Personal Jurisdiction

by Minot, Diana

  The balloon rose higher and higher, and soon they were floating peacefully above the gorgeous Maine scenery. It was quiet, except for the occasional roar when the pilot turned on the burner. The sounds from the ground were surprisingly clear. Whitney watched the world below waking up as the sun slowly rose. They drifted for about an hour. It was one of the most breathtaking experiences of Whitney’s life. The landing was a little rough. The basket tipped over as they landed and Alex and Whitney tumbled into each other, but they were fine and laughed as they disentangled themselves.

  Some of the crew had been following them in the white pickup truck. The hot air balloon pilot did not have control over where the balloon went, so a “chase crew” was necessary to follow them and pick them up when they landed. Whitney was ecstatic as she climbed into the pickup next to Alex for the ride back.

  “That was incredible. That might be the most amazing birthday gift I’ve ever been given!”

  Alex smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. Was it worth waking up early for that?”

  “Yes! Although, now I’m starving. That blueberry muffin was not enough to hold me over!”

  “Well, you’re in luck, because I’ve also planned a special birthday breakfast for you,” Alex said. They drove back into Portland and pulled in front of a small restaurant. When they went inside, Whitney oohed and ahhed over the colorful, cheery interior. On a decorative chalkboard near the host stand was written “Sunday Champagne & Pancakes” in flowery letters.

  “This place has an unlimited champagne and pancakes special on Sundays. They also have a regular menu with omelets and stuff like that, but I recommend you try their pancakes. They have several kinds, including blueberry, if you didn’t have enough Maine blueberries already this morning!”

  “Oh, I’m all about the pancakes!” Whitney said. “Although, with the way I’ve been eating today I’m going to have to go on a diet when we get back to Chicago.”

  Alex rolled his eyes at her. “Please. You’ve got a long ways to go before you need to go on a diet.”

  The two ate pancakes and drank champagne until Whitney could not manage another bite. When Alex asked her what she wanted to do next, she did not hesitate. “A nap. I’m so full and so tired. Not saying it wasn’t worth it, but waking up at 5:30 was brutal.”

  “Okay,” Alex said. “We’ll go back to the hotel for a bit.”

  When they got back to the hotel, Whitney collapsed into one of the beds and fell asleep within minutes. She slept soundly, and when she woke up Alex was not in the room. She looked around groggily, trying to figure out what time it was. A glance at her phone told her it was 2 p.m. She had been asleep for several hours. She had a missed text from Elise. Happy Birthday, Beautiful. Hope you’re enjoying cold New England. Wish you were here! Xoxo from Jamie and me! Whitney smiled. She wished Elise and Jamie were here to celebrate with her.

  Whitney tried not to feel disappointed that she did not have any messages from Ben. He was in Greece right now, so who knows what his internet or phone service looked like. Whitney stood up and noticed that Alex had left a note on the nightstand. Couldn’t sleep anymore. Went to the pool. –A. A swim sounded like a good idea, and Whitney put on her swimsuit and went down to the hotel’s indoor pool. Alex was swimming laps, which was kind of funny because the pool was not very long. He was getting quite a bit of practice with his flip turns, at least. Whitney sat on a lounge chair by the pool and watched him swim. His arms sliced expertly through the water as he went back and forth across the tiny pool. His body was strong and toned, but his muscles were not as pronounced as Ben’s. Alex had more of a swimmer’s body—long and lean.

  Whitney wondered if Alex swam often. She furrowed her brow and tried to remember if there was a pool at the gym near the law school. Elise had dragged Whitney to that gym once on a guest pass, trying to convince her to join. The gym offered an annual pass to law students for next to nothing, but Whitney hated the idea of working out in front of people that she knew from law school. The one time she went with Elise had been enough to convince her to stay far away. Most of the girls at the gym were wearing perfectly coordinated, expensive-looking workout gear. You know, the kind that sells for about a hundred dollars apiece and boasts “patented moisture-wicking technology” along with “elite level performance fabric.” Whatever that means. Whitney had never been able to bring herself to spend hundreds of dollars on clothing she was only planning to sweat in, and she had worn her usual outfit to the gym with Elise that day: discount athletic shorts and an old t-shirt. The t-shirt was a free t-shirt a low-ranked law school in Texas had given Whitney at a prospective students’ event. As Whitney headed back to the locker room after working out, Isabelle, a fellow law student, had sneered at Whitney’s shirt and asked, “Why are you wearing that shirt, Whitney? Do you want people to think you’re dumb?” Whitney never went back to that gym.

