Raven's Flight

by Chrys Cymri - BooksGoSocial Fantasy P

  “Yes,” I admitted. Lara and I exchanged a look. My look was resigned. Her look was amused but I could tell she was also concerned about me. I smiled a little bit.

  “You met him at school?”

  “Yes, that’s why we were studying.” I exhaled sharply.

  “Is he new to the school?”

  “Yes, but it’s his second year of law school. He transferred here from another school.”

  “He went over to your apartment?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope you cleaned it up, Isabel.”

  I couldn’t help chuckling, but it was a mad chuckle, like the Joker. I didn’t say anything in response.

  “Her apartment is always clean,” Lara defended me then.

  “You should also get some more furniture,” Mom told me then. “You need end tables for the sofa or something.”

  I rolled my eyes. We had had this conversation at least three times already. Then I suddenly thought of a way out.

  “Hey Mom, Ikea is having a sale if you want to look at furniture with me sometime.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” Mom said gently.

  Damn. Shut down. She was good.

  “So what did you do?”

  “What are you talking about?” I knew what she meant, but I played dumb.

  “When this guy went over to your apartment, what did you do?”

  “I told you, we studied.” I was trying to remain calm, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

  “What does that entail?”

  “You want to know what it means to ‘study?’ ” using my air quotes. Now I was getting pissed off.

  “Yes.”

  “We talked about the cases and did some outlining,” I answered sharply. Why the hell was I answering all this?

  “So then did you like, what, hold hands?”

  “Jesus Christ, what the hell are you talking about?!” I started to lose it. “First of all, Mom, I am thirty-four years old! I’m not freaking fourteen! Second, it’s possible to have guy friends that are just friends, not love interests! Jesus!” I blasphemed twice for good measure.

  Mom looked at me, so I continued, trying to calm down. “He’s a friend, that’s it.”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” Mom said. “What’s his name?”

  “I’m not telling you!” I looked right at her. “You know why? Because if I tell you, then you’ll be calling me every weekend asking for updates. Isabel, how’s so-and-so? Have you kissed him yet? Any chance you’ll get married? Blah, blah, blah. I’m not putting up with that.”

  “So,” Mom said, “to sum up, you have a new guy friend, and you’re not dating anyone?”

  I looked directly at her, raising my eyebrows. “That’s right, and until I tell you differently, that is my relationship status.”

  “All right then,” Mom continued. “You don’t have to get all worked up about it.”

  I threw my hands up in the air.

  We were all having coffee in the formal living room. Mom had made herbal tea for me, since if I had coffee at this time of the evening, I wouldn’t sleep. Sometimes I didn’t sleep anyway, but tonight I would at least try.

  It was only 6:30 p.m. In Spain, this wasn’t technically “nighttime” yet. But in the U.S., “nighttime” started at about 5 p.m. How curious.

  I sunk back into the armchair I was sitting in. Mark was regaling us with stories of when he was in the Air Force. They always made us laugh.

  “Isabel, did you get enough to eat?” Mom asked me.

  “Yes, it was great,” I told her.

  “Can I get you anything else? Are you sure you don’t want any cake?”

  “No thanks, Mom.” I felt bad about telling her off earlier. Whenever I erupted at Mom like that, I almost always felt bad later. But she was so insistent all the time. She would never take what I told her at face value. It was always, Are you sure, Isabel? But what about this? Have you considered that? It was as if she never heard my first two answers and by the third time she repeated her question, I was so exasperated that I would raise my voice at her.

  I opened my eyes and listened to Mark for a while. He was so friendly. I hoped Mom married him. I would have to ask Lara later if there were any new developments in that department.

  Then I looked at Mom, and caught her looking at me.

  And there it was, the look that I dreaded. Mom was looking at me with a mixture of wistfulness and sadness. Her brows were a bit furrowed, and her mouth was a bit turned down. Her lips were pursed, and turned slightly inward. There was also pain in her eyes.

