“Whether to enforce a forum selection clause, which is a question of state contract law, not federal law,” I continued.
“So the Rules of Decision Act would apply instead,” Tarek concluded.
“The majority applied the wrong rule,” I said.
“That’s arguably true,” Josh said.
“OK, I’ll take that,” I told him.
“A federal rule did not govern, so the Rules of Decision Act should have been applied,” Tarek was still going. “But the federal government wants to keep its hand in everything, and if it doesn’t like a state law, it will try to get around it.”
“Oh my God, I had no idea the Rules Enabling Act was so provocative,” Dinesh was still laughing.
“OK, so that’s two for Scalia. Let’s keep going.”
“I just think he’s too socially conservative,” Josh said. “And he said that the Constitution is a dead document.”
“He means we should look at what the Founders intended,” Tarek said.
“Let’s not get off track,” I said, then looked at Tarek. “Not that what you said isn’t important.” But if I let the conversation get off track, then the conversation with Josh would turn into a heated Latino discussion with both of us talking over each other. That was how our politically-driven conversations almost always ended. “JEB v. Alabama,” I continued.
JEB v. Alabama dealt with peremptory strikes. When attorneys were selecting juries to hear court cases, they had a certain number of peremptory strikes they could use to kick jurors off the potential jury without stating any reason for it. The JEB v. Alabama Court held that it was unconstitutional to strike a juror for his or her gender. In a previous case, the Court had found it unconstitutional to strike a juror based on race.
“Why should you be allowed to use peremptory strikes to strike jurors from serving on a jury for any reason except for race or gender?”
“Because those are protected classes.”
“So is national origin. So is age. So is religion. So I can strike someone from a jury for being Muslim or Sikh, or for being from France. How is that fair?”
Tarek went on for me. “And Scalia made the point in his dissent that you can use peremptory strikes to strike potential jurors for a variety of reasons, none of them necessarily good ones.”
“Right,” I agreed. “And now when you strike a juror, the opposing party is going to argue that a juror was struck due to race or gender, and hearings have to be held for the purpose of determining that, and that makes litigation totally inefficient.”
“All at taxpayer expense,” Tarek said. “That’s one reason why people hate lawyers.”
“But it’s discriminatory to strike a juror based on race or gender,” Josh said.
“But it’s OK for me to strike Tarek from a jury for being Lebanese, or for being Middle Eastern? Litigators discriminate all the time when they use their strikes. No stereotypes are legitimate, so if none are legitimate, then you shouldn’t be allowed to use peremptory strikes at all. You should be able to strike jurors from the jury for anything you want, or not at all.”
“Also,” Tarek continued, “every citizen has the right to serve on a jury. So Scalia’s point is that everyone still gets that right. There is no discrimination because everyone can participate. After that, it’s a matter of who gets to participate on a jury.”
I nodded. I had nothing more to add. I couldn’t believe Tarek remembered these cases from Civil Procedure, which was a first-year course. I had thought that I was the biggest law-school nerd I knew.
Josh changed his tack then.
“So you agree with Scalia’s dissent in Lawrence v. Texas?” Josh asked me. Lawrence v. Texas was a famous case where the police entered a home with probable cause related to drugs and found two men performing homosexual acts. The acts violated Texas’ sodomy laws, and the men were arrested. The issue before the Supreme Court was whether the state anti-sodomy law violated the Constitution. The Court had found that it did.
“I agree with the holding in Lawrence,” I said.
“Consenting individuals should be able to do whatever they want in their own homes,” Tarek said.
“Yes,” I agreed. “It’s not the government’s business. But I agree with Scalia in his dissent to Lawrence when he says—”
“That it’s the end of any law based only on moral justifications,” Tarek finished for me.
I looked at Tarek. “So polygamy, as long as it’s consented to by all parties, should be legal.”
“Exactly,” Tarek agreed. “Don’t you think so, Josh?”
“No, I don’t think that polygamy should be legal.”
“Why not?” Tarek pressed.
“Well, it’s a slippery slope—” Josh began.
“That’s arguably true, but that’s not a legal argument,” I countered.
Josh didn’t respond, and I weighed whether or not to press him.
Then Dinesh was laughing. I looked at him curiously.
In response to my glare, Josh said, “Oh my God, he’s like a male version of you,” motioning to Tarek.
I couldn’t help smiling. “And you don’t know the half of it.” I was thinking about my conversation with Tarek in the car the day before.
We were at Pentagon City. I turned to Tarek. I suddenly had an idea and acted on it without reflection.
“Do you drink?” I asked him.
“Sorry?”
“Do you drink alcohol?” I specified.
“Yeesssss,” he said slowly, as if he didn’t know where I was going with this.
“I’m taking you out for a drink this Thursday after class, if you’re not busy. It’s on me.” I winked at him.
Part of me couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. They were not something I would ever say to someone. “I’m taking you out for a drink?” My sisters wouldn’t recognize me now. I had said them full of emotion at having someone around me who actually agreed with me instead of viciously arguing and telling me I was a reactionary.
