By the time Mairin moved in, it was July. It had been no trouble to find some students to sublet the apartment, and she wouldn’t have to store the furniture. She was taking one summer school course, domestic relations, and catching up on cases she neglected on the job.

She had a ritual every time she went to the school for class. She’d go first to the big bulletin board in the lower hall. Aside from the official posting board, a large board on wheels had appeared to hold the grades. Her class only met one evening a week, for three hours, and every time she saw that no contracts grades were up, she felt a tremendous sense of relief.

And then, one day, they were there. She was early for class, but she could see long sheets of paper new to the board. They had to be contracts grades. Everything else that would have that many names had already been posted. Criminal law, civil procedure. She’d done well in both. Now, however, she could barely manage to walk over to the board without collapsing. Her legs were weak, and her heart was out of control.

The grades were posted by Social Security numbers. She found hers, prayed, and scanned to the right. B. She backed up, going through the procedure again. She felt a relief that she had not known was possible short of being taken off death row. She was still standing there, almost in shock, when Karen came in.

"My God, they’re out!" She ran over, ran her finger down the list. "I made it! I got a B!"

"So did I!" They grabbed one another. They screamed.

"I’m too lightheaded to sit through class," said Mairin.

"Let’s treat ourselves," said Karen. "A real dinner, not a hamburger. And a few drinks."

"Of course," said Mairin. Others were beginning to come in. They turned and ran, never even having looked to see whether anyone had not made it.
 
 

As it turned out, a few had not. The year had had some casualties--some earned, some not. Rick had dropped out at the end of the second quarter. His grades had been okay, but he kept having to work overtime. "I can’t refuse," he’d told Mairin. "This is a good job, and I can use the extra money." He had two small kids. "Maybe next year."

"Can’t your boss give you a break for a few years?"

"Why should he? He knows that if I get a law degree I’ll leave. Not the company, probably, but his division. I’ll try to work out a transfer to one of the other divisions. The legal department, maybe."

Catharine, too. She’d said she wanted to go into business, but one day she married one of her two males and disappeared. And there were a few others that Mairin hadn’t known that well. Some had just not kept up with the work, and a few weren’t good students.

Summer school ended. Mairin went to New Mexico. After her return, she had only a few weeks before school began again. "Okay," she said to Harry, "I’m going to take one afternoon off each week for court. Let me know what’s on."

The first week it was Wednesday. Harry was hearing a personal injury case where there had been a spectacular car crash. Mairin got to the courthouse early and wandered slowly through the halls. It was elegant beyond belief, especially to someone whose tastes followed the spare lines of modern. It seemed as though every surface was either marble or paint--either mural or gilt. The scale of the building was so huge that the people seemed like dolls.

"Can I just walk into your courtroom?" Mairin asked.

Harry had laughed. "Sure, hon. We have public trials in this country. No Star Chamber."

So she walked in, somewhat timidly, at the door that said "Common Pleas Court, Judge Harry Warncke presiding." She sat at the back of the courtroom and watched as it began to fill up a bit. Harry had said that the hangers-on were watching this one. Then people began to take their places at the trial table, defendants on the left-hand side, plaintiffs on the right. That doesn’t make sense, Mairin thought. We read from left to right. The plaintiff brings the case. He should be at the left. The defendant is right until shown otherwise, criminal or civil. He should sit at the right.

And then the bailiff came in. "Hear ye, hear ye, this Honorable Court is now in session. Please rise."

Mairin stood and watched as Harry, in black robes, came in. "You may be seated," he said. He did look grand, she thought. Distinguished. She watched the case with some interest. Harry had primed her on what would occur that afternoon. If she had not known what had gone before, the slice that she saw from 1:30 to 4:30 would not have made sense. She was hearing two expert witnesses for the plaintiff, experts in accident reconstruction.

When the court recessed at 4:30, Harry sent Jeremy Wade, his law clerk, out to get Mairin. He took her to Harry’s chambers. "What did you think?" Harry asked.

"Interesting," she said. "It certainly takes concentration though, to follow the testimony. One of the jurors looked as though he were asleep."

"I’ve been watching him" said Harry. "Second row, third chair? I may decide to ask him a few questions sua sponte, to see if he really is sleeping.

"Sua sponte?"

"On my own motion. On the court’s own motion."

"You can do that?"

"Sure. What did you think of the two lawyers?"

"They’re both good."

"Yes. This is one of those even contests we were talking about." He got up. "I’m going to meet Bill Hunting for a conference." He grinned. "Jeremy Wade wants to meet you. Follow me." He led the way into the outer office where Jeremy and Frank, his bailiff, had desks.

"Here she is, Jeremy," he said and disappeared.

"Hi," said Jeremy Wade, extending his right hand. "I told the Judge that I’d love to buy you a drink. He says it’s okay."

"If he says so," Mairin smiled. "Since school doesn’t start until the week after next, I can indulge."

They walked acroes the street to the bar beside the law school, where all the students came, some for a sandwich before class, all of them for relaxation after finals. "You go to school here." Jeremy made a statement.

