Raven's Flight

by Chrys Cymri - BooksGoSocial Fantasy P

  I could literally hear the sarcasm through the phone. I texted back.

  Do you mind if I call you?

  Next thing I knew, my phone rang. It was him.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hi. Is everything OK?”

  “I guess.” I exhaled slowly. “Tomorrow will be better, right?”

  “Of course it will be. Tell me about it.”

  “Tarek, I don’t mean to unload on you.”

  “It’s OK. I don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than listen to me complain.”

  “Not really.” I could hear him chuckling through the phone. I laughed a little bit too. It was a good way to disconnect from the day.

  “Actually,” Tarek continued, “I really enjoy talking with you.”

  I could feel a broad smile spreading across my lips, and the color rising in my cheeks. I was glad he wasn’t here to see me blushing.

  “Well, then you must be a glutton for punishment, as they say.”

  “I must be.”

  “Tarek, again, I’m sorry I blew up at you today. I feel really bad about that.”

  “Isabel, don’t worry. We all have bad days.”

  “My day was horrible. It got worse and worse.” I proceeded to tell him about my conversation with Martin. In speaking about it, the pent-up feelings I had seemed to ebb. I took a couple of deep breaths.

  “I was so pissed off,” I concluded.

  “I think he probably figures that it’s necessary from a purely business point of view,” Tarek said. “However, it’s not a good business decision because he’s not motivating employees to work efficiently.”

  “Exactly, and I told him that he seems to be saying that we should all strive to be mediocre. I don’t want to be like that.”

  “Right. So now Tim knows that he works less and gets rewarded with less work. You do better work and get rewarded with more work. It’s a disincentive for both of you.”

  “I agree,” I said. “I mean, I kind of felt bad about talking back to Martin a little but—”

  “You shouldn’t. If you don’t say anything, then he won’t understand that he’s not motivating his employees. Not being fair is one thing. You and I both know that life is not always fair. But it’s also poor management. If it takes that long to hire and train a new translator, then maybe the company should review that process. It’s inefficient.”

  “Thank you!” I agreed. “You’re absolutely right.”

  “Of course I’m right.”

  “Oh, you’re so modest,” I said sarcastically.

  Tarek was laughing. “What would you know about modesty?”

  “By modesty, do you mean how I dress or how I behave?”

  “Isabel, you’re trying to trap me.”

  “You’re not answering my question.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  There was a pause in our conversation. I could see that he wasn’t going to answer my question. It had been half in jest anyway.

  Then I spoke. “You’re right anyway, Tarek. I don’t know a lot about modesty, in any sense of the word.”

  I wished that I could see his expression right now. I was so curious.

  “Modesty is a relative term, anyway,” he said.

  Ain’t that the truth. But that was another conversation for another day.

  I exhaled and leaned further back into my couch. “Anyway,” I continued, “things got worse from there.”

  I told him about being verbally assaulted in the kitchen at work, and what Tim and the others had said.

  “I mean, people are so intolerant,” I said. “If you don’t believe exactly what the masses believe in this town, then you’re an outcast.”

  “I know. Our law school classmates are not much better.”

  “Oh, I totally agree.”

  “Have you noticed,” Tarek said, “in our International Law class, how the foreign students and immigrants tend to be more pro-American than the American students?”

  “Yes!” I agreed, maybe a little too exuberantly, as I then thought about saying “Yes!” in a different context entirely. “Thank you!”

  “It’s like you’ve said before. They have had everything handed to them, and most of them have gone straight to law school from undergrad without having a real job—”

  “And they don’t think about things logically,” I added, “ about how things play out practically.”

  “Exactly. They think in only idealistic, theoretical terms. Like, health care should be free for everyone—”

  “Without considering how to pay for it,” I said.

  “And without considering that standardizing or capping compensation for medical providers will push them out of the market.”

  I thought about one of my cousins in Argentina, who had been a physician, but who had stopped practicing medicine. His salary as a physician had been regulated by the government, and for all the years he had invested in education and training, his salary was unbelievably low. Instead, he had been able to obtain another job where he worked as a government employee reviewing medical records, without having to work long hours.

  “You do realize,” I told Tarek then, “out of all our friends at school, you and I are probably the only ones who have lived under socialized medicine.”

  “Yes, and we’re the only ones who are against it, apparently.”

  “That’s my point, precisely.”

  “But no one wants to hear from people like us.”

  “Because no one is interested in the truth. It’s what I’ve always told you.” I punctuated my words carefully.

  Tarek laughed. “Yes, I know.”

  I laughed too. “I know, I’m so modest.”

  “Oh, my God.” I could imagine him rolling his eyes right now.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “And then my day got even worse.”

  “What else happened? This is like a soap opera.”

  “I know. Welcome to my life.”

  “Is your life always like this?” Tarek asked me.

  “God, no,” I answered automatically. Then I reconsidered. “Well, maybe sometimes.”

