Page 33 of Everything We Thought Was True
Joanie turned and looked at Teresa with sadness, defeat, and even some hatred in her eyes. “Then I guess we’re the ones who’re trapped, aren’t we?”
Chapter Eighteen
LENA - LOS ANGELES, CA
July 2015
Isat at the banquet table, chewing on the rubbery chicken I’d expected to eat when I promised Marcus I would attend this event in his place. The food was awful. No one came to the LA Bar Association dinner for the cuisine—they came for the networking. But I wasn’t much in the mood for networking and found myself alone at the table with only one other woman seated a few chairs away. Everyone else at our table was in the restroom, networking at other tables, or mingling by the bar. She made eye contact, and we smiled at each other. She then moved to the seat next to me.
“I may as well come sit next to you since we’re the only two here.” Gesturing to her name tag, she said, “Hi, I’m Kate Haynes.” She thrust out her hand, grinning.
I shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Lena Antinori,” I said, gesturing to the name tag stuck onto my chest.
“Fabulous name. Italian?”
I smiled and nodded.
“Nice to meet you, too, Lena. What firm?” she asked.
“Not with a firm. I’m with the US Attorney’s Office, Civil Rights Division, for Central California.”
“Oh.” She pulled her head back in surprise and lifted her eyebrows. “Very cool.”
I laughed. “It is, actually. I love it.”
“Well, it’s refreshing to meet a lawyer who loves what she does. Few of us left.” She snickered. “I’m a tax attorney. And most people, including lawyers, hear that and think ‘Boring.’ But I love it. It’s like a big maze I get to figure out. I’m a numbers person and a problem solver, so it’s perfect for me.”
“Good for you,” I said and meant it.
She was right. There were so many miserable lawyers stuck in dissatisfying careers, trapped because of high student loans or a sense that they owed the profession a chance after spending so many years training for it. And here were the two of us, happy in our unique roles.
“What’s your position there?” she asked.
“I’m one of the two deputy attorneys. We handle discrimination claims, such as age, gender, disability, sexual orientation, race. You know—the protected classes.”
“I’m impressed. Big fan of civil rights, here. Born and bred in the Midwest to parents who were 1960s hippies. You know the type.” She laughed good-naturedly.
We chatted about various subjects. I found her very easy to talk to and learned we had some shared interests and were only a few years apart in age. She’d just started running after years of doing yoga. I told her I was the opposite—a longtime runner who was trying to force myself to do yoga.
“I’m hoping yoga will help me relax more, teach me how to breathe properly. I’m a tad high-strung.” I smiled, embarrassed to admit the truth so quickly to someone I’d just met. But conversation with Kate was effortless compared to other people I’d met over the years at these shindigs. Her authenticity was refreshing.
She laughed heartily, throwing her head back. “Too funny. I wish I could say my motives were that deep. I’m taking up running because Ineed to ward off the butt spread that seems to have crept up on me the past few years.”
I laughed too. She was a hoot.
Kate continued. “But my moms warn me it’s a lost cause. They say, welcome to the midforties, my dear.”
I stopped, my antennae raised.Did she just say “moms”? As in, plural? Could she mean...?
I jerked my head up and gaped at her. “You said ‘moms,’ didn’t you?”
Kate smiled. “Yes, I did. It’s a long story, but the short version is my mother is a lesbian. She came out when I was in high school and actually fell in love with another mother in our town. They left their husbands for each other, so it was quite the scandal. They’re both named Marie, and they’re still together to this day. I call them either my moms or the Maries.”
I was dumbstruck, trying to process what she said. I hadn’t met anyone who had a gay or lesbian parent. Well, at least none I knew of. And Kate’s mother had come out when Kate was in high school. We seemed to be about the same age, so that might mean our parents were contemporaries. I realized I was staring at Kate and still hadn’t said a word.
“It’s okay,” Kate said gently as if I needed reassuring. “We’re all doing really well, and I’m very open about it. They’ve been forgiven for their indiscretions.”
I sputtered over my words. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m... I’m just a little in shock.”
