As soon as she got home, Mairin knocked on Linda’s door. "Cocktail hour," she said as the door opened.

"Your place or mine?" asked Linda.

"Either," said Mairin. "I’ve got bourbon and gin."

"Yours," said Linda. "I’ve only got cheap white wine."

They sat in Mairin’s kitchen. She was pouring bourbon on the rocks when she stopped completely. "You know, I don’t really need this drink. I am high on talk. I do not believe it."

"Ah, your conference."

"Yes. I told you Michael Morgan and I were cut from the same piece of cloth."

"Watch it, Pol. You really like him. And a teacher plays a mentor role, too. You could really get yourself hooked."

"Oh, no. The most I’d allow myself is a flirtation. You know, I need a flirtation. Do you know how long it’s been since I picked out some clothes with an eye to how a male would react to them?"

"Well, you go out often enough. It can’t have been that long."

"Okay, so I’ve gone out recently. But the thing is that I didn’t care."

"You haven’t really cared since Charlie, have you?" Linda’s tone was much softer. "So maybe a flirtation isn’t bad."

"Law school’s been great for getting over Charlie. Work, work and more work."

"Which is what it was advertised to be, right?"

"For sure. I guess I wanted that for two reasons. First of all, I knew that being busy all of the time would help me forget Charlie, and, second, I wanted it to be a challenge. Social work school was so easy that I’m not proud of the degree. I want law school to be hard so that I can be proud of the degree."
 
 

"Do you think that you make it hard? Is it really that hard?"

"Yes, it’s really hard. Maybe once in awhile I trick myself into thinking it’s harder than it is, but on the whole, it is hard. Tonight I have to do the reading I didn’t get done this afternoon while I was talking to Morgan."
 
 
 
 

Mairin did read until late that evening, back in bluejeans and pullover. She wasn’t concentrating well. Not only had the bourbon slowed her down, but also, thoughts of Michael Morgan kept intruding. I was high 'way before the bourbon, she thought. A flirtation, that’s what I need.

That carried Mairin the next few months. She just enjoyed sitting in Michael’s class. She’d looked up his address and had driven by his house. But that was all she’d done. The serious side of Mairin Farrar would never let the lighthearted side get too light-headed. She just figured that she could enjoy her reactions to Michael Morgan. She’d said to Linda, "For heaven’s sakes, it really isn’t even a flirtation. A flirtation involves two people. What I’ve got is a crush, and it makes law school bearable."

"Do you want to hear my psychological theories about older men and younger women?" asked Linda.

"Not in the least," said Mairin.
 
 

The routine persisted. And then the second quarter was ending, and it was time for the first real exam, which would be torts. The course was worth seven hours of credit, and a three hour exam would determine the grade for those seven hours.

The study group called a serious meeting. This time it was at Laurie’s house. She’d hired a babysitter to keep the kids upstairs, out of everyone’s hair. She’d made popcorn and cookies, and there were plenty of soft drinks. The women had decided to structure their study around copies of old exams that Mariann had made in the library. They went over the questions, spotting the issues.

There were groans of "I missed that," or admiring "Good points!"

"This class has been so much fun," said Laurie. "I’m going to miss it."
 
 

"Yes," said Karen. "Morgan is really a good teacher. I figure you’re either born a good teacher or you can forget it."

"Well, the old pro can forget it," said Mariann.

"Who?" asked Mairin.

"Old Pro, our civil procedure prof."

"That’s good," said Mairin. Civil procedure had replaced legal history as the dead weight for the second and third quarters. "I’ve been working out a civil procedure blues on the guitar."

"Fantastic! We'll hear it when we meet at your house," said Karen. "The only problem is that civil pro is important. It is," she reiterated to the groans.

"Come on guys," said Mariann. "We’ve got to get this done."

"Guys. You’ve been listening to Morgan too long," said Mairin.

"Isn’t that awful?" asked Laurie. "But at least he doesn’t call us ‘honey.’ Hanson actually called me ‘honey’ once."

"I hear he’s all hands," said Karen.

"Hanson?" Mairin laughed in surprise.

"No joke," said Karen. "One of the third years said it can really get cozy in his office if you go for a conference."

"I think I’ll skip that," said Laurie.

"Guys," said Mariann, "we’ve got one more test to go."

"Guys," said Mairin, "let’s treat ourselves to a party at my place when this is over." Everybody approved, and Mairin proposed the Saturday following the exam. All of a sudden everybody was talking about what food they’d bring.

"Guys" said Mariann, "please. We’ve got to get this done: The test is in two days."

"Yeah," they said, and they got down to work. It was this ability to discipline themselves that made each of them able to work at serious jobs and study law at night and on the weekends.

After the study session Mairin stopped trying to study. Her pattern as a student had always been that as a test grew very close, she was almost too nervous to study effectively. Time spent was wasted. As an undergrad, she had always had papers ready at least two days before they had to be handed in. One of the evenings before torts she had a friend over for dinner; the next evening she went to a movie.

Then she was taking the test. All she wanted to do was to get out of the room. Yet she made herself slow down. She read the questions at least twice; she outlined her answers, and she wrote carefully. She re-read the exam, turned it in, and bolted from the room. She went straight home, the group having decided that it would do its partying at her house the next weekend. But she stopped off at Linda’s for a glass of wine.

"So," said Linda, "how do you feel?"

"Tired," said Mairin. "Really tired. But most of all, I’m going to miss Michael Morgan. Maybe if I screw up on the test I can take his course again."

"Phooey," said Linda. "Enough flirtation. How about going out with Evan?" Evan was a law student who appeared interested in Mairin. As Mairin relayed it to Linda, he was cute, tall, bright, and worked in a photography business.

