“Well,” Matthew said, blushing, “Heidi, I think I mentioned, really likes the mall, so I’m used to it. And I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. Is he a lawyer?” It started to rain and the two of us picked up the pace.

“He’s a radiology resident in Virginia, so definitely not a lawyer. In fact, he finds the law, lawyers, law students—the whole bit—incredibly boring.” I paused. “That’s not true. The expense of medical malpractice insurance captivates from time to time.” A block from the store, the sky opened up, drenching us.

“I can’t say I blame him. This clerkship has kind of soured my opinion on the legal profession,” Matthew said, holding the door to Banana Republic open for me. “I mean, can you believe what we just witnessed? I’m serious—can you even believe that . . . that shit she pulled?” he said rather loudly, shaking water from one of his sleeves.

Attempting to get out of harm’s way, an appalled thirty-something woman in Burberry capris did a 360 with her Bugaboo stroller, nearly popping a wheelie. Her sixth-month-old wailed—not from Matthew’s profanity—but from whiplash.

I grabbed a navy plaid suit without checking for size and maneuvered my way past the “classic chinos” to get a look in the mirror. A dressing room sounded too tiring at that point.

“Our judge is going to be on the news,” Matthew continued, following me, “not for an opinion she wrote—but for driving into a manhole. Who does that?”

“She does that. Only she does that. If there weren’t cameras to document it, I don’t think anyone would even believe it,” I answered, squeezing into the jacket.

Matthew gave me a strange look and leaned against a rack of slacks.

“What?!” I asked defensively, pointing at myself.

“Nothing, nothing, Sheila . . . it’s just that”—he nodded toward the mirror—“it’s just that this whole day is ridiculous, don’t you think?”

I peered into the mirror and gasped—staring at me was a brown sausage in a plaid casing with runny hose and flattened hair. Matthew came and stood behind me, generously softening the blow. In his soaked pinstriped suit, Matthew resembled a sickly flounder with a receding hairline. What started out as giggling quickly turned into hysterical laughter, and within moments, dozens of eyes were fixed on us.

It wasn’t exactly the fifteen minutes of fame I’d envisioned as a child.

Chapter Nine

Sanjay heaved into a trash can on the corner of 22nd and Sansom. We’d escaped the Mütter Museum just in the nick of time.