Evan squinted, aware that something was wrong with the picture but unable to pinpoint the exact problem. “No, Brian went through all this trouble. I think we should stay.” Matthew shrugged his shoulders, got three beers, and for the second time that day, Evan disappeared into an abyss.

“This is so incredibly hideous,” Matthew started, “I just can’t understand why—”

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.” Betsy tripped her way into us tipsily. “What could be next for you guys? First you work for the craziest person on the court. Next you’re on the losing side of a case. Now, one of your coclerks fails the bar exam. I mean, who fails the bar?”

“Nice to see you, too, Betsy,” I snapped. “Actually roughly forty percent of people fail the bar. And I’m not sure how giving someone a new sentencing because they had a shitty lawyer can be construed as being on the losing side of a case.”

“And—Judge Friedman is not crazy. She may be tough. But she’s not crazy,” Matthew added defensively in the I-can-talk-shit-about-my-family-but-you-can’t vein.

“Whatever. I just wonder what could possibly be next.” Betsy winked and walked away.

“What a bitch,” Matthew blurted. “And what is she talking about something happening next?” It was the Supreme Court nomination, and I’d surprisingly managed to dispel it from my mind. That is, until now. My stomach had crept into my esophagus and I needed out—immediately.

“Matthew, let’s leave. I really need some air.”

“Fine by me,” Matthew said, scanning the room. “It looks like Evan is safely nestled between Brian and a Debbie Downer I don’t recognize. I think our job is done.”

We escaped the Vegas and after a seconds-long internal battle, I decided to let Matthew in on my supreme secret.

“Matthew, hey, I actually know—” His phone rang.

“Hang on a sec, Sheila. Hey, Heidi. No, no. I’m so sorry about that. All right. OK.” He looked at his watch. “Uh—OK. I’ll go now. Um, er, love you, too.

“Ugh! Heidi had a really”—he used his hands to make fake quotation marks—“painful day at work and is insisting that I head to New York for the night. So, I gotta catch the next train out. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, running down the street.

I called Sanjay who was in between patients and couldn’t talk. Had he been this busy at the hospital while I was in law school? Maybe he had and I hadn’t noticed until now—the first time in our relationship that a little moral support would have been nice. I found solace in a foot-long meatball sub. Whoever said that alcohol was the cause of and the solution to all of life’s problems must never have been to Subway.

Chapter Thirteen