“Hey, Maeve. Are you hungry?” He gestures at the platter.
“Famished. Thank you,” I respond, making my way over to the table and taking a seat next to him. I take a long sip of the cabernet before snagging a piece of gruyere to munch on. I decide to begin with small talk. “How was dinner with the boys?”
Patrick’s face brightens as he regales me with funny anecdotes from his night. Apparently Seamus took a number two during their shared bath. Declan spotted the floating turd first and screamed. This sent both boys jumping out of the bath and drenching the bathroom floor with water. Patrick had to mop the floor and bleach the bathtub before he could put them back in for a soap off. Seamus found the whole debacle hilarious.
A moment or two passes after we stop laughing and Patrick turns serious. “Thank you for letting me spend time with them tonight, Maeve. I haven’t been with them enough lately and I miss them.”
“Well, actually, that’s why I flew to Boston yesterday,” I say hesitantly. “I went to the boys’ parent teacher conference the night before and Declan has been seeking out the resident counselor most days. He told her he misses us and we work too much.”
Patrick drops his head into his hands while I nervously fiddle with the stem of my glass. When Patrick looks up again, his eyes are red.
“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I’ve been so consumed with figuring out who I am that I ignored those I love the most.”
“And have you figured out who you are, Patrick?” I dare to ask though I’m confident I won’t like the response.
Patrick looks at the table again for a minute or two seemingly pondering the question. He then looks up at me with a steady gaze. “I’m a lot of things, Maeve. I’m a man who was lucky enough to have married his best friend. I’m the father to two amazing boys who I love more than life itself. And I’m gay.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “I’m sorry that in the process of figuring all this out, I hurt you so badly. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
My throat tightens and I choke back tears. I take a small sip of wine to buy time before I ask, “Were you ever in love with me?”
Patrick grabs my free hand and looks me straight in the eye. “Of course, Maeve. I’ve always loved you. And I still love you. You truly are my best friend and there is no one else I would want to raise our boys with.”
Patrick then hesitates so I prod him on. “But you aren’t attracted to me?”
Patrick shakes his head sadly, and adds, “I’m sorry, Maeve. It has nothing to do with you.”
“I know,” I concede. Wishing I would’ve come to that realization on my own. Embarrassed that I’d ever tried a diet and exercise program to win back a man. I’ll need to address my rampant insecurities another day. I then ask, “Have you always known?”
Patrick takes a swig from his IPA with his right hand while still covering my hand with his left. “I kind of figured it out in high school. But you know Mary and Cormac. Devout Irish Catholics. I didn’t want to disappoint them. And then I met you and you were so wonderful. I thought if I could make this work with anyone, it would be with you.”
“I think you underestimate your parents,” I argue. “We kids of dysfunctional families can spot the real deal a mile away. Mary and Cormac will always love you.”
Both of us take another sip of our respective beverages during the awkward pause that follows. Patrick sighs. “I’m sorry about that too, Maeve. Ethan shouldn’t have told me. He broke your trust.”
“Oh, I don’t think it was only Ethan who broke my trust,” I snap.
Patrick cringes and concedes, “Of course. I know that. I just meant…it wasn’t his news to share.”
“Uhh…ya think?” I snap again. But then I take a deep breath and admit, “But I shouldn’t have lied to you about my past. A marriage can’t be built on lies.”
Patrick laughs sadly before acknowledging, “Well, we’re both guilty of that.”
We smile and I go for another piece of cheese. As I’m chewing, a question occurs to me. “Why did Ethan’s texts come up as Macy?”
Patrick cringes again. “Remember how we used to tease Ethan about how he looks like a model?”
A memory floods back of the four of us at a bar watching the World Cup: Patrick, me, Ethan and Zara. Ethan looked especially dashing that day and we teased that we had a model in our midst. But then I added, “Don’t get too full of yourself now. You’re no runway model, Ethan. You’re more the department store catalogue version: Macy’s at best.”
Patrick sees the recollection dawning on my face and explains, “Once we started flirting, I changed his name on my phone so if you ever saw it you wouldn’t know it was him. Macy was the first name that popped into my mind.”
