The next week Michael called Mairin."We’re getting this case on the road. I’ll be taking depositions of the board members. I’d really like to have you involved."

"Lord knows I’d like to be," said Mairin. "Time is the only consideration."

"Could you come down with Sandra next week some evening? We’ll need to plan strategy for the depos."

"Thursday is my only free evening that week,"

"Okay, fine."

Something was occurring to Mairin. "I don’t know why the agency can’t pick up part of the time," she said. "Sandra’s not really part of my caseload, but it is a blindness problem. Why don’t I come down in the later afternoon? That way part of the time will come out of my workday and part will come out of my free time."

"That sounds fair to me. How about four o’clock?"
 
 
 
 

The two arrived on the appointed Thursday. Michael greeted them waving a legal pad. "We’ve got lots to do," he said. "The president of the board, Mrs. Ewing. I take it she’s an enemy?"

"Yes," said Sandra. "She’s part of the clique, though not my most devoted enemy." She smiled. "The chief enemy is Barbara Gill. I don’t think she’s ever been comfortable with me. And then there’s Ursula Stewart, Mary Bonham and Evelyn Reid. That’s about it." She paused. "That’s about enough, isn’t it?"

"It seems to have been," said Michael. "Well, whom shall we do first? Perhaps Mrs. Ewing as President?"

"That would be appropriate," said Sandra.

"Tell us about her."

Sandra put on a seventh-inning stretch and then settled back into her chair. "Sally Ewing. Very prominent socially. I don’t really know why she’s interested in Evergreen House. She probably just needed to pick a charity when she went through Junior League. She’ s about fifty now, I’d guess." She looked inquiringly at Mairin.

"Probably about that," Mairin said. "She’s very attractive--salt and pepper hair. Looks like she exercises two or three times a day. Well-dressed."

"She calls me ‘dear’," said Sandra. "Even if I didn’t know her by the tone of her voice, I’d know her by her choice of words. She seems to be especially concerned that some dreadful but unnamed catastrophe is going to befall the residents. One day I was busy helping Anita Allen bandage a minor wound when she arrived. Now Anita tends to whine, and she was whining. We’d already washed it out, but Sally barged in and did it all over again. And if you don’t think Anita whined then!

‘It’s fine, Mrs. Ewing,’ I said. ‘I’ve already checked it out.’ She didn’t say anything at the time, but she’s used it as an example.

"How so?" Michael had been listening intently.

"When the ladies had their little talk with me, she used that as an example of how I couldn’t adequately supervise the girls. ‘Dear,’ she said, ‘you couldn’t see the cut.’ I told her I didn’t need to."

"This little talk the ladies had with you. . . were all five involved?"

‘Yes. They told me that they wanted to talk with me. I invited them over for tea. That incident was brought up. I said that I was certain the wound was properly cleaned, that it if hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have bandaged it, that I would have called the doctor. I asked Sally what was wrong. She said the wound was still dirty." Sandra sounded angry. "I shut up at that point. It was clear that to go on would have been to call her a liar."

At sbout six-thirty, Michael asked if anyone was hungry.

"I am," said Sandra, "and a friend is going to pick me up for dinner. He’s only a block or so away. I told him I'd give him a call when we were through."

"I’m used to eating late, after class," said Mairin, "so work it out as you wish."

"Let’s just go over a few questions, and then we’ll quit. Go ahead and call your fellow, Sandra."

When Logan arrived. Sandra introduced him to Michael and Mairin, then left.

"Nice-looking guy," said Michael, settling back in his chair.

"Yes, he is. They’ve been going together for a couple of years now I understand."

"What does he do?"

"Oh, he's in business, some kind of management."

"He’s not put off about her blindness." Michael made it a statement.

"No. Lots of guys are. Then there are the strange types who seem to be attracted to handicaps."

"Really?" Michael looked surprised.

"Oh, I don’t mean they’re necessarily kinky, but they just seem to be attracted to handicaps. Pity maybe. I don’t know. But Logan’s not one of those."

"Well, I’m hungry. Would you like to have dinner with me?"

"Sure."
 
 

Michael took Po]ly to a nice, small restaurant. He ordered cocktails for the two of them. "You deserve to eat well," he said. "I’m aware that you’re spending time above and beyond, etc., etc., etc."

They had a leisurely supper, talking about the case. It wasn’t until after the meal that Michael broached a subject that had been waiting. "Mairin, the other day you talked about givers and takers. I’d like to hear a little more about that."

"Why?"

"Self-therapy, maybe," he smiled. "Perhpas I recognized myself in the mirror. Or at least it’s fair to say that I recognized Harriet. She came through loud and clear as the giver."

"Most women do."

"Why?"

"I really don’t know. It could be something inborn, though that’s always a flimsy argument. Whether it’s inborn or not, it’s certainly furthered by society. Little girls are taught to be attentive to others. When you’ve become sensitive to others, you stop putting yourself first."

"Probably a helpful quality in dealing with kids," Michael mused.

