AFTER HANGING UP, I opened a can of Black Label, took it down to half-mast, walked around the apartment, picked up the cat, determined at last through close inspection—investigator, remember?—that it was male, set him down, went back into the kitchen, finished the beer, and called Laura. She didn’t pick up. I left her a short voice mail. On further consideration, I also texted her a picture of the cat. Just in case you were worried.
No response. Then, a minute later: Don’t give him wet food. And that was it. No other message.
I tried the following day, but she didn’t answer, call or text. I wasn’t sure I blamed her. The headlines had been unrelenting. Some were sympathetic to Laura, but a fair share questioned whether she could have done more and should or could have told the authorities what was happening earlier. An equal split on whether she’d known the truth about the judge’s recommendation for the Berman Prize all along. Either way, after a weekend of radio silence, I figured, right or wrong, that Laura was done with me, and who could blame her. And that now I was a cat owner. Oh joy.
Tuesday morning, I sat on the couch with my laptop and watched online as Laura held a news conference in her chambers. It was quite a performance. Alone in her chair, she answered questions for forty-five minutes. Nothing was off-limits. She answered forthrightly, coming off as neither blameless nor beaten. I wasn’t sure it would save her Supreme Court campaign, let alone her judicial career, but you could tell by the end that the room of reporters was on her side.
She did good.
Bonnie, texting me.
You watched?
In between looking up stuff on cribs. You think you might have time to talk to Troy this week?
Sure, I responded. We’ll grab that beer and a burger.
He’s vegan lol
I’m allergic to tofu.
Don’t be a baby. North Star has good veggie burgers AND beer
In that case it’s a date.
I logged off, threw on my running clothes, and headed to Schiller Park. I did four loops around, picking up the pace on the last lap to just faster than a quick jaywalk. I jogged back to the bottom of Mohawk and walked the rest of the way to my house. I came inside, stretched, and did twenty pull-ups on the bar stretched across the kitchen entrance way. I got down on the floor and did forty sit-ups. I rested, and prepared to try forty more. I heard my ringtone go off. I looked at the number.
Laura calling.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t been available. I was wondering if you were free.”
I said, “There’s no need to apologize. I’m just glad to hear from you. I watched you, talking to the reporters. Good job.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you all right?”
“I don’t know. I’m still trying to sort everything out, to be honest.”
“That makes two of us. How’s Daniel?”
She told me he was having a rough time of it, but she thought he’d be all right eventually.
I said, “I can sneak up to your condo, if you’d like. Park across the street so—”
“Are you home?”
“Home?”
“Yes. The place you live?”
I told her I was.
“Would it be all right if I stopped by?”
“Of course. But aren’t you afraid of people—”
“I’ll see you soon.”
I jumped in the shower. She arrived twenty minutes later. I invited her in, kissed her on the cheek, and showed her into the living room.
“Oliver,” she said, walking to the couch, picking up the cat and pressing him to her chest.
She said, “I thought he was lost, before your text. I thought they’d . . . All this time?”
“I brought him here that first morning. I didn’t want him there alone. I didn’t know, you know, how long you might be gone. Some friends looked after him and the dog when I was away.”
“Thank you, Andy.” She settled herself on the couch, Oliver secure in her arms. I went into the kitchen and poured us both glasses of water. I set hers on the coffee table in front of the couch and sat in the chair opposite her.
I said, “It’s good to see you. I’m glad you’re all right.”
“I’m alive, anyway. Thanks to you.”
“Maybe. But I’m not the one who clocked Schiff in the snout.”
“Don’t be a fool.” She paused. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I reacted in the moment, hitting him like that. But if you hadn’t shown up . . .”
I nodded, not permitting myself to speak, and took a sip of water.
“So again, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. So, what’s next for you?”
“I’m not really sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve seen the articles and editorials, no doubt. I thought the news conference went well, but that’s just public opinion, in the end. There are rules of judicial conduct and legal ethics to contend with. Plus, right before the reporters arrived I got a call from the state party chairman. They want me to step down, let the governor appoint a replacement for the remainder of my term. And forget about the campaign. The bar association too. I heard from them yesterday.”
“Step down why?”
“They think the experience has poisoned my impartiality. That it would make it impossible for me to oversee cases going forward.”
“What do you think?”
“I think I’m not going to decide today. I have more important things to focus on.”
“Like what?”
“Like what I just said—thanking you. For coming after me. For not giving up, even after I disappeared. You would have been within your rights to walk away, you know.”
“I don’t think so. But there’s also the little matter of the call that night. That’s what really caught my attention.”
“The what?”
“The missed call, at midnight or whatever. That’s why I went to your condo the next day. I took it as a cry for help. That you couldn’t tell me something earlier that evening, but somehow you managed to—”
I stopped. Her face had gone as pale as the blank side of a legal brief.
“You got a call from me?”
“A missed call. That’s right.”