  It was this look that I was avoiding when I didn’t come to visit her. It was a look that told me that she still blamed me for Dad’s death, and that she still thought about it.

  It was a look that wished for something different, for something else. Was she wishing I had never been born? That can’t be it. I can’t believe she would want that, even if it meant that Dad were still alive.

  The worst part was that I couldn’t do anything about it. Dad had died, and I couldn’t change that. And I couldn’t do anything to get her to stop looking at me like that. The only thing I could do was avoid it.

  Avoiding issues that I didn’t want to deal with was one of the things that I did best.

  FOURTH WEEK: MONDAY

  On Monday morning I hit the ground running. Usually I tried to decide the night before what I wanted to wear the next day, so I wouldn’t have to think about it in the morning. Last night, however, I had been tired. After preparing coffee for the next morning, packing my lunch and preparing my gym bag and school backpack, I fell down in my bed. Consequently, the next morning I didn’t know what to wear.

  This will be one of the days when I wear jeans. I pulled on a pair of black jeans and a black shirt. I put on minimal makeup, and started thinking about my conversation with Lara on the way home the night before.

  The ride home had been fairly uneventful. I had asked Lara about Mom and Mark.

  “No, I don’t know anything besides what I told you the other day,” she had told me. “But I’ll let you know.”

  I had been silent for a few moments. Then I had said, “Guys, I’m sorry for getting worked up in front of you. Mom infuriates me with her questions.”

  “I know,” Lara said in a conciliatory tone. She was forever the peacemaker in our family, at least between Mom and me.

  “She’s so insistent all the time,” Patrick said then. “I don’t know how you guys handle it.”

  “Apparently, I’m not handling it very well,” I said.

  Then I remembered something that Melanie and I were always talking about.

  “Why do married people feel pity for single people,” I asked Lara and Patrick, “the way Mom seems to feel pity for me?”

  “I don’t feel that way,” Lara said.

  “I know that you guys don’t, but—people are so self-righteous, and they always think they know better than you,” I said. “It’s infuriating.”

  “That’s this town,” Patrick said. “It’s full of self-important congressional aides and students working unpaid internships.”

  I agreed.

  We were silent for a little while.

  “You know, Tarek has a sister,” I said then, completely out of the blue. I have no idea why I said it. I felt like talking about him for some reason.

  “Really?” Lara asked.

  “Yeah, just one sister. She’s younger than he is. She lives with the Mom in Miami.”

  “He’s from Miami?” Patrick asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you said he was French?” Patrick asked.

  “I thought you said he was Lebanese?” Lara said at the same time.

  “Well, I guess he’s both.” Then I explained the story of his parents, and how the family immigrated to Miami.

  “So what happened to his father?” Lara asked me.

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t mentioned him and I haven’t asked.” I felt like it wasn’t my busin
ess.

  When they dropped me off, I gave them both big hugs.

  “Good luck this week,” I told my sister.

  “You too,” she smiled, her eyes twinkling.

  The smile I gave her now was completely genuine, a reflection of how I felt when I was around her.

  “Let me know how everything goes,” she winked at me as she got back in the car.

  I smiled again. I knew exactly what she meant.

  Mondays were always busy at work. I finished a bunch of revisions and then hit the gym at lunch to pound the treadmill. It felt great after sitting down studying all weekend. After my run, I was rooting around in my makeup bag, wanting to do my face up a little bit. I found a new dark blue eyeliner that I had been wanting to try. No time like the present. I put it on, pleased with the effect. I smudged in some purplish eye shadow that had a little glimmer to it. I liked it. I finished the look with mascara and clear lip gloss.

  When I went to the kitchen to nuke my lunch after the gym, several of my coworkers were eating there. Once again, the conversation stopped as soon as I entered. I could feel their eyes boring into my back as I grabbed my lunch from the fridge.

