There had been other events besides the tribunal's ruling that had seriously clouded the horizon. Back at the beginning, even before the interrogatories had been completed, Randolph had strenuously advised that Craig make every effort to reconcile with his wife, Alexis, give up his in-town, recreational apartment (as Randolph had referred to it), and move back to the Newton family home. It had been Randolph 's strong feeling that Craig's relatively new, self-indulgent (as he called it) lifestyle would not sit well with a jury. Willing to listen to experienced advice although chafing at the dependency it represented, Craig had followed the recommendations to the letter. He'd been pleased and thankful that Alexis had been willing to allow him to return, albeit to sleep in the guest room, and she'd been graciously supportive as evidenced by her sitting at that very moment in the spectator section. Reflexively Craig twisted around and caught Alexis's eye. She was dressed in a casually professional style for her work as a psychologist at the Boston Memorial Hospital, with a white blouse and blue cardigan sweater. Craig managed a crooked smile, and she acknowledged it with one of her own.
Craig redirected his attention to the voir dire. The judge was castigating a frumpy accountant who was intent on being excused for hardship. The man had claimed clients couldn't do without him for a week's trial, which was how long the judge estimated the proceeding would take considering the witness list, which was mostly the plaintiff attorney's list. Judge Davidson was merciless as he told the gentleman what he thought of his sense of civic responsibility but then dismissed him. A replacement was called and sworn and the process continued.
Thanks to Alexis's personal generosity, which Craig attributed primarily to her maturity and secondarily to her training as a psychologist, things had gone reasonably well at home over the last eight months. Craig knew it could have been intolerable if Alexis had chosen to behave as he probably would have if the situation had been reversed. From his current vantage point, Craig was able to view his so-called "awakening" as a juvenile attempt to be someone he wasn't. He was born to be a doctor, which was an encompassing calling, and not a Brahmin socialite. In fact, he'd been given his first doctor kit by his doting mother when he was four, and he could remember administering to his mother and older brother with a precocious seriousness that foreshadowed his clinical talent. Although in college and even the first years of medical school he'd felt his calling was basic medical research, he would later realize he had an inherent gift for clinical diagnosis, which impressed his superiors, and thereby pleased him as well. By the time he graduated from medical school, he knew he was to be a clinician with an interest in research, not vice versa.
Although Alexis and his two younger daughters – Meghan, eleven, and Christina, ten – had been forgiving and seemingly understanding, Tracy had been another story. At age fifteen and in the throes of adolescence, she had been overtly and persistently unable to forgive Craig for abandoning the family for six months. Perhaps associated, there had been some unfortunate episodes of rebelliousness with disturbing drug use, open violation of curfews, and even sneaking out of the house at night. Alexis was concerned, but since she had an open communication with the girl, she was reasonably confident that Tracy would come around. Alexis urged Craig not to interfere under the circumstances. Craig was happy to oblige, since he would have had no idea how to handle the situation under the best of circumstances and was intellectually and emotionally preoccupied with his own disaster.
Judge Davidson struck two potential jurors for cause. One was openly hostile to insurance companies and thought they were ripping off the country: ergo sayonara. Another had a cousin who'd been in Craig's former practice and had heard Craig was a wonderful doctor. Several other juror prospects were dismissed when the counselors began using some of their peremptory challenges, including a well-dressed businessman by Tony and a young African-American male dressed in elaborate hip-hop gear by Randolph. Four more veniremen were called from the jury pool and sworn. The questions continued.
Having to deal with Tracy 's resentment had hurt Craig, but it was nothing compared to the problems he had with Leona. As the spurned lover, she became vindictive, especially when she found herself having to find another apartment. Her poor attitude disrupted the office, and Craig was caught between a rock and a hard place. He couldn't fire her for fear of a sexual discrimination suit on top of his malpractice problem, so he had to deal with her as best as he could. Why she didn't quit on her own, he had no idea, since it was open warfare between her and the duo Marlene and Darlene. Every day there was a new crisis with both Marlene and Darlene threatening to quit. But Craig couldn't let them, since he needed them more than ever. As handicapped as he was emotionally and physically from the lawsuit, he found practicing medicine almost impossible. He couldn't concentrate, and he saw every patient as a potential litigant. Almost from the day he'd been served, he suffered recurrent bouts of anxiety, which aggravated his hypervigilant digestive system, causing heartburn and diarrhea. Compounding everything was the insomnia, forcing him to use sleeping pills and making him feel sodden instead of refreshed when he awoke. All in all, he was a mess. The only good part was that he didn't regain the weight he had lost from going to the gym, thanks to his lack of appetite. On the other hand, he did regain his previously sallow, pudgy face, which was now made worse by sunken eyes lined with dark circles.
As baneful as Leona's behavior was in the office in terms of complicating Craig's life, it was trumped by her effect on the malpractice suit. The first hint of trouble occurred when she appeared on Tony Fasano's witness list. How bad it was going to prove to be became evident at her deposition, which was a painful affair for Craig, as he was forced to witness the depth of her resentment, ultimately humiliating him with her scoffing description of his lack of male prowess.
Prior to the deposition, Craig had confessed to Randolph the details of his affair with Leona so Randolph would know what to expect and what questions to ask. He'd also warned how irresponsibly talkative he'd been about his feelings toward the deceased the night he'd been served, but he might as well have saved his breath. Whether it was from spite or just a good memory, Leona had recalled most everything Craig had said about Patience Stanhope, including his hating the woman, calling her an entitled hypochrondriacal bitch, and his assertion that her passing was a blessing for everyone. After such revelations, even Randolph 's perennial optimism about the suit's ultimate outcome had taken a serious hit. When he and Craig left Fasano's second-floor office on Hanover Street in Boston 's North End, Randolph was even more taciturn and constrained than usual.
"She's not going to help my case, is she?" Craig had asked, vainly hoping that his fears were unfounded.
"I hope this is the only surprise you have for me," Randolph had answered. "Your glibness has succeeded in making this an uphill struggle. Please reassure me you haven't spoken in a similar regrettable fashion to anyone else."
"I haven't."
"Thank God!"
As they had climbed into Randolph 's waiting car, Craig had acknowledged to himself that he despised Randolph 's superior attitude, although later he came to understand that what he hated was the dependency that bound him to the lawyer. Craig had always been his own man, struggling singlehandedly against the obstacles he'd faced, until now. Now he couldn't do it alone. He needed Randolph, and as a consequence, Craig's feelings toward the defense attorney went back and forth during the pre-trial months, depending on how the affair unfolded.