“I'd like to do it anyway. I think it would be fascinating. And maybe someone would hire me. I'm not that old, after all,” she said, doggedly pursuing the goal she had finally set for herself, no matter what he thought.
“That's beside the point. Do you have any idea how much work is involved? You're going to be locked in this house studying for the next three years. And then what? You get a job and work fourteen hours a day? You won't be able to travel, you'll never be able to go out at night. You'll be telling me that we can't entertain or go anywhere because you have exams. If that was what you wanted to do, you should have thought of it before the girls were born. You could have finished law school when you started, but you didn't. It's too late now. You just have to face it.”
“It's not too late. The girls are gone, Alex. I have nothing to do. And I can juggle my schedule and studying so we can still go out at night. We never travel together anymore, except for a few weeks in the summer, and I can get away then. I promise you, I'll do my best to manage it so it won't interfere with you.” She looked imploringly at him, to no avail.
“That's impossible!” he exploded finally. “There's no point being married if you're going to be locked up for the next three years. You might as well go to jail, or medical school! I can't believe how unreasonable you are. How can you even suggest a thing like that? What's wrong with you?”
“I'm bored to death,” she said quietly. “You have your work and your life, Alex,” she said, quoting Brad. “I'd like mine too. My old friends either have jobs or kids still at home. They're all busy, and I don't want to take bridge lessons, or do charity work, or take courses at the Met. I want to do something real. And I've already done a year of law school. If they give me credit for it, it might knock off a year.”
“It's too late for all that,” he growled at her, slamming his empty soup mug down next to him. He seemed to be visibly threatened by what she had proposed. Perhaps he realized it meant that she would have a life of her own, and he would have less control.
“It's not too late. I'm forty-seven years old. I'll be fifty when I pass the bar.”
“if you pass the bar. It's not easy to pass, you know.” He was implying that she wasn't capable of it, which was another form of control. The implications of what he'd said weren't lost on her. But she forced herself to stay calm. She knew it was the only way she would win.
“Alex, this is important to me.” The way she said it silenced him, but not for long.
“I'll think about it, Faith. But I think this is a harebrained scheme.” He looked immensely irritated then, and turned the sound on the television up so loud that there was no way to talk to him. But at least she had told him what she wanted to do, and she knew that now she had to let him think about it. What he decided in the end was another matter. But she could argue about that with him then. And Zoe was planning to talk to him about it too. She wanted to give her mother a hand convincing him, since it was so important to her that Alex agree. She felt she needed his approval before she could allow herself to do what she wanted to.
Faith retreated quietly into her study, and clicked on her e-mail.
“Bulletin from Hiroshima,” she began her e-mail to Brad. “I dropped the bomb. I told Alex. He's furious. He doesn't think I'll get into school, pass the exams, or the bar. Says it's a complete waste of time, and major inconvenience to him. I'm not winning any popularity contests here. And I don't think he'll agree. I'd still like to do it, but really can't if he's opposed to it, that wouldn't be fair to him. I am married after all, and he has a right to expect something from me. Alex says that I'll be too busy studying to go out at night, or travel with him, which is actually a pretty reasonable point, particularly once I start law school. It's a constant grind. Anyway we'll see. I may be signing up for bridge lessons after all. More soon. Hope all is well with you. Love, Fred.”
She checked her computer that afternoon, but there was no answer from him until late that night. Alex hadn't spoken to her all afternoon, and they had eaten dinner in icy silence. And shortly afterward, he'd gone to bed without saying a word. He was leaving the house at four A.M. to fly to Miami, for meetings he had scheduled there for two days. Faith had crossed the line, as far as he was concerned, and it was clear to her how angry he was. He was punishing her.
It was nearly midnight in New York when Brad's e-mail came in. “Dear Fred, Never mind what's fair to him. What about what's fair to you? This is not the Dark Ages … or is it??? He reminds me of Pam, and all her arguments when I decided to go out on my own. You have the right to pursue your dream. It's not fair of him to stand in your way. I understand his concerns, but I am convinced that you could handle it well. And although he won't admit it, I'm sure he is too. It probably threatens him. So don't give in! Don't give up. As your self-appointed older brother, I forbid you to take bridge lessons. Go to school, like a good girl!!! Hang tough.
“I'm in the office, working late. We have a hearing tomorrow on a new case. A fifteen-year-old accused of raping an eight-year-old girl. I hate cases like this. Court appointed. Seems like a decent kid, but he clearly has some serious problems. Heavy-duty abuse at home.
Kids do what they learn and what's been done to them. I'll call you sometime this week, and we can talk about how things are going there.
“Talk to you soon. Love, Brad.”
He was right of course. Faith knew it. But it was easy for him to say, and harder for her to live with. She was married to Alex after all, and he was still visibly angry at her when he woke up the next day at three A.M. for his trip. Faith got up, as she always did when he left town, and made him coffee and toast. But due to the hour and their conversation the day before, he said not a word and glowered at her before he left at four. They didn't have time to discuss her academic plans again, but he had made it obvious that he considered it an act of war. She was upset about it all morning, and called Brad in the office that afternoon. It was nice to hear his voice. He had just come back from court.
“I'm glad you called me,” he said, trying not to sound distracted. There were a thousand things going on, but he was concerned about her, and wanted to give her support. “I've been worried about you all day.”
“Given what you have on your plate, I feel guilty for even calling you.” But she was suddenly very grateful to have him back in her life. It was the kind of call she would have made to Jack. She wanted to bounce her thoughts and feelings off him, and hear what he had to say.
“He's being totally unreasonable, Fred. You know it as well as I do. How have you let him get away with this for all these years? You're not his slave for chrissake, he doesn't own you. You're married to him. He has to hear what you want too.”
“No one's told him that yet,” Faith said, smiling ruefully as she listened to Brad.
“Then you should. I don't know another woman who would put up with that from him. Pam would kill me if I told her what to do. We have some pretty rotten arguments, and we fought for months when I left her father's firm, but she still respected my right to do what I needed to do. She didn't like it, but she knew that in the end she had to suck it up and live with it. You can't let him tell you what to do.”
“He always has. That's what he expects,” she said, embarrassed by the admission.
“Then move him into this century, Fred. That's your job here. He may consider it bad news, but slavery is dead.”
“Not for him,” and then she felt instantly guilty for what she'd said. “I shouldn't say that. He's just used to running things at the office, and he expects to do the same at home.”
“Listen, I would like to be King of California, or maybe even President of the United States, if it weren't such a rotten job, but that's not likely to happen, in either case. We'd all like to run the world if we had the chance. But we can't just run each other. What kind of life are you going to have if you don't do this? What are you going to do for the next forty years? Stay home and watch TV?”