Page 3 of Cerulean Truth
Lisa had a real knack for setting me up on dates that made me lose the will to live so I launched into a quick description of the firm, detailing its fancy perks—a swanky fitness center on the penthouse floor and a restaurant which served stuff calledbroccolini—while raving about the coffee shop on the ground level, exclusively reserved for the lawyer elite.
“You and your caffeine.” She shook her head.
“Hey, don’t judge me,” I muttered. “Caffeine is probably the most legal addiction anyone’s pursuing in this building.”
Her raspy laughter was like a breath of fresh air, instantly lightening my mood.
I continued. "You know, I’m on my fifth internship, and this morning it dawned on me they're all basically the same. I mean, it’s like they’re all populated by identical individuals, highly skilled, but deep down, they're all just terrified."
“Terrified of what?” Lisa inquired.
"Of someone smarter or more useful strolling in and rendering them as relevant as broccolini," I explained.
Lisa chuckled. “Sounds like a charming crowd.”
I rolled my eyes. "This place is like a breeding ground for oversized egos and crippling self-doubt. Moby could be their poster child."
She laughed again. “So, what’s the place like? And please keep in mind you haven’t invited me over yet, even though you’ve been working there for almost two weeks, so leave out no detail.”
I smiled apologetically. “It’s this massive building on Boston’s Main Street. You know the type, you’ve seen in lawyer movies—the big revolving glass doors and all. Downstairs, there’s an army of security guards with very serious resting bitch faces who scrutinize anyone without the right ID—or boobs.”
“How delightful.” She grinned. “What about the other people? The ones you work with directly?”
“Well, my immediate supervisor is Simon. He’s quite a character. Military school, a PhD from Columbia, teaches international criminal law all over the world. His boss, Sandra,knew my mom from law school and has a photo on her desk of her with Desmond Tutu.”
Lisa was impressed. “Sandra sounds amazing.”
“She really is.” I nodded. “But the one it’s really all about is Bill Ferrars, her boss. I’ve had only a few interactions with him, and it’s very clear the entire place would fall apart without him. He’s got all the authority, political connections, and a legal brain the size of a planet. Everyone who’s anyone, from high-ranking politicians, tough-looking mobsters, or run-of-the-mill Joes with lots of cash, they all come running through those same glass doors downstairs just to talk to Bill. My mission is to get in his good graces.”
Lisa replied, “Sounds challenging. You think you can do it?”
I sighed. “I hope so. Won’t be easy because there’s a lot of competition, but I’m determined to make my mark.”
“Well if anyone can, it’s you, babe.” She smiled encouragingly. Gods, I loved her.
“I got to go, love, call you later?” I waved. She gave me a big FaceTime kiss and by the time I’d returned to my cubicle, I was in a much lighter mood.
Thanks to Moby’s new records of “douchery” my coffee had gone cold. Again.
So I ran down to the coffeehouse—again—to refill my personalized mug. There were plastic cups available to us but to appear “environmentally conscious,” every senior lawyer brought their own mug, instead of not having any plastic cups around at all and actually saving the planet. They each displayed an even more idiotic quote.
Mine read—and I noticed this proudly, I really did—“Lawyers never lose their appeal.” Needless to say, interns however, used whatever mug was available in the kitchen.
“Another looming deadline?” dear Sara, our barista, asked as she conjured up a fresh pot of coffee. I replied with ayawn so enormous, it’d make every hippopotamus on Earth feel inadequate.
“Oh, you interns.” Sara sighed with a touch of sympathy in her dulcet tones. “Your social lives must be collecting cobwebs in this place.”
I huffed with a load of self-pity. “I wish! At least I’d have the spiders to keep me company.”
She nodded sympathetically. “I hope it’s all worth it in the end.”
I managed to smile, my intention to nod and say "yes" dissolving like cornflakes in an overpoured bowl of milk. After sixteen grueling hours, seated uncomfortably close to Moby, my motivation had seen better days.
The assignment was due on Friday, leaving me with a generous forty-five hours to finish. So, after scaling the heights of thirteen flights of stairs, I barricaded myself in my cubicle with a monumental stack of work and enough caffeine to make a zombie run a marathon.
Those forty-five hours turned out to be grueling. My heavily sleep-deprived brain processed over fifty-something adult films, sprouting a massive headache from too much screen time.
By the time the deadline rolled around, I had been entrenched in the office for a staggering three days and nights, without any meaningful breaks. I couldn’t wait to go home and take a shower… After three whole days and nights of going non-stop through adult movies, I felt dirtier and sleepier—though surprisingly not hornier—than ever.