  I paused then. “Tarek, I feel like a jerk for complaining about this, because I’m glad that your interview went well today. But—I got two rejection emails from firms today. So no callbacks thus far.”

  “Isabel, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s OK. It’s just ego-bruising. And if I don’t get a summer associateship, then it will be nearly impossible for me to get a job with a firm when I graduate.”

  Law firms are very regimented in how they recruit. They generally hire law students to work as summer associates while in law school. Then, if they liked the summer associates, the firms would make them permanent offers at the end of their stint. If the students accepted, then they would start working as first-year associates for the firms after they graduated. The summer associateship was a good way for firms to “test” students before making them permanent offers. If you didn’t do a summer associateship, then it was difficult to get a permanent position with a firm after graduation. The first-year associate salary in the DC area was generally anywhere from $120,000 to about $160,000, but that was a base salary. The associate also got bonuses. Of course, they would also work about sixty to eighty hours a week and had to bill a minimum of 1800–2400 hours per year. Associates were expected, however, to bill more than the minimum number of hours.

  “What’s always been ironic to me,” Tarek said then, “is that most lawyers say that they’re so liberal, but the law firm culture is so reactionary in how it operates and recruits. Many firms will only hire from their summer associate pool and would never consider other candidates.”

  “Right. It’s the argument that, this is the way we’ve always done it.” I sighed. It felt really good to get this all out. “It’s just—it’s a lot of work to prepare for interviews, travel, etc. And I’m starting to feel that these firms are only interviewing me to say that they
interviewed a minority candidate. And it is a monumental waste of my time.”

  “Were these firms in DC?” Tarek asked.

  “One was in DC and one was in Delaware.”

  Wilmington, Delaware had been one of my top picks since it was a hot spot for corporate law. Many corporations were registered in Delaware due to tax advantages. Delaware judges were very knowledgeable about corporate law and the Delaware bar included many corporate law experts.

  “So you want to move to Delaware?” Tarek asked, surprised.

  “It would be great if I could. I mean, the corporate work there is really interesting. The cost of living is a lot lower. I wouldn’t mind. But it’s a moot point now, anyway.”

  “So how many firms are you waiting to hear from now?”

  “A couple in DC and one in New York.”

  “You’d move to New York?”

  “I might. The bonus is that my sister Ariel is there.”

  “I understand that.”

  “And if Lara were going to stay in DC permanently, I would likely stay here. But she doesn’t know where she’ll end up after her residency.” I paused. “What about you? How many more firms are you waiting to hear from?”

  “One in DC, one in New York and one in Miami.”

  “So which one is your top choice?” I found myself wishing he would stay in DC.

  “I’m not sure. And I can’t really afford to be picky in this market.”

  “Tarek, you’ll be fine.”

  There was a pause for a moment.

  “Isabel, you know the fact that you didn’t get callbacks with those firms, that it doesn’t reflect on you, right?”

  “I know; it’s their loss.”

  “Exactly.”

  I realized then how tired I was. Our conversation had helped me to relax. “Thanks for listening to me rant.”

  “Anytime.”

  If he were here, I would give him a hug right now. Then I thought that it was a good thing that he wasn’t here, because I would probably end up dragging him into my bed. Then I had a visual of that scene. I said something to distract myself.

  “I’m looking forward to going out with you guys on Saturday night,” I said.

  “I am too,” Tarek said. “Look, Isabel.” He paused for a second, and seemed to be thinking about something. “Let me take you to dinner on Saturday, before we go out.”

  I froze. Did he mean like a date? I wanted that, but I also didn’t want it.

  “Just me and you?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Like a—a date?” I choked out the last word.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” he said quickly, and a little too emphatically. “Just—just as friends.”

  I pondered for like a millisecond. I was afraid that if I thought about it for too much longer, I would say no. “OK, I’d like that.”

  “OK, then.” I knew he was smiling when he said that.

  I was blushing.

  We talked for a few more minutes. We planned to do some outlining at his apartment on Saturday morning. Then we hung up.

  I had always thought that my life was boring, but it was beginning to get kind of interesting.

  I felt like I hadn’t really played any significant cards that night. In any case, I had plenty left. However, I had no idea how quickly all my cards would be used up.

  FOURTH WEEK: SATURDAY

  Saturday came around faster than I had expected. I was on my way to Tarek’s apartment. We had planned to study in the morning until around 1 p.m. Then my plan was to get home, have lunch and go get my hair done. I was going to have it highlighted today. It had been a while and I felt like my hair was too dark. I was looking forward to getting dressed up for tonight. I still had no idea what I was going to wear. Maybe I would try to call Lara later. Was she working today? I didn’t remember. Maybe I would call Ariel. Both my sisters had good taste but Ariel tended to dress more like I did, in really dark colors and form-fitting fabrics.

  Oh geez, I already had butterflies in my stomach. We’re going out as friends, I said to myself.

  I got to Pentagon City at right about 10 a.m. and walked over to Tarek’s apartment building. This was my first time at his place. I was curious.

