Barring Complications

by Blythe Rippon

  It poured rain the Friday before. In fact, it was the thunder and not her alarm that woke Genevieve that morning. She didn’t even bother styling her hair that day; it went straight up into a ponytail. Her umbrella broke on the walk from her parking spot to the front door of the office building. She threw it in the nearest garbage can and pulled the collar of her trench coat up around her neck. When she entered the building, she slipped on the marble floor, and the only thing that saved her from completely biting it was her quick grab for the umbrella stand just inside the door.

  When she got to her desk, she learned that the office was having network problems and her e-mail wouldn’t function until afternoon at the earliest. Shaking her head, she trudged to the break room, only to discover that the coffeemaker was busted and no one had bothered to replace it.

  The combination of the torrential downpour, the network failure, and the impending decision from the Court added up to an office filled with anxious and distracted employees. By noon it was clear that no productive work would be accomplished that day, and Genevieve sent everyone home. She was the last to leave the office. As she trekked back against the wind and sideways rain, she passed her broken umbrella, sticking out of the garbage can where she’d dumped it. It looked like a wilted flower.

  She got to her car and hit the unlock button, but the typical beep and flash of headlights didn’t materialize. She hit the button again and swore. Then she remembered that people used to enter their cars without battery operated fobs, and stuck her key in the door lock. Water dripped onto the floor mat and upholstery as she slid gratefully into the driver’s seat and shut the door. But when she turned the key in the ignition, nothing happened. She threw her hands up when she realized that she’d left her lights on.

  After calling AAA, she closed her eyes and reclined her seat to wait. She hoped with all her might that she could concentrate her bad luck on that single day, so that none of it would bleed into the next week.

  That evening she hit construction on her way to the Harbour Club. By the time she emerged from her dressing room she was ten minutes late, but Tori was stretching and waiting for her. When she offered an apologetic look, Tori shrugged and smiled, which she took to mean “no worries.”

  As they turned toward the pool, she noticed a huge bruise on Tori’s shoulder and wondered if pointing was allowed between a lawyer and a justice in their situation. Since no one ever paid attention to them anyway, she decided to risk it.

  Tori’s eyes followed the direction of her finger. She shook her head and mouthed clumsy.

  It was an automatic reaction to step forward, and for the briefest of moments Genevieve entertained the idea of kissing the darkened skin on Tori’s shoulder. When she pulled back, Tori’s eyes were wide with surprise.

  Both of them knew what she had been about to do. Embarrassed, she tried to shrug it away, but Tori’s eyes were sparkling. Suddenly Genevieve regretted that she hadn’t gone through with it. Tori nodded her head toward the pool, and Genevieve followed her.

  When they left the café that evening and headed to the parking lot, they lingered between their cars for a moment. Genevieve wanted so badly to say something, anything—even something as inane as “lovely weather we’re having.” Damn the Bar Association and their rules of conduct.

  So she was floored when Tori did it anyway.

  “See you on Monday, Counselor.”

  After six months of silence, hearing that voice took the strength out of Genevieve’s legs. She stood, rooted in place, as Tori got into her car and drove away.

  – PART V –

  Chapter One

  Victoria

  The following Monday morning, Victoria’s voice rang out strong and clear in the Supreme Court. She felt the weight of her words as she spoke.

  “Equal citizens deserve equal treatment under the law. The federal government has no rational basis on which to deny marriage rights to this historically marginalized class of citizens.”

  She adjusted her glasses and glanced up at the courtroom, filled with the lawyers who had argued before her and the eight other justices six months earlier, the two gay couples who initiated the case, and the spectators lucky enough to secure a seat in the gallery.

  “While it is true that the appellants have failed to make their case for continued marriage discrimination on the most basic level of judicial review, this Court recognizes the mistreatment of this class of citizens under the law on many fronts, not limited to marriage. This Court itself has in its history issued decisions based on fear which have separated a minority class of people and denied them equal protection. In order to prevent the Court, and other legal bodies, from sliding backwards on this issue, this Court hereby establishes gays and lesbians as a suspect class, requiring a heightened level of judicial scrutiny.”

  She removed her glasses and looked at Michelle Lin. As a show of support for a community so maligned, every justice in the majority had made the unusual request to read a portion of their opinion aloud from the bench.

  Lin took over reading. “This majority of this court would like to take a moment to address the question, belabored by appellants in both their briefs and oral arguments, of procreation as it relates to marriage. Short of creating an Orwellian scenario whereby the government interferes with the reproductive postures of all couples, requiring them to at a minimum sign papers at marriage ceremonies pledging to procreate, and perhaps even going so far as to invite elected officials and their surrogates into doctors’ offices during fertility-related appointments, the majority finds no rational reason to agree that marriage’s primary function is reproduction.”

  Jason Blankenstein was next to read. “Instead, we state affirmatively, drawing from precedent in the Loving case, that marriage is a rational choice between two consenting adults, and that the government’s interest in these unions can be found in the most basic and fundamental of our legal documents, the Preamble of the Constitution: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

  “We invite our gay and lesbian citizens who have found that happiness in a life partner to participate fully in the institution whose sole function is a word our legal system tends to shy away from: love.”

