Page 72 of Counting Backwards

Vance shook his head and reached into his pocket for his phone, but then, presumably noting the time, tossed it onto the table. “I’ll call him in the morning to figure this out.”

“Vance,” I protested as he came closer to my chair, as if he might lift me out of my seat and carry me back to the bedroom. “I literally spoke to the man a matter of hours ago. I don’t need my husband to act as an interpreter.”

“Still, I should follow up with him.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you think I can have one single conversation with a doctor and understand what he’s saying all by myself? Why are you always second-guessing me?”

Vance scowled. “Jeez, Jess. I’m not trying to second-guess you. I’m trying to take care of you. The way I always have.”

Vancehadalways taken care of me. But somewhere along the line, his tendency to swoop in and take control had gotten completely out of hand. His care had begun to feel oppressive, like an insult. I could take care of myself just fine. I could stand on my own, figuratively and literally. But I couldn’t bear another argument. Not now, when I was finally coming out of my funk.

“Fine. Call him in the morning if you want. In the meantime, I’m sure I can sit in a chair for a couple more hours without any problems. I just want to get through a few more cases.”

“You’re working here?” He looked horror-struck.

“If you’re worried about my stress levels, then let’s not do this.” I didn’t want to devote the next hour to rehashing the same old arguments when I had so much work to do.

“You know what?” He threw his hands in the air and marched toward the kitchen. “Fine. Don’t listen to me,” he said, grabbing the take-out menus. “I’ll order dinner.”

“Well, won’t that be wonderful.” I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my response, but I didn’t quite manage it.

***

The following morning, after a tense night of picking at chicken tikka masala and snapping at each other, Vance was once again chipper. He had just hung up with Dr. LaRusso and was pleased to report that my required period of bed rest had, indeed, concluded. I waited for him to apologize for his despicable behavior, but he just leaned over for a quick peck on the lips and headed out the door.

Instead of dwelling on his over-the-top mansplaining from the night before, or his failure to apologize for belittling me, I hurried to my closet. I was excited to put on my first pair of maternity trousers. I’d ordered them online after growing tired of using a rubber band to hold the button of my regular pants in place. As I pulled the gray slacks up to my middle, I marveled at the loveliness of an elastic waistband. Tugging at the flexible fabric, I tested how far I could stretch it out. Would my belly grow as far as the fabric extended, or even beyond it? Putting on those new pants made the pregnancy feel very real, and I had to remind myself to temper my excitement, for all the obvious reasons.

As I finished getting dressed, my thoughts returned to the case. Adding women to the complaint would require additional filings with the court. The night before, I’d arranged a meeting with Lydia and our co-counsel from New Jersey to take care of completing the necessary motion. I was just heading out the door when my cell phone rang. Pulling it from the front pocket of my tote, I checked the screen.

“Hello?” I said, feeling a little uneasy.

“Finally, she picks up!” Dustin joked on the other end.

“Yeah, sorry about that. There’s been a lot going on.”

“No, no worries,” he said, his voice bouncy with excitement. “I heard from Tate that more plaintiffs are joining the action.”

I rolled my eyes as I walked out the apartment door, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder. It had been less than sixteen hours since I’d texted Tate. I should have guessed from the preponderance of smiley face and fist bump emojis in her response that she’d share the happy news of my return to the case with someone else.

“It’s like I said,” Dustin continued. “The smart bet is always on Jessa Gidney getting it done.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I laughed into the phone. “But you might want to wait a little longer before calling your bookie.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I filled in some of the partners,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I was so amped up about your progress that I couldn’t keep it to myself. Hendricks and the others are pretty excited. They’re all patting themselves on the back now, saying how your involvement is going to reflect well on the firm. I think they might be asking you to come back sooner rather than later.”

“But nothing’s really happened yet. We only filed three days ago.”

“Things are happening, Jessa. Trust me. You haven’t checked the news?”

“Tate showed me the article,” I said.

“Article?” He laughed. “It’s not just one article. The story is everywhere. And the fact that more women are coming forward is huge. The partners know you assembled an entire team and that you’re on your way to winning a high-profile case. I thought you’dwant to know I’m not the only one who believes you’ve got what it takes to win this. Just don’t be surprised when Hendricks calls, begging you to come back.”

I laughed at his words. And then I shocked myself by wondering if I even wanted to go back to Dillney. I hadn’t missed being in the office for a single day since taking the leave. I didn’t miss my other cases or any of my colleagues beyond Tate. And apparently Dustin.

I’d reached the elevator bank and was hovering beside the down button. I didn’t want to risk losing the connection.

“I’m sure you’ll get the temporary restraining order too,” Dustin said. “You’ll see.” He was talking about the request our team had made for an order preventing any of the Jane Does from being deported until the merits of the case were litigated.