  “Isabel,” Abdul started, “do you have a date after work?”

  “No,” I said without turning around.

  “Then why all the makeup?”

  “No reason.” So women need a reason to wear makeup now?

  “It looks good.”

  “Thanks.” I gave Abdul a quick look as I was waiting for my food to heat up in the microwave. The others were also looking at me.

  “It looks really good.”

  Oh, God.

  I pretty much successfully avoided everyone at work for the rest of that day. Tim was still somewhat pissed off at me after our conversation several days ago. Well, he would have to deal.

  Luckily, the weather was starting to get a bit cooler. I still didn’t need a jacket, but at least I wasn’t sweating when I got to campus.

  I was early today; I had managed to leave work at 5 p.m. and was at campus by 5:25 or so. When I walked inside the law school, I saw Tarek sitting by himself on a sofa by one of the tables in the back.

  I could feel my heart leap at the sight of him. Oh God, this is not good.

  He looked great. I noticed that he had tried to get his curls out of his face by moussing them back. But he had somewhat failed because he was holding them back with one hand as he leaned over his book reading.

  I approached him and he saw me. He smiled instantly. I saw his eyes pop.

  “Hey, Isabel.” I also saw him look me over from head to feet.

  “Hi. Do you mind if I sit here?”

  “Of course not.” He moved his book from the seat next to him. “Here, sit on the sofa, it’s more comfortable.”

  “Thanks.” I sat next to him and took out my Crim Pro book. I leaned back against the sofa.

  “Did you finish reading for Crim?” I asked him.

  “Almost,” he smiled.

  “OK, well, I won’t bother you then.”

  “No, that’s OK. I don’t mind being bothered.” His look was a little flirtatious. I wasn’t sure if he meant it to be or not. I also wasn’t sure if he gave that look to all women or just to me. I hadn’t really seen him speak to any women other than Zara, and he hadn’t looked that way at her.

  “Actually,” he said then, “I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “It’s about probable cause for a warrant.”

  “OK.” A Crim Pro question. I loved those.

  “So, if I understand correctly, there are two lines of inquiries, reliability and the information itself.”

  “Well,” I said, “under Spinelli v. Gates the Supreme Court said that, to determine whether there was probable cause for a warrant, the inquiry was a two-prong test. You look at the reliability of the informant and the quality and type of information in the oath, i.e. whether it is corroborated. But the current test is expressed in Illinois v. Gates. That’s the minimum test under the Constitution, but the professor said that some states provide even more stringent requirements.”

  “But you still consider basically the same elements as in Spinelli, right?”

  “Right,” I agreed. “When you look at whether there’s probable cause for the search warrant, you still look at the reliability of the informant and also the type of information provided, and whether on its face it could be evidence that a crime had occurred or was occurring. But in Gates, the Court called it a totality of circumstances test. But you’re right, it’s basically the same test.”

  “And, to confirm, the problem in Gates was that the letter was anonymous and the police couldn’t really verify the reliability of the informant?” His eyes went from my face, to his book, then back to my face. Then I realized that I was holding my breath.

  I exhaled, then answered. “The way I read the case is that just because a tip is anonymous does not mean that there is per se no probable cause. It depends on how specific the information is. Possibly, if the information in the letter in Gates had been more specific, or more indicative of illegal behavior, and had been able to be corroborated, then there may have been probable cause.”

  “OK, so the other part is corroboration.”

  “Right, if the police can corroborate the information provided by the informant, that makes it more likely that probable cause will be found. The less reliable the informant, the more important corroboration becomes.”

  “OK, that makes sense.”

  “Here,” I said. “Take a look at the cases after Gates to see how the test was applied.” I took out my Crim Pro book. “They’re helpful.”

  I opened the book between us and found the pages I was looking for. We both leaned a little toward each other to read. I noticed then that our shoulders were touching. I was a little unnerved at being so close to him.

  “So the standard for probable cause is a fair probability,” I continued.

