to recover. It was worth it to win the further admiration of the courts. The city was overrun with sleazy divorce lawyers, but there were only a pocketful of respectable unsharky family lawyers, of which Charlene was one. That is not to say her clients wouldn’t get what they deserved; she took very good care of them. More important, they would leave the proceedings with their self-respect.
The intercom on her desk buzzed again. “Okay, okay,” she said to herself, tossing the washcloth into the sink, slipping her feet back into her shoes and hooking up her bra. She applied some makeup to her cheeks, a little lip gloss to her lips, and squinted critically into the mirror. She looked tired even though she’d slept quite well the night before. She knew what that meant. It was time to seriously consider having her eyes done. A little nip, a little tuck, not a new face, but one that just didn’t seem to age at the speed of light.
Charlene didn’t give herself much slack; she was a perfectionist from nose to toes, professionally and personally. You don’t become successful by relaxing your standards. It was taxing, but nothing worth having came easy.
She flushed the toilet even though she hadn’t used it. She just didn’t want anyone to think she had locked herself into her bathroom to recover from the Samuelsons. No one should think she needed recovery. Not even Pam.
That was Charlene. Always in control. And perfect in every way—without breaking a sweat.
The intercom was buzzing wildly as she headed for her desk. “What?”
“Thank goodness, I thought you’d fallen in. It’s Stephanie.”
“Put her through.” Click, click. “Steph, honey, I’m really—”
“Mom, I hate him!”
Charlene sank into her chair. Sacramento could be crumbling around them in the throes of a six-point-eight shaker and still Stephanie would assume that the current state of her love life was of paramount concern to everyone. Stephanie didn’t even bother to say hello or ask Charlene if she had a few minutes. “Hmm,” Charlene hummed, noncommittal.
“I have tickets for Grease. Do you know how hard they were to get? How much they cost? And he promised me, promised me he’d get the night off. How often do I ask him to do that?”
Probably very, very often, Charlene thought, but she held her tongue.
“Is there absolutely no one in the state of California, in the city of Sacramento, who can stand behind the bar and sling a few drinks so he can go to a musical with me?”
“Stephanie, I doubt it’s as simple as that.”
“Mom, I’ve had it with spending every night alone. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life like this.”
“Honey, I sympathize with you, but you’re going to have to work this out with Grant,” she said.
“You could hate him too,” she whined.
“It’s hard to hate Grant. He’s such a doll.”
“Mom.”
“He is. He’s good to you. And patient. And smart. And he makes a nice living while putting himself through school. There’s a lot to admire about his hard work.”
“At the bar. Every night. With drunk women coming on to him all night long. Begging him to take them home.”
“My gosh,” Charlene mocked. “That must be nearly irresistible for him.”
“That’s not the point,” Stephanie said. “You can imagine where this leaves me. With two fifty-dollar tickets.”
“Is there no one else who would like to go see Grease with you?” she asked.
“That’s not the point either!”
“Then, Stephanie, what is the point?” Charlene asked tiredly.
“The point is, I don’t want to be alone all the time. I want my partner, the man of my heart, to spend time with me. To come home to me before I’m asleep!”
Charlene took a deep breath and did not say all the things that came to her mind. Like, You cannot expect the man of your heart to entertain you all the time. And, Didn’t you know he was a bartender when you suggested you move in together? Or even, Oh my darling, my dearest child, you are so rotten spoiled.
Stephanie was bright, adorable, funny and sensitive, but she had an overblown sense of entitlement not entirely rare in a twenty-five-year-old. Especially a twenty-five-year-old only child.
“Mom? Are you there?”
“Yes, Stephanie. Look, you knew all about Grant’s hours and commitments before you—”
“I might want to move back home, Mom,” she said.
Charlene bolted upright. “What?”
“I’ve been giving some thought to moving in with you, Mom.”
“Stephanie, think about what you’re saying. You’d be getting a roommate who would nag you to keep things tidy all the time. You would live with someone who is driven almost homicidal by dust bunnies! And you’re…how can I put this kindly? Simply not up to the job.”
“You don’t have to be mean,” she said.
“And you don’t have to be sloppy, but you are. We’ve been over this before, Steph. I love you more than my life, but I won’t take you on as a roommate again until I can be sure you can hold up your end of the deal. If you’re serious about wanting to live with me, you’d better go home and clean that apartment from top to bottom and prove you can keep it that way.” She sighed. “Honey, I suspect you’d be better off trying to work things out with Grant. I know you love him very much.”
“I don’t want to waste my life waiting around for a man who’s…who’s…”
“Who’s working?” Charlene asked sharply. “You’d better think about this, Stephanie. You made a major commitment to him. The two of you have been together a long time. This bartending, this was part of his plan. It’s an excellent income for a student. Isn’t he almost finished with school?”
“Ha! That’ll be the day. He’s already talking about getting a master’s. And that’s only the beginning of my nightmares. He says he’s going to test for the police academy.”
“Really? Well, I’m not surprised he’s taking that direction. He’s been real interested in forensics and constitutional law and—Are you so completely surprised?”
“I’m horrified! Straight from spending every night at the bar to spending every night on the streets getting shot at.”
“Well Jesus, Stephanie,” Charlene said, out of patience, “what the hell do you want him to do? Win the lottery?”
“I just don’t want to…you know…”
“No I don’t know. What?”
“I don’t want to end up like you!”
Charlene