“OK, thanks. I’ll look forward to that.” He smiled, his eyes twinkling as he exited the train. “See you tomorrow, Isabel.”
I watched him for a little while, then the spell was broken when Josh spoke.
“Oh my God, Isabel, that’s your man right there.”
I couldn’t help thinking that maybe Josh was right.
THIRD WEEK: THURSDAY
The rest of the week passed quickly. Tarek and I talked more and more, and rode home on the metro together, usually with Josh and Dinesh. Sometimes Eric was with us. If I got to campus early and Tarek was there, we would sit and chat together before going upstairs to class.
He was always polite and gentlemanly. I was nervous waiting for Thursday evening. It occurred to me that maybe he thought it was a date. I hadn’t meant it like that. I had actually meant for us all to go out as a group, which was what Josh and Dinesh and Melanie and I usually did on Thursdays during our first year.
When Tarek and I got to class on Thursday, I turned to Josh and Dinesh.
“We’re going out for drinks tonight, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” Josh said.
“Sure,” said Dinesh.
I looked at Tarek. He smiled and nodded. If he was disappointed that Josh and Dinesh were coming, he didn’t show it. I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
God, when was the last time I had asked a guy out? Never, I think. At least, not that I remembered.
When class ended, we all got up to leave.
Tarek held his hand out to me, palm up. I looked at it, then at his face.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Give me your Property book, Isabel.”
“Why?”
“I’ll carry it for you.”
“Why? I can carry it.”
“I know you can carry it. But I refuse to be seen with you lugging all that stuff and me not helping you.”
I opened my mouth to say something but then had the feeling tha
t I was about to engage in a losing argument. Instead, I handed him my book and smiled.
“Thank you,” I said. “You could have just asked if I wanted help. No tenias que ser mandon.”
“What?”
“You didn’t have to give me a command.”
“The last time I asked you politely, you refused.”
“I would not have refused this time.”
“You say that now.” He smiled and his eyes were playful. I let him have the last word.
We walked to our usual bar, right off campus. This bar was probably a former townhome. It had three levels. The first was a bar with the usual barstools and tables. The second floor was a more-or-less proper restaurant with tables and chairs and tablecloths. I suddenly remembered the fact that my mother always preferred to dine at restaurants with tablecloths. I don’t know why I was thinking about her. I should call. I hadn’t talked to her for a while. She would get antsy. Since I lived by myself, she liked to check on me.
We headed up to the third floor and crashed on the comfy couches there. I deflated as I dropped my backpack on the floor. I sat on the couch and leaned back.
Then I remembered that I was treating Tarek tonight. I stood up.
“What are you drinking?” I asked him.
“I’ll get yours,” he said.
“No, but—I invited you.”
He sighed. “I’d like to get yours, please?”
“But now I feel bad. I didn’t invite you so that you would pay for me.”
“I know,” he said. “And I appreciate it. I really do. But—just let me do something nice for you.”
I was going to protest, or to (jokingly) say it was anti-feminist, but I actually liked the gesture. I did feel bad, though, because I was working and had a salary and he didn’t. But I didn’t want to bring that up. I made the decision that I would relent this one time and would try to make it up to him later.
That thought implied that there would be a later, as in we would go out again. I felt both elated and panicked simultaneously.
“OK, just this once,” I agreed. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be just this once, though. “And thank you.”
I told him that I wanted a glass of Malbec.
When the four of us had our drinks, we began to unwind. Josh and Dinesh had ordered a couple of appetizers too, and we all picked at them. I noticed that I was really hungry then.
Josh liked to eat. I loved that about him, since I liked to eat too. I couldn’t stand people who never ate, or who only ate salads. I mean, I liked to eat healthy foods, but eating only salads was no way to live.
Tarek and I were sitting on the couch, both of us leaning back, relaxing.
I looked at him and smiled. “If you’re always paying for women you hang out with, then you must be broke.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you must go out with plenty of women.” I made a hand gesture, as if I were sizing him up physically.
He had a look of realization then. “Oh, that’s right. You think I’m attractive.”
“I’ve never said that.” Wait, had I said that?
“Yes, you did. I think the term you used was ‘gorgeous,’ actually.” He was grinning broadly.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember that.” I felt mortified. I could feel my cheeks getting hot. Thankfully, the lighting in here is low.
“Isabel, it was only two weeks ago.”
Oh my God, that’s right. Why did it seem so long ago? The first day that we had actually had a conversation, other than in passing, and he had asked me to study with him, I had told him that just because he was gorgeous didn’t mean that he could convince me to do whatever he wanted.
“For the record,” I said then, “it was your intelligence that convinced me to study with you, not your looks.”
“Oh, I know.”
We looked at each other. I had no idea if he considered me attractive. He knew I thought he was, though. And he had seen me that day, raking my eyes over his entire body. I shuddered.
“Are you cold?” he said.