"I don’t have the time for a real involvement," said Mairin, which was the truth.
 
 
 
 

Party Saturday was on the free weekend between winter and spring quarters. Mairin was really excited. "I do not have to study today," she said out loud as she was eating breakfast. "No more torts, no contracts right now, no civil pro." The morning she had set aside to clean. She was basically a neat person, but the regimen of study hadn’t let her get at the dust. Everything’s neat, she thought, it’s just that it’s buried in dust. She worked from the kitchen out. While the kitchen floor was drying from an honest-to-goodness scrubbing, she cleaned the dining room and living room. Her bedroom could wait; nobody would see that. The bathroom needed scrubbing and got a partial job.

"I like housework:" said Mairin out loud again. "It’s such a change. I can see what I’ve done."

She went out in the early afternoon to buy some things. She’d planned to make homemade pizza. Laurie would bring a huge salad. Karen was buying wine, and Mariann was bringing a dessert. Catherine had said she’d bring an appetizer. Before she went into the grocery store, Mairin wandered down the street, into the bookstore and then the record store. I miss this, she thought. She looked at her watch and realized that forty-five minutes had gone by.

She went to the grocery store. She took time, She wandered up and down the aisles, comparing prices, picking up new items to examine. She usually shopped in half an hour. Today at least an hour had disappeared.

She went home and began making the pizza dough, which she then left to rise. She set the table in the dining room. New candles, pretty place mats. She stopped, realizing that the wine glasses were filthy; they’d have to be washed. The table looked lovely, the dough was still rising. Mairin went into her room, fell upon the bed, and pulled her patchwork quilt up over her head.

This was what she really missed. Naps. As she drifted off to sleep, warm and comfortable, she imagined a conversation. "I had the greatest time in bed today."

"With whom, may I ask?"

"I was all alone. I took a nap."

She giggled and fell asleep. She woke up two hours later. She ran to the kitchen, rolled out the dough, arranged the topping on the crusts, put the pizzas in the oven, hurried into the shower and washed her hair. It was barely dry, and she was barely dressed when the doorbell rang.

It was Karen with two huge bottles of wine, one red and one white. "Great:" said Mairin.

"Let’s begin," said Karen.

Mairin handed her a corkscrew, and Karen went to work on the bottle of red wine, saying, "I’ve been waiting for this.

"I need to unwind. I’ve been worried about how I did. By the way, the pizza smells terrific. You really made it yourself?"

"Absolutely. Yes, I’ve been worried too, but tonight I don’t care." They sat in the living room, sipping wine until everybody had arrived. By then the pizza was done, everybody was starved, and they rushed for the table. It was bedlam. They were all talking at once. "We’re done!" "We don’t have to study for a week!" "I took a nap this afternoon, a nap! " "What’s that word?" "Nap." "Don’t know it." "It’s not in Black’s Law Dictionary." "That’s for sure."

They were laughing and talking. They kept right on drinking and talking until everything in the dining room was eaten. They adjourned to the living room and drank and talked some more. "This is such a luxury," Catherine said.

"What?"

"Relaxing. Do you know how long it’s been since I sat down after dinner?"

"Why are we doing this?" asked Mairin. "Going to law school, I mean."

"Because it feels so good when you stop," shrieked Catherine. They all fell apart again, but Mairin was persistent. "Why?" she asked again.

Mariann was serious. "It sure pays better than the insurance company."

"Catherine?"

"I’m going into business."

"Karen?"

"I’m going to stay with the bank. It’ll give me a lead."

"Laurie?"

"I don’t know. "How about you, Mairin?"

"Challenge, I guess, but I think I’ve had enough. I’ll see when the grades come out."

"You could wait a long time for that," said Mariann, "based upon the time it took those practice exams to come back."

"Isn't there any academic regulation about it?" Catherine looked indignant.

"Sure," said Karen, "but who cares?"

"Not I," said Mairin, "I can wait forever."
 
 
 
 

She got up very slowly the next morning. Her head hurt, though considering the amount she’d drunk, she felt amazingly well. She looked at the apartment. "I just cleaned this yesterday," she moaned. "It’s all clutter, just clutter, no dirt, clean clutter." She put on a blues record and began wandering around, in slow motion, clearing and stacking dishes. She filled the sink with an immense amount of soapy water. She washed the dishes, taking her time, listening to the blues, feeling that she had all day. "I really like taking care of this apartment," she said out loud. She frowned. She knew that she was in for a showdown with her bank book. She’d tried to economize on other things, but the apartment was simply too expensive for one person. Later for that, she thought.

No sooner were the dishes done than she went back into the bedroom, wrapped herself in the quilt and fell sound asleep. She woke up hours later, still tired, and lay still for a long time. She’d made a date to have dinner out with Linda.

They went to a small place near the apartment. Mairin ordered a steak with onion rings. "We went Italian last night," she said by way of explanation.

"I take it the party went okay."

"It was great," Mairin said, sipping a gimlet. "We needed that so much. We ate as though it was the Last Supper; we talked and argued and laughed. We drank a hell of a lot, too. I need this gimlet like the proverbial hole in the head."

"What’s next?" asked Linda.

"Spring quarter," said Mairin. "Contracts, civil pro, criminal law, I think. Big trauma at exam time, for sure. Nine hours of contracts, eight hours of civil pro, and three hours of criminal law. Twenty hours worth of grades in three days. God. You need any clinical practice for your psych degree?"

Linda laughed. "I should specialize in law student counseling."

"No joke," said Mairin. "It should be a worthy specialty. Come the end of May, we'll be filling the mental hospitals."

"Worry about that later. Enjoy tonight for the break that it is."