  Whitney watched Alex swim a few more laps, oblivious to her presence. She finally decided to surprise him. She stripped down to her swimsuit, and then took a running jump into the pool, landing about ten feet in front of him. Alex popped up in the water.

  “Hey!” he said, “I’m trying to work off some of those pancakes, here!” Then he lunged at her and dunked her. Whitney shrieked as he pulled her under, flailing wildly. When he let her back up she lunged to dunk him, but he was too strong for her and she got dunked again herself. They roughhoused for a few more minutes before Whitney called a timeout.

  “Okay, okay,” she said, gasping for breath and holding her hands up in the air in surrender. “You win.” They got out of the pool and toweled off. Alex asked her what she wanted to do for dinner.

  “I think I need to do something healthy. I ate my yearly allotment of carbs at that pancake place this morning.”

  “What about seafood? That’s healthy, right? And I bet they have good seafood here.”

  “Perfect,” Whitney said. “I’m going to go up to the room to shower and get ready.”

  Whitney and Alex had dinner at a quiet little seafood joint, the perfect ending to a perfect birthday. Alex chose a bottle of wine, and explained in great detail to Whitney why it was the perfect choice for the entrées they had chosen. Whitney could not keep up with his jargon-filled explanation of the wine, but she agreed with him that it was delicious.

  The next day, after sleeping in late, they got up and decided to go on a self-guided tour of local breweries. Alex was ecstatic. One of the benefits of driving to Maine instead of flying was that there were no airline weight limits on luggage to worry about, and Alex took advantage of this. He bought himself a stockpile of beers, many of which had intriguing names like “Beast Coast IPA” and “Moose Pond Ale.”

  Whitney enjoyed the day almost as much as she had enjoyed her birthday. She and Alex tasted more beers than she could remember. They talked, laughed, and indulged in greasy bar food. Inside cozy breweries and pubs in Maine, the stress and worries of law school seemed far away.

  “I feel like I could live here,” Whitney said as they left one of the breweries. Alex was searching on his phone for directions to the next one.

  “In Maine? What would you do? Hang a shingle and provide legal services to the fine citizens of Portland? I don’t think there are too many big law firms out here.”

  “No, I wouldn’t be a lawyer. I’d start over. Maybe I’d start my own brewery.” Whitney hiccupped loudly.

  “You’re drunk,” Alex said.

  “I am not. I just have the hiccups.”

  “Okay, well, what do you know about beer?”

  “Not much, but I bet I could come up with cute names and labels for my beer. Maybe you can move out here too and handle the details.”

  “By details, you mean, handle the actual brewing of the beer?”

  Whitney shrugged. “Yup. Details.”

  “Uh-huh. Well I don’t know enough about beer to open a brewery. Wine is more my thing.”

  Whitney was undeterred. “Or maybe I could start a hot air bal
loon business. That balloon ride yesterday was so cool!”

  “You’re terrified of heights,” Alex pointed out.

  “Well, I’ll buy the balloon and you can pilot it.”

  “Why do all of these scenarios involve my moving to Portland as well?”

  Whitney was not how to answer that, so she mustered up the most sarcastic tone she could. “I guess I think you’re an okay guy to hang out with.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow at her, but did not say anything. They looked at each other for several seconds until Whitney hiccupped loudly again and broke the moment.

  “I’m not sure how Ben would feel about my moving away with his girl,” Alex said.

  “I’m not his girl.”

  There it was. They both knew it was true, but they both always danced around it. Whitney was still attracted to Ben and did not want to admit that her relationship with him was dwindling down to nonexistence. And Alex did not want to admit that he was hiding behind Ben to pretend he was not falling for Whitney.