We drink and snack quietly for a bit. Then Patrick draws a deep breath and asks, “Well, Maeve, where do we go from here?”
“Aren’t you going to sleep at Ethan’s pad?” I ask, confused.
“No, that ran its course,” he says, shaking his head. “I needed someone familiar to come out to and Ethan was more than willing to be that person. But that’s all it was.”
I feel a tinge of sympathy for Ethan. I’m not sure that’s all it was for him. Maybe Ethan and I have something else in common: in the process of Patrick finding himself, we both got hurt. I decide to table that thought for now and get practical. “Patrick, you can sleep here on the couch for as long as it takes you to find a place, but I’d like to keep the house.”
Patrick immediately agrees. “Of course, Maeve. The house is yours. And can we share custody of the boys? Maybe even spend holidays together?”
“Sure,” I agree without conviction. “We’ll be a real life Modern Family.” If only life were that easy.
Chapter 28
The loud metal screech of the gate opening to allow another inmate into the visitors’ room rouses me back to consciousness and I embarrassingly realize I’ve fallen asleep waiting for Tammy to arrive. I sit up straight, smooth down my hair, wipe a small amount of drool from the corner of my mouth and chance a glance at Tom and Ethan. Tom is staring straight at me with an amused smile. No way my nap went unnoticed by him. Ethan’s focus, on the other hand, is on his legal pad. He’s drawn a fair amount of spirals, stars, and boxes across the page and doesn’t appear to be paying me or Tom any attention. I glance at my Fitbit and note we’ve been waiting for Tammy for over thirty minutes, meaning I probably had been sleeping for twenty-five of those. While cringe worthy, the rest was much needed. I’ve been trying to leave work no later than five o’clock to give myself an extra hour with the boys each night. The tradeoff being that I have to pick back up on trial prep from nine until two or three in the morning in order to keep up with the workload. Averaging four hours of sleep each night this week has apparently caught up with me. It’s been over a decade since I regularly pulled all-nighters to study for law school exams, and Seamus started sleeping through the night almost twelve months ago.
Another glance across the table at Ethan shows he’s not suffering from quite the same level of sleep deprivation that I am. Of course, he doesn’t have kids to contend with. However, I’m again struck by the fact that Ethan doesn’t seem to have recovered from Boston. His gorgeous blue eyes have lost their twinkle in the last week. My musing is broken by the arrival of our client escorted by a large guard bearing a striking resemblance to WWE star John Cena. The guard pulls out the empty chair and roughly “helps” Tammy into it.
“Good morning, Tammy,” Tom begins immediately. “As you know, your trial begins on Monday and so we have a lot to cover today.” Tom then pauses and seems to take stock of Tammy’s appearance, finding it wanting. “Tammy, we’ll have a black pantsuit for you to wear during your trial, rather than your prison uniform. You have the constitutional right to wear street clothes and not be shackled at trial. You’ll want to take a shower before Monday and brush your hair thoroughly.” Tom takes another pause before continuing awkwardly, “Do you maybe think you could try to lo
se a few pounds as well over the weekend? Nothing drastic, but we want you to look your best. Appearances do matter to a jury, unfortunately.”
I laugh before I can stop myself and add sarcastically, “Tammy, if you could request the low carb gruel for dinner that would be great. Do the prison chefs offer a Paleo option?”
Tammy appreciates the levity and laughs along with me. “Oh yeah, and I’ll make sure to book a facial at the prison spa while I’m at it.”
Tom kills all merriment by growling, “Shaw, seeing as you’ve tried exactly zero murder cases, maybe let me take the lead here.”
My face flashes hot and I avert my gaze to the floor as Tom launches into an explanation of jury selection. I struggle to overcome my mortification as Tom drones on about voir dire.
“We have seven preemptory challenges, meaning we can dismiss up to seven jurors for any reason at all. We have an unlimited amount of challenges for cause. Our goal is to strategically use these challenges so in the end we are left with an impartial twelve-person jury who will be able to weigh the evidence fairly. Of course, after the jury is selected, we’ll take a break and the trial will officially begin with each side delivering its opening arguments. Shaw will be delivering ours.”