  “It’s a lesser standard than preponderance of the evidence,” Tarek said.

  “Right.” I looked at him. God, our faces were closer than I had thought.

  He smiled. “Thank you, Counselor.”

  I smiled back a little. “OK, you can’t ask for my help and call me a nerd at the same time.”

  “I wasn’t calling you a nerd,” he said sincerely.

  “Hey guys.”

  We both looked up immediately. It was Josh. Jesus, Sorority Girl was with him. For some reason she occasionally hung around Josh. I got the impression that maybe she liked him, or maybe she was nice to him in order to get his notes when she wasn’t in class. I sure as hell wouldn’t give her my notes.

  For some reason, I felt like Josh had caught us in the middle of something, and I felt my face turning red. I don’t know why. We were only talking about Crim Pro!

  Josh and SG sat down. I didn’t introduce her to Tarek because I didn’t care about her.

  But SG took the liberty of introducing herself.

  “Hi, I’m Alyssa,” she said as she reached out her hand to him. He politely shook it and introduced himself. I noticed her dark roots were starting to show. Why would she dye her dark hair that obviously fake straw color? Evidently, she was trying to be something she wasn’t.

  She looked at me, and for a second I froze, fearing that perhaps she could read my thoughts. Then she glanced at Tarek, and it dawned on me that she was trying to figure out whether he and I were together. I was going to let her stew for a while. I gave her a hard look, daring her to say something. She looked from me to Tarek, then back to me. I raised my eyebrows at her.

  Then she seemed to resign herself. She looked at Josh and asked him, “Could you please send me your notes from last Tuesday? I wasn’t here.”

  “Sure,” Josh told her. He was too nice.

  I was right. She was only nice to him for his notes. She probably couldn’t get them from anyone else.

  I got up then. “I’m going to get coffee before class,
you guys.” I grabbed my purse. “Does anyone want anything?”

  “I’ll go with you,” Tarek said. “I’ll get tea.”

  “No, I’ll get it.” I smiled and left before he could say anything. I knew he wouldn’t let me pay otherwise. After all, the other day I had said I was going to treat him to a drink and he wouldn’t let me pay for that.

  Alyssa was looking at me as if she were going to say something, but my look shut her down.

  She didn’t honestly think I was asking her if she wanted anything, did she?

  But she got me back big-time. As I was leaving, purse in hand, almost clear of the lounge area, I heard her say, “You know she sleeps around, right?”

  Well, Goddamn. She figured she would ‘out’ me to Tarek, huh? Damn her. I knew she was talking to him. Who else would she say that to?

  I continued walking like I hadn’t heard anything. I walked outside what the students called the quad and across it to the university-run coffee shop. I would have preferred to get my coffee on the outside but there wasn’t enough time.

  I was angry at Alyssa, but, honestly, why would I expect anything else of her? She hated my guts.

  I got my coffee and Earl Grey for Tarek and headed back. Alyssa was no longer there, thank God.

  I handed Tarek his tea.

  “Thank you,” he smiled. “How much was it?”

  “No problem. And if you try to pay me back, I’ll be offended,” I said then, grabbing my backpack.

  Tarek looked at Josh.

  “Oh, she will be,” Josh nodded, with a look that said you really better not try it.

  Tarek seemed resigned, but his eyes were playful. Again, I wondered what he was thinking about.

  Josh, Tarek and I walked upstairs.

  “I’m going to stay after for something today so don’t wait for me,” Josh told me.

  “OK.” I guess it would be Eric, Dinesh, Tarek and me on the metro.

  “Awesome, maybe we’ll actually get out of here on time for once since we won’t have to wait for you.” I was chuckling. I couldn’t help it.

  “Ha, ha,” Josh said in mock laughter.

  Eric and Dinesh were already in their seats.

  Class began shortly after that. Today, the professor was still discussing search warrants and reasonableness.