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“Yes. The suspension was … mismanaged. Proper protocol should have been followed. You will also be receiving the full two weeks’ back pay. I trust this will be sufficient for you?”
The meaning is clear. Are we good? Are you going to go to the Bar Association?
“Yes, Mr. Rhodes, the matter is settled.”
“Right. Good.” An awkward silence follows as I wait for him to continue. “I wanted to address one more thing: the Rising Star award.”
My teeth grind together at the mention of that stupid award. A stupid award I coveted since I began working there.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to tell you that before the … Castellanos and Yarrow situation occurred, you were set to be the recipient.”
I blink several times. I spent three years working toward that award. Three years of billable hours and successful motions and late nights and weekends and every sacrifice I made because I believed the recognition was coming and the recognition mattered.
It mattered so much.
And now someone is telling me I had it, earned it. Chosen publicly for all I had accomplished. And the ending was so catastrophic that I cannot even feel the victory of it.
“Really?”
“Yes. Phoenix, you were the best associate I’ve had in years. Truly. I was going to cancel the entire dinner but thought it would be worse for morale. Then the whole award thing …” He lets out a long exhale. “I wanted you to know how valued you were here. And if you ever change your mind, you have a job.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I say, “Thank you. I appreciate you telling me that.” I pause a beat, debating on the next part. “But I don’t know if that is enough. Or if it ever really was …”
A small chuckle comes on the other end of the line. “Good for you.”
“Excuse me?” I ask in surprise.
“Figuring out that it isn’t all worth it. Took me my entire career to get there. Hell, I am still finding it out. I knew you were smarter than the rest of us.” He pauses. “Take care, Phoenix. Don’t lose touch.”
Although I feel honored at his praise, it feels tainted now. The ending spoiled the rest in some ways. And even though it would be like slipping back into an old pair of shoes, I know I can’t return to Cascadia Legal Partners.
I spent years chasing the dream, climbing the corporate ladder, wanting that validation. And now that I have it, if feels strangely hollow.
I hang up with Rhodes and see a new email sitting near the top of my inbox.
Subject: Prenuptial Agreement Review
Ms. Lane,
I was recently referred to you by a colleague who spoke highly of your work. My fiancé and I are relocating to Oregon and are hoping to have a prenuptial agreement reviewed before our wedding in nine weeks.
Would you have availability for a consultation?
I stare at the email longer than necessary. She didn’t email a firm. Only me. No partner approval needed. A simple request for my expertise.
I respond with a yes, close the email, and shift to the important task at hand: caffeine consumption. My eyes catch sight of my car keys hanging on the hook in my entryway. An additional black square I have never seen before sits beside my fob. I take it off the hook and see one gray button.
I press it, thinking too late that this might be a bad decision and how people die in horror movies. Headlights instantly come on, light seeping through my front window, and an engine starts. I open my door to see that my Trailblazer is running.
Steam rises from the exhaust in the crisp morning air. Jackson knows I hate getting into a cold car. I told him once when it first dropped below forty and I came in from scraping my windshield with my fingers red from the cold.
I stare at Unit A for a moment before I go inside and make my coffee. I don’t knock on his door or examine the feeling of gratitude growing within me.
The next morning, I wake up less disoriented than normal in a new room that is starting to feel familiar. The sunroom light comes in, catching the edge of the nightstand he put at exactly the right height for my reach. Thoughtful jerk.
I lie there for approximately thirty seconds before my brain starts running logistics. Two interviews. One day. I’m exhausted already and I haven’t even had to perform “engaged, competent, don’t worry about the crutches” for anyone yet.