As I was only half listening, I didn’t catch Tom’s unspoken cue that I should begin speaking. A kick under the table from Ethan, however, did the trick.
Grimacing and rubbing my sore right shin, I fumble, “Tammy, our opening statement will set the tone for our defense. We will describe how Kyleigh was an accomplished cheerleader and pageant winner who became addicted to the opioids she was prescribed to manage her back pain. How she battled back from her addiction in order to regain custody of little Garrett, but ultimately relapsed. How through all of this you supported Kyleigh financially and emotionally, even after she moved herself and Garrett in with her drug dealer. We will introduce Simon Harr as a low-level dealer who has been arrested on several occasions for possession of narcotics and assault and battery, including domestic assault. We will describe how, on the night of Kyleigh’s death, you went over to Simon Harr’s house to check on baby Garrett who you’d been told may have an ear infection. You and Kyleigh quarreled over money, which was not unusual, and then you left. Kyleigh was still very much alive at that time, but appeared to have been using prior to your arrival. We will then introduce our expert, Dr. Smart, and his theory that Kyleigh’s cause of death is attributable to positional asphyxiation.” I pause, feeling like a middle school teacher, and add, “Any questions?”
Tammy actually raises her hand and I suppress a laugh. “Go ahead, Tammy.”
“Why are you talking so much about Simon? Did y’all decide to call him as a witness?”
I glance at Tom to see if he wants to address the elephant in the room, but he just looks back at me expectantly. I buy a bit of time to collect my thoughts by fumbling, “Well, Tammy, that’s an interesting question…. In fact…we have…after much thought and deliberation… decided to add Simon Harr’s name to our list of witnesses.”
“Why?” Tammy demands. “What good will he do? He hated me. And he’ll make Kyleigh look bad. What will the jury think of my baby after they see the creep she was hooking up with?” Tammy’s eyes moisten and she looks away.
The enormity of the task I’ve been handed causes my chest to tighten, but I try to offer reassurance. “Tammy, it’s precisely that Simon is such a creep that we have to call him. The jury will take one look at Simon and wonder why he’s not the one on trial instead of the grieving mother.”
Tammy looks back, confused. “So wait, are we now saying Simon killed Kyleigh? I thought we were saying no one killed Kyleigh. Kyleigh died from positional whatever-you-call-it.”
Ethan bails me out. He leans across the table, puts his hand on Tammy’s and explains, “We’re giving the jury reasonable doubt, Tammy. In order to convict you, the prosecution has to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that you strangled Kyleigh. That means if the jury can find an alternative explanation to what happened that seems plausible, they must acquit. Our job is to give them that alternative or alternatives. The autopsy doesn’t seem to indicate that Kyleigh was strangled by anyone. There are no marks. Instead, it is more likely that she died from positional asphyxiation. She died from a lack of oxygen because of how she was wrapped in the blanket and because she was too intoxicated to save herself. Then we say to the jury, even if you don’t believe that, even if you think Kyleigh was murdered, it wasn’t our client who did it. It is far more likely that her drug-dealing boyfriend, who she was living with and who found the body, is guilty. There is more than enough reasonable doubt here to merit an acquittal.” Ethan pats Tammy’s hand lightly before letting go and leaning back in his seat. He’s done his job.
“Okay.” Tammy seems to be mulling over Ethan’s explanation. “That sounds okay, I guess.” Then a light goes on and she excitedly inquires, “And once I’m acquitted, how soon can I pick up Rapscallion?”
My face flushes red, with anger this time. “Don’t you mean Garrett?” I snap. I have yet to hear Tammy inquire as to her grandson’s wellbeing.
Tammy shoots me a death glare and Ethan rushes to diffuse the situation. “Maeve, Garrett has been adopted by one of Tammy’s cousins.” A beat goes by before Ethan adds, “It’s a closed adoption.”
Shame rushes over me, but before I can apologize Tom plows forward. “Let’s move on to discussing our witness strategy, shall we?”
Chapter 29
As we walk silently out of the front doors of the Cook County jail, Ethan picks up his pace, presumably to catch up with Tom and ask for a ride back to the office.