"Until they get to be five or six," said Mairin, in a slightly acid tone. "Then they should be taught to consider Mama’s feelings."

"Guess we didn’t do that."

"Who didn’t?"

"Myself. My kids. We all took Harriet for granted. She gave us so much, and, boy, did we grab with both hands. Then she suddenly looked around and said, ‘Hey, I want something for me, too. "

"She should have gone into business," said PoUy. "All she’s going to get in social work is more giving."

"But she'll get paid for it, won’t she?"

"A pittance. But I’m exposing my own prejudices. I’m sorry my view is so clouded, but it is. To be as fair as I can, let’s say that the pay in social work is probably comparable to that in other service professions. It’s funny. I gripe about the low pay, but that’s kind of because I’m expected to. I really am not studying law because law pays well. In fact, I think it’s barbaric that it does pay so well. But, back to Harriet, I imagine it will be a real boon to her to have her own money. It will do good things for her self-esteem."

"I guess it would be hard taking money from somebody else. I can see women’s feelings about that."

"And if she’s good at social work, she’ll have that to be proud of, too."

"I imagine that she’ll be good-- if givers are good."

"They are. You’re supposed to keep it under control, but that’s hard. I can’t do it. I try to be too many things to too many people."

"How do you get to be a giver?"

"Are you kidding?" Mairin was laughing. Then she realized that Michael appeared to be serious. "What are you really asking?"

"I’d like Harriet to come back. But I don’t suppose that’s possible unless I change."

"Is that what she’s said?"

"More or less. She doesn’t want a divorce. I don’t want a divorce. But she doesn’t want to come back. To come back to the same situation, I guess, is a more accurate way to say it."

"Maybe you should try counseling."

Michael shrugged impatiently. "I know what the problem is," he said abruptly. "Let’s go. It’s late."

He walked her to her car. "Sorry to burden you with my life, Mair," he said.

"No problem," she said, turning on the ignition.

"We’ll get Sally Ewing’s depo a week from Saturday."

She waved as she drove off. All the way home she mused about carrying other people’s burdens. I must invite it, she thought. People tell me their problems as readily as they would talk about the weather. In an airplane a few winters ago, travelling to Seattle, she’d been seated next to a middle-aged gentleman. He told her how he’d suddenly begun to insist that everything be clean, how he’d wash his hands over and over. "I can’t even get on an airplane without having a case history sit next to me," she’d told Linda. She knew, however, that one of the reasons she’d chosen social work was that she liked--or had liked--to have people turn to her.
 
 
 
 
 
 

On the Friday before the deposition, Mairin had a long day planned, ending with a tax class. She had to take tax because it was a bar subject. Not that she'd ever take a tax case, she thought, figuring that it would be malpractice on its face for her to try. It was a beautiful day--the very last of fall, with winter in the immediate future behind the sun in the sky. As she drove to school, Mairin did a mental check and realized that with time out for the depo, she’d never get the weekend’s reading done.

She turned the car around. Traffic was vile. It always was on Friday. She imagined that people still went out on Friday nights--dates, singles bars. The plan that the women had made for a routine Friday evening out just wasn’t working. There never seemed to be a date that they all had free for socializing. For study sessions they seemed to be able to find time, but for fun. . . . She pulled into the apartment lot and went upstairs. Bea and Harry were sitting on the sofa in the living room, talking lazily over highballs.

"Mairin!" said Bea, surprised,"don’t you have a class?"

"Yes, I do," said Mairin, "but I was so damned worn out that I couldn’t stand three hours of that fool Connor letting the CPAs run the class." She laughed. "Did I tell you about the guy who does crossword puzzles in class? A CPA for sure. I asked him. There ought to be a special section for those people so they can compete with each other and let the rest of us fend for ourselves."

"Sit down," said Harry, "I’ll make you a drink. It’ll do you good to relax for an evening."

"Don’t make the highball too strong, Harry, I have to study tonight." This was as good a way as any to bring up the subject of the deposition.

Harry looked quizzical. He knew Mairin’s study patterns, and he knew that they did not normally include evening sessions.

Mairin caught Harry’s look. "Tomorrow is that deposition in Sandra’s case. The board president. It’ll probably last all afternoon. It would have been impossible to get all the work done in the morning. It’s probably just as well that I cut tonight."

"I think you’re spending too much time on this case," said Harry as he handed her a large glass of gingerale with a small amount of bourbon in it. "Morgan’s getting paid for it, not you."

"Not in money, no," said Mairin, stretching out her legs. "But look at what I’m learning, and I can really be some emotional support to Sandra. This is rough on her. I’ve gotten to like her."

"Michael’s being paid to hold her hand. I think you should only go to work on this case when you’re caught up with studying."

Mairin laughed. "My, you do set impossible standards. Really, Harry, I’m learning far more than I would sitting in the classroom reading about discovery in civil procedure."

"Maybe," said Harry. They let the subject drop and talked of less explosive matters, had a leisurely supper. Then Mairin brewed a big pot of tea and disappeared.