  “Whitney,” Alex started.

  “Look, just forget I said anything,” Whitney said, suddenly panicking. She was terrified that Alex was going to say something about liking her. They had a good friend thing going, and she did not want to ruin it by throwing deeper feelings into the mix. “I’m just frustrated with Ben right now, but things will work out. He just needs time.”

  Alex opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then he shut it again. He poked Whitney in the ribs and smiled. “You’re right, Whit. Things will work out. They always do.” Then he went back to looking up directions on his phone.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The rest of the week in Portland flew by quickly. Whitney and Alex did not discuss Ben again, and by the end of the week Whitney had managed to push the uncomfortable subject from her mind. The two spent their time eating, drinking, visiting lighthouses, and shopping at local bookstores and candy stores. By the time Alex dropped Whitney off at her apartment in Chicago on Sunday night, she was exhausted, but happy.

  Monday morning, Whitney dragged herself to school. She had not heard anything from Ben since she returned, and he was not in class. Lincoln was there, looking jet-lagged, but tan and happy. She asked him if he had heard from Ben and he said he had not, but that their flight had been delayed and did not arrive until 11 p.m. the night before. Whitney figured Ben was probably tired.

  The week continued on with no sign of Ben. By Thursday, Whitney could not stand it anymore. She was legitimately worried about him. After lunch, she sent him a text. Hey, haven’t heard from you since Spring Break ended. Are you okay? Miss you! By the time class ended on Thursday afternoon she still had not heard from Ben. Whitney was getting angry. She knew if he was in too serious of trouble that Alex would know and would have told her, but since she had not heard anything from Alex, she was not sure what the issue was.

  Whitney went to the library to catch up on work and tried to put Ben out of her mind. She had fallen behind on reading cases before spring break, so she worked through the afternoon and late into the evening to catch up. She stayed in the library until it closed at 11 p.m. Then she packed up her things and started walking down the long hallway toward the west end of the building. She was tired, but it was that tired satisfaction that comes from plowing through multiple items on a to-do list. As Whitney walked down the hallway, she heard the sound of mournful piano music coming from Levy Mayer hall.

  Levy Mayer hall was in an older area of the law school. The classrooms were outdated, without enough outlets for modern necessities like laptops. But the hallways and meeting rooms looked exactly the way you would expect a traditional law school to look, with dark wood and stained glass windows. In the stillness of the late evening, the combination of the old style decorations and piano music was haunting. Whitney tiptoed toward the meeting room where the piano was located and looked inside. She was shocked to see Ben sitting at the piano.

  “Ben!” she exclaimed without thinking, then covered her mouth with her hands. But it was too late. He had heard her and turned around. His face was streaked with tears.

  “Oh my god, Ben. What’s wrong?”

  “My grandma,” Ben said. “She’s been battling cancer since last November. We thought for a while that she might beat it, but now it looks like she’s not going to make it through the weekend.” Ben’s voice caught in his throat.

  “Ben, I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” Whitney said, walking over and sitting next to him on the piano bench.

  “I’m so sorry, Whit. I know I’ve been distant. I just haven’t known how to handle this. My mom is so torn up about it. I’m trying to be strong for her, but I’m failing miserably at it. And I’m failing you miserably.” Ben looked at Whitney, his face helpless and tired.

  “Shh, it’s okay,” Whitney said. “I understand. No need to apologize.” She put her arms around Ben and he collapsed into her embrace.

  “Why don’t you go home to San Francisco?” Whitney asked. She knew last minute flights would probably be outrageously expensive, but, surely, Ben did not care about the money. Or maybe he did. Maybe his grandmother’s battle with cancer was somehow related to the money troubles in Ben’s family that Alex had hinted about.

  “I don’t know. She’s been there for me my whole life. We were so close, and she’s always been so strong. I thought she would get better. And I don’t want to see her looking helpless and weak. I don’t want to remember her that way.” Ben’s face was buried in Whitney’s shoulder, muffling his voice.