  I was wearing dark jeans and a short-sleeved white blouse with a bit of a ruffle around the collar. I had put on some light makeup and lip gloss. I never left the house without makeup now.

  I toted my backpack, purse, and thermos filled with coffee on the street. It was a nice day, not too hot. I was really looking forward to the fall weather. I hated the sweaty DC summers.

  I found his apartment building. It was pretty posh. He must have help paying for this.

  I walked into the lobby and found his apartment number. He had told me that he would have to buzz me in.

  I pressed the button.

  “Hello?” It was a hello of expectation.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Me who?”

  Dude, who else was he expecting?

  “Your worst nightmare unless you open this door.”

  “Look, unless you’re a half-Spanish, half-Argentine girl who’s somewhere to the right of Genghis Khan, don’t bother coming up.”

  “Oh my God, you’re hilarious,” I said with mock enthusiasm. But I couldn’t help laughing.

  Then the buzzer sounded.

  I took the elevator upstairs and he was waiting for me at his apartment door.

  “Dude, everyone’s a comedian now,” I told him.

  “But it made you laugh.” He was smiling.

  “Mildly, yes.”

  “Good.”

  He was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, just like the day he had first really talked to me. His curls were also arranged. I wanted to reach out and touch them, but I dared not do that. It would only make me want to touch him again, and in other places.

  I walked in. “So this is your place?”

  “Yes, bienvenida.” He spoke Spanish with a French accent.

  His apartment was a one-bedroom and it was very tastefully decorated.

  “Something tells me that a woman helped you with the decor in here,” I told him.

  “What, you’re saying I can’t have good taste?”

  “No, it was only a guess.”

  He smiled. “My mom and my sister were here to help me move in. They have very good taste.”

  “Yes, they do,” I agreed, looking around. His place was also very neat.

  “Dude, this place is so tidy. You’ve must’ve thought my apartment was a hazmat site.”

  “I did not think that,” he laughed.

  It was true; I wasn’t the tidiest person. I usually washed my dishes (eventually) and never left laundry on the floor, but I didn’t care if my bed was unmade or if I had left my shoes in the living room. My mother was always getting on my case about that.

  I also noticed that there weren’t a lot of appliances in his kitchen, or much of anything on the counters, really.

  “You don’t cook?” I asked.

  “I do but it’s difficult to cook for only one person.”

  “Yeah, I never really figured out how to do that either; that’s why I always have tons of leftovers. Oh—” I had noticed something. “I’m glad I brought my coffee because you don’t have a coffeemaker.”

  “I don’t drink coffee.”

  “And you never expect to have anyone over who does?” I raised one eyebrow and looked right into his eyes.

  He sighed. I thought how beautiful his eyes were, and his long lashes. I considered getting closer to them. Then his eyes were looking into mine.

  “It’s an American social custom. Get with the program,” I said, to distract myself. “So where are we studying?”

  “At this table, if it’s OK.”

  He was like me; he didn’t have a proper office or study desk.

  I pulled out my laptop and turned it on.

  “Isabel, can I get you anything?”

  “Um, just some water.”

/>   “I have a Crim Pro question for you,” Tarek said then, as he went to the kitchen.

  “Shoot.”

  “At the end of class the other day, we were talking about the fact that police officers can arrest you for any crime, even for minor crimes that aren’t punishable by imprisonment?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “That’s crazy. So, even for speeding?”

  “Technically, yes. They can arrest you for failure to use a turn signal, or speeding, or driving without a license. You have to understand, they wouldn’t usually do that, but they would get a free search because officers get to search you upon arrest.”

  “So they also get to interrogate you while in custody.”

  “Exactly. And I imagine, if you piss them off enough, they’ll arrest you just to punish you.” I looked at him. “So it never pays to be rude to a cop. Just saying.”

  He brought me a glass of water. I thanked him.

  He sat down at the table too, in front of his laptop. “How do you remember all this stuff?”

  “What stuff?”

  “The case names and the rules and everything.” He was serious.

  “I just do.” I shrugged. “I love this stuff.”

  “Josh says you were born to be a lawyer.”

  I half-smiled and shook my head. So he and Josh were still talking about me when I wasn’t around. I made a mental note to talk to Josh alone as soon as I could.

  “Josh says a lot of stuff,” I said, a bit annoyed. “But he’s right about that. At least, that’s how I feel. Whether I’ll be a good lawyer is still an open issue.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt that you’ll be a good lawyer,” Tarek said, smiling.

  I was suddenly thirsty and drank my water. When I put my glass down on the table, I could feel myself blushing. I looked at Tarek and he was still looking at me; his eyes were alive. It made me smile. It was a smile that took over my entire face. I felt it spread until I couldn’t look at him anymore. I looked down at my laptop keyboard but I could still feel him looking at me. The silence was getting to be almost unbearable.

  Then Tarek said something that surprised me.

  “You should smile more often.”

  “What?”

  “You hardly ever smile. But you should.”