“No,” I shook my head. I felt like I was giving all my cards away. He knew I thought he was both intelligent and sexy. And I still didn’t know what he thought about me.
Then I quickly changed the subject.
“You never told me what you did before law school.”
“You never asked,” he smiled back.
“That’s a lawyer’s answer.” I paused. “So now I’m asking.”
“I studied Finance in undergrad in New York, and then became a CPA and was working for a business consulting firm in Miami before law school.”
I laughed. It was a good belly laugh, the kind that made my abdominals ache. Tarek looked surprised. “No seriously, man,” I said. “What did you do?
He was a little confused now. “I told you, I was a CPA.”
“No, you weren’t,” I choked out between laughs.
“Yes, I was!”
“You don’t look like a CPA!” I gasped, gulping in air.
“What is a CPA supposed to look like?”
“Like, nerdy, with glasses, not like—not like you!” I motioned toward him with my hand, still laughing.
He laughed. “Oh my God,” he said, shaking his head at me.
“What did you say to her?” Josh asked Tarek. “She almost never laughs like that.”
“Nothing!” Tarek said. “I didn’t say anything funny!”
I couldn’t stop laughing.
“What was in your wine?” Dinesh asked me.
“Must be some roofies,” Josh said.
“Sorry!” I choked out, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of both of my eyes. I had finally calmed down and turned to Josh. “I’m OK now. I promise.” Josh went back to chatting with Dinesh.
“I—I didn’t peg you for a number cruncher,” I tried to explain to Tarek.
Tarek was smiling, possibly waiting for me to erupt in laughter again. After a pause, he answered. “Well, it got a little boring, so that’s why I’m in law school. I—I wanted to do something else.”
“Actually,” I said in all earnestness, calmed down now, “being a CPA is great to combine with a law degree. It’s—highly sought after.”
“I hope so. The economy isn’t so great right now, to put it mildly.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “At worst, I’ll have to stay at my current job after I graduate.”
“But that won’t be so bad,” Tarek said. “You’ll have a job. I’m kind of regretting leaving my job to go to school.”
“Yes, but I want to do more than what I’m doing now.”
“I understand that.” He paused to take a drink. He was drinking beer, like Josh and Dinesh. “What do you want to do after law school?” he asked me.
“I’d like to do corporate work. I—uh,” I always felt like a nerd saying this, “I actually really like transactional stuff and contracts. I like getting involved in the details.”
“That makes sense,” Tarek said. “Translators are very detail-oriented.”
I nodded, then continued. “Ideally, I’d like to work as corporate counsel for a multinational company. But—what I’ve been told is that it’s very difficult to get a corporate counsel job straight out of law school. You should really work for a firm for a few years before doing that. So, I’m trying to get experience with a firm, but I’m not having much luck.”
“Really? Even with your grades and your languages?”
I suddenly felt like unloading. This was the type of thing I would usually do with my sisters, or with Melanie, but they weren’t around.
“The truth is,” I began, lulled by the comfy couch and the wine. “I think I’ve been a bit naïve. I figured that with my work experience, my overseas experience and my grades I would land these great firm jobs. But I’m competing with much younger law students, and the thing is—I don’t think that firms want to hire entry-level female associates in their mid-thirties. They figure that a woman my age
will eventually have kids and leave the firm, and they don’t want to invest in a person like that only to have them leave. Also, frankly, first-year associates do a lot of grunt work, and firms want to be able to work them eighty hours a week, to the bone. And people my age are less likely to take that shit.”
Tarek was looking at me curiously.
“Sorry for the cursing,” I said then. But that wasn’t the reason for his look.
“Wait, how old are you?” he asked then.
“How old do you think I am?”
“I thought you were my age, around twenty-eight or so.”
I half-smiled and shook my head. “No, I am thirty-four years old.”
“I had no idea you were that old.” He was genuinely surprised.
“Well, thanks,” I said, bothered. “Thirty-four is ancient, I know. I shouldn’t even be going to clubs anymore, right? I guess I should plan my funeral.”
“No,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I meant that—you look a lot younger and—you act a lot younger.”
“How does a thirty-four-year-old act?”
“Well, you curse all the time, and you say ‘dude’ a lot.”
I couldn’t help smiling. Lara had warned me about that. “People your age don’t really say ‘dude,’ ” she had said.
“Well,” I countered, “You don’t curse and you don’t say ‘dude,’ so that must mean that you act older than your age.”
“Yes, I agree,” Tarek said. “And most people think I’m older. You’re the only person who guessed correctly.”
I pondered for a few moments. “Is thirty-four too old?” I blurted out.
“Too old for what?”
Too old for you, I thought. Instead, I said, “Too old for—law school.”
“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
I shrugged. “Because sometimes I look at these kids and I feel old.”
“You shouldn’t. You’re just more worldly than they are. Most of the students here are too young to know anything about real life.”
It was very easy to talk to him. And I was finding that, more and more, he was saying the right things.
“That’s what I always say,” I told him. He smiled.
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