Page 28 of Everything We Thought Was True
“I guess it’s better that I know. Better not to live a lie.” Teresa couldn’t tell who she was trying to convince—herself or Ronnie.
Then she thought of something that filled her with fear. She leaned across the table and tightly gripped Ronnie’s wrist. “You can’t tell anyone about this, Ronnie. You hear me? No one.”
Ronnie flinched. “Of course not. You know I would never do that. For Christ’s sake.” Teresa released Ronnie’s wrist, and Ronnie pulled it back to her side in a protective gesture. “And for your sake too. And the kids’.”
“I know,” Teresa said, already sorry for lashing out at her.
“This isn’t something we should shout from the rooftops. I know that.” Ronnie looked pleadingly at Teresa. “My heart breaks for you. It does. No matter what you decide, this will not be easy. But I’m most worried about your kids. Thankfully, they're still young enough to be oblivious to their father's... foolishness. The question is whether things will change in time to save them from it.”
Teresa swallowed hard. She felt like she was on a merry-go-round. If she confronted Frank head-on, her life would be over either way, whether they stayed together and lived a lie or separated and broke apart their family. She felt trapped.How long will this charade go on?
Teresa was desperate—so desperate that on the way home from the diner, she stopped at St. Bartholomew Church, where she and Frank had been married. It felt foreign, like they’d altered it during her absence. Then she realized it was she that had changed, not the church. Teresa had been born a Catholic but had become a convert to spirituality, struggling with religious conviction. Her parents’ strict adherence to religious doctrine often felt like a straitjacket during her childhood. But this wasn’t a time for splitting hairs. Religionor spirituality—it didn’t matter. Teresa needed to call upon all the gods and religions and higher spirits to help her through this.
Seated in a pew, she bowed. Then she raised her head and looked over at the statue of Mother Mary, which had always held a special place to her. She loved the wedding tradition that some Catholics followed of gifting a bouquet to the statue of Mary and asking her to watch over the bride and help her be a strong and loving wife and mother. Teresa remembered the bouquet she’d given. The beautiful lilac flowers.
Mary, I hope you’re listening. I could really use your help.Teresa knew a long line of wives had come begging Mary for help before her, but maybe Mary didn’t have a quota and could fit in one more bereft wife.
Teresa thought of the other Mary, as many Catholics referred to Mary Magdalene. Perhaps that Mary would help her more than any other saint or deity. Mary Magdalene had always fascinated Teresa, who suspected this Mary had been in love with Jesus but knew she couldn’t be with him. Teresa felt empathy for her. This woman might have been hurt by falling in love with the wrong man. She felt blasphemous for comparing her unholy situation with Frank with Jesus and Mary Magdalene. But maybe because so many Catholics shunned Mary Magdalene, she had more room in her docket for Teresa’s unconventional prayers.
It certainly couldn’t hurt, she thought.I’ll take any help I can get from either Mary. Who cares if it’s blasphemous?Maybe the other Mary could help her get through this with her marriage intact and without hurting her children.
Chapter Fifteen
LENA - LOS ANGELES, CA
July 2015
Ilooked at my watch.Four thirty p.m. already. Shit.If I didn’t leave work immediately, I’d hit a ton of traffic and be late. I clicked Send on the email I’d been drafting, slammed my laptop shut, and shoved it into my bag. I grabbed the Hawke case folder and tucked it in there as well. I needed to work on the direct examination of a few of the plaintiffs later that night at home. But at the moment, I needed to hit the road. I was meeting my dad at the Terranea Resort, where the wedding would take place. I thought, for the thousandth time, how surreal it was to be planning my dad’s second wedding.
When I stood up to leave, Brad was standing in the doorway.Oh God, now what?I had to get out of here and didn’t have time for more of Brad’s questions. Since he’d taken on the Fletcher case, he’d come to me for advice more often than I liked.
“Where’re you heading? You never leave this early.”
“I’ve got an appointment. Family commitment.” That was all he was getting. It was none of his business. I walked over to the door.
“Oh, bummer. I wanted to discuss strategy for the Fletcher case.”
I shut off the light to my office then gestured to him to back up so I could close the door.
“Walk me to the elevator. That’s all I’ve got time for now.” I was losing my patience with his constant comments about the case.Whatis this—the third time he’s come to me? It might have been easier to handle that goddamn case myself.
He fell in step alongside me, matching my quick gait. “So, because there’s still no federal protection for sexual orientation discrimination, we’re using the state statute as our principal argument.”
Obviously, I thought, nodding dismissively.
“But we were thinking of adding a different federal claim to the case. Something more creative. I remembered that case you handled years back, when California first passed state protection but it still wasn’t well tested in the courts.”
Brad had an excellent memory. When I was a new attorney at the division, I worked on a case representing a public school teacher who alleged the district had fired her for telling her students she was a lesbian. We added on an argument that the district violated her First Amendment right of freedom of speech. There was a gaping hole at the federal level, with no protection against sexual orientation employment discrimination, and the new California statute was too weak to hang our entire case on. It had a long, sordid history, including a veto by then Governor Pete Wilson, protests by LGBTQ community members and advocates, and the state legislature then enacting a watered-down version of the original statute. So we’d attempted the creative argument that if the teacher hadn’t answered her students’ questions about her sexual orientation, she wouldn’t have been fired. And we’d won.
I turned and stared at Brad. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
“Don’t be. It was impressive.” He lobbed that compliment to me like a kid who’d been told he had to hand over his favorite toy to a playmate by his parent—reluctantly. But I’d take it. “So I’m taking a page out of your playbook. I reviewed your case file for Deborah Woodside vs. West Covina School District, and we’re adding a freedom-of-speechclaim.”
I shrugged but felt myself smile. “Stop trying to butter me up so you can boast more about your case.” Brad loved talking strategy.
“Is it working?” Brad asked, eagerness and smugness playing across his face.
Infuriating.“A little,” I admitted, groaning.
