Saturday night

The weekends of a BigLaw associate are anything but predictable.  Two weekends ago I billed 24.5 hours.  This weekend it seems that there is nothing going on at the office - until further notice.  It's tricky pencilling in a social life that way.  How can you make plans if you are one e-mail away from having to cancel them and spending your Saturday night tucked away behind your computer screen?

To fully take advantage of my free time while it lasts, I arrange to meet Cameron for drinks.  She's an old high school friend from an old family with a lot of old money.  An only child and the heiress to an inconceivably large fortune, she has somehow managed to stay relatively grounded.

She sweeps into the bar with a perfect bleached smile mirrored in the heavy pearl strands around her neck. "Hello darling, lovely to see you! Excellent idea to meet for drinks. What are we having?"

After ordering us both Mojitos, Cameron swivels on her bar stool and stares directly into my eyes to command my full attention.  It works.

"So," she says. "I actually have something to tell you." Her eyes light up as she waves the back of her left hand gingergly in front of my nose.

"Oh my," I gasp, "It's the Heart of the Ocean!" The engagement ring on her finger features a blue diamond large enough to take someone's eye out if applied correctly. "Congratulations! Who's the lucky fellow?"

"Preston Merriweather III. Old family from Atlanta.  His great-grandfather made a fortune building railroads in the 19th century. It's going to be a grand wedding with at least 1,500 guests." Pensively, she stares at the ring and slowly turns her hand back and forth to let it catch the light. "There's just one little hiccup."

"You find it impossible to hail a cab or brush your teeth with that rock weighing down your left arm?"

"I'm pregnant." Her voice is matter-of-fact, as if she is complaining about a minor inconvenience like a bad hair day or late dry-cleaning.

"Pregnant?" I repeat slightly louder than I should. "With little Preston Merriweather IV?"

"Well, it's not the gardener's," she hisses, "And keep your voice down!" I'm ashamed at my oafishness as I try to digest the news.

"Then why is it a hiccup? That's great news, isn't it?  You were already getting married, right? Or is that why you're getting married?" I say, adding as I see her take a large gulp of her drink, "By the way, should you be drinking a Mojito in your current, er, condition?"

"Oh, I'm not actually recognizing the pregnancy at this stage.  I'm only in my second month.  I'm trying to ignore it while I still can, you know, before I start to show."

Swallowing my judgmental shock, I decide to be a friend and give the moralistic lecture a pass.

"So how is Preston dealing with this? He must be thrilled, no?"

"Hard to say." Her face hardens as she slightly clenches her jaw. "He got me this gargantuan rock, he gets points for that.  He's freaking out though, in a genteel Southern sort of way. Most of the time he's ok with it, and then suddenly - usually when he's had a little too much to drink - he'll start ranting about how I'm going to lose my figure and how I'll love his child more than I love him. 'Where does that leave me?' he'll cry, 'You won't be my wife, you'll be the mother of my child!' So we've just put the whole pregancy thing on hold for now, to give us both some time to come to terms with it.  We'll tell the family in a couple of weeks and then we'll fast-track the wedding." With their combined fortunes, they could probably organise a 1,500 guest wedding yesterday if such were their desire.

"Honey, you can't really put a pregnancy on hold, you do realize that, don't you?"

"Well, no, but we just find it easier not to talk about it for the time being and deal with it once I start to show. He worries about the impact it will have on him."

"The impact it will have on him?" I echo incredulously. This one sounds like a real catch. "What about the impact it will have on you?"

"Yes, I know.  I've thought about that but I think I'll enjoy staying at home to care for a baby, perhaps doing a little charity work on the side.  We both know it was unlikely that I was going to have a career...  I was never going to be a hotshot lawyer like you."

I consider the comparison.  Me, cooped up in my windowless office with Jaded Officemate, cranking out billable hours at ever increasing levels, taking abuse from the client in the "Your Momma" case and bowing to the nonsensical demands of Partner Number Two and his cronies. Her, spending a secluded life in some wide-porched mansion, quietly sipping lemonade in the shade of a rustling Sycamore tree, watching her children play in the sunset. Perhaps out of the two of us, she's the one who has it all figured out. Of course, I don't have random millions lying about that provide me with the luxury to live the life of my choosing.

Then it occurs to me as I watch Cameron finish her Mojito that, with all her wealth, she may not have that luxury either.

Secretly yours,

The Undercover Writer.