By Philip Lear
Roth was riding down in the elevator glad to be out of there. His day had been spent dealing with one crisis after another. First it had been his secretary, Ruth, who had come into his office teary eyed. Her late husband Stan, his former law partner had been a crackerjack trial attorney and was killed in a boating accident last year. While Stan was a good Attorney, he was a bad investor and had lost most of this money leaving Ruth having to work.
“Ruth! You’re crying! Try to calm down and tell me what’s going on.”
She took a deep breath and went on.
“It’s my son, Brad. Last night he told me he was getting married to a 20-year-old waitress with a two-year-old kid. He’s only 17.”
"The hormones start running and these kids get carried away. Maybe you could convince him to wait until he finished high school."
She waved him off with her handkerchief. " He claims she’s pregnant and I don’t know what to do.”
“You’re still his legal guardian and could forbid the marriage. Make her prove that Brad’s the father.”
“He’ll hate me.”
“He’ll thank you.”
“He wants to quit high school and get a job to help support them. I don't know what to do. Stan and I had such high hopes for him."
“Ruth, you’ve got to take charge. Be strong.” Roth encourages.
“If Stan were still alive this wouldn’t have happened. He would have kept him on the right track. But since his death Brad’s had rough going. He’s lost and I don’t know how to handle him.”
“Well Stan isn’t and you have to deal with it. If you need any time off let me know.”
Roth felt sorry for Ruth. He had heard bits and pieces about different incidents. There was the wrecked car, the drug bust and the school suspension. While he felt for her he was not a psychologist and didn’t want to be one.
After Ruth’s problem there was Wolf, a senior partner in the firm. He was bouncing off the walls about the pending MCD settlement. He was in Roth’s office pacing back and forth asking the same questions that Roth had already answered. Roth had never seen Wolf this anxious. ‘When’s it going to happen? What about this? What about that?’ He was in a bad way. Roth wondered what Wolf’s real problem was. Did the firm have cash flow problems?
“Don’t worry. Everything’s falling into place. We’re getting close. Another two or three weeks and it will be a done deal,” Roth said reassuringly.
"We've got to close this one soon. I don’t want to see it slip away." Wolf said.
“We’ve agreed on the terms and now Henry Greene is working with their lawyers to agree on the final language.”
“Henry is working on it! He’s slower than shit,” Wolf said.
“Slow but thorough. That’s why the MCD lawyers trust him. They know he’s not going to screw them. But you know how paranoid lawyers can be. They’re very edgy. If you rush them they get suspicious. They’ll look for deeper meaning in the language. And that will really slow things down. And who knows. Maybe they’ll find something. Henry is slow and methodical. Don’t worry, in a few weeks we’ll be breaking out the Champaign.”
"You keep pushing them," Wolf said nervously.
He barely had time to catch his breath when Roger, his Assistant VP stuck his head in the door.
“Got a minute?” He asked.
“Sure c’mon in Rog. What can I do for you? ” Roth responded.
“I need a raise.”
Roth’s eyes narrowed as he looked at him. “Didn’t I just give you a nice raise three months ago?”
“I know. I hate to ask but I’ve got an offer for $20 thousand more from Welby, Grand,” Roger said.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Rog but when this deal closes you’ll get a nice raise. You wouldn’t want to miss out on that. Plus you should be up for partner in a year. Then you’ll get a share of the profits. Think about where you want to be five years from now,” Roth said.
“I have to give them an answer,” Roger said nervously.
“Just relax. If you keep them waiting a little bit longer they’ll respect you. They’ll want you more and pay more. Think about it. ”
I need him to
help close this deal and he knows it. Does he really has another offer?
The phone rings. It’s Albert Bloodworth. Albert is eighty-one. He’s a senior partner and should be retired but has remained active, but he’s got nothing else to do. He has no family and no friends. The firm has been his life and in his day, he was an outstanding tax attorney.
“Roth, I need you to take over as Trustee of the Malcolm estate. I have to step back.”
“Albert, I’m really tied up on this settlement. Can we talk about it when the MCD deal is done?”
“I’m finding it difficult and thought you could help.”