  Victoria heard Kellen clear his throat. Despite his assertion that this case wasn’t personal, his vote felt like a huge victory for her. His melodic baritone continued where Jason had left off.

  “Additionally, the federal government’s overreach in DOMA marks an unconstitutional infringement on states’ rights. The question of governmental recognition of marriage has in this country been the purview of the states. If a state in this union chooses to recognize a marriage—any marriage—the federal government has historically also acknowledged that marriage, with all attendant benefits, tax effects, and symbolic acceptance. We find no rational reason why DOMA should have changed this precedent.”

  Victoria watched the four plaintiffs while Kellen read. The women were holding hands, one resting her head on the other’s shoulder, relief on their faces. The men were staring into each other’s teary eyes as though they were saying their vows right there. She surmised that this scene was probably being played out on a much larger scale in the crowd gathered outside the courthouse. Before leaving her house this morning, she had set up her DVR to record the coverage of the crowd. She wanted to watch and maybe rewatch a few hundred times, as people—gay, lesbian, and ally—rejoiced.

  She had put off her own celebration thus far, hesitant to fully accept this outcome until it was official. Some part of her had honestly thought that Jamison and O’Neil would change their minds at the last minute.

  Even now, although there were no cameras and only a few dozen people permitted in the courtroom, she allowed herself only the faintest of smiles. Michelle Lin and Alistair Douglas were both beaming. Matthew Smith was sulking.

  Jamison took the talking stick. “The government has a historic interest in protecting the autonomy and dignity of its people. When this country undid the horrific
and immoral institution of slavery, one of the rights newly recognized for black Americans was marriage. Part of becoming a full citizen, part of having the government publicly acknowledge the full dignity of its people, is the right to marry the person you love. The Court moved in its Loving decision that the ability to decide whom to love was a fundamental right that could not be restricted by the race of the two individuals. The Court moves here that this right shall not be restricted by the gender of the two people.”

  Victoria wished with all her heart that Jamison would say next, “We therefore require every state in the union to issue marriage licenses to all couples, gay or straight.” But despite her best efforts, those words appeared nowhere in the majority opinion.

  Her gaze drifted back to the plaintiff’s table, and she stole a glance at Genevieve. Other than a slight crinkle at the very edges of her eyes, it was impossible to tell she was happy. Victoria thought they both should have considered acting in the Harvard Law School Parody all those years ago, considering how stoic they both appeared now.

  Genevieve glanced her way, and they watched each other as Douglas wrapped it up. Everyone in the courtroom could hear the smile in his voice as he read, and Victoria felt a surge of affection for the old jurist who had mentored her.

  “In most religions, marriage is a sacrament. Recognizing the separation of church and state, the majority nonetheless finds something sacred in the institution of marriage, and we name it love. The choice to publicly bind oneself to another, to seek the support of the community and the state, is an act of profound freedom. This court contends that the freedom to make this choice is fundamental to the fabric of our society. We hereby overturn Section 3 of the Defense of Marriage Act and require the United States government to extend this freedom to all pairs of consenting adults, regardless of gender.”

  There was a pause, a stillness in the room that made Victoria wonder for a moment if she had dreamed the whole thing. It was like the end of a deeply moving play; the audience needed a moment to appreciate the gravity of the words before reacting.

  Then the room burst into applause.

  Victoria joined in without thinking, but quickly stilled her hands...until she noticed all of the majority justices clapping as well.

  And for the first time in the history of the esteemed Supreme Court, two gay couples kissed in the chamber.

  * * *

  Alone in her office later that day, Victoria was organizing her desk. During the last push to get decisions completed, drafts and binders had piled up. She had slept little, and she was getting too old for insomnia. What rest she got was fitful, interrupted by dreams of snakes in the courtroom, or her chambers flooding while she struggled against the undertow to grab the final draft of the marriage decision before it was devoured by a shark.

  She was sorting papers into piles to be shredded or filed when Alistair entered, holding something behind his back.

  “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

  “Really? Are we twelve? The last time I did this my brother put peeled grapes in my hand. It was disgusting.”

  “This is a significantly more mature surprise, my dear. Just pretend you trust me.”

  Victoria complied, bracing for the worst. Her fingers close around something long and thin and cold. And top heavy. She was about to ask if this gift was appropriate for the workplace when she heard the unmistakable pop of a cork and Alistair filled the champagne flute in her hand.

  “I told you this was a surprise for grown-ups!”

  “Mm. Fermented grapes are much better than peeled grapes,” she agreed.

  Alistair reached into the bag he was carrying and extracted a Saran-wrapped plate of chocolate-covered strawberries. “Go big or go home, my daughter always says.”

  “Can I go big and go home?”

  “Sweetheart, in three days we’ll be on recess. You can go wherever your pretty heart desires.”

  “Well, we pretty much did it. We got most of the way there.”

