“No, no, it’s not that. It’s . . . it’s just that Heidi and I are having—or I should say, have been having similar issues for a while. I guess since the start of this clerkship.” I motioned him to continue. “I mean, I know I’m partly to blame. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the most social guy in the world. I guess being with Heidi twenty-four-seven in law school was my easy out. I didn’t have to make other friends. I just hung out with her and her friends. Which meant spending lots of time at the New Haven mall,” he paused. “I hate malls. I guess I didn’t realize how much I hated them until I got to Philadelphia and didn’t have to mall walk anymore.” He gazed out the window embarrassed, as if he’d just admitted to a murder.

“It’s OK not to like malls,” I said, placing my hand over Matthew’s, “so long as you like Heidi. That’s the important thing.”

“Well, that’s just it.” He looked at me directly. “I’m not even sure about that anymore. She’s not exactly supportive of me, especially now when I actually need her.”

“If nothing else,” I noted, “working for the Honorable Helga Friedman certainly does force one to reevaluate one’s life.”

Just then the front door opened and my parents walked in, quickly darting up the stairs. Puja and Charlie were right behind them.

“Can’t you ever just shut up and be a gracious guest?!” Puja screamed. “I cannot even look at you right now.” Charlie, without a bedroom, took refuge in the hallway bathroom.

“What happened?” Matthew and I sang in unison.

Puja grabbed a chair and our forty. “We had to leave because Charlie picked a fight with Uncle Bharat—”

“But how can you fight with Uncle Bharat? He doesn’t speak!” I interrupted.

“Turns out, when you say—and I quote—’You don’t have a nuanced vision of the Kashmiri plight, that’s what wrong with all you Indians’—Uncle Bharat does, in fact, speak. He spoke loudly—’You are not welcome in my home. Please leave.’ The problem was you guys had taken the car, so we, along with Mom and Dad had to wait outside until Uncle Vikram emerged a half hour later and offered to drunk drive us home.” She finished off the Colt 45. “What happened with Sanjay, by the way? As soon as you left, he and that freaky freckled chick made a grand exit.”

I sighed. “Well, he’s been sleeping with freaky freckles and he eats meat.”

“Sanjay eats meat?” Puja asked, astonished.

Chapter Fourteen

Judge Adams’s majority opinion in the Dell Nelson case arrived with the pomp and circumstance previously reserved for the Second Coming of Christ. Instead of e-mailing it to Judge Friedman, as was customary, Betsy graced our chambers with a personal delivery.