“Hang in there for a few weeks,” Roth said.
“The heirs are requesting an audit.”
“An audit? Is there anything wrong?”
Albert hesitates. Roth wonders what’s going on. Nobody’s audited that account in years.
“I’m not sure. The account looks short and I’m having trouble putting the pieces together,” Albert says.
“Is there anything the firm should be concerned about?” Roth asks.
The Malcolm Trust is one of the firm’s largest clients. It was Hester Malcolm’s estate valued at over $200 million. Malcolm appointed Albert trustee twenty years ago. The estate has provided handsomely for Althea, his widow and the immediate family members. Althea was now ninety-eight and had Alzheimer’s. The rest of the family was gone except for Carl Dissler, a nephew. Dissler, a minister, wants the trust placed under the control of his ministry.
“I’ll take a look,” Roth said.
Roth wonders if Albert’s not retiring has anything to do with the possible shortage.
The next thing he knew there were loud screeching fire alarms going off and strobe lights flashing. Someone was announcing on the public address to stay calm and to walk to the nearest fire exit.
It was six o’clock and he couldn’t wait to get out of that office. Riding down on the elevator he felt a bit better and when he stepped outside the cold air hit his face and he began to decompress. He was swept along in the tide of commuters surging towards the station and felt comfort in their collective liberation.
But as Roth approached the train station, he remembered that his day was far from over. He was headed home and had to deal with his wife Judy. They were polite to each other but their intimacy had gone. Their passion had degraded to loving reciprocity and then routine seriality and now there was callous indifference. When it came to sex Judy now believed in passive resistance. He was reminded by her actions of what he’d rather not face and yet he knew that he had to.
He didn’t think there was another man. But her new friend Edna had become a Scientologist and had brought Ruth into the fold. She was going to all sorts of meetings and workshops. She was out four nights a week. It wouldn’t have been such a bad thing if it weren’t at the expense of their intimacy. He wanted to confront her but didn’t want to put her over that line where they would have to agree that what was happening was irreversible.
And then there were his sons Bill and Gary ages 10 and 11. They fought constantly. It started the minute he walked in the door and didn't stop until they went to bed. They'd fight over everything. It’s my Play Station; it’s my CD; he hit me; he kicked me; he broke my computer.
Roth hated it and tried to stay out of it. He encouraged them to work things out. But kids don’t see the world that way. And when blood was about to be shed he’d be drawn in.
Roth tried talking, mediating, growling, punishing but nothing worked. Some times he’d punish the wrong one because he’d make a bad call. He was the referee in a never-ending war.
Judy would never lift a finger to intervene. She stayed aloof. It didn't seem to bother her one bit. She ignored the kids completely. They could kill each other for all she cared. She’d do her nails, sip her wine and talk on the phone as though nothing was wrong. He felt as though in some passive way she was punishing him.
And there was Roth’s kid sister-in-law Martha who had come to stay with them for a few days three years ago. She drank a lot and became increasingly argumentative with each drink. When he talked to Judy about getting Martha to leave she told him that throwing out her own sister was unthinkable. He could picture Martha sprawled out on the couch with a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.
She wasn’t dumb. She had a degree in journalism. But as far as he could tell she wasn’t looking for work. It was easy to understand why her husband had dumped her.
Inside the train station, as he rode down on the big escalator, he could see thousands of other commuters rushing in every direction. It was as though they were doing an elaborately choreographed dance that repeated itself day after day year after year. Each of them was traveling home, to families, lives, and houses, on hundreds of different trains in scores of different towns. He was headed for track 10 exactly as he had for the last 12 years.
Roth wondered. Would it be like this for me for the next 12 years? Without her love the prospects for the future seemed dim.
As he approached the platform his pace changed from hurried, to moderate to slow. The onrushing commuters were bumping him as they rushed by. One man turned and gave him a nasty look as if to say, ‘What’s the matter with you buddy?’
When he arrived at his platform the empty train was just pulling in. As soon as it stopped the doors opened. The other commuters were crowded pushing towards the doors poised to board. But tonight, it was different. Something stopped him from taking that last step. He stood there as the train pulled out.