Impulsively, I call out, “Ethan, wait!” He stops and turns back to me. So does Tom. “I’ll give you a ride back,” I offer.
Ethan hesitates, but Tom responds approvingly, “Good idea, Shaw. I’ll see you back there.”
As Tom walks to his BMW, Ethan and I linger awkwardly until I regain composure and begin my own walk toward my decade-old Honda. We set off with just “Shallow” on the local pop station to break the silence. After a minute, I take a risk. I sing Lady Gaga’s section at top volume. I’m mildly impressed I can hold the refrain without my voice cracking. Maybe I have a future as a karaoke star. Ethan doesn’t react at first, but when Bradley Cooper chimes back in at the end, he belts it out. I join him for the last line.
For the first time in a week, we look at each other and smile. I use this momentum to begin, “Look, Ethan…”
But he cuts me off. “Maeve, let me start. I know it sounds heartless now, but I really never took you into consideration when I started things with Patrick.”
The stabbing pain in my heart must also be visible on my face because Ethan rushes to explain, “The truth is, I’ve been crushing on Patrick ever since you brought him to the firm’s first summer associate event. Remember, the architectural boat tour we took as 2L’s?”
A memory of Patrick and me boarding the boat Wendella from the Wrigley stop on the Chicago River rushes back. Me wearing a floral sundress that went far enough past my knees to be professional but had spaghetti straps to highlight my youth. Patrick in khakis and a light blue polo. I remember being a nervous wreck that night. Firm summer events are notoriously drunken and raucous. It was paramount as a second-year law student that you proved you had the ability to drink and entertain clients at similar events in the future without going beyond the bounds of decorum. It was a razor thin line that not every summer associate could balance. Stories of law students who vomited or hooked up at such events and consequently didn’t receive a permanent offer were bandied around as cautionary tales. I nod at Ethan and he continues.
“Well, that was the first time you introduced me to Patrick. You went off to charm some high-powered partner and left Patrick and me alone for almost an hour. We drank craft beer and joked about the extravagant boondoggles these summer associate events were. Even then, I felt sparks.” Ethan’s face grows somber. He pauses and looks out the win
dow. I wait until he’s ready to continue. What seems like five minutes pass before he turns in my direction and resumes. “Over the years, I’ve gotten butterflies every time we’ve hung out. But then something changed last year. I felt Patrick return the sparks. And I jumped at the opportunity.”
“More like jumped on the opportunity,” I snipe.
“Fair enough,” Ethan concedes. “Look, Maeve, I know it was completely selfish. I went after what I wanted with no regard for you or our friendship.” His voice cracks as he admits, “I guess I just thought he was the one.” His eyes glisten and he goes back to looking out the window. After he composes himself, he adds, “I’m so sorry, Maeve. I’m sorry I ruined your marriage and broke up your family. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
Having received the apology I was waiting for, I cut Ethan some slack. “You didn’t ruin my marriage, Ethan. It was clearly unworkable. But you did betray my trust. And if I’m being honest, that will take quite a long time to rebuild, if ever.”
Ethan nods and says softly, “I know.” After a bit he adds, “I’d like to try though.”
I can feel him looking at me with his panty-dropping beautiful eyes. When we come to a stop light, I return his gaze. “Okay, then. Why don’t you start by telling me what happened with Garrett, so I don’t mortify myself in front of our client again?”
Ethan smiles and I notice a trace of his former twinkle has returned. “There’s not much to tell. Kyleigh never said who Garrett’s father was. It’s unclear if she even knew. He was never involved in Garrett’s life. When Tammy was arrested, Garrett was taken by DCFS and placed with a foster family. Tammy didn’t know how much longer she’d be in jail. I mean, Jesus, when she was first arrested, the State was talking about pursuing the death penalty. So, Tammy wrote a letter to one of her cousins who lives downstate and asked her to take Garrett. The cousin agreed, but only if she could adopt him outright and Tammy would sign away all of her custody rights. The cousin didn’t want Garrett knowing the circumstances around his biological mom’s death. I think it was hard on her, but Tammy agreed. She said she just wanted Garrett to have the chance at a good life.”
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