  “Can’t focus on what we weren’t able to accomplish, Victoria. You’ll drive yourself crazy. So,” he raised his glass, “to Justice Victoria Jane Willoughby, author of a 6–3 decision overturning DOMA!” They clinked glasses.

  “To all the couples already married, who now have federal recognition and rights!” Victoria said, and they drank again.

  “To the adorable plaintiffs in this case, and their cute little hand-holding in the courtroom!” Alistair offered.

  “To Jamison and O’Neil, being on the right side of history!” At this rate, Victoria thought, she would need a refill soon.

  “To Genevieve Fornier, with those legs and those eyes and those arguments about states’ rights, bringing O’Neil on board.”

  She coughed as champagne slid down the wrong pipe. Her eyes watering, she raised her glass and repeated, “To Genevieve Fornier!”

  She coughed again and he led them to her armchairs. “You think she’s cute, don’t you?” He winked at her.

  “A blind man would think she’s cute, Alistair. I bet Jamison thinks she’s cute, and I’m not entirely sure he isn’t carved from wood.”

  “Oh, to be young and infatuated with beauty.”

  “Oh, to be old and happily in love with your wife.”

  “And now, Victoria, you can be.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “What are your plans for the recess?”

  “I’m giving a couple of talks, here and in England. I’d like to finish the book before next session. And my father wants me to join him in Spain on the El Camino. He’s got it in his head to walk the whole thing. I might spend a week or so with him.”

  “Walking the El Camino, huh? There’s something I’ve never wanted to do. I prefer a nice cocktail, a good book, and a bed at night.”

  “I think there are beds, of a sort, along the way. Truth be told, walking the El Camino isn’t really my thing either. It’s way more up Genevieve’s alley.”

  She froze. She certainly hadn’t meant to reveal her personal knowledge of Genevieve’s taste in outdoor activities. Equally as disturbing, she was surprised her mind even went there, even thought about Genevieve in this context. It was talking about her father that had done it. She had always thought the two of them would be thick as thieves if they ever met.

  “Mm hm.” Alistair said knowingly. He patted his knees with his hands and stood. “I’ll be going now.”

  Victoria was about to protest. She opened her mouth to explain, before realizing that she didn’t have to. It suddenly occurred to her that she had done nothing improper, and that maybe she could speak freely. To Alistair, at the very least.

  “Sit back down, old man. What are your plans for the recess?”

  Alistair tilted his head and studied her for a moment before sitting. “Okay. I’ll play ball. The wife and I are taking the summer off. We haven’t done that in ages, but we’re getting older and she wants to travel. She’s been planning a South American tour. I lost the energy to even keep track of which countries and which hotels. She’s very good at this—thinks of everything. I think the kids are going to join us in Peru.”

  “Sounds great, Alistair. Relaxing and refreshing.”

  “Frankly, I’d be fine staying at home all summer, just the two of us. Watching movies and gardening and going for evening strolls. That’s marriage for you.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “Well. Are we really talking? About personal things? Can I ask—do you even want to get married?”

  “Alistair, I’ve been single forever. I’m a person of habit. It would probably take a force of nature to actually get me down the aisle.”

  “That’s funny. Did you know that Salon just did a profile of Genevieve Fornier, calling her a force of nature?”

  She could feel her cheeks grow warm, but held his curious gaze. “Did you know she and I went to law school together?”

  “Well now, I suppose if I had done the math, I could have put two and two together.”
/>   “We haven’t spoken since then.”

  “I see. And why is that?”

  “She came out. And I chose my career.”

  Alistair nodded. “I’m glad I was never faced with that choice.”

  “It would appear it was a false choice. Look at her now.”

  “Indeed. When she’s in the room, it’s hard not to look at her.”

  Victoria laughed. It came from her stomach and vibrated through her throat and it felt so good that she did it again. “I can’t argue with that.”

  “So, what’s next for you? Will there be some big interview with Katie Couric where you bare your soul to the world?”

  “That’s hardly my style. I’m not sure what’s next, really. Maybe I’ll stop being so reclusive.”

  “And running to England every chance you get?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, if you decide to write a tell-all book, I’d better feature prominently. You are welcome to describe me as affable, handsome, and utterly brilliant.”

  “Of course. And I’ll be sure to describe your prowess with mixed drinks. I’m sure that’s why people would want to read my book—to learn all about Alistair Douglas and his strawberry mojitos.”

  “You could write the history of your love life.”

  “We’re talking about a book here, not a short story. I think I’ll just stop hiding who I am. I’m not going to come out; I simply want to be out.”

  “Good luck with that. And the next time you give an interview and someone asks you if you’re gay…?”

  “I guess I’ll say yes.”

  Alistair smiled at her and took her hand. “You’re something else, Victoria. Good for you, kiddo.”

  She exhaled, feeling as though she were breathing out her fears.

  He stood again. “I’ll say goodbye for real this time. You should give that Genevieve Fornier a call. I bet she could show you a good time. And I, well, I’m going to go home and celebrate my now non-procreative union!”