“Andy,” she said softly. “I didn’t call. I mean, not on purpose. This is the first I’ve heard of it. I still had my phone, at Schiff’s house, until they remembered to take it from me. It must have been a misdial—”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“But the clues. ‘Practically zero percent feelings.’ Estoppel. The paper in the book by your bed. Weren’t you—”
“Being a little melodramatic? I thought so at the time. Less so when the sheriff’s detective called and told me you were in his office. But when I left for Cleveland, I never dreamed all that would be necessary. It was out of desperation, I guess, in case I . . . The point is, I didn’t call on purpose. And then they took my phone, and my license. Thank God they let me answer when the detective called.”
I thought about something. “The safe phrase.”
“What?”
“Pinney said you have a safe phrase, in case you’re ever in trouble. You didn’t use it that day, which threw him off.”
“That’s right.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a little silly.”
“Try me.”
“It’s ‘vacuum fixed.’”
“What?”
“As in, ‘I’m fine, just running some errands. And getting the vacuum fixed.’ V.F. Like—”
“Like ‘Velvet Fist.’”
She nodded, giving up a small smile.
Neither of us said anything for a moment. I pondered what might have happened if Laura’s phone hadn’t accidentally called me. If I hadn’t made a split-second decision to drive to her condo and check up on her. If I hadn’t returned to search her apartment more closely after Mike’s off-handed comment as we tossed the pigskin back and forth. 1 percent . . .
I rose from my chair and walked over to the couch. I sat and put my arm around her. She tensed at the touch, just for a moment, then rested her head on my shoulder. We sat that way for a minute, saying nothing, listening to ourselves breathe. Then she raised her head, reached a hand to my chin, and pulled me close.
“Oh, Andy,” she said. She kissed me lightly on the lips. “If you—”
“I know. It’s a scary thought. But sometimes the universe gets it right.” I returned the kiss a little more forcefully. A moment later the cat found itself off Laura’s lap and on the floor. It took a little longer today than the night in her car, but soon my hands were under her shirt and hers were on the buttons of my jeans.
“You still have closing arguments to wrap up,” Laura said after another minute. “You didn’t get a chance to finish the other night.”
“That would be my assessment.”
“In that case, please proceed. Expeditiously.”
“Yes, your honor.”
AFTERWARD, AS WE LAY beside each other on my bed, Laura reached over and took my hand. Surprised, I waited a moment before lacing my fingers with hers.
“I was thinking,” Laura said.
“Oh?”
“You know where Bethel Road is?”
“Of course.”
“You know how it’s this mecca of Indian and Asian restaurants.”
“Yes,” I said, uncertainly.
“So there’s a new Thai place up there. Just opened.”
I didn’t answer right away. I’d had this conversation before. With Laura, the last time we’d been together in bed. Some years ago now. The questions and answers reversed, but the content the same.
“Laura—”
“Got a good review in the paper. I was thinking of trying it out. Maybe for dinner. Or even lunch.”
“Listen—”
“Thinking we should try it out.”
I let go of her hand and shifted onto my side to face her.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we should try a new Thai place. It’s been suggested before, you may recall.”
“I recall, believe me. My question is, what are you saying beyond that?”
“I understood the nature of your interrogatory the first time.”
“Then answer the damn thing. If you please.”
“The answer is, I don’t know.”
“OK . . .”
“I don’t know what I’m asking you, beyond suggesting we go to lunch. I’m not suggesting more than that for the moment. I know I’ve missed your company—in and out of bed,” she added quickly.
“And I’ve missed yours.”
“I suspect you’re lying, but that’s all right. If you are, I deserve it. If you’re not, I’m pleased. But either way, I don’t know what I’m ready for. I’m still a person who craves her privacy, and who worries about commitment. None of that’s changed. What has is the permission I’m giving myself to reexamine my arguments.”
“In light of new evidence?”
“Something like that. So what do you think?”
I thought briefly of Gloria, and our night—and morning—together in her house. Of the contentment she expressed at her life when she made it clear, politely but firmly, she wouldn’t be road-tripping to Columbus to see me anytime soon. I wondered what it would be like to be comfortable in your skin like that, to feel you belonged to a place that was home in the deepest way possible. I wondered if I’d ever see her again.
I said, “I’ve realized over the past few days how much I care for you. That’s the truth. But I’m also a person who craves privacy, and worries about commitment.”
“Except when it comes to rescuing damsels in distress.”
“Perhaps. What I meant was, it’s not like in my salad days, when I thought commitment was for suckers. These days it’s an occupational hazard.”
“What do you mean?”
“Who wants a boyfriend who’s always getting shot at? Beat up? Or worst of all, always running late?”
I closed my eyes for a moment and thought of my ex-girlfriend Anne. Opened them a second later and took in the judge’s face.
She said, “I see your point. Puts a damper on dinner and a movie.”
“Not to mention arguments over whose turn it is to walk the dog.”
“Back to us,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m ready for. It could be this”—she patted my thigh—“or it could be something more. But right now, either way, I’m hoping it involves some Thai food. Let’s go.”
“Now? In the middle of the day? Anyone could see us—”
“After what I’ve been through? Like I give a shit,” the Velvet Fist said, rising from my bed and reaching for her clothes.