say, one last time, that I did not tell Paul anything of consequence. I would never do that.”
Gail places her hands on the armrests and stands. “I believe I have made myself clear. The stakes are high. We both have the ability to damage each other’s career.”
“Thank you for coming. For being honest. Again, you have my word that you have nothing to concern yourself with.”
“I hope that is the case.”
Once outside, Gail’s legs feel unsteady. She kept her composure, even though there were moments that she wanted to lash out, to yell, How dare you? How fucking dare you? She stops and smiles. A few months ago, before she met Bridget, a phrase like that would never have grazed her thoughts.
* * *
At her office there is a mountain of work waiting. But Gail can’t concentrate on it. She thinks of the power Dr. O’Reilly has. All she needs to do is pick up the phone, call Paul Bennett, and somehow let it slip that Jonah is a sex addict. It would devastate both Gail’s and Jonah’s careers. For the next five minutes Gail does a deep-breathing meditation exercise. When she is finished, she takes her phone from her purse.
Kathryn picks up after the first ring. As Gail explains the events, she is surprised to find herself crying.
“Would you like to come and see me?” Kathryn asks.
Gail takes a tissue from her pocket. “No. But thank you for offering.”
“I am so sorry this happened,” Kathryn says.
Gail is struck at the sorrow in Kathryn’s voice, how different it is from the fear of repercussion that leached through Dr. O’Reilly’s apologies.