  Whitney pulled back and looked at him. “You should go, Ben. You’ll regret it if you don’t. Go say goodbye.”

  Ben looked back at Whitney with an empty look in his eyes, unable to make a decision.

  Whitney pulled her laptop out of her bag and set it gingerly on the piano’s keyboard. It was time to take control of this situation. “Let’s find you a flight. Do you have an airline you prefer?” Ben shook his head no, so Whitney went to a travel website and searched all airlines for the cheapest flight.

  “There’s one that leaves at 7 a.m. tomorrow. It’s nonstop, and you’ll get to San Francisco at 9:30. For a one way flight it’s five hundred dollars.”

  Ben did not say anything, just pulled out his wallet and handed Whitney a credit card.

  “Do you want to get a round trip flight? Or just one way?”

  “Just one way for now,” Ben said. “I’m not sure how long I might need to be there. If there’s a funeral I want to stay for that.” His voice caught and he buried his head in his hands.

  “Okay. One way.” Whitney took the credit card from Ben and started booking the flight. When she was done, she handed the card back to him. “You fly out at 7 a.m. tomorrow.”

  “I need to pack, I guess,” Ben said. He was slumped over and did not look like he wanted to bother standing up, let alone walking back to his apartment and packing. Whitney sighed and stood up.

  “Come on,” she said, reaching her hand out to him. “Let’s go back to your place and get your stuff packed.”

  Ben took her hand and she pulled him up from the piano bench. She led him out into the chilly Chicago night and they walked over to his apartment together. He opened the door wordlessly, then walked in and went straight to his bedroom. Whitney flipped on the light and looked around. She had never seen Ben’s apartment, which was surprising since both Ben and Alex lived here. It was spacious, with minimal decoration. The living room boasted a giant flat screen television, and an expensive looking leather couch. Alex was apparently not home. His room was right off of the living room, and the door was open, revealing a bed with a dark wooden headboard and matching dresser. The bed was made, and other than a pair of sneakers in the middle of the floor, the room was perfectly neat and clean.

  Whitney went to the kitchen and started heating up water in a teakettle that was sitting on the stove. She rummaged around and found mugs and peppermint tea, then waited a few minutes for the water to boil. She glanced at he
r watch. It was almost midnight. She wondered where Alex was this late on a Thursday night. Then she remembered that tonight was Bar Review. He was probably out taking advantage of the drink specials. The teakettle started whistling and Whitney poured the water over the teabags, then took the mugs to Ben’s room.

  Ben’s room was a complete change from the minimalist appearance of the rest of the apartment. Almost every inch of his bedroom wall was covered with some sort of artwork. Several kinds of paint, colored pencils, and even markers had been used to create colorful paintings and drawings. Some were drawings of the city of Chicago, some were of the law school, and many were of exotic looking places that Whitney did not recognize. A few were on framed canvasses, but many were just sheets of paper taped to the wall. They were all signed “B.Parks.”

  “Holy shit, Ben. I thought you said you didn’t get any of the artistic genes in the family. These are amazing.”

  “It’s just a silly hobby,” Ben said. He was sprawled out on his bed, still wearing his shoes. Whitney set the two mugs down on his dresser.

  “I made tea, if you want some,” she said. Ben nodded but did not move.

  Whitney walked slowly around the room, admiring Ben’s artwork. She had been friends with him for the better part of a year now, but his paintings made her realize that there was so much she did not know about him. She looked over at him as he stared up at the ceiling with a sad expression. He was still gorgeous, but at the moment he reminded her of a lost child. Whitney glanced at her watch. It was nearing 12:30, and Ben was going to have an early morning to catch his flight. He needed to get some rest.

  “Where’s your suitcase?” she asked, and Ben pointed to his closet. Whitney went into the walk-in closet, and found several suitcase options. She chose a medium-sized one and dragged it out. She shoved Ben’s legs over a little bit and laid the suitcase across the bed. Ben sat up and started sipping one of the mugs of tea, while staring off into space.

  “Do you want to tell me what to pack?” Whitney asked.