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CHAMBERMAID

CHAMBERMAID

A Novel

Saira Rao

Dedication

for my mother
Sybil Greenie Rao

Simply put, clerking is one of the most stimulating legal jobs available. Clerks are on the inside of the judicial process. They are privy to the law before it becomes law. They read the parties’ briefs, hear their arguments, and, in turn, enhance their own substantive and procedural legal background immeasurably. Whether someone is planning for a career in litigation or transactional law, a judicial clerkship is an incomparable entree into the legal profession.

—“What Is a Judicial Clerkship,” Duke Law School Web site

CHAMBERMAID

Chapter One

Breathe in. Now out.

I was twenty-eight years old with no criminal history and a Juris Doctor. I paid my bills on time, always remembered birthdays, and sometimes even washed my trash before recycling it. At best, I had the logistics of life down pat. At worst, one could argue I was marginally lame. In light of this, you can understand why I was a bit distraught that breathing had become a problem.

Then there were the hot flashes. Could I be menopausal? I hovered over my keyboard. Just one quick Google search on menopause. My hands began to twitch. Who could blame them? I was committing a cardinal sin. Twitch twitch twitch. Breathe in. Now out. Jumping Jack Flash. Who was I kidding? I definitely needed hormones, before the facial hair made a cameo. Nobody liked a lady with a ’stache.

“Where’s the McMillan file? You know she’s looking for it!” Janet said in an angry, stifled whisper. I shrugged my shoulders, unwilling to commit two fouls at once—talking and using the Internet. Janet tensed up like a constipated poodle. In spite of her daily invective, I still felt a wee bit bad for Janet. The lady had been railroaded more times than Amtrak’s busy northeast corridor. Twenty years in this institution had turned what I assumed was originally a good-natured suburbanite (Janet then) into angry roadkill (Janet now). After all, it had only been a month for me and already the hair and hot flashes had commenced. Based on the precedent standing before my very eyes, I knew my future was bleak.

Great! My “early menopause” search had elicited 26,715 hits. I definitely had it. Breathe, hot flash, twitch. I couldn’t believe I had just been pitying angry Janet when I’d morphed into a full-fledged freak show. I glanced back at Matthew to see if he was still breathing. I was beginning to worry that Matthew was going to simply die one day, crouched over, staring at his computer, and we wouldn’t even know it until she yelled for him. If he wasn’t in the torture chamber in under two seconds, only then would we know of his untimely demise. Maybe I’d Google “sitting up dead.” Surely, that was worse than the Pause.