"Yes." said Mairin. "Harry told me you went to Columbia."

"That’s right. I don’t know how the hell you do it, going nights."

"I don’t either," Mairin said. She smiled again, grinned actually. "It’s Like the old joke. You feel so good when you stop."

"I can believe it," he said. "Harry says you work damned hard."

"I’m pretty structured--not to say compulsive, you understand. That’s what does it."

"Harry says you’re staying with them this year."

"Yes. Bea is a godsend. It’s like there is a god who said to Bea, ‘Be a mother to Mairin Farrar.’ And Bea heard him, and it was good."

"She’s really nice, isn’t she? She drops in once in awhile. I know she volunteers at the agency."

"She is nice. And caring. We in the casework department rely on her perception of clients alot. She knows who’s hostile, who’s scared, and who’s comfortable."

Jeremy smiled. He was good-looking in a quiet kind of way. Tall. Dressed in an entirely businesslike suit. "What’s it like," Mairin asked, "working for Harry?"

"Fun, really. He’s not the kind of judge who’d read Blackstone’s Commentaries. That’s my job. But he’s fair, in a really learned way. He’s been around. He’s learned in the streets. Justice comes out that way. I don’t know if you follow me, but I think he’s a good judge."

"I think I know what you mean," Mairin said. "He’s not scholarly, but he’s in tune with people and their motivations --good and poor."

"That’s it," said Jeremy.

The next week, on a Tuesday, she found herself in Bill Hunting’s courtroom watching part of a contested divorce case. Harry hadn’t had anything going on, but he’d checked around. It was an interesting case. Mairin said to Harry later that she wished law school included afternoons watching cases in court.

"It should," said Harry.

"Even Harvard doesn’t," said Mairin.

"That’s not to say it shouldn’t."

"I know," said Mairin. "It’s funny. I’ve heard the criticism that the night school is too practical, not theoretical enough. But it’s not that practical. It’s not theoretical, and it’s not practical either."

Harry hadn’t really responded to that. "Next week you start again."

"Yes, but we’re having a big party this weekend. That’ll be our celebration."

"Who’s having a party?"

"We women."

"Bringing dates?"

"No. We’re interesting by ourselves alone."

"I thought maybe you’d take Jeremy."

"It’s not that sort of party."

"I think he likes you."

"He’s nice. We had a good evening last weekend, but I tried to tell him that I’m not dating during school."

"Do you truly think he’ll believe that?"

"He’d truly better. I don’t need any entanglements."

"I know that’s true, Mair, but it’s a lot easier said than done."

"Don’t I know!" Mairin smiled a real, honest smile."
 
 

The talk at the party turned to dating, too. "I’m glad I’m married," Karen said. "I’d hate to go through the trauma of dating along with the trauma of being a law student."

"Me too," said Laurie.

"But you have children, Laurie," said Mariann. Aren't they hard to organize your schedule around?"

"Very. But they’re three and five now. I’m not up all night with them. And I’m doing what I want to do--going to law school, that is."

They were having the party at Laurie’s. Since there wasn’t the urgency of having to study, the kids were running around downstairs. Bill, Laurie’s husband, was in charge of corralling them for bed. The group was sitting outside on the lawn. Laurie was the only one to have a house, and the apartment dwellers had run for the lawn.

"Catherine solved the problem," said Mariann. "She got married."

"I’m not quite ready to go that far to solve the problem," said Mairin dryly.

"I am," said Mariann. "I’d love to be married and to have this whole dating game off my back."

"Pick someone who wants you to have a career," said Karen. "Robert vacillates."

"What’s his job again?" asked Mariann.

"He’s a management trainee at an equipment company."

"Well, at least you’re in different areas." Laurie turned to Mairin. "Are you dating anybody?"

"Oh, here and there. Nobody particular. I met a nice guy recently--Harry’s law clerk. He must be a couple of years younger that I am. And a privileged type. Columbia. Nice nonetheless, but privileged. And here I went to law school to work myself out of love!"

"Ooohhh," said Laurie. "Tell us about him"

Mairin had noticed that Laurie had a wedding portrait on her mantel. An incurable romantic, she’d thought. "Oh, he was a guy I went through social work training with. We didn’t start to date until we’d graduated, but then it got serious. But it broke up. C’est la vie."

"Why?" Laurie was intent.

"Res ipsa loquitur," said Karen. "The thing speaks for itself. Come on, pass the bottle of wine."

Mairin nodded Karen a ‘thank you.’ The conversation went back to law school. Nobody was ready to start. This fall it would be personal property, constitutional law, and tax. "This time we’ll know to pick up the assignments ahead of time," said Mariann.

"This time," said Mairin, "we’ll know what we’re in for."

They talked and drank, laughed and promised to get together more regularly to talk if not to study. They had all agreed that one of the worst things about night law school was the lack of time just to have a cup of coffee and some conversation. They tentatively set the last Friday of every month aside to go out after class.