Just how much Faith wants out of her marriage is reinforced the moment she enters the apartment and sees her husband sitting in the living room. She actually feels as if the space has gotten smaller, the air harder to breathe.
Faith hasn’t even removed her coat before Stuart says, “Do we get bodyguards now?”
“Don’t start with me,” she says. “It was a tough day.”
“I’ll bet,” he says mockingly. “Not every day you get on a terrorist’s hit list.”
“Stuart, are you really worried for my safety? Or yours? Because they offered to put a security detail in front of the building, but I know how much you hate that.”
“Just answer me this, Faith: is that what T-Rex told you to do last night? So long as you put the screws to Garkov, you’ll be on the Supreme Court?”
“This your way of not starting with me, Stuart?”
“It’s a fair question. I mean, you’re doing everything you can, seemingly ethical or not, to get on the Supreme Court . . . even though you know what that’s going to do to us.”
“You’re unbelievable. Jesus.”
“I’m unbelievable? Me? Why is that? Because we decided to live in New York City? Because I have a life here? An architectural practice that I can’t just up and move down to DC, which, by the way, has the worst architecture in the country.”
“Yes, you!” Faith yells back. “This is unreal! I know you’re not the most supportive of men, but is it too much to ask that you not do everything you can to make me feel like shit? Stuart, I could be on the Supreme Court of the United States. Do you understand what that means? The historical impact that I can have on this country? And yet boo hoo hoo, you’re complaining that you’ll have to live in Washington?” She gives a long, exasperated sigh. “You know what, Stuart? Don’t come. Stay here if you want. It’s not like we have kids to worry about—”
“That again? You knew I didn’t want to have children when you married me.”
Faith has lost the moral high ground, because Stuart is right. She knew he didn’t want children, and yet she married him anyway. Besides, this fight isn’t about that. It’s about the fact that he’s being a first-rate prick. She should just file for divorce and be done with it. It’s not like being divorced would hurt her nomination, whereas she wouldn’t put it past Stuart to sabotage her with a carefully planted off-the-cuff remark about her views on abortion. But for some reason she can’t bring herself to end her marriage, and so the United States Supreme Court is now her exit strategy. She would move to Washington and Stuart would remain in New York, either because he claimed he couldn’t leave his practice or because she asked him to stay behind. The lawyers could work out the rest with them three hundred miles apart.
“I’m tired, Stuart,” she says, meaning more than that she’s sleepy. She’s weary of fighting the same battle over and over again. “I’m going to bed.”
It’s clear from her tone that her husband is most definitely not invited.
CYNTHIA IS READING BY the fireplace, although it’s not lit—that being Aaron’s job in the division of marital chores—when Aaron arrives home that evening.
“Are the girls here?” he asks.
“Not yet. But it’s just as well, as I assume you have something to tell me.”
There’s an obvious edge to her words that leaves no doubt that Cynthia has learned of Aaron’s newest client, and that has erased the goodwill from last night.
Aaron stammers, but words don’t come out.
“I’ll save you the trouble,” she snaps. “I know that you’re representing that terrorist.”
“Alleged terrorist,” Aaron says, trying to defuse her anger with a smile.
Cynthia doesn’t see it as a joking matter. She has the look of someone ready for a fight.
“Same judge as the last case too. Right?”
He now realizes the source of Cynthia’s discontent. Apparently he was right when he told Sam Rosenthal that he overestimated his ability to keep his affair with Faith a secret. But he knows Cynthia well enough to know that she’s not going to confront him, at least not now. It’s enough she’s just given the signal that yes, she knows.
“Hopefully this one will end better,” he says.
“I assume you’re not basing that on how it’s begun.”
“Rachel is working tonight on motion papers for her to reconsider that.”
“I see. So you’re working with Rachel on this one too?”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, Aaron. Nothing you do is ever wrong,” Cynthia says, and returns to her book.