“The second time won’t be any worse.”
“It’s going to be much worse,” I reply quickly.
“I don’t have any choice but to try to bring out in court the relationship with her history professor. Right now, it’s just a rumor among a few sorority girls in Fayetteville. If this goes any further, it will be discussed in every house in the state.”
Mrs. Perry’s face flushes crimson.
“He seduced her. I grant you that he isn’t any higher on the human scale than your client. But let me tell you something about my daughter, Mr. Page. She’s not afraid of anything.”
“People underestimate Robin,” Gerald Perry adds, feeling he needs to support his wife.
“They assume that because she’s beautiful she doesn’t have a backbone.
They find out real quick they’re wrong.”
The only way to endure this chair is to sit up straight, and I’m not capable of it. I lean forward with my hands on my knees.
“I know she’ll make an excellent witness,” I say, focusing on Gerald Perry.
“I heard her testify at the university disciplinary hearing. But Joe Hofstra will be fighting for his job. You can bet that he’s going to tell an entirely different story than Robin does about their relationship.”
For the first time Mrs. Perry seems uneasy. Her eyes begin to flutter.
“Robin has told us everything,” she counters.
“You can imagine what kind of picture he will paint of your daughter, Mrs. Perry,” I say, deciding I have to meet her head on.
“He’ll say that Robin started showing up in his office, and though he tried to keep it on a professor student basis, she wouldn’t leave him alone. You can bet the farm that he’ll say and do whatever is necessary to keep it from appearing that he sexually harassed her. Has he contacted you or your daughter?”
“That’s none of your business,” she says, her face reddening.
Mr. Perry is listening. He begins to press the bridge of his broad nose as if what I am saying is finally getting through. He may not be smarter than his wife, but he isn’t slobbering like an attack dog either. If Robin had innerited his looks, we probably wouldn’t be here now.
“The press would write about this anyway if Robin doesn’t go through with it,” he says, but his voice is tentative.
“Reporters won’t know the reason unless Robin tells them,” I say, my eyes on Mrs. Perry’s face.
“Hofstra certainly isn’t going to respond to questions, and they won’t report any gossip for fear of a libel suit.” Blanche Perry seems about to burst, and I speak as fast as I can. I want her husband to hear me even if she doesn’t.
“Assume this goes to trial, and the judge allows evidence of your daughter’s affair with her professor. If we were in a more liberal state, perhaps the prosecutor could get away with characterizing both Dade and Hofstra as rapists who differ only in degree, but even in a best-case scenario for you, what people will remember here twenty years later is your daughter was carrying on with her professor, and somehow got raped by a black football player as a consequence. I know how cruel and unfair that is, but you have to think about the future.”
Gerald Perry is so quiet that I know he has to be thinking about what I have said, but as soon as I have finished, Blanche Perry explodes.
“Get out of my house!” she shouts.
“What gall you have coming here and telling us what people will think in twenty years. I wouldn’t let my daughter give in to somebody like you in a million years.
That nigger you represent is scum, and you’re even worse. My daughter has held up her head, and she’s not about to start hiding now. Now get out!”
Her face is terrible, her features twisted by hatred and rage. I scramble to my feet and head for the door, afraid she might actually try to attack me. I manage to keep my mouth shut, conscious that Gerald is not echoing his wife’s sentiments. I resent the hell out of his wife’s behavior but it won’t do any good to say anything now. As I reach the foyer, I see Robin, who has appeared, obviously in response to her mother’s outburst. Dressed to go out in dark slacks and a white frilly blouse, she has a frightened look on her face. I have no idea whether or not she has been listening the entire time. If her mother can lose it this badly, perhaps on crossexamination Robin will, too. I go through the two doors as quickly as possible, hoping to avoid any further confrontation, and don’t look back until I reach the Blazer. From the door Gerald holds up my briefcase and trots out to the curb with it.
Wordlessly, he hands it to me, but for a fleeting second, I detect the slightest sign of an apology as his eyes meet mine in recognition. Though I have incensed his wife, he does not hate me for what I have done.
I take the briefcase and through the window murmur, “Thanks,” knowing his wife and daughter are at the door watching this final moment of what has turned into a humiliating debacle. He nods, and I pull away slowly, hoping to retain some of my dignity. I begin to settle down by the time I get on the interstate. I am soaked in sweat. I must have been out of my mind to think that I could talk them out of going to court. I can imagine the stories that will make their way back to Fayetteville. Page was in Texarkana trying to intimidate the family and they kicked his ass out. I wonder if I have done anything unethical.
The last thing I need to do is lose my license over this. I get off the interstate in Arkadelphia and order a chocolate milkshake from the drive-through at McDonald’s. I’m glad Sarah wasn’t along. She would have been appalled by what happened. The girl who hands me my change can’t be more than sixteen. She smiles as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. I wish I could trade places with her.
I get back home around eight-thirty to find Woogie hiding in Sarah’s old room and discover he has pissed on the rug in the living room. Poor guy. He couldn’t hold it.
This is the third time in the last month. His bladder is in no better shape than his master’s. He can’t stand being cooped up in the backyard, howling day and night. I have spoiled him beyond belief and now I’m paying for it. I let him outside, and he doesn’t make it out of the yard before he is squatting. He trots back in, thoroughly hacked at me.
“My fault, boy,” I tell him as he watches from the door that leads into the kitchen as I clean up. My eyes water and I start to gag. If I get disbarred, I don’t think I’ll become a nurse.
Christmas morning I receive a call from Gordon Dyson, who tells me that he will put his wife on a plane for New Zealand in two days. Flabbergasted that a client would call me at my home on Christmas, I rack my brain, and it finally comes to me that Dyson is the ex-cop who wants to evict his son. Irritated, I ask, “Couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow?”
Dyson whispers into the phone, “I’m sorry, but this is the only present I’m getting that I’ve ever wanted, and it didn’t seem real unless I called you.”
Good God in heaven! What people will do to make themselves happy on Christmas.
“It’s okay,” I say, managing to remember our plan.
“I’ll prepare a power of attorney for your wife to sign tomorrow morning. You can drop by and pick it up from my secretary and then bring it back after she leaves. We’ll file an unlawful detainer action immediately.”
“If this works,” he says fervently, “I’ll install a security system in your house for free in addition to paying your fee.”
I look around the living room. Most of the furniture is so ratty I couldn’t pay a thief to carry anything off.
“That’d be great.”
After giving me his wife’s name (Dora Lou), Dyson begins to tell me about how his son set a new personal record by sleeping until two in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. Fortunately, we are interrupted by the doorbell, and even though Sarah could get it, I take this opportunity to tell Mr. Dyson good-bye.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Amy says merrily as I let her in the door the same time as Woogie